He had been studying the young commander of the Gray Death ever since signing on with the Legion. Carlyle's passions, the turmoil of emotions he carried constantly within himself, were easy to see. And yet the idea of converting the stricken DropShip for travelling over the sea had been inspired! The gamble should have failed, and yet somehow the ship had made it Even blinded by emotions, Carlyle possessed a gift for leadership that Khaled did not fully understand. There was much to be learned here.

Movement!

A ‘Mech, a Waspwith Kurita markings, was approaching, only dimly seen in the half-light of the predawn. Its pilot had not yet seen him, but the machine was moving toward him with long strides. In another moment...

There was a crackling rattle of gunfire, sharp and crisp in the morning air. The spark of a ricochet winked against one massively armored shoulder. The Wasppaused; its squat turret-head rotating, seeking the source of the attack, the medium laser held rifle-like in massive, mechanical hands.

Someone was attacking the Kurita ‘Mech with small arms! Though that fact told something about the political leanings of the town's population, it said little for the same people's intelligence. Or, had someone in the town seen Khaled's own emergence from the sea and known that he must be with the mercenary forces lately come to Verthandi? If so, the attack was a timely one, staged deliberately to provide him with opportunity.

Inshallah!He willed his mind and heart cold, repeating the phrase that swept him into the grip of farir kalb.

The heart is empty, the body a weapon, the mind and body are one.

He seized the opportunity. The mind and body are one...

The Stingersprang forward, closing the range to the Waspin twenty rapid strides. He dared not fire and risk slaughtering his new allies, nor could he risk alerting other Kurita forces that might be nearby. One of his Stinger's arms descended in a lightning stroke that crumpled the Wasp'slaser from behind. His right leg swept around and up, smashing into the Wasp'sknee in a crushing blow that sent the enemy machine lurching to one side.

Inshallah! The mind and body are one! Allah Akbar!

Before the Wasphit the ground, one of Khaled's armored fists had rocketed down, fingers knife-edged, penetrating the target ‘Mech's cockpit at the weakest point. The enemy ‘Mech went limp as Khaled straightened, withdrawing his Stinger'shand from the shattered head Only then did Khaled will himself to think again.

The townspeople emerged from their hiding places, weapons in hand, cheering wildly. In the harbor, the light of the early sun caught the Phobos'shull in a wet and golden gleam.

15

 

Another week passed. Runners from the Azure Coast carried word to Grayson that the Phoboshad arrived safely at Westlee. Storm and cloud cover had cloaked much of the sea passage. On the few clear nights, an ocean was a big place to hide something so small and unexpected as a DropShip. Now, Martinez had her command safely berthed, well under the sheltering lee of a massive cliff. Friendly rebel forces in the village had helped defeat the few Kurita and Loyalist troops in the area, actions that would probably be written off to random rebel activity rather than to the arrival of a damaged mercenary spaceship.

Use had included a scrawled message of her own for Grayson: You were right. Damn you for being a genius. Repairs proceeding— Use.

That single piece of news cheered Grayson more than he'd thought was possible. Though the Legion's situation was still serious, there now existed at least a slight possibility that the DropShip could be repaired—given time, material, hard work, and decent facilities. One day, the Legion might yet escape this world. Despite the good news about the Phobos,other concerns were more critical than ever.

"General, in my estimation, four weeks is simply not enough time!"

"Captain, that's longer than I was at first willing to grant you. We cannot sit by doing nothing and watch the destruction of our world. The army—including the Free Verthandi Rangers—must be ready to move out in three days."

Grayson had been expecting and dreading this interview for weeks. His mission of turning a rabble of mostly youngsters into MechWarriors and support troops had become instead a bitter struggle—the struggle with himself as much as with the rebel army command. On one hand, his contract obliged him to transform these people into soldiers. That meant that the longer he had to work with them, the better their chances of survival. On the other hand, Grayson felt that it would take years to mold this motley group into soldiers ready to take on the dreaded Kurita ‘Mech forces of Governor General Nagumo.

Almost since the day he had arrived at Fox Island, he had been pursuing a campaign of raising alternate possibilities but without notable success. His principal suggestion was that a campaign be begun among the citizens of Verthandi, urging them to rise en masse against their Kurita overlords. Thorvald and Ericksson assured him that the people would never move on their own without a demonstration of the rebel army's power and ability. And that 'army' was the band of youngsters the Gray Death was now attempting to train.

"Three days! General, some of those people are just kids!"

"They've got to be ready," Thorvald replied. He arched an eyebrow. 'They are ready! I watched you putting the apprentices through their paces in the ‘Mechs yesterday. They looked good."

"And so far they haven't fired a single shot, except in the simulators. God in heaven, General, you send those kids in against Kurita ‘Mechs and you're not going to havean army!"

Thorvald's eyes met Grayson's disapprovingly. "Just what is it they lack?"

"Lack? Experience! Experience, and maybe five or six more years of training to learn the difference between a PPC and a hunting rifle."

"Some of the older ones have had plenty of experience, Captain."

"Sure, sniping at militia sentries and stealing cans of food! But most of them, the kids especially, have never been under fire. General, do you know what that means?"

"Many of these... these kidshave been fighting the Brownjackets for ten years now. Your people have been invaluable in organizing them, and now it is time to let them prove what they can do—on the field."

"Shouldn't I be the one to judge when they're ready?”

“No, sir, you should not! I've seen what they can do. For this operation, they won't need fancy tactics like taking out enemy ‘Mechs with satchel charges. What they need to know is combat organization, discipline, and confidence—ail of which you've given them. Captain! I've seenit!"

Grayson shook his head violently. "Confidence isn't enough in the face of PPC and laser fire! They need experience!"

"What do you suggest as a means of giving them...experience?"

"When they're ready, I suppose we could try raiding a Government Militia depot, something lightly guarded."

Thorvald leaned back, picked up a stylus, and turned it between his fingers. After a moment, he seemed to reach a decision. "Captain, I can promise you they'll have their experience. In three days, we're opening our offensive against Nagumo. If it's successful, there will be no further need of raids or BattleMech training at all. One battle, and the campaign will be won!"

Grayson looked skeptical. "One campaign, General? And suppose the offensive isn'tsuccessful?"