Grayson crouched low in his trench until the firing stopped. His TK assault rifle was useless against the enemy ‘Mech, and so all he could do was wait out the ‘MechWarrior's rage. That Centurion'spilot would have other things to think about very shortly.
There was a crashing in the brush to Grayson's right. He tapped Brasednewic's shoulder and pointed at the many brown-clad forms moving toward their position in a disordered rush. They were Kurita troops, survivors of the attack on the personnel carriers.
Grayson's TK was set for four-round burst fire, a measure that saved ammunition and avoided the muzzle climb associated with the weapon's 1200 rpm rate of fire. As his first target, he picked a Draco whose blue collar and shoulder tabs marked him as an officer. Because the man wore the sleeveless, armor-quilted jacket favored by House Kurita troops, Grayson drew careful aim on his head.
He stroked the trigger, and the TK sighed. Four caseless rounds made a barely discernible hiss as they cleaved the air to the Kurita officer thirty meters away. At least one round hit, snapping the man's head up and back and smashing him into the tree behind him. His blood was brutally red against the blue-green leaves it splattered.
Brasednewic's’ 5mm laser rifle hummed, and an invisible bolt of coherent light struck another Kurita soldier full in the chest. The armor vest absorbed the bolt, but the man yelped as he slapped at the smoke puffing from the damaged garment. The laser rifle hummed again, and the soldier vanished into the underbrush—whether dead, wounded, or suddenly cautious, there was no way to tell.
The other Kurita troops suddenly vanished, too, but sent a handful of shots clipping the leaves above Grayson's head. One round buried itself into the trunk of a nearby tree. The situation could have become an uneasy stalemate, with Grayson and Brasednewic pitted against a large and desperate band of Kurita soldiers, but the Centurionstepped in and tipped the balance.
The ‘Mech’s sound or motion detectors must have picked up the volley of small arms fire from among the trees on the hill above him. It pivoted sharply to face the battle and opened fire blindly with laser bolts and a thundering burst from its autocannon. The MechWarrior had targeted the heaviest area of fire, and his shots tore into the underbrush where the Kurita troops were hiding.
Grayson grabbed Brasednewic's elbow. "Let's move out! Before it's our turn" The two of them crawled out of their trench and worked their way upslope, away from the drumroll of high explosives and the shrieks of dying Kurita troops.
During the initial attack, McCall's Riflemanand Clay's Wolverinehad remained hidden above the road. Lying prone, covered by jungle vegetation, they were well-concealed from recon air or spacecraft by the jungle canopy. Paths down the slope to the ambush site had been carefully scouted earlier. Now, the two armored behemoths slashed aside light trees and vines and crashed into the open, lasers and autocannons belching fire. Fresh torrents of heavy weapons fire from the north marked the arrival of two more Gray Death Stingersand the Wasp,who engaged the light ‘Mechs of the Kurita patrol's van.
The Centurionhalted in mid-stride, then spun and lurched into a shambling run back up the road toward the Basin Rim. McCall levelled paired lasers and autocannon at the fleeing ‘Mech, pouring shot after shot into its back. If the CN9 took any damage, however, it was not immediately visible.
In the ruin of the road below Grayson's position, the Trebuchetstiffened into immobility and, seconds later, its head split. The pilot emerged, streaming sweat, his hands raised. Orange- and brown-uniformed soldiers began straggling in from the brush in small clumps, weaponless, their hands also raised in surrender. Moments later, Lori reported that one of the enemy's Stingershad surrendered, while the swifter Jennerhad managed to slash an escape through the jungle.
Grayson set his autorifle's safety and stood up, suddenly tired. Brasednewic stood up, too, laser rifle canted across his shoulder. "Congratulations, Captain," he said. "Looks like maybe we canlearn some things from you folks after all."
"That's what we came for, Colonel. But let's not underestimate these people."
"Who? The Dracos?"
"No...our people...yours and mine. It was their doing, this raid. They did it...together."
And as Grayson stepped down from the hill, his men—rebels and mercs together—began cheering wildly.
21
This far north, Verthandi's large moon never rose much above the southern horizon. Late in its third quarter, it hung like a ragged-edged orange sickle in an unusually cloudless sky just hours before dawn. The light of Verthandi-Alpha carried only faintly through the window where the man and woman lay in the dark. The man's fingers trailed across the woman's belly, tracing a delicate line from navel to sternum to throat, then circled down again to capture one smooth breast in a lingering caress. In the darkness, Sue Ellen Klein let out a soft moan.
"Hold me, Vincent," she whispered. "Just hold me, please..."
He drew her closer into his embrace. "What is it, Sue Ellen?"
"N-nothing." Her face was wet, the tears glistening by the light of the moon. "You've...all of you... have been so good to me."
"And why not? We're scarcely the monsters the Lyran Commonwealth makes us out to be."
"Oh, I know all that. It's just... oh, Vincent! I killedhim!"
He held her tight, his hands exploring the hollows of her back, whispering into her ear until her sobs subsided. When at last she quieted, he said, "Darling, it wasn't you! You knowthat. But you've got to let go! Jeffrie was killed by that bastard Carlyle...abandoned in a shot-up fighter and left to fry on re-entry. Sue Ellen, you saved him! You kept him from dying a horrible death! Tell me, what if it had been you in the crippled fighter, with your ship melting around you? Wouldn't he have done the same for you?"
"But it's all so confusing. I keep having dreams..."
"About Jeffrie?"
"Some. Mostly, though, I amin the fighter, and Carlyle is outside, watching me burn. And Jeffrie is with him, pleading with him, but Carlyle just crosses his arms and laughs. Or I'm all alone, hanging from a rock ledge, and there's this vast, empty blackness beneath and all around me, and I'm losing my grip..."
She shivered in his arms. "That's the way it feels when I'm awake, like I'm just clinging to the edge, hanging on...and my fingers are giving way and I'm falling into the dark...and now I'm getting it in my dreams, too."
"I've heard you moaning in your sleep."
She drew back far enough to place her hand against his chest, to stroke at the mat of black hair there. "Vincent, if it wasn't for you, I think I'd have gone insane. I mean it. I...I couldn't live with myself for...for a while there. I'm grateful."
He kissed her lingeringly. "And I love you," he said, when their lips parted. "You know, I'm glad to just... listen. If there's anything you want to get off your chest." He dropped his eyes, and smiled. "Such a lovely chest."
In reply, she snuggled closer. "I wish I knew some deep, dark military secret I couldget off my chest," she said after a time. "Something I could give to you to help bring Carlyle down for good!"