Grayson had a new worry now. None of the ex-prisoners had cold-weather gear. The sub-zero temperature would quickly kill them if they weren't moved to shelter fast. It was also possible the Marauder might get them.
Grayson tracked and fired with his laser. At over three klicks, he thought he had scored hits, but could not be sure. At such ranges, even the most powerful Mech-borne lasers were practically useless.
The Marauder's autocannon winked fire in return. Flame gushed from a striken GEV, strewing metal, plastic, and bodies across the sand. The other hovercraft circled around, seeking to strike their target from the rear, where the armor was thinnest. The Marauder slowed, paused, searching for ambush or concealed attackers.
The transporter ground to a rumbling halt, and the freed prisoners swarmed up along the sides, grabbing handholds and being pulled up by troopers onto the broad deck. Heavily laden hovercraft thrummed past, racing for Sarghad. Others deposited their passengers beside the transport, then swung north to gather more stragglers.
The ferrocrete emptied, except for the littered debris of battle. Grayson called all units.
"That's it! Fall back! Striker Four, drop your mines and break off! Rendezvous at Sarghad!"
Autocannon shells probed and followed, falling short.
They were well underway when the Marauder, perhaps suspecting an ambush,
broke off the chase.
* * * *
Thirty hours after the battle at the wadi, Harimandir Singh stared at an image of the boy he'd thought was dead.
"So," he said. The word held calm acceptance, as well as grim anticipation. He fingered the 2-D photo his spy had handed him. "So Carlyle's son is alive. And you say he's the one behind this... this situation?"
Stefan nodded jerkily. Singh terrified him. He never knew how the Red Duke's man would react to the news he brought, and the uncertainty was wearing on him.
Stefan had been recruited by one of Singh's agents in Viscount Vogel's staff shortly after the Commonwealth representative had arrived at the Castle. The Young Trell was proud and ambitious, and bridled under the subtleties of custom and prejudice that separated the offworlder starmen from the "indigs", the locals. That agent had played on both Stefan's pride and his greed. Stefan now had more money in one of Sarghad's banks than he'd ever seen in his life, and had been promised even larger rewards for continued loyalty in service to the Red Duke.
Stefan swallowed hard. "I was at the celebration, Lord. The King gave him a medal his second, I believe and made a speech. He called Carlyle's son the Deliverer of Sarghad."'
Singh's eyes flashed, sharp and cold. "He didn't see you?"
"No, Lord. I was in the back of the room. The light on the stage was bright. He couldn't have seen me, not in that crowd. I think everyone in Sarghad must have been there."
"That's good. Otherwise he might recognize you from our assault on the Castle."
"Yes, Lord."
"Carlyle will have to die, of course. The question is what to do with this new unit he's forming. Singh looked thoughtful. "They have a full Lance now. Four 'Mechs."
"Only three, Lord. I overheard two astechs talking at the reception. I gather that one of the Wasps cannot be repaired, and they're using it for salvaged parts."
"Three 'Mechs or four, it cannot matter. Light 'Mechs are no match for a Marauder and a Shadow Hawk." He flipped Grayson's photograph aside. "Carlyle knows he cannot win. Perhaps he will try something desperate." Singh smiled to himself. "Now, that would be... pleasant."
"You will attack, then, Lord?" Singh's relaxed and talkative mood made Stefan more bold.
"Eh? Not while they remain in that city. Those narrow streets and alleys are deathtraps for 'Mechs. No, we will remain here, and wait."
"But Lord, how will you bring them out to fight?"
"We won't need to. They cannot attack us here in the Castle, and very soon we will no longer need to attack them."
"I don't understand, Lord."
"And it is not desirable that you do. If you knew the Plan, I would kill you now."
Stefan paled, and remained silent.
"I want you to return to Sarghad. You've been my eyes and ears there, Stefan. Now you will be my hand." Singh smiled at Stefan in his icy fashion, and the young Trell found the expression horrifying.
* * * *
Sarghad's hospital complex lay mosdy below ground in the southern part of the city. Its ground level was domed-over against Trellwan's extremes of climate, but an open patient lounge and exercise area was bathed in ruddy light through wall transparencies during the day. Trell was westering. The spaceport battle was a standard week in the past
Captain Renfred Tor shook Grayson's hand.
"I take it you didn't get the job you were looking for," Grayson said.
"They refused rather bluntly, I must say." Tor was well on the way to recovery, though he remained in a wheelchair while tissue grafts healed on his toes. He had been carried to the transporter by another escaping prisoner when his frostbitten feet had given out The bruises on Tor's face had healed, but there was still a haunted look to the man, some secret honor that he would not discusss.