Текст книги "Mercenary's Star"

Автор книги: Уильям Кейт

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11

 

Clay in his Wolverinewas already helping McCall's Riflemanto its feet. Grayson winced when he saw the damage the Riflemanhad sustained, and his mind began cycling furiously through what he would say to McCall. He had ordered the Caledonian to watch for aircraft, but the man must have been so absorbed by the ground battle that he'd completely missed the Kurita SL-15's strafing run from his rear. That mistake could have been fatal. It might well have ruined the unit's heaviest ‘Mech.

A muted roar from the east warned of the Kurita force's departure. Both DropShips hovered on laboring thrusters, then turned and arced slowly off toward the south above the jungle. Explosions and a rising pall of smoke marked where supplies unloaded during the battle had been destroyed lest they fall into rebel hands or tempt a rebel attack during reloading. As the sound of the Leopard'sdeparture faded, a new sound began rising from the beach and surrounding jungle growth. It took Grayson a moment to recognize that it was the sound of men and women, cheering.

Grayson touched the Shadow Hawk'scanopy release panel, and swung it open. The outside air, tropically hot and damp, rushed into the Hawk'scockpit like an autumn wind, dry and deliciously cool compared to the hothouse humidity inside. He hung against the overhead stanchions a moment, gulping the air, suddenly aware of how good fresh air smelled compared to the stench of his and Lori's sweat and fear. The sharp scent of scorched armor also flavored the fresh air. Pings, pops, and creakings of hot metal rose from the Shadow Hawk'sweapons tubes and from scarred and scorched patches of armor where, briefly, megajoules of laser energy had touched.

The cheers continued to sound around him, clearer now than when he'd heard them through the ‘Mech's external pick-ups. Both rebels and mercenary troops were emerging from the jungle, splashing through the shallow, high-tide water, or standing in animated knots among the boles and roots of beach-edge trees and jungle plants. Some exchanged slaps on the back or vigorous handshakes, and many were engaged in animated discussion of the battle just past. Sergeant Ramage and Tollen Brasednewic were trotting side by side at the head of a mixed squad of troops in the direction of the nearest stranded Galleon. The tank's crew was already climbing out, moving clumsily with their hands in the air.

Lori locked the Shadow Hawkin place and cracked her helmet, letting Grayson help her swing it off her shoulders and into its rack above her seat Her hair fell in lank, damp strands across her shoulders. She shook her head and wiped wet hair from her eyes.

"Pretty good for someone who was sure she would fail," he said gently. In truth, he'd completely forgotten his concern about Lori's fears once the battle had begun. She had acted coolly, professionally, without hesitation.

She replied with a smile, though her eyes were guarded. Lori, too, reveled a moment in the cool breeze moving through the open cockpit before fishing a towel out of an equipment locker under her seat to sop the sweat from her face and neck. When she had finished, Grayson used the towel himself. His own uniform was as soaked as her brief attire, and far less comfortable. It didn't cool as the air blew over it, but bunched, chafed, and sent sudden rivulets of sweat tickling down his spine and sides. The water below looked inviting, and he longed for a swim. For the moment, he was too weak to do anything more than hang on and breathe.

Nearby, Grayson saw McCall and Clay leaning from the opened hatches of their own machines. The light ‘Mech pilots were still relatively fresh, not having sustained combat as long as the heavies. They now stood guard in the quickening tide as a Kurita pilot climbed out of one of the two captured Stingers.The other Stinger,still flat on its back, had taken a round in the head. Smoke still wisped above the gore-shocked scar where the ‘Mech's cockpit had been.

Lori smoothed wet hair back from her face. "Captain, if you'd excuse me, I'd like to get dressed."

Grayson smiled. "Pardon me for barging into your dressing room, and thanks for the ride." He reached up and punched the winch release that dropped the Shadow Hawk'sladder, then lowered himself to the ground, careful to avoid hot spots on the ‘Mech's armor.

The water under the Hawkwas knee-deep on him and felt wonderful when he splashed it across his face.

* * * *

"My Lord, there was no way we could have reached Hunter's Cape with more ‘Mechs or tanks. There were only two DropShips available, and small ones at that." Stiffly at attention, Kevlavic stood in Nagumo's office at the University of Regis, his eyes focused at the greenish sky through the window behind the Governor General's shoulder. He swallowed once before adding, "We did not expect such fierce resistance. Lord. We thought to find only battered survivors of the DropShip's crash. We were met by accurate and concentrated fire from at least two enemy ‘Mech lances—and possibly a full company. They were supported by a large and powerful guerrilla force with whom they must have established contact moments before our arrival."

Nagumo sat quietly, neither accusing nor condemning. "I see. Anything else?"

"There was one serious tactical and logistical flaw in the operation that contributed to our defeat."

"Yes?”

"The DropShip Subotaiarrived at the LZ almost eight minutes after the Xaowas down and unloaded. The light tanks were not on the field until my lance was already being forced to withdraw. Had we been able to operate together, things might have gone differently."

"Perhaps," said Nagumo, his face impassive, voice noncommital. Close support between ‘Mechs and ground support units was always a touchy subject during analysis of BattleMech operations. Some commanders swore that close cooperation between troops in light, swift vehicles and the lumbering ‘Mechs could vastly increase a ‘Mech unit's combat effectiveness. Others argued just as vigorously that ground units got in the way, that they slowed the ‘Mechs and hindered-their freedom to fire, that accidents and misidentification too frequently caused troops armed with anti– ‘Mech weaponry to fire into friendly, valuable machines. Nagumo was a traditionalist who felt ‘Mech operations should remain separate from conventional orders of battle, but he was open-minded enough to allow a subordinate such as Kevlavic to approach things in his own way. No matter now, for the blame would rest squarely on his own shoulders.

"Perhaps," Nagumo said again. "Then, too, a second lance of BattleMechs might have served better. What is the final tally of damage?"

Kevlavic noted his commander's use of the word "damage," rather than "casualties", but lost no time pondering it. In BattleMech units, equipment was far more valuable than lives. Humans could be replaced, but in an increasingly lostech universe, it was becoming harder and harder to replace man's war machines.

"Lord, both light ‘Mechs were lost, one with severe damage to the cockpit. We must assume the enemy will be able to field one against us, but it seems unlikely that their service facilities will be up to repairing the other. For the same reason, we can assume their Riflemanis permanently out of action."

"We can assume nothing of the sort," Nagumo replied, still quiet His eyes sparked in the harsh office lighting. "There are industrial complexes in rebel-controlled regions, centers for servicing industrial or AgroMechs, especially among the plantations. We haven't found them all... yet."

"Y-yes, my Lord. The Orionwas badly damaged, but retired from the field under its own power. My senior Tech estimates that seventy hours of work will put it back in service again and that all necessary parts and tools are available. My Maraudersuffered considerable damage to its armor, and its left arm PPC was knocked out Again, nothing that cannot be repaired in our facilities here. Of. twelve Galleons, four were destroyed."

"Not to mention one aircraft shot down," Nagumo interjected impatiently, "and the second so badly damaged it may not fly again." He was particularly worried about the losses to his AeroSpace Fighter force. First the losses during the battle in space, and now this....

"The enemy may be able to recover one or more of those tanks," he continued, almost to himself. "The report from the Xao'sCaptain suggests that two of the Galleons were merely trapped in mud. When the tide recedes, the rebels may be able to free them with the help from their ‘Mechs. Colonel, I fear this... this debacle will not look good on your record at all.”

“No, my Lord."

"In fact, I wonder if we shouldn't be looking for someone more...adaptable to lead your regiment.”

“As...as my Lord commands."

Nagumo appeared to consider, then smiled. The sight of the Governor General's teeth did not put Kevlavic at ease.

"No, Colonel. I believe that a man must learn from his mistakes. You will have another chance to demonstrate that you are capable of learning."

"Thank you, my Lord!"

"Not at all, not at all. In fact, I direct you to take as much of your regiment as you need to hunt these outsiders down. I want that ‘Mech unit destroyed, Colonel, before they can offer effective help to the insurgents. You are not to make any more assumptions about the enemy's abilities or weaknesses or strengths. Mistaken assumptions will lead you to underestimate him, to your sorrow. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord!"

"My patience will not extend to another disaster such as that at Hunter's Cape. You shall not fail me again. Clear?”

“Perfectly, my Lord!"

"Then go. I want a progress report from you daily and an operational plan by this time tomorrow. Dismissed."

* * * *

Use Martinez leaned over the table that had been improvised from a strip of sheet metal laid across a pair of upright steel drums on the beach. A freshening breeze from the sea and a darkening sky tugged at her curls. Grayson held the map they were examining flat between both hands. She straightened up, shaking her head.

"Captain, do you know what you're asking me to do?"

Grayson's glance shifted across to Brasednewic, who fingered the grip on the laser rifle slung over his shoulder and looked away.

His expression as much as said, This is your argument, not mine.

"Captain Martinez," Grayson began formally, "do you know what will happen if you don't?" Though not aboard her vessel, he used the title to remind her of the responsibility of her command. Which she's already aware of or she wouldn' toe so set against it,he thought

"The Phobosis a space ship,Captain," she said, "and, at the moment, not an especially good one. We've got the leaks fixed, but...."

"If we leave the Phoboswhere she is, the Dracos will be back," Grayson said. "And, this time, more of them. We lucked out today, lucked out plain and simple, because their attack wasn't coordinated, because they weren't expecting us to be ready for them, and because we had some help from Tollen and his people. If we stay here and fight them again, we'll be wiped out And if we take off inland with these people"—he stabbed at Brasednewic with a thumb—"how long do you think the Phoboswill remain intact?"

"She's safe enough from storms."

"I'm not talking about storms! Look, a DropShip is a small mountain of Star League technology and spare parts! Computers! Weapons! A fusion power plant and enough power module relays to run an army of BattleMechs! Conduits, piping, tubing, and wiring; semiconductors, superconductors, circuit boards, function chips, neural flow circuitry, and God knows what else! The Kurita commanders know a DropShip crashed here, and they know she's relatively intact. Intact enough to shoot down their AeroSpace Fighters! They'll have every DropShip they can muster back here, and an army to boot, just as quick as they can manage to gather the forces and fuel the ships! They'll expect us to salvage what we can, of course, but how much do you think we could salvage, starting now? How long do you think we have?"

"Nagumo is not slow about recovering other bits of technology," Brasednewic added. "If one of our ‘Mechs is abandoned or destroyed, he has Techs swarming over it within hours, even if we blow it with a self-destruct charge."

"They'd dismantle the Phobosfor the armor plate, if nothing else.” Grayson said.

"I know, I know. I don't want old Phobosto fall into their hands any more than you do..."

"Then you have to see that this is the only way! At worst, we sink the Phobosto the bottom of the Azure Sea, someplace where Kurita recovery craft can't possibly get at her!"

"What about my crew? I can't do this alone, you know!"

"It'll be dangerous. But you have a skimmer ready to take you all off. You'll abandon ship if you have to, but we've got to try!"

She turned from the map and gazed across the line of breakers at the Phobos.The tide had gone out since the battle, leaving a broad stretch of beach between them and the foaming breakers. The DropShip seemed higher in the water now that the tide was lower. The crude repairs to the gash in her hull were visible, layers of sheet metal and armor tack welded across the hole. Streams of water spewed from vents in her sides, indicating where damage control parties were at work pumping out the sea water that had flooded her lower decks after the crash. Small, blue-black clouds scudded beneath the lowering overcast.

"I don't think anyone has ever tried something like this before."

"That doesn't mean it can't be done!"

She turned again and looked at the map. It was laboriously hand-drawn, and Grayson wondered about its accuracy. Brasednewic had produced it when Grayson had asked him about the geography of the coastline.

"Okay, we're... where?"

With a grime-coated finger, Brasednewic indicated a strip of beach close by a hook of land jutting north into the sea. "Here. Hunter's Cape, it's called."

"And you want me to sail the Phobos—by sea!—all the way across to...here!"

Grayson nodded. 'To Ostafjord, yes. At the mouth of the Skraelingas River. The village of Westlee is here, across the bay."

"Five hundred kilometers!"

"More, since you'll have to skirt south of this island here."

"And you want to tear apart my reactor to do it..."

"Not 'tear apart!' Look—" He reached for a compad and stylus, illuminated the smooth data screen, and began sketching in lines of light. "The Phobosuses a small fusion reactor to heat and compress hydrogen up to the fusion point, with powerful magnetic fields to contain and direct what amounts to a small, controlled, and ongoing fusion explosion, right?"

"Very small, and a lot cleaner. Yes."

"Well, the design would also let you simply heat hydrogen, turn it into a super-heated gas, and blast that aft through the tubes as reaction mass. That was the principle of the first nuclear spacecraft. You pitch reaction mass aft, and it shoves the spacecraft forward."

"It's also a lot cruder, and a lot less efficient than a thermonuclear field pulse."

"Right, but we don't need efficiency here."

"No, what we need is fuel! We ruptured our hydrogen tanks in the landing and lost what little was left of our fuel reserves. We're going to have to cook some more H if we're to move anywhere."

"That's just it. We don't need to use H if we convert the drive to a simple reaction mass engine." He sketched rapidly. "We jury-rig intake valves here... here... here... and pump in sea water. The pumps circulate the water through the fusion reactor, which burns the H you have left just to produce heat and keep your weapons powered up. Steam is vented out the tubes. We flood the ship—"

"Flood!"

"Just a little! Just enough to give it some balance and keep the jet tubes underwater, and to give her a bit of a list. Steam blasts out the tubes under water, and you travel in the direction of your list!"

She chewed at her lip, staring at Grayson's doodles. "There are a lot of practical problems."

Grayson waved stylus and pad. "I don't give a damn about practical problems," he said. "You know your ship, and you have a small army of engineering Techs and officers who can lick practical problems. If not, we'll give them guns and stick 'em in with the foot soldiers!"

Use tore her eyes from the pad and brought them up to meet Grayson's. "God damn," she said, and the words were almost reverent. "You want me to convert my DropShip to a steam-powered sailing ship!" She shook her head, then moved the compad aside so she could again study Brasednewic's chart. "I must be getting as crazy as you are, Captain. You’ve got me thinking about ways to..."

She stopped short. "Look, assuming we can do it, what about our Kurita friends? Something as big as a DropShip quietly cruising across their ocean. I don't think they're going to care for that!"

"They know the Phobosis here, at Hunter's Cape. You make the conversion as fast as you can.... Before tonight if possible."

'Tonight!" The word was a wail of protest and horror.

"That would be lovely, thank you! I'm not sure how much speed you'll get out of her, but you have unlimited fuel, and the fusion-heated steam is bound to give her quite a shove. Your speed may be limited by the ship's structural integrity, but Iimagine you'll be moving at a pretty good clip. You'll travel at night. If you leave tonight, we can probably count on this cloud cover holding, and that will protect you from infrared detectors in orbit. I doubt that they have radar scanner satellites in orbit. That'd be impractical on a planet with this much jungle mixed with open terrain. By the time they get a ship here—tomorrow sometime, I imagine—you're well out of their way. Their first assumption will be that the Phobosbroke up in the surf or in high winds. They're not going to believe that we'd actually try to sail her across 500 klicks of open sea."

"You've got thatright."

"If the cloud cover breaks, there's a chance you'll be spotted, of course. With luck, you could make it all the way to this fjord without being spotted, and the enemy'll be left thinking the Phobosis at the bottom of the Azure Sea."

"It wouldn't take much for them to be right" She looked again at the wreck of the DropShip, rolling slightly with the swell now that most of the water had been pumped from her lower compartments.

"You're right" Martinez said at last. "It's worth a try, though God help me, I don't know how we'll be able to sail tonight!"

"We can't wait for tomorrow," Grayson said. "It'll take them at least until then to collect an army to throw at us. But no longer. Not if they want to stop us from stripping the DropShip. They'll be here tomorrow, say, by local noon. You've got to be a good hundred kilometers out to sea by then if you don't want their air cover to spot you."

"You'll lend a hand with your people, and some ‘Mechs for muscle?"

"Of course," Grayson said, thinking about the light ‘Mechs now aboard the Phobos,unloading the Locust."In fact, it would probably be a good idea if you took one of the ‘Mechs along with you. We don't know what you'll run into, once you reach land."

"I wouldn't mind someone riding shotgun."

"Fine. Now, which one? I need the Locustwith me." He trusted Lori's instincts as a scout, and her ‘Mech's speed would be wasted aboard the Phobos."And the Wolverineand the Riflemanare my heavies. You could have Debrowski, Yorulis, or Khaled. I'd suggest Khaled. I know he's had plenty of combat experience. I don't know how either of the other two would handle independent duty."

She chewed at her lip, then said, "Khaled, then. The guy gives me the shivers, but you're right about his experience. It shows, even if he doesn't say much."

Grayson nodded. "Good. I'll tell him."

"Then we'd better get started. So help me, Captain Carlyle, if I get seasick on my deck, I'm going to see to it that you have the fun of cleaning it up!"

Grayson watched Martinez stride down the beach, waving for a skimmer to carry her across the water to the Phobos.The plan to save the DropShip was one born of desperation. So much could go wrong....

Shaking his head, he rolled up the map and returned it to Brasednewic. "What's next for the rest of us, then?" he asked. "Devic Erudin had planned for us to meet with your Revolutionary Council."

"I could take you there, I suppose," the big man said, "but it's a long march through thick terrain. All jungle and swamp, like this"– he waved behind him toward the treeline—"and worse."

"Impenetrable for ‘Mechs?"

"No. At least, I don't think so. We've got some ‘Mechs, you know, but no one who can pilot them in combat.”

“How's that?"

"Oh, we have lots of guys and gals that can operate ‘Mechs because of the many plantations burned out from the jungle below the Basin Rim through here. Most of them use AgroMechs to plant and harvest their crops, and there's a big logging operation off to the east that uses big, four-legged ‘Mechs to cut, strip, and drag trees. Piloting an AgroMech isn't all that different from running one of those things." He gestured toward Grayson's ShadowHawk,standing empty on the beach nearby.

"We've got some BattleMechs, too, left over from the little planetary defense force from the days before Kurita took over. And some were brought in by government militia Mech Warriors who got tired of doing Nagumo's garbage details. Those militiamen are not very well trained, especially not against other ‘Mechs."

That was understandable, Grayson thought, because the Kurita occupation forces would not wish to encourage an active BattleMech force with well-trained pilots within their puppet government's army. They would use Verthandian government ‘Mech lances as oversized policemen on riot-control duty to scatter mobs and to awe disgruntled populations, rather than as actual combat units.

"Anyway, AgroMechs follow those trails all the time. Hell, most of 'em are old forest logging roads made by LoggerMechs in the first place, years ago. Our BattleMechs don't get out much, but when they do, they don't get into trouble if they stay on the main forest roads.

"Off the roads, it's different There are places that'll suck a ‘Mech down in the blink of an eye, mud pits that are as good as bottomless so far as a 20-ton piece of machinery's concerned. But you'll make it if you stick with us."

"Well, that's it, then. Will you take us?"

Brasednewic rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "Well..."

Grayson folded his arms. "If you're looking for payment, we don't have much to offer you."

"A proper share of the booty we took today would go right," the rebel said. "Like those tanks over there. We took 'em, your mercs and my boys together. Were you mercs figuring on drafting them into yourarmy?"

Grayson laughed, raising his hands, palms out. "Right now, I've got all I can worry about looking after my own equipment! If that's the coin that will get us to where we're supposed to go, by all means, take them!"

The rebel brightened. "We'll take 'em off your hands, then...”

“And if you want, I'll loan you some of my Techs to get them up and running,"

Brasednewic looked surprised. "You're generous, for a merc."

That again.: "There's more to this than money, friend. At this point, I'm more concerned about turning our two armies into one."

The rebel looked thoughtful, and Grayson guessed he was thinking about the problems that command of such a joint-effort army would create. The man's face cleared, as he no doubt reached the conclusion that such decisions were best left to the Revolutionary Council.

"Right. I'm sending some of my skimmers on back to Fox Island ahead of our main column," Tollen said. "They'll take my wounded and also the news that we've got these tanks on the way. You want to go with them?"

"I don't think so. I'll come in with my people and my ‘Mech."

"Sounds good. Well, that Erudin fellow can go on ahead to let 'em know we're coming. They're a bit touchy about unannounced visits."

"Understandable. I have to see to the fitting of our DropShip first anyway. And..." He looked up past the rebel commander's shoulder and saw a stocky form standing alone further down the beach. "If you would excuse me, I have to talk to one of my people. I've been keeping him waiting deliberately, but I think he's been stewing long enough."

Brasednewic snapped off an informal salute by touching the rolled-up map to his brow. "Right you are, then. But we're going to have to move fast. I'd like to be off this beach and moving by midnight."

"That'll depend on how fast we get that DropShip afloat," Grayson replied, "but we'll certainly do our best. If we're not ready by then, leave us a scout, and we'll follow."

* * * *

Grayson had not been looking forward to his interview with Davis McCall. He liked the lanky Caledonian, liked his cheerful manner and carefree grin. But likeable or not, McCall had a dressing-down coming to him, and the responsibility to deliver it was Grayson's.

"McCall, there are unit commanders who would have you shot for what you pulled this morning/'

"Aye, sair." There were shouts in the distance and the clank of heavy block and tackles being hauled up the flank of the damaged Rifleman.A dazzling pinpoint of light appeared and wavered at the ‘Mech's twin-barrelled arm where a Legion astech was at work with a cutting torch. Sparks danced and showered on the ground.

Since joining the Gray Death, McCall had shown an almost touching affection for his Bannockburn .Grayson could tell from the man's eyes that he longed to be across the beach with his beloved war machine as repair crews cobbled together repairs enough to keep her moving and fighting until she could reach a secure machine shop. McCall remained at attention, however, his eyes focused somewhere within the jungle canopy above the beach.

"I ordered you to ignore ground combat, if necessary, to concentrate on your detectors," Grayson continued. "If that Slayerhad been carrying an inferno cluster, we wouldn't be standing here talking about it now, would we?"

"No, sair." The Caledonian flexed his hands, and rallied. "But sair, tha' micklin' wee fighter had gone when his wingman was dooned! Ah dinnae ken..."

"You didn't think,dammit! I can't have people in my unit who have to be told how to think!"

"Sair...ye’re nae boo tin' me oot a' th' Legion..."

"If you mean terminating your contract, no, I'm not." Grayson looked hard at McCall, his gray eyes cold. "The Riflemanis yours and we need your Rifleman,Nor would I turn you loose here with no place to go but the Governor General's camp! Mostly, though. I don't want to lose you. You're a good man, Davis, and good men are more precious than BattleMechs!"

New light rose in McCall's eyes. "Thank you, sair!"

"Don't thank me. Prove your gratitude by following orders next time, and by using that thick Caledonian head of yours! Forget it, now. What's the damage?"

"Och, man puir, wee bairn wa' snickered good! Ma' Bannockburn 'sleft arm actuators were junked, an' both legs tookit a lo' a' damage."

"Never mind the details. How long to fix it?"

"Well, sair, her port arm actuators are killit, and tha' D2j detector antennae needs replacin', too. Captain, tha' Bannockburn needs a refit a'..."

"We don't have a repair facility, dammit! We don't have anything but what we've brought off the Phobos!How much to get her underway again?"

"She'll move noo under her ai 'n steam, Captain. Tae get her intae fightin' trim, oh...och, aye, another ten hours. But tha' puir lassie'll nae be usin' her port arm o' weapons until we gi 'e her a new actuator group. An' tha's something we nae ha'e here. An' her fire control'll be by guess an' by gosh until we replace her D2j."

"That 'poor lassie'll' have to make do until we get her to a heavy machine shop. But you’ll have your ten hours when we reach a rebel base. And maybe we can see about actuators when we're there. I understand there are a lot of AgroMechs produced on this world, and we might be able to adapt one to your needs."

"Aye, there's tha'. Wi' tha' right tools, ah could tinker somethin' tae makit do."

"Good. You're pretty good at...'tinkering', aren't you?"

"Oh, aye, aye. It helps havin' Sco'ish ancestors, ye ken."

"Well, I'm delighted to hear it. As of now, I'm pulling you off of Bannockburn ."

"Sair!" Shock marked McGall's face, and he cast another worried, longing glance at his crippled ‘Mech.

Grayson shook his head. "Those Techs over there can get her ready for the march to the rebel HQ. I'll put my own Tech, Tomlinson, on the crew. Right now, I want you out on the Phobos,helping rig her to pump and heat sea water."

"Sea water, sair?"

"Sea water. You're going to help teach the Phobosto swim. You can consider thatyour punishment for disobeying orders!"

Grayson returned the astonished MechWarrior's salute and walked over to where Brasednewic was waiting in the shade near the treeline at the far edge of the beach. Everywhere, men and women struggled with heavy equipment or wandered in seemingly aimless patterns across a beach strewn with debris and the refuse of a small army. From further up the beach came the grumbling of diesel motors as the Galleon tanks were fired up and sent clanking down a trail that a rebel guide had pointed out in the forest. The rebel army, uncertain what to do in the midst of this purposeful chaos, lounged in small groups in the shade of trees, dicing, playing cards, talking, sleeping, or simply watching the frantic activities of their unexpected new allies.

Somehow, Grayson was going to have to transform this chaos into a fighting army, or the Gray Death would never leave Verthandi again.

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