Sitting with the five leaders, drinking the bitter local coffee and rich Verthandian tea in the library of the Ericksson mansion, he realized that this was a revolt of the world's aristocrats. With the possible exception of Erudin, every one of these rebel leaders were members of what Brasednewic referred to as the "Old Families", descendants of the Scandanavian settlers who had come to Verthandi six centuries before. Grayson had learned earlier that Brasednewic’s family had arrived two centuries later, emigrants fleeing the devastations of the Succession Wars on planets deeper within the Inner Sphere. There was a subtle tension between the Old Families and the late-comers, the ones still referred to by people of Scandanavian heritage as "refugees". Private animosities and feuds had been set aside for the duration of the revolution, or so it was claimed. Grayson wondered how long this state of affairs could last.

"We certainly appreciate your coming here to Verthandi, Captain," Ericksson said to him by way of welcome. The others nodded agreement, but the atmosphere remained reserved, slightly formal. A copy of the contract between the Council and the Gray Death lay unmentioned on the elegant white cloth that covered the table where they sat. Grayson's eyes widened slightly when he saw that a small, flat plastic case lay beside the contract printout, a case with the lone, glowing red eye of a power indicator light at one end. It was a pocket transcriber, and it was recording their conversation.

So, he thought. This is for the record, just in case there's a dispute later, and we must go before the bonding authority. These folks are cautious.

Ericksson continued, smiling. "We have long recognized the need for...for outside help in our struggle against the Combine."

"We'll do what we can, sir," Grayson replied, then gestured at the printout on the table. "Our contract specifies that we are to form a training cadre and drill your people in the fine points of anti-Mech warfare. I gather, too, that you have a small nucleus of BattleMechs and want our help training pilots."

"Precisely," said Helgameyer. "We have a large army, weapons, and the support of most of the people. But without special training and equipment, soldiers are no use at all against BattleMechs."

"It's the training more than the equipment, ma'am," Grayson said. "We'll do what we can for you."

"There is one small point," Olssen said, but he seemed nervous, ill at ease. His eyes strayed to the recorder.

"Yes, sir?"

"Well, a couple of points, actually.”

“Yes?"

"One is the matter of command. Another is your participation in combat here."

Ah!Grayson thought. So that's it!

"There should be no problem there," Grayson said, his voice mild. "The contract specifically places my unit under the direct command of your Council. In short, you give the orders, and we obey. At least so far as those orders don't put my own command unnecessarily at risk."

"That's just it," Carlotta said. "Your actions upon landing at Hunter's Cape have already put your command at risk. Captain, we did not hire you to engage in battle with the enemy!"

"Eh?"

"Citizen Erudin has explained the terms of the contract he worked out with you," Ericksson said, "To be frank, we cannot afford to pay for your participation in combat"

"I understand that, of course," Grayson said. "We also have an obligation to defend ourselves."

"When the enemy ships landed," Olssen said, "you could have slipped away into the jungle. Kurita forces rarely track our people far under the forest canopy."

"That's fine...for your people. We had certain equipment that had to be off-loaded, including the military supplies your agents purchased offworld. I also had to see to the safety of the DropShip.*

He did not add that the Phoboswas by now well on its way to Ostafjord. He wondered if he should also caution Brasednewic not to mention the fact. The strain in Grayson's new relationship with these people was a tangible presence in the room, and that strain bred distrust. "We couldn't let all of that to fall into enemy's hands."

Thorvald spoke for the first time. "So long as you understand, merc. If your people get killed and your ‘Mechs get shot up, we're not paying your bill. That's for the record!"

"Understood," Grayson said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "That's our responsibility. I do hope your...hospitality extends to your ‘Mech maintenance facilities and repair shops. We took some damage at Hunter's Cape, and—"

"And you expect us to make it good?" Thorvald was openly hostile.

"The contract specifies 'routine resupply and maintenance'."

"Routine,Captain, routine."Helgameyer looked from one face to another of those gathered around the table. "We are not unreasonable, Captain Carlyle, and certainly you are welcome to use our facilities. But we do want it clear from the start—" her eyes indicated the recorder "—for the record, Captain, that we have brought you here to train our people, not to fight for us."

"That is clearly understood. Citizen Helgameyer."

Thorvald appeared mollified, but was still gruff. "We can't expect offworldersto understand our struggle. We fight for freedom, not money."

Thatagain. There was no point in arguing. "I understand. General. But I must make it clear, for the record,that the Gray Death Legion will defend itself in any way that I, its commander, deem necessary. If that means we take on the whole Kurita army, we'll do it." He spread his hands. "After all, it's not as if you hired yourself an army to fight your revolution for you. Half a dozen ‘Mechs and less than a hundred men and women can do a splendid job training your cadre, but we would look pretty foolish taking on the entire Kurita garrison. I may be a mercenary...but I'm not crazy!"

Thorvald did not look convinced by that final statement, but the others smiled and seemed to relax a bit.

"Well, now that that'sout of the way," Ericksson said, "let me extend to you and your people the hospitality of my plantation. If there's anything we can do."

"Thank you, Citizen. I have to see to my people, and you'd also better show us where to park our ‘Mechs out of sight. I don't imagine you'd care to have a Kurita recon satellite scan show them sitting on your front porch!"

Ericksson nodded. "Quite right. There's nothing to fear, however. I'll have some of my people lead you around to the Caves."

"The Caves?"

He smiled. "At the north end of Fox Island. You have to understand that the polar depression we call the Silvan Basin is the remnant of an ancient collision of a massive asteroid with our world perhaps tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of years ago. The Basin Rim cliffs are the rim of the crater.

"The impact gouged out the crater, and turned the floor molten. Later, as the molten rock cooled, cracks developed. Some of those cracks became the paths for streams and rivers running down from the cliffs. Vast cave systems were opened up, and one of the largest lies beneath this island. The first Scandanavian colonists to Verthandi found them, and discovered that they would provide a convenient source for all the heavy and industrial metals they could use. It seems that the asteroid had concentrated various metals up close to the surface, within easy reach.