"Well, that's it, then. Will you take us?"

Brasednewic rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "Well..."

Grayson folded his arms. "If you're looking for payment, we don't have much to offer you."

"A proper share of the booty we took today would go right," the rebel said. "Like those tanks over there. We took 'em, your mercs and my boys together. Were you mercs figuring on drafting them into yourarmy?"

Grayson laughed, raising his hands, palms out. "Right now, I've got all I can worry about looking after my own equipment! If that's the coin that will get us to where we're supposed to go, by all means, take them!"

The rebel brightened. "We'll take 'em off your hands, then...”

“And if you want, I'll loan you some of my Techs to get them up and running,"

Brasednewic looked surprised. "You're generous, for a merc."

That again.: "There's more to this than money, friend. At this point, I'm more concerned about turning our two armies into one."

The rebel looked thoughtful, and Grayson guessed he was thinking about the problems that command of such a joint-effort army would create. The man's face cleared, as he no doubt reached the conclusion that such decisions were best left to the Revolutionary Council.

"Right. I'm sending some of my skimmers on back to Fox Island ahead of our main column," Tollen said. "They'll take my wounded and also the news that we've got these tanks on the way. You want to go with them?"

"I don't think so. I'll come in with my people and my ‘Mech."

"Sounds good. Well, that Erudin fellow can go on ahead to let 'em know we're coming. They're a bit touchy about unannounced visits."

"Understandable. I have to see to the fitting of our DropShip first anyway. And..." He looked up past the rebel commander's shoulder and saw a stocky form standing alone further down the beach. "If you would excuse me, I have to talk to one of my people. I've been keeping him waiting deliberately, but I think he's been stewing long enough."

Brasednewic snapped off an informal salute by touching the rolled-up map to his brow. "Right you are, then. But we're going to have to move fast. I'd like to be off this beach and moving by midnight."

"That'll depend on how fast we get that DropShip afloat," Grayson replied, "but we'll certainly do our best. If we're not ready by then, leave us a scout, and we'll follow."

* * * *

Grayson had not been looking forward to his interview with Davis McCall. He liked the lanky Caledonian, liked his cheerful manner and carefree grin. But likeable or not, McCall had a dressing-down coming to him, and the responsibility to deliver it was Grayson's.

"McCall, there are unit commanders who would have you shot for what you pulled this morning/'

"Aye, sair." There were shouts in the distance and the clank of heavy block and tackles being hauled up the flank of the damaged Rifleman.A dazzling pinpoint of light appeared and wavered at the ‘Mech's twin-barrelled arm where a Legion astech was at work with a cutting torch. Sparks danced and showered on the ground.

Since joining the Gray Death, McCall had shown an almost touching affection for his Bannockburn .Grayson could tell from the man's eyes that he longed to be across the beach with his beloved war machine as repair crews cobbled together repairs enough to keep her moving and fighting until she could reach a secure machine shop. McCall remained at attention, however, his eyes focused somewhere within the jungle canopy above the beach.

"I ordered you to ignore ground combat, if necessary, to concentrate on your detectors," Grayson continued. "If that Slayerhad been carrying an inferno cluster, we wouldn't be standing here talking about it now, would we?"

"No, sair." The Caledonian flexed his hands, and rallied. "But sair, tha' micklin' wee fighter had gone when his wingman was dooned! Ah dinnae ken..."

"You didn't think,dammit! I can't have people in my unit who have to be told how to think!"

"Sair...ye’re nae boo tin' me oot a' th' Legion..."

"If you mean terminating your contract, no, I'm not." Grayson looked hard at McCall, his gray eyes cold. "The Riflemanis yours and we need your Rifleman,Nor would I turn you loose here with no place to go but the Governor General's camp! Mostly, though. I don't want to lose you. You're a good man, Davis, and good men are more precious than BattleMechs!"

New light rose in McCall's eyes. "Thank you, sair!"

"Don't thank me. Prove your gratitude by following orders next time, and by using that thick Caledonian head of yours! Forget it, now. What's the damage?"

"Och, man puir, wee bairn wa' snickered good! Ma' Bannockburn 'sleft arm actuators were junked, an' both legs tookit a lo' a' damage."

"Never mind the details. How long to fix it?"

"Well, sair, her port arm actuators are killit, and tha' D2j detector antennae needs replacin', too. Captain, tha' Bannockburn needs a refit a'..."

"We don't have a repair facility, dammit! We don't have anything but what we've brought off the Phobos!How much to get her underway again?"

"She'll move noo under her ai 'n steam, Captain. Tae get her intae fightin' trim, oh...och, aye, another ten hours. But tha' puir lassie'll nae be usin' her port arm o' weapons until we gi 'e her a new actuator group. An' tha's something we nae ha'e here. An' her fire control'll be by guess an' by gosh until we replace her D2j."

"That 'poor lassie'll' have to make do until we get her to a heavy machine shop. But you’ll have your ten hours when we reach a rebel base. And maybe we can see about actuators when we're there. I understand there are a lot of AgroMechs produced on this world, and we might be able to adapt one to your needs."

"Aye, there's tha'. Wi' tha' right tools, ah could tinker somethin' tae makit do."

"Good. You're pretty good at...'tinkering', aren't you?"

"Oh, aye, aye. It helps havin' Sco'ish ancestors, ye ken."

"Well, I'm delighted to hear it. As of now, I'm pulling you off of Bannockburn ."

"Sair!" Shock marked McGall's face, and he cast another worried, longing glance at his crippled ‘Mech.

Grayson shook his head. "Those Techs over there can get her ready for the march to the rebel HQ. I'll put my own Tech, Tomlinson, on the crew. Right now, I want you out on the Phobos,helping rig her to pump and heat sea water."

"Sea water, sair?"

"Sea water. You're going to help teach the Phobosto swim. You can consider thatyour punishment for disobeying orders!"

Grayson returned the astonished MechWarrior's salute and walked over to where Brasednewic was waiting in the shade near the treeline at the far edge of the beach. Everywhere, men and women struggled with heavy equipment or wandered in seemingly aimless patterns across a beach strewn with debris and the refuse of a small army. From further up the beach came the grumbling of diesel motors as the Galleon tanks were fired up and sent clanking down a trail that a rebel guide had pointed out in the forest. The rebel army, uncertain what to do in the midst of this purposeful chaos, lounged in small groups in the shade of trees, dicing, playing cards, talking, sleeping, or simply watching the frantic activities of their unexpected new allies.

Somehow, Grayson was going to have to transform this chaos into a fighting army, or the Gray Death would never leave Verthandi again.