"You take it easy," Grayson said, aware of how false the words sounded. "We'll get you patched up and..."

But Yorulis kept coughing, a wet, strangling gargle. His breaths were coming in short, quick, wet gasps. His eyes closed. "Never knew they were..."

And then he was dead.

Grayson stood up, his head swimming. There was a great deal of blood on his thin pullover shirt, and it had now soaked through to his skin. It felt hot and sticky. The medtech clenched his fists once, then silently repacked his kit without looking at Grayson. He thinks I killed him,Grayson thought. Maybe he's right. But I had to know.

Lori looked up at him, at the blood on his shirt and hands. "What now, boss?" she asked. "Do we take them at Fox Island?"

He looked at the body for a moment, his lips compressed into a thin, white line. Then he shook his head. "No. If they're waiting for us, they'll know what we have and be ready for us. We wouldn't stand a chance."

"Where'll we go, then?"

"We don't have much choice, do we?" He nodded toward the north. "The deep jungle looks like our only chance. We'll find a place to set up a new base with what we took from the watchstation, then see about making contact with some of the plantation owners around here." He closed his eyes, visualizing a map. "Westlee and Ostafjord are possibilities. The Dracos haven't found the Phobosyet. Maybe we can set up an HQ there. First, though, we've got to get clear of here!"

Even before that, Grayson had to explain to his people what had happened. Strapped again into his Shadow Hawk,he tersely described the situation, that the enemy had taken Fox Island and that the column would be turning north.

"But sir!" A voice came over the circuit when he'd finished. "What about...what about the Council! Did they get away?"

Grayson recognized the voice. It was Harriman Oissen, pilot of one of the LoggerMechsand son of Karl Oissen, the doctor on the Revolutionary Council.

"I'm sorry, Harriman. There's nothing we can do for them now."

"We could go get them!"

"Not when they’re waiting for us, at night, with God knows how many ‘Mechs against the few of us.”

“No!"

"Pull back into line, Oissen!" Grayson made the command sharp and short. The green-painted LoggerMechthat had stepped from its place in line swayed, halted in place by the edge in Grayson's voice. "The worst thing we could do would be to go charging in there, guns blazing...and wipe out what's left of the Free Verthandi Rangers!"

Many of the others felt much as Oissen did. Several among the Mech Warrior apprentices and rebel soldiers had family, friends, or lovers among the Techs and astechs who had remained at Fox Island. Grayson himself felt the loss of the Gray Death Techs who had been left behind as a personal blow. What had happened to Tomlinson, the homely, carrot-haired boy who had been serving as his own personal Tech?

Harriman Oissen herded his four-legged ‘Mech into line again, but Grayson felt accusation heavy in the air around him.

There was no choice but to go on. They carried Yorulis' body with them in the back of a hover transport. Li Chin, one of the rebels from Brasednewic's command, knew the area well enough to describe a trail running through the forest that would lead them northwest to the Azure Coast above Ostafjord and away from the worst of the swamps near Fox Island Li claimed that the trail lay off the main east-west path no more than a kilometer ahead, but that meant going closer to the trap at their old base before they could get farther away. Grayson considered, and agreed. Following the trail was their only option in the midst of jungle so thick and treacherously unknown. He cautioned everyone in the column to strict silence and ordered them to move out.

They found the northbound trail minutes later and made the turn. It was not a clear branching of the trail, and so Grayson posted his Shadow Hawkat the fork to direct the column past him to the north. The jungle was strangely silent except for the keening of hover vehicles and the slogging step of marching BattleMechs. The cloud layer had lifted, and the day was clear and bright, with gold-orange sunlight slanting through the treetops. Grayson fretted about the possibility that Kurita satellites would spot the glint of sun on metal through the gaps in the forest canopy.

Once the northward turn had been made, Grayson harassed his command relentlesly, urging them faster along the trail. When a battered PickerMechbroke down completely, Grayson had the pilot transfer to one of the infantry vehicles and left the derelict ‘Mech at the side of the trail. When some rebel troops complained about the pace, Grayson offered to let them volunteer as a rear guard. They could sit m the trail and rest, he told them, if they would deal with the enemy ‘Mechs that were certain to be on their trail. The Kurita ‘Mechs waiting to trap the rebel column at Fox Island would never let so tempting a target as Grayson's little band escape when they realized the rebels were not playing according to the Draco script. It was well past local noon when the enemy Mechs found them. Grayson had dropped back to the tail of the column to urge a pair of straggling AgroMechs to pick up the pace. They were Logger-Mechs,clumsy on the narrow path and difficult to maneuver among low trees and heavy hanging vines and beard moss. They had fallen nearly a hundred meters behind the rest of the rebel column, and Grayson was afraid they would become lost. The trail branched repeatedly along its winding, northward course, and it was possible that stragglers would become separated from the main force and never be able to link up again. One of the laggards was piloted by Harriman Olssen, the other by a young woman named Jenni Vikna.

"You wouldn't be trying to leave us now, would you?" Grayson said, but his voice was mild. "We have a long way to go. Close it up."

For a moment, he thought he was going to get an argument from Olssen, but the young man held his silence. Grayson remembered that the Vikna girl, too, had had someone at Fox Island. He'd often seen her walking with a young local astech.

"We've got to find anotherway to help them," he said gently.

Grayson used his Hawk'sarms to help clear a difficult spot through overhanging vines and guided them through. He could see their fatigue by the unsteadiness of their four-legged walkers as he urged them on.

"We need another twenty klicks," he said, "and then we can camp for the night. Come on! You can do twenty kilometers in your sleep."

At that moment, the enemy ‘Mechs attacked.

24

 

The sudden appearance of the Kurita ‘Mechs caught Grayson like a blow to the stomach. In the lead was a Marauderpainted in green and brown jungle camouflage. Bright against its upper torso was the black-on-scarlet Kurita dragon insignia. Grayson immediately recognized the markings of the Marauderfrom the holos the proctor of Scandiahelm had shown him. And piloting that well-named ‘Mech was the colonel in command of the Kurita ‘Mech regiment on Verthandi.

A 35-ton Pantherand a sleek, black-and-white Phoenix Hawkflanked the Marauder.Then came a loud, thrashing sound from the jungle behind them as another heavy machine moved swiftly through the brush.

Grayson's hand came down on his firing controls almost without conscious thought. His autocannon opened up with a hammering roar that sent shivers through the Shadow Hawkcockpit. Explosions flashed and sparked against the unyielding armor of the Marauder.The enemy ‘Mech was at almost point-blank range, however, and one step forward took it out of Grayson's line-of-fire too quickly for him to adjust the autocannon's track. Instead, he palmed the Hawk'slaser control and brought his ‘Mech's right arm slashing up to aim. As he squeezed the trigger, a point of intolerable brilliance flickered against the Marauder'shull close by the heavily shielded cockpit. Bolts of laser and PPC fury from the Phoenix Hawkand the Pantherwere already shredding through the barn-sized and paper-thin hulls of the pair of LoggerMechs.