Something turned to ice in the pit of Ramage's stomach.

The DropShips?

So far, the Marik infantry had not noticed him. He had to do something. But what?

He bent over to retrieve the Rugan SMG from the dead pilot's fingers and nearly passed out. He couldn't stop an army with a submachine gun, but it steadied him a bit to feel the cool plastic surface in his hands. The Rugan fired 80 caseless rounds, and from the heft of the weapon, the magazine must be full, or nearly so. One glance at the dead pilot's scantily clad body told Ramage that hewas carrying no spare magazines. Perhaps there were some at his disabled 'Mech.

An idea stirred within Ramage's pain-dulled mind, and he struggled to capture it. The Marik pilot's Locustwas parked where he had left it, hunkered down among the scrub brush and trees partway up the west face of the hillside. With the damage to its foot that Ramage himself had inflicted, that 'Mech would not be going anywhere soon. Ramage had a nodding acquaintance with BattleMech operation through his work with the Gray Death.

That Locustwas still a potent weapon, intact except for the damage to its right foot.

Step after painful step, he made his way back up the slope, using the SMG as a walking stick, making his way from tree to tree. He was afraid that if he fell, he would be too weak to get up again.

Ramage knew more about the operation of Locuststhan he did about most other BattleMechs because of his friendship with Lori Kalmar. They had first met back on Trellwan, when the two of them had joined the fledgling 'Mech force that that was to become the Gray Death Legion. Except for Ramage and Grayson, Lori had felt isolated among the other unit members, who continued to treat her with suspicion long after she had defected from the forces of their enemy. He had used what technician's training he could muster to get her Locustbattle-ready, back before the final, climactic battle at Thunder Rift.

The Locust,like all other 'Mechs, would have a computer-oriented cutout to prevent unauthorized personnel from using the machine. However, the cutouts in all but the largest, heaviest 'Mechs would disengage the 'Mech's fire control or drive systems only after the machine had been completely shut down. It was unlikely that the Marik pilot had done so, considering how much time it took to power up a dead 'Mech, and so Ramage thought its control and fire systems might still be operational. As he drew closer to the still form of the machine, he could hear the gentle hum from its power routers and cooling fans. The 20-ton 'Mech was still idling, and its boarding ladder dangled where the pilot had left it. Though Ramage's shoulder throbbed with pain, he grasped the chain link ladder in one hand, set his boot onto a rung, but then nearly sagged to the ground as he tried to pull himself up.

Mustering all his will, he tried again. With the Locusthunkered down this way, its dorsal hull was only three meters off the ground. As Ramage made his way up one dizzying, swaying, pain-ridden rung after another, those three meters might have been three hundred.

Or three thousand.

When he paused, panting and clinging to the chains, he could feel the warm blood flowing down his back again. At the rate his clothes were becoming soaked with blood, Ramage wondered how long before he would pass out from loss of blood alone.

Vaguely, he heard shouts, someone yelling something about the Locust.When he swung the chain ladder around enough to look back down the hill, he saw Marik soldiers charging through the clearing. They would know he was not a Marik MechWarrior by his uniform and tactical vest, not to mention the blood and his evident weakness.

A bullet sang off the metal hull beside him, which somehow galvanized Ramage into action again. He continued his climb, until at last he could roll over onto the dorsal hull of the Locust,clinging to the machine by dropping one arm and one leg into the open cockpit. He was lucky that the pilot had elected to open the broad, swing-panel dorsal escape hatch instead of the smaller hatch at the rear of the vehicle. Ramage would not have been able to maneuver to squeeze through the smaller regular hatch.

He dared not stop now for fear of passing out before his task was complete. More bullets spanged against the Locust'shull. He unslung the machine gun from his right shoulder, pointed it toward the noise and flashes, and let loose a long, rippling burst of heavy-caliber autofire. Though he couldn't see if he'd hit anything, the running man-shapes down the hill were gone now, and so the Marik troops must have been driven to cover by his fire. Ramage dropped down into the Locust'sseat and checked the controls.

With the damage to the 'Mechs foot, he didn't dare try to set the BattleMech in motion. He didn't even bother bringing down the pilot's neurohelmet from its rack above and to one side of the seat. The neurohelmet would have to be tuned to his own brainwave patterns for him to use it, and its primary purpose was to provide sensory feedback on the 'Mech's attitude and balance anyway. None of that would be needed for what he had in mind.

The controls were identical to those in Lori's old, Sigurdian Locust.He touched a control and felt the vibration as the chin turret directly under the cockpit swung 90 degrees, sharply to the right. A screen on the instrument console showed him the target feed from the Locust'smedium laser. He could see the troops cautiously moving forward again. Beyond them, brightly lit in the clearing at the bottom of the slope, he could see the two Packrat ECM vehicles, with soldiers swarming around them.

Ramage keyed two buttons, bringing up the screen's targeting display and charging the Martell medium laser. A green light flashed full charge; a second winked readiness. The firing computer closed the target brackets down around the near vehicle. Ramage adjusted the aim up off the heavy armor along the combat car's flanks, and brought the Omni-D antenna into the tracking lock.

Got it! His palm slapped the big red button on the right-hand steering rip. The laser fired, the glare brilliant through the tinted combat screen of the Locust.

White fire washed across the ECM car. Without waiting to see if he had scored critical damage on the machine, he traversed the Locust'sturret, further right and higher. The second combat car was moving, making a tight turn to get out of the line of fire of this unexpected menace. Green lights flashed, and Ramage's hand came down on the firing switch again. A hit!

The first car was moving now. There was damage to its upper hull, but the antennae appeared intact. Ramage retargeted, locked, and fired. Chunks of metal hurtled from the antennae, leaving twisted wreckage dragging on the ground behind it.

Just then, something big and heavy hit the Locust'souter hull, and smoke boiled in through the still-open escape hatch, but Ramage didn't care. The exertions of the last few minutes were catching up with him in a violently tossing storm of blackness and nausea. The pain was fading now, mercifully, but the dizziness was whirling him up and around and down into oblivion. He wondered whether he had damaged the second Packrat's antenna enough to break the enemy's ECM jamming. He started to reach for the controls again in order to find out.

Somehow, that small movement was just too much for him. He could see his hands dimly through sweat and blurring vision and blood and smoke . . . but he just couldn't make them do what he wanted. Then it no longer mattered, for he couldn't see anything at all.

11

The shrill hissing in Grayson's ears stopped with a suddenness that was astounding. For a moment, he wondered if it were some enemy trick, or was the enemy commander about to broadcast a demand for Grayson's surrender? Or make his own request for terms?