McCall smiled through the grease on his face. "Aye, there's tha', but we ca' nae leavit tha' indigs in tha' lurch, noo, can we?"
Grayson glanced at Montido and Dace. "Indig" was generally received as a condescending or even hostile word on most worlds, but both Verthandians seemed inclined to let it pass. Perhaps they reasoned that McCall was as tired as the rest of them and not thinking clearly. Or perhaps they hadn't been able to follow his accented speech.
"I'd like to know what our contract says about all this," Lori said. "Our agreement was with the Revolutionary Council. Looks to me like we don't have any employers now."
Montido stirred. "May I speak, Captain?"
"Of course. It's why we asked you here."
He glanced at Dace, then looked down at the table. "I think I speak for...for what's left of the Verthandi Rangers when I say that we need you. More than ever, we need you."
"God knows how we could pay you, though," Dace added.
"Right. If...if you want to go, get offplanet...we'll help you capture the ship, but that will be the end of us. There's no way we can keep fighting on our own. Not now."
Grayson shook his head slowly. "There are other things at stake besides money" he said. It was surprising how his own thoughts were falling into line as he discussed the matter with the others. How can we abandon them now?"The thought of stealing a Kurita DropShip is tempting, but I'd have to live with myself as well."
Debrowski stirred, frowning. "Sir...we can't still hope to beat them..."
"Why not?”
"Captain, look! It's still just us...well, us and the rebels, sir... against a regiment of ‘Mechs and God knows how many troops! We can't hopeto win against an army like that!"
Grayson looked in turn at each of the others. "A military unit cannot be run as a democracy... but all must at least have some voice in this decision." He looked at Montido and Dace. "Would you gentlemen excuse us for a moment?"
When the Verthandians had left the room, Grayson continued. "I think a show of hands is sufficient. Who wants to stay and help these folks?"
Hands went up around the table: Lori and McCall together, Khaled an instant later. Clay looked at those three, shrugged, and put up his own hand. Sergeant Ramage looked worried. "Captain, I can't speak for all my people, you know that. A lot of the Legion people: would be delighted to get off this dirtball."
"I daresay we all would, Sergeant"
"I also know a lot of them have gotten close to the rebels these past few weeks, I don't think anyone wants to see them slaughtered by Nagumo's bastards." He raised his hand.
Martinez put up her hand, too. "I still don't care for the indigs," she said, "but I don't want to scuttle poor old Phobos,especially after all the work and heartache I've put into her!"
Debrowski was the only one left. He looked thoughtful, then added his hand to the rest. "I'll vote with the rest of you. Jaleg was my friend. Somehow, I don't want to just leave him here, as though it had all been for nothing."
"So we know what we wantto do," Martinez said, "but we still don't know how. I mean, we go out and win the war, right? How?"
Grayson folded his hands together, steepled his forefingers, and studied them. Despite his shower, they were black with ground-in grime. He wondered if he'd even gotten off all the blood.
"In one way, Piter is right," he said at last. "We're not going to win, not in the long run. We could spend years in this jungle, knocking off Kurita supply depots and patrols. But the Combine is going to keep right on tunneling men, ‘Mechs, and supplies into Regis, and Nagumo's ‘Mechs are going to keep right on hunting for us. Sooner or later, they'll get lucky."
Clay scowled. "So what'll we do?"
"We start by doing what we've been doing, only a lot more of it. We hit the Dracos every chance we get to remind them there's a rebellion on. We build training camps in the jungle, organize training cadres, do everything possible to arm, equip, and train local forces wherever we can find people who want to fight We've got an army big enough to fight the Dracos... if we can just mobilize it"
"A lot of them are Loyalists," Martinez pointed out
"The majority are in the middle, uncommitted. It's that way with any fight, of course...but we're going to have to find ways to reach them. I think a lot of the Loyalists will come over, too, if they're given the chance.
"But the firstthing we do is put together the message that we're going to beam at the Invidiouswhen Captain Tor pops back in-system." He looked at each of the others. "We'll have him fetch us some help."
"Who?" Lori asked. "Another bunch of merc ‘Mechs?”
“No...something Free Verthandi needs more right now than a whole BattleMech army.”
“What's that?”
“Recognition."
26
Sergeant Ramage gritted his teeth, took another turn of the nylon line about his gloved hands, and set his feet to the ferrocrete wall. His boots scraped faintly as he hauled himself hand over hand up the face of the three-story building.
From the valley on the far side of the building came the sound of gunfire. A moment before, he'd been crouched among the boulders on the crest of the ridge, watching the first moves of the Verthandi Rangers as they swarmed up over the Basin Rim, but he could see nothing now. The attack was going well so far, he knew. Rebel laser and autocannon fire had slashed into the scattered force of light enemy ‘Mechs gathered on the edge of the plateau, catching them by surprise.
One hand found the top of the wall close beside the grapnel, which had lodged behind it. He eased his head up, took in the expanse of the flat, open rooftop. Against the far wall, he saw a pair of sentries whose backs were to him and whose eyes were glued to the viewpieces of their electronic binoculars. Sentries...or perhaps Techs from inside the building. They wore heavy automatic pistols in low-slung belt holsters, but neither carried a rifle or subgun.
That made sense. The base was supposed to be part of the Verthandian government's chain of military outposts along the Basin Rim. The flag waving just below the spidery struts and braces of the station's massive deep space antennae was the green, red, and gold banner of Verthandi... Loyalist Verthandi, the Verthandi that danced to the tune of far Luthien. Yet, the two men observing the battle wore the severe black of Draconis Combine officers.
Advisors, then. Or watchdogs. Ramage wondered how much Nagumo trusted the native forces under his command. The two were intent on the panorama of the battle spread out below them. Neither noticed as he carefully drew the sonic stunner from its holster under his arm, switched off the safety, and drew down on the pair of them.
His weapon gave a sharp, warbling hum once...twice. The two Kurita officers crumpled onto the roof without a sound, and Ramage hoisted himself up and rolled across the rim of the parapet. He saw a wooden trap door and stairs leading into a lighted room below, but there was no sign of other officers, sentries, or soldiers. Turning toward the anxious rebels waiting in the shadows at the base of the building, he gave a thumbs up sign.
As the hand-picked team of ten commandos climbed the rope after him, Ramage stepped over to check the bodies of the two officers. Both were unconscious and would be so for hours. Chancing a peek over the wall, he saw the head and shoulders of an immobile Pantherdirectly below him, the reason he'd chosen to enter the building up the back wall and down from the roof. That Kurita BattleMech sentry was there to prevent a direct assault on this deep-space transmitter station, an attractive rebel target. Its destruction could interfere with Kurita space fleet operations and communications, and it would be expensive to replace.