"Private Enzelman and I were never what you'd call close," she told him. "But he's a Sigurdian, and a long way from home, like me. I... I don't think I can help you to... to kill him."
The pain in her eyes touched Grayson. Many of her critics still didn't trust Lori's willingness to work for her former enemies, and she was trapped between the need to prove her loyalty and her loyalty to a fellow warrior.
"I can take you off the project," he said.
"And go back to that dungeon? That's where your General Adel wants me, you know. Him and Lieutenant Nolem." She shuddered.
Grayson leaned back, reflecting. "You know, everything depends on our taking that Wasp with its cockpit intact. What we need to do is develop a diversion that will let me get close enough to cripple it without touching its head or your friend Enzelman." He spread his hands. "I can't promise more than that"
She managed half a smile. "What I'd really like is to get him to come over to the Lancers. The only reason he's fighting for them is that he doesn't know there's an alternative."
Grayson thought of his five warrior recruits, and nodded gravely. During the practice session earlier that period, one of the men had tripped the Locust over its own feet, and it was only fool's luck that had kept the irreplaceable machine from being badly damaged. Grayson was despairing of any of those five ever taking a 'Mech into combat.
"Believe me, Lori. I intend to try to do just that. We need 'Mech pilots, and we're not going to grow them ourselves here in Sarghad."
She'd looked up at him, her eyes shining. "Do you... do you mean that? I mean, that I might con a 'Mech again?"
Grayson rubbed his eyes. "I can't promise it, not now. But damned if I know where else I can get 'Mech pilots. It takes years of apprenticeship to learn how to con one. Ha! Look at us! Apprentices half our lives, and neither of us had even graduated yet when we found ourselves... here."
Lori laid her hand on Grayson's arm, a warm and gentle touch. "I'll do whatever has to be done, Gray."
How had they slipped into a first-name basis? Grayson could not remember. He did know that he felt comfortable with Lori, able to talk to her, to discuss plans, and that he missed her when she was not there. Perhaps their growing friendship had something to do with the fact that they both felt so alone here.
"Well all do what has to be done," he said. "It's called 'survival.'"
Two periods later, Lieutenant Nolem filed a report with General Adel on 'subversive elements within the unit.' He named no one, but it was clear he had Lori in mind as the one directly responsible for the unit's poor morale. As the sun rose on a crisp, clear, -20 degree morning on Seconday, the First Trellwan Lancers seemed farther away from being combat ready than ever.
18
The Lancers needed combat to draw them together. More importantly, Grayson realized, they needed a victory.
By the time the red sun had reached its zenith in the clear chill cold of Seconday, the Lancer T.O. & E. showed the two combat platoons as having 40 men each. This force constituted the Ground Strike Unit and had been trained in anti-Mech infantry tactics. How well they would be able to put Grayson's lectures into practice remained to be seen. The astech support platoon now numbered 63, and Tech Sergeant Brooke under Master Sergeant Lori Kalmar's direction had both Mechs mechanically sound and operational. The Wasp, however, still lacked a head.
Written out on the unit T.O. & E. chart, it all looked quite impressive, but Grayson knew that even a full battalion with four times as many men even well-trained and experienced men would be hard pressed to handle even one attacking 'Mech. And when one of those Mechs was a 75-ton Marauder...
The heart of any 'Mech unit was the combat Lance the 'Mechs themselves. Ideally a balance of four 'Mechs working together, sometimes accompanied by an air Lance of aerospace fighters, the unit's 'Mechs were the whole reason for the existence of support combat units. Except for special units, most 'Mech Lances, especially mercenary units, had no ground strike force at all and consisted of 'Mechs and Techs alone. Without 'Mechs, a unit consisting of mere men was practically defenseless.
And the Lancers had exactly one combat-ready light 'Mech.
It was a few tens of hours shy of midday Seconday, and the Trellwan Light Lancers were deploying for combat As Grayson had explained to General Varney when he submitted his proposal, "We fight now, and win or it's all been for nothing."
There was more than the fighting morale of the Lancers at stake. Grayson needed more than one 'Mech if the Lance was to have any chance at all. And the only way they were going to get another 'Mech was to take one away from the enemy.
The spaceport north of Sarghad was an unsightly sprawl of gray and white buildings across the otherwise empty countryside. The ground there was largely barren, broken by thick clumps of blue-tufted qykka and patchy swards of blue-green prairie grass. The highway that linked port and city was pocked and rutted by Trellwan's vicious weather cycle, and had been but rarely travelled even before the coming of the bandit raiders.