"What ya see is what ya get," Grant added.

Schlomo dropped his cup. Hot liquid splashed the old man, and Slezak as well. The two of them leaped to their feet.

"A touch of the palsy, Schlomo?" Grant grinned. "I thought you scientist types had cleaned up the gene pool."

"Many genotypes have similar phenotypic expressions," Schlomo said stiffly. He might be a medtech now, but he still talked like a scientist.

For a moment Grant looked puzzled at Schlomo's response, then he shook his head. "I don't know why we let you sit around with us. All you scientists wanta do is lecture or fiddle around in your labs. And since we ain't got a lab, ya lecture. I thought I'd left that kind of excess mass behind when I qualified for 'Mech duty. If I'd known that's what I was in for between fights, I'd have volunteered to be a groundpounder. Nobody cares enough about them to bother giving them lectures."

Almost everyone laughed at that and the tension broke. The spotlight on him again, Grant rambled off into an anecdote about an encounter with a squad of infantry and a one-legged BattleMech. I had heard it before, but him telling gave me the opportunity to tune out and think about what Grant had said about children. Until he mentioned it, I hadn't given the matter any thought.

Even before Grant finished his joke, the perimeter guard passed the word that a Dust Rat was coming in, cutting short my revery. I got up and wandered away from the fire, looking for the six-wheeled recon vehicle. I guessed that it would be Greevy's Rat. He was our Special Recon Group liaison, part of the detachment that had crossed over to the Outback while the majority of the unit stayed in the World to make life interesting for Alpin's supporters. Greevy had already been by earlier and given us the latest intel from the other sources. If this Rat was his, he had found a spot from which to beam his findings back to the Colonel in record time.

The Dust Rat pulled up twenty meters from our campfire. Even before the scruffy scout unlimbered his lanky frame from the vehicle, I knew it was Greevy's from the vehicle's paint scheme.

"Yo, Greevy. What's the word?"

"Coffee first."

When he walked past me, I could smell his stink from being cooped up too long in his car.

"The news," I said, falling in beside him.

He stopped and turned his head slowly until he was staring at me. His long face was drawn into a frown. "I've rolled without coffee before."

I didn't really expect him to leave, but the members of the Special Recon Group were all a little strange. I thought it best to humor him. People sometimes got weird from humping around the edges and behind battlefields all alone. They tended to forget about things like chains of command. I got him a cup, then went back to the fire.

Once he'd knocked back half the coffee, he sprawled beside the fire, his nonchalance belying the import of his words.

"Back in the World they tapped a patch into Chandra's commo. Report of a JumpShip convoy appearing insystem two days ago. There are DropShips on the way in. Zeta Battalion."

"Zeta!"

"Unity! That's good news," Circoni said. "We could use Jamison's assault 'Mechs."

"Fancher's freakos better look to their butts," Grant was saying when suddenly the camp speakers began to howl.

"Bandit!" was the cry that went up, but the news was too late; the Stingraywas already diving on the camp.

The incoming aerojock must not have been sure who we were; he didn't start firing until he was halfway through the first pass over the camp. When he finally decided to shoot, his lasers sliced furrows into the ground and anything else that got in their way. Wind created by the Stingray'spassage ripped through the camp, and the sonic boom knocked several people off their feet, including me. But I was up and running again while the Stingrayclimbed for altitude before another pass.

To get to my 'Mech, I had to run among the pads set up for the VTOL fighters. The fighters were only Guardianatmospheric craft, but I knew that the aerojock would consider them prime targets because they had the best chance of meeting him on his own terms.

Cursing the luck that put the pads between me and my 'Mech, I continued to run as fast as I could.

Dust billowed from beneath one of the Guardianfighters. The pilot must have been ready for a night patrol if he could scramble that quickly. Hot air and sound buffeted me as the fighter took off. He wouldn't have much chance against the Stingray,but on the ground, he'd have none at all.

I couldn't hear a thing over the roar of his jets, but the wild arm-waving of the people in front of me was warning enough. I hugged dirt. A crackling particle beam dug through the ground a few steps ahead of me.

Laser bolts clawed into the fighters still sitting on their pads, one ruby beam cutting into a fuel tank and igniting it. The aircraft vanished in a trio of explosions and a ball of fire. In minutes the night was a scene from hell as the flames lit the rising smoke.

The Guardianintercepted the Stingrayas it came around for a third pass, but our fighter's cannon was pathetically unable to track the fast-moving aerospace fighter. The Stingray'sPPC and lasers flickered briefly and the Guardiandisintegrated.

But its pilot had bought us some time.

I scrambled up the ladder to the cockpit of my 'Mech. The LokVsfusion reactor was on damped idle. The risk of being spotted was high, but the danger of being caught with cold engines was worse. I was glad I'd decided to chance it. I popped the dampers and prayed as the engine pumped power to the machine.

My computer acquired the Stingrayas it swooped in for its next pass. Lasers flickering from its wings and blue lightning erupting from its nose, the aerospace fighter roared across the camp, explosions erupting as it passed. It was obscured briefly by the rising cloud from an obliterated ammo dump, but then I had my sights on it. The seven-centimeter Blackwell lasers glowed, sending their scarlet energy to crisscross behind the Stingray'sforward-port canard wing. I thought my shot had missed, but the forward speed of the fighter was so great that it swept through the pulse of my lasers. Shrapnel littered our camp as armor peeled away from the fighter's main wing.

The Stingraywobbled as it screamed away into the darkness.

I hoped we had seen the last of it, but my radar screen showed it banking around for another pass. My cockpit was full of sound. Warriors firing up their 'Mechs. Ground troopers screaming for vectors to aim their antiair. Calls for medics and firefighting equipment. I watched the aerojock maneuver on my screen.

I thought he'd come around the heavy column of snioke from the ammo dump, but he came through it instead. My lasers raked empty sky. He was a better shot, pummeling my Loki,which rocked as coherent light savaged its armored shell.

Other 'Mechs and some of the antiair emplacements fired at the Stingray.Some hit, but the fighter's armor held. When he finally roared away into the night, heading south, my radar told me that he wouldn't be back. I passed the word over the battlegroup channel as two friendly fighters streaked across the perimeter of our encampment.

"Those are ours, folks. The bird's going to have to burn it if he's not going to smoke." I didn't know if our aerospace boys would catch him, but I hoped so. The Stingray'spilot had done more than enough damage. "Now, everybody saddle up. We're going to have ground forces moving on us soon. The big bad bird squawked."