It just didn't make any sense, Grayson thought. There was also the question of what Tor had seen when his ship had been taken. He'd said the men who boarded her had worn Oberon livery, but the 'Mechs transferring the cargo had been better cared-for than the equipment they'd been passing over. Bandit kingdoms even large and powerful ones like that of Hendrik III could rarely field anything better than patched-together and many-times-salvaged 'Mechs that had been through scores of battles. From where had those gleaming, fresh-painted machines come? Could Hendrik afford to hire a mercenary Lance from the Inner Sphere? From Kurita's Draconis Combine, perhaps?
And if he could manage that, why not use them in the attack? Why the deception? Why? Why?
"Hey!" Tor touched his shoulder, startling him. "They're clearing out!"
The Guards seemed to be withdrawing from the streets, some piling onto a rusty, six-wheeled personnel carrier, the rest hurrying up the street. Grayson could make out an officer in the APC's hatch talking with animated gestures on a transceiver handset
"Something sure has stirred them up," he said. "Wonder what?"
The answer came with a flash and a bang that struck Grayson like a blow to the chest, leaving him momentarily breathless. Across the avenue from where Tor and Grayson crouched, a storefront exploded like a geyser of flame, brick, glass, stone, and black smoke. People were screaming, and above the shrieks and yells came the measured rumble of heavy machinery in motion.
Grayson knew that sound. He squirmed forward on his stomach until he could peer around the corner of the sheltering building and look up the street. What he had heard was a Marauder, twelve meters tall and massively armored, hung with weapons that gave it a lumbering, top-heavy look. Grayson knew from experience that that machine was anything but clumsy.
He saw the stylized, slit-eyed emblem brightly painted on the heat-seared metal of the left leg and knew that this was the black-and-gray-painted machine that had killed his father.
A fascination born of sick horror gripped him, held him frozen there at the mouth of the alley. Almost in slow motion, the armored monster straightened slightly, then brought its right arm up as though pointing. Recessed in the swollen bulk of the forearm were a pair of the 'Mech's primary weapons, a medium laser and the massive bore of a particle cannon.
The laser flashed blue-white, a brilliant pulse that shrieked and ionized the air in its wake. The beam struck the APC, setting aflame the Guardsmen who had been clinging to its hull. Grayson squeezed his eyes shut against the blinding light, but still saw the afterimage of a Guards officer writhing in the carrier's hatch as the steel around him blossomed into a fireball.
A chain of staccato cracks carried above the roar of flame and crumbling buildings. The Marauder's autocannon, a tree-sized barrel mounted across the 'Mech's left shoulder, was spewing 120 mm high-explosive destruction in three-round bursts that shattered the street behind the burning carrier, and transformed clumps of running
green uniforms into bloodied shreds of rag. The smoke roiling down from the APC was acrid and black, and it stank of oil and charred flesh.
Grayson felt a hand on his shoulder, tugging, insistent. "Grayson!" We've got to get clear!" C'mon!" But, eyes locked on the Marauder, Grayson couldn't move. The 'Mech took one huge step, then another, pausing after each step as though testing the fooling. Fire flickered around its crab's head from the ineffectual shoulder-portable missiles and lasers of the city's unarmored defenders. Grayson found himself willing the Sarghad fighters to concentrate their fire, to seek out the vital nexuses of control circuits and servoactuators that might might! give them a slim chance of bringing the giant down. There was one such nexus where the legs joined the body, under that flat head. If they could just work together...
The giant brushed through the fire, unconcerned. Destruction boiled in its path as it sprayed the avenue and its buildings with flashing beams of energy.
"Grayson!" Tor's scream penetrated his numbed senses, brought him back to the scene at hand and the gagging stench of the burning vehicle. He shook himself, turned, and looked into Tor's wild eyes.
"Grayson, we've got to get out of here!"
He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, then began running with clumsy strides back down the alley and away from the monster. Behind him, the 'Mech collided with the buildings at the alley mouth, and the fall of brick and stone sent debris skittering along the ground in front of them.
Grayson followed Tor through the twists and turns of Sarghad's alleys, and the sounds of cannon fire and falling buildings began to recede behind them. Tor stopped and fell back against the wall, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.
"Where now?" Grayson asked, his mind still numb. He was willing to be led, to let the decisions be made by another.