"Do I?" He laughed, derisively. "Do I, indeed? We were doing all right on our own. Then he comes along, and what have we lost? The whole rebel council, wiped out. And the dead... how many dead have we lost? Damn it, when the Blues scattered at the airfield today, they left that gate wide open! With our two hundred boys, we could have walked right in and taken the citadel, only he says to pull out! Pull out, with victory right in front of us!"
Grayson crossed his arms. "Whether you like the idea or not. Colonel, we're in your war now. We've lost too many dead of our own to turn our backs on Verthandi, even if we could. But if we're going to fight together, we're going to have to pull together...with one leader."
"So it's come to that, eh? You think you're man enough to take me...here?" Tollen spat out the final word as though it were an obscenity.
"It doesn't make any sense for the two of us to fight," Grayson said carefully. He and Brasednewic were about the same height, but the rebel leader easily outweighed him by at least ten kilos. "I suggest we use common sense instead."
"Enough talk!" Brasednewic had his fingers curled into massive fists now, his scowl transformed to a snarl. "I had a chance to rescue Carlotta, and you botched it for me!"
Grayson’s eyes widened. So he'd been right about Brasednewic and Carlotta. They were lovers.
Montido looked confused. "But she was Old Family..."
"Damn you, don't talk about her as if she's dead!" Then, more quietly, "So, she's Old Family? You think that mattered...to us?"
Grayson watched something akin to embarrassment flick across the faces of some rebels. As for himself, he felt painfully out of place, as though witness to a very private family argument The rift between the descendants of the planet's first settlers and the refugees who'd come later was old and deep. Feelings about men and women who crossed that line seemed to run high on both sides.
"Damm it!" Brasednewic shouted, "Carlotta and I loved each other!" His head swiveled from side to side as though he were daring anyone to make an issue of the statement "And we still love each another! Nagumo's bastards won't have killed her yet, not if they think she might be useful to them, for propaganda, or whatever. I would have had her out of there today...only...only..."
Tears choked him. Grayson put a hand on the rebel chiefs shoulder. "I think I know how you feel," he said.
"How the hell can you know that?" This time there was no anger in the words, only pain and loss.
"You aren't the only one who's lost someone he loves." Grayson spoke softly, remembering his father. "But you can't use your people for your own personal vendetta. Not and keep their respect!"
Brasednewic just stood there, his eyes on the ground, fists clenched at his sides. Then, without another word, he turned his back on Grayson and strode from the group. Grayson started to call after him, but Montido held up his hand. "Let him go. Captain. One of us'll talk to him later. It'll be better that way."
Dace nodded. "Meanwhile, what are your orders, Captain?"
* * * *
Later, in the dark and near-chill of Verthandi's predawn, Lori found a favorite rock among the trees beyond the plantation clearing. The Li Plantation lay at the top of the Basin Rim, amid a straggling of jungle growth that had climbed the slopes from the Silvan Basin and spread across the Bluesward. BattleMechs, their black shapes strange under the ragged cloaks of camouflage they wore among the jungle trees, loomed against a starry sky. Verthandi-Alpha had long since set.
The dream had come again, and she had decided to walk off some of the horror's edge. Listening to chirimsims keening and shrieking in the jungle basin below, she hugged herself and closed her eyes, willing the dream's terror to fade.
She loved Grayson. She was certain of that now, but somehow, somewhere deep within, she still could not trust him. That conflict in her feelings for the young BattleMech commander were tearing her apart. She had learned to override her own fears—even her terror of fire—during battle, but she had not yet managed to come to grips with the storm of her own emotions. She had been a MechWarrior long enough to know that such a tearing of mind and will would sooner or later be fatal. The time would come when she would make a mistake, and...
The dream had put her in a black mood. Would death be so unwelcome, after all? Beyond the men and women of the Legion, she had no family. Certainly she had had no romantic relationships since her closeness with Grayson on Trellwan. Somehow, every man in the Legion knew she was the Captain's woman. She laughed aloud at that. The Captain's woman!
In the weeks since Sue Ellen's rescue, the two women had become friends. Recognizing each other's loneliness, they took comfort in one another. Lori knew that Sue Ellen's loneliness was so much worse. Her man was dead.
She opened her eyes, trying to shake off these thoughts of despair and death. In the darkness and pale starlight, it was difficult to make out who they were, but she could see a man and a woman approach the clearing from another path in the distance. It was some moments before she recognized one of the Verthandian women rescued weeks before. What was her name? Janice, was it? Walking beside her, the man had his arm around her waist.
So, if Janice Taylor had found companionship among the men of the Gray Death Legion, why couldn't she? The man had both arms around the woman now. As Lori watched them embrace, then kiss, her own loneliness became suddenly overwhelming. She wondered what Grayson was doing right now. If he were awake, would he want her to come to him?
The couple drew apart after a final kiss. Janice turned then, and started across the clearing toward what was now the women's barracks on the Li Plantation. When the man turned, Lori finally saw his face clearly, too.
It was Grayson.
He saw her at the same moment. He seemed to hesitate, then started toward her. She rose from her seat on the rock and turned to pass him.
"Lori..."
"Good evening. Captain." At that moment, she felt more mixed up than ever. Was this betrayal that she was feeling? Was it jealousy? Or was it simple anger at her own confusion and distress?
"Lori, what is it...?"
"Nothing, Captain. Nothing at all. Good night." It was all she could manage to walk back toward the womens' barracks without breaking into a run. The Captain's woman, indeed!
* * * *
Not many more weeks passed before it became clear that the Second Battle of Fox Island had been an important turning point in the war. Duke Hassid Ricol had departed for his starship the Huntress, leaving Governor General Nagumo still in command. After all, Ricol admitted, the idea of attacking Fox Island had been his own, and Nagumo had deployed the two Light Recon lances with skill and dispatch during the desperate fighting outside the University walls. The rebels had been within meters of winning through the gates and into the University courtyard when the two lances and the sentry Crusader had arrived and forced their withdrawal. The destruction of one of the rebel ‘Mechs was a decided plus, for the rebels would be hard-pressed to replace their BattleMech losses.
Ricol was more than willing to call the battle a victory and leave Nagumo in charge. His alternatives were either to place the incompetent Admiral Kodo in command or to remain on Verthandi himself to take charge personally, neither of which the Red Duke was prepared to do. He was scheduled for an audience with Lord Kurita himself on Luthien in another two weeks. Besides, if he took command, he would have to produce a victory. At this point, Ricol wondered privately if victory were ever going to be possible on Verthandi.
He had seen the faces of the people of Regis as they watched the passage of his entourage. The Loyalists were grim and reserved, already fearful that their Kurita allies would depart, leaving them at the mercy of the rebels. Sheer, open hatred was on the faces of the rest.
For the Combine, victory might well consist of escaping Verthandi with a whole skin.
In the wake of the fiasco at Fox Island, patrols now departed less and less frequently from Regis or the other Kurita strongholds to sweep the countryside or probe the hills for rebel supply
caches. The battle at the airfield had destroyed two AeroSpace Fighters completely and the third would be crippled and useless for at least three months. The remaining fighters on Verthandi-Alpha had been loaded aboard Ricol's DropShip, along with DEST 4. If it turned out that Nagumo would be unable to pacify Verthandi, at least those valuable units would not be lost. Of course, that meant Nagumo was left without their services in tracking rebels or providing air cover.
The Kurita ‘Mechs and the Regis Blues never entered the jungle anymore. To do so invited attack and annihilation.
Within a few weeks, the Kurita presence on Verthandi had dwindled to Regis itself, a handful of mines in the southern desert, and a scattering of fire bases and supply depots guarding the principal government routes of supply and communication. What was left of the 44th Line and the Light Recon regiments remained within Regis itself, while the others were deployed in garrisons at the mines and elsewhere. At any given time, a quarter of the Kurita ‘Mechs were down and under maintenance, their pilots on leave at the base on Verthandi-Alpha. For the first time in nearly a decade, most of the countryside and smaller towns were not under the shadow of the Kurita ‘Mechs.
Nagumo dared not risk a major confrontation with the rebels, not with their numbers growing explosively every day, with rebel attacks growing fiercer and more daring with each incident. In one day alone, eight Verthandian astechs, five Regis Blues, and three
Kurita soldiers had vanished in downtown Regis in broad daylight. Their heads appeared later, artfully arranged on the steps of the University, and no one would admit having seen who'd left them.
Nagumo may have won a victory at the walls of the University, but he was beginning to feel like a man with a noose around his neck. There were no more riots in the streets, but the air was charged as if by an approaching storm.
In the countryside, Grayson and the Gray Death continued to work informally with rebel bands, taking the best recruits and training them in anti-Mech commando tactics, then taking the best of those and training them to operate the growing army of captured Verthandian ‘Mechs. By this time, most of the old AgroMechs had either been destroyed in battle or been cannibalized for parts, but more than enough Kurita ‘Mechs had been captured to replace them. The ranks of the Free Verthandi Rangers' conventional infantry had swelled so much and so fast that Grayson's most urgent problem was providing food, shelter, and weapons for the mob of new recruits. Raids were mounted week by week, then day by day, to secure the food, ammunition, shelter kits, medical supplies, weapons, and clothing for an army that numbered now in the tens of thousands.
Very quickly, Grayson found that he could not begin to cope with the logistical nightmare by himself. He reorganized the army under local commanders, men and women who had already learned what the Gray Death had to teach and who had proven themselves in combat against the enemy. These commanders took their own units, organized as short battalions, to hiding places throughout the Silvan Forest, while friendly plantation owners and farmers diverted most of the food tagged for delivery to Regis to the rebel camps. When questioned by the Regis Blues, the standing answer was "The rebels took it! I had no choice!"
In the end, Nagumo had over a hundred BattleMechs and elements of eight separate infantry regiments tied to a score of towns, villages, cities, mines, and transport sites, while the rebels held near-absolute control over every other habitable part of the planet. The Governor General could not allow this state of affairs to continue much longer. Not if he wished to keep his head when the Red Duke returned.
As the rebel raids continued, it became painfully clear to him that the rebels were drawing their supplies from one source only: the supply dumps established by Nagumo's own troops. Such depots were necessary if Nagumo's forces were to operate with any kind of freedom outside the walls of Regis, but they invited attack and were difficult to defend. After all, there were so many sites to protect, and only so many operational ‘Mechs at any given time...
With that realization, Nagumo's eyes had widened, and his fist had come down on the palm of his other hand with a smack. The mercenaries were the key to the rebels' success. They always had been. Perhaps it was not too late to destroy the rebels by striking down those mercs. And if he could capture Grayson Carlyle himself...
Nagumo was sure he had the answer now, and those supply dumps were going to be the key.
33
Seven BattleMechs worked their way through the light woods. No longer did any practical distinction exist between mercenary or Free Verthandian unit. When Grayson gave the commands, the other six ‘Mechs spread out in a line behind the low ridge above the Kurita supply depot.
As he called off the names, each responded in turn. McCall in his battered Rifleman and Clay in his Wolverine were the only other representatives of the Gray Death present in the column. The others were lighter BattleMechs of the Free Verthandi Rangers: Vikki Traxen's Locust, Collin Dace's Phoenix Hawk, Olin Sonovarro's Wasp, and Nadine Cheka's Stinger. An eighth member of the raiding party, Lori Kalmar, had been posted in her Locust on a hill three kilometers back. Once the supply dump was secured, she would lead in the main body of the rebel hover transports to fill up on needed provisions and ammo.
"Move to your assault positions," Grayson said over the combat frequency. "And stand by. Transmit when you're in position."
Grayson fingered the controls on his cockpit vision devices, enlarging the image displayed on his main screen. The dump was peaceful enough, a typical collection of drab, military-style quonset huts and stack upon stack of crates, tanks, and boxes. There was a light fence around the perimeter of the base, and Grayson could see sentries—conventional infantry—pacing just outside. In the distance was the village of Blackjack, partly hidden by the trees. A farmer from Blackjack had arrived at the main rebel camp in the Silvan forest only a week before with word that this Kurita supply dump was being constructed.
He smiled to himself. More and more of the native Verthandians had been making contact with rebel forces across the planet's northern hemisphere, asking to join the Free Verthandian Legion, offering weapons, help, or shelter, offering information about Kurita movements, garrisons, and plans. Janice had been instrumental in that.
His smile grew wider. He liked Janice. It was fun to be with her and fun to talk to her. Their late-night walks had become less frequent in recent weeks, though, because she had joined the Free Verthandian Legion and begun training under Ramage's battery of instructors.
Grayson wished that Lori understood. He'd seen little of her since that evening at the Li Plantation. The memory was still painful. Why, though, did he feel guilty when she had made it so abundantly clear that a relationship with him was no longer of interest? Besides, the most important aspect of his relationship with Janice had nothing to do with evening walks or tender kisses among Verthandi's jungles. Janice was proving to be a treasure trove of information about Verthandian beliefs, attitudes, hopes, and passions. This was especially crucial now that Verthandians in the villages and towns and even those living in the shadow of the towers of Regis University had left the middle ground and become solid supporters of the rebellion. More and more Blues were deserting, and Nagumo's officers found fewer and fewer Loyalist families to give them information on rebel activities or positions.
Urgent voices suddenly interrupted Grayson's thoughts.
"Davis, in position."
"Sonovarro, ready."
"McCall, aye."
The others checked in quickly, one after another.
"Right," Grayson said. "Ladies and gentlemen, our supply officer is waiting."
The rebels had come to refer to Nagumo almost affectionately as their supply officer, but for several weeks now, supply dumps and depots had dried up. It was almost as though Nagumo had finally realized that his equipment and stores were subsidizing the rebel army. This new depot was going to be a big help to the rebels.
He gave the area one last long, hard look. There was no sign of enemy forces, of ‘Me
chs or gun emplacements or troops. When he'd first heard about this single supply base, far out in the central expanse of the Southern Highlands, hundreds of kilometers from Regis or the
Silvan Basin, it had made him suspicious of a trap. He was still uneasy.
Why had Nagumo put the dump here? There were no mines close enough to draw on the supplies, no airfields or spaceports, no BattleMech maintenance centers or any other thing of enough value to warrant a BattleMech guard. Grayson had nearly decided to leave it alone. What with three more rebel MechWarriors ready to be assigned machines, and those machines needing long- and short-ranged missiles, autocannon rounds, 15 mm machinegun ammo, tanks of coolant fluid, he had little choice. This base would have those supplies. He could see the coolant fluid tanks from where his Shadow Hawk crouched under the shadow of the trees along the ridge, and the ammunition he needed was stocked at every base catering to BattleMechs.
No, this base was too important to pass up. The farmer had reported only two BattleMechs in the area, a pair of battle-gouged Centurion's, and those were often out on patrol. There was no sign of them now. In fact, it looked too peaceful, too easy.
"Wha' d'ye see. Captain?" McCall asked over the private circuit.
"Not a bloody thing."
"And tha's worryin' ye." McCall knew Grayson well enough now to read his moods.
"It is. What's a base like that doing way out here, anyway?"
Clay had been listening in. "We may learn that when we take it. Captain. They may be planning something in these parts, where they think we don't patrol."
"Possibly." It was so quiet. He changed frequencies. "Lori?"
"Here, Captain."
"Your people all set?"
"We're set, Captain. Just give the word."
"I want to make this a fast one, in and get-the-hell out fast. To coin a cliche, it's too quiet, and I don't like it one bit."
"We'll be there the moment you say, Captain." There was a pause. "AndGray..."
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