EVIDENCE OF DESTRUCTION

"Are you saying someone set you up?" Atkins asked. "For God's sake, Carlyle, why would anyone do a thing like that? Listen! Your 'Mechs were holographed! Your DropShips were holographed! I've seen them, with the town of Durandel burning on the horizon behind them!"

Grayson shook his head. "I don't care what was photographed," he said. "Photographs, even holographs, can be faked by computer manipulations."

"Your 'Mechs were seen attacking the ruins, Carlyle."

"Witnesses can be bought, dammit! Or they can be misled! My God, someone is trying to destroy the Gray Death by turning us into outlaws ... and I can't get anyone to believe me!"

BATTLETECH

08607

THE PRICE OF GLORY

William H.Keith, Jr

ROC

Published by the Penguin Group .

Penguin Books Ltd, 27 Wrights Lane, London W8 5TZ, England

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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmoodsworth, Middlesex, England

First published in the USA by ROC, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Books USA Inc., 1993 First published in Great Britain 1993 10987654321

Copyright O FASA Corporation, 1987 All rights reserved

Series editor Donna Ippolito Cover Boris Vallcjo Interior illustrations: Janet Aulisio Mechanical drawings: Duane Loose

Roc is a trademark of Penguin Books Ltd. BATTLETECH, FASA and the distinctive BATTLETECH and FASA logos are trademarks of the FASA Corporation, 1026 W. Van Buren, Chicago, IL 60507

Printed in England by Clays Ltd, St Ives pk

Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition mat it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other man that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

BOOK I

1

Smoke stained an evil, yellow-green sky. There was no way that open flame could exist in the chill mix of hydrogen and methane that made up the atmosphere of Sirius V, but the wreckage and debris of the recent battle glowed white-hot in places, heat sufficient in that subzero chemical soup to precipitate oily, red-brown clouds of sulfur and nitrogen compounds. Those clouds hung, sluggish and sullen, in the dense and alien atmosphere.

Grayson Death Carlyle watched the approach of the city delegation through the main screen of his battle-scarred Marauder.The exhausts of their sealed vehicles glowed brightly against the cold on his main screen, which had been set to display infrared imagery. Beyond the delegation's convoy, the city of Tiantan brooded against a landscape of poisonous desolation. By visible light, it was a vast dome of gray metal crusted over with sulfur compounds and ammonia mud. By infrared, the city dome radiated furiously from a thousand heat sinks and ports, and looked like a fountain of heat set against the lambent skyline.

Grayson was not admiring the display, however.

"Fire lance," he murmured into the pickup at his lips. "Feed me your Sigma-Vee."

"Affirmative, Colonel." Lieutenant Khaled's voice was as dry and taut as Grayson's own throat. "Transmitting."

Four monitors along the side of Grayson's cockpit flickered and danced in static-laden bursts, then steadied into separate views of the convoy approaching from below. Lieutenant Hassan Khaled's Warhammer,Isoru Koga's Archer,Charles Bear's Crusader,and Sharyl's Shadow Hawk—eachviewed the convoy from a slightly different angle. Cameras mounted in each 'Mech's head transmitted that pilot's "Sigma-Vee," his view of the unfolding situation. The transmissions continued to flash and crackle with uneven bursts of static. Sirius, this planet's sun, was a hot, young Al star, and its raw voice easily bridged the 6 AU gulf to its fifth planet, raising periodic havoc with radio and video transmissions there.

Bear's Crusaderwas closest to the column. His screen's flickering data readout indicated a range of 2,000 meters to the nearest tracked, bubble-topped vehicle. Heavily armed and armored troop carriers straggled behind through red mud and ice-rimed puddles of liquid ammonia.

Grayson checked the console display that marked the positions of his other forces on a tactical map—three 'Mechs of the recon lance widely spaced across the rear, a fourth on guard back at the newly captured spaceport, his own command lance backing up the fire lance and deploying along the ridge facing the city.

He switched frequencies. "Command lance. Status check."

"Kalmar, Shadow Hawk.Check." Lieutenant Lori Kalmar sounded taut, expectant.

"Clay, Wolverine.Set." The laconic DelmarClay had his Wolverineon a low ice ridge to the north, where he could cut off the enemy's retreat if necessary.

"McCall. Ma' wee Bannockburn 'sready, sair." The redbearded Davis Montgomery McCall held his Riflemanin reserve, as added insurance against a Liao AeroSpace Fighter strike.

The fire lance monitors all indicated ready status, and the enemy was drawing closer. Grayson's attention snapped back to the view televised from Bear's Crusader.

"Bear! Full mag."

The scene on the monitor obediently expanded, zeroing in on the speck of white that had caught Grayson's eye. It was a white flag rippling from the whip antenna of the lead vehicle.

Grayson shifted command frequencies. "Ramage? What's your TacSit?"

Captain Ramage's voice filtered back through the earphones in Grayson's helmet. "We're in position, Colonel. I've deployed both platoons behind Hill 103, and the men are dug in and ready."

"Good. Hold your fire, and wait for my word. I see a white flag on the lead vehicle. But watch our Six. This couldbe a surrender ..." He let the warning trail off, uncompleted. The Sirius campaign might be on the verge of ending if those vehicles were emissaries of the city sent to parlay for surrender terms.

Grayson would have to be careful, though. The vehicles could also be part of some trap that might lead to a very different outcome for the campaign.

"Yessir. Our Six is covered.”

“Six" was a long-accepted battlespeech term meaning a unit's rear. Ramage's ground forces had been deployed to cover a possible enemy thrust from that direction—a good possibility if the convoy was not what it seemed.

The vehicles pulled to a halt 150 meters ahead of the fire lance, the white flag flicking this way and that in the fitful air. An amplified voice, heavily accented and carefully enunciated, echoed from a speaker in the lead machine. "This is Ambassador Gregar Chandresenkhar, Special Diplomatic Liaison of the Lyran Commonwealth to the planetary government of Sirius V. As an officially registered neutral in the hostilities between House Marik and House Liao, I have been asked to serve as Special Envoy for the City Fathers of Tiantan. I claim Privilege, sir."

Grayson flicked a switch, opening a mike to his own external speakers. "This is Colonel Grayson Carlyle," he replied. "Commander of the Gray Death Legion, in the service of House Marik and the Free Worlds League. Privilege is granted you, sir."