A tap on the shoulder and a murmured invitation from a Guard Colonel interrupted Grayson's darkening thoughts. Mara was reluctant to let him go, but she whispered another steamy proposal and scaled it with a lingering kiss.
Then Grayson followed the guard out of the Reception Hall, down a carpeted passageway to a richly furnished study. The room was dim, lit mainly by the greenish glow of native chaggawood logs burning in the fireplace.
Three men awaited him there. General Varney he knew, white-haired and immaculate in his plain brown uniform with the red tabs of the Militia at throat and shoulders. General Adel he had met briefly earlier. He was younger, with a black mustache that contrasted the silver at his temples. Senior Commandant of the Palace Guards, as well as Chief of Staff for His Majesty's Military Council, Adel's full-dress greens showed more gold than green.
The third man in the room remained seated by the fireplace. Grayson recognized the hawk profile of King Jeverid.
"Thank you for coming, son," said Varney. "We have a proposal to make to you.
Yes, sir?"
Adel lowered the drink he'd been sipping. "Carlyle, we'll get right to the point. We want you to organize a 'Mech Lance to be incorporated into the Palace Guard. We want a combat company of ground troops trained in anti-Mech warfare. Can you do it?"
Varney looked sharply at his Guard counterpart. "I believe the idea is for the Lance to be under joint command, in a department of its own, General."
Adel nodded, his expression pained. "Yes, Varney, yes." Then, he turned to Grayson. "Well, Carlyle? What do you say?"
Grayson said nothing at first. With the eyes of all three men on him, he felt he wanted to hide. "Sirs... Majesty... I don't really know what to say. I'm not sure I have the experience to..."
"Ha!" The King's exclamation startled him. "You've got a damn sight more experience than anyone else on this planet... except for those bastards sitting up there in the Castle."
"We need your help, son," Varney added. "We're helpless without trained soldiers and the mobile firepower and armor to back them up."
Jerevid turned to Grayson full face, and his eyes flashed as he spoke. Grayson realized with some surprise that there was more to this king than a dull mind in a frail body. The King spoke with animation. "Varney here tells me you outfought those 'Mechs practically bare-handed, because you
knew how they worked, how their drivers would think. That's what we need here."
"But Majesty, what about 'Mechs?"
"What about 'em? We have two, thanks to you. There's the one you captured and another we can repair. And anything more you capture is yours!"
Grayson considered the potential of a 'Mech Lance consisting of two 20-ton 'Mechs. Typical Lances contained a mix of 'Mech weights and types, ranging from 20-tonner lights to the heavies like Shadow Hawks and Marauders. A Locust and a Wasp might last all of 20 seconds in a stand-up fight against a Marauder. With luck, that is.
"Just what is it this 'Mech Lance is supposed to do?"
Adel took another sip from his glass. "The withdrawal of Carlyle's men has left us wide open to bandits like Hendrik." He pursed his lips judiciously. "I'm not going to comment on just what it was your people were trying to pull with that Pact we've heard so much about."
"Then don't," said Jeverid.
"Yes, Majesty. Be that as it may, the Commonwealth garrison is gone, and our enemies are here. We expect them to continue raiding us for supplies and perhaps to send out a call for reinforcements
"You dealt them a terrible blow, Grayson. Our scouts report they only have two serviceable 'Mechs left now, with another damaged and another being refitted in the Castle. Why, with your skill and a pair of 'Mechs of our own, the Guard could cripple those bastards, make it so they'd never send another expedition to Trellwan again. We need a 'Mech unit of our own if we're going to protect ourselves and our sovereignty. Without it..." He shrugged expressively. "We might as well sign ourselves over to Hendrik. We're helpless."
A Locust and a Wasp against a Marauder and a Stinger, plus a Shadow Hawk, once the enemy repaired the machine that had been crippled before the attack. That meant a combined combat tonnage of 40 tons against 150. And perhaps against more if the bandits were able to repair that leg-damaged Wasp. One-to-four odds, near enough. What the hell, Grayson thought wryly. All in a day's work... Assuming, of course, that he would be able to find and train someone to pilot the second 'Mech. He could not simply recruit some likely private from the ranks of the Guards and turn him into a MechWarrior. Piloting that much metal required training-honed skills and talent that few possessed and that even fewer could apply.
Something told him these men did not want to hear about stats and specifications, or the problems of recruiting. More emotional protests tumbled forth. "Sir, I'm afraid I'm in way over my head here. Look, I'm 20 standard years old." These people expected the impossible!