Papers rustled again as each of the nine set the contract copies aside and looked to Grayson. He searched their faces for some emotion, but found little he could read. McCall was grinning, which was usual for him. Yorulis exchanged some private joke with Debrowski.

Well,Grayson thought, the speech-making can't be put off any longer.

"I've told you what I know about our ticket," he began. "It's not a hell of a lot. You can see on your copies of the contracts the terms of our agreement with Citizen Erudin."

"Aye," said McCall. "tha wee laddie's aye neckit deep in fertilizer, frae tha look a' things."

Grayson arched an eyebrow. Not for the first time, he wondered if they would ever be able to understand the big Caledonian over the combat circuit in battle.

"As you say, McCall—I think." There were several chuckles from around the table, and Grayson relaxed a bit. "This looks like a rough one, people. We're supposed to train and organize a rebel army that has spent the last ten years getting kicked back into the jungles of this place called Verthandi. The contract calls for a minimum of 900 hours in-system, with extensions to be negotiated with the Revolutionary Council as the situation dictates. It specifies that we are to avoid contact with the enemy 'if possible', but we all know that's something of an empty promise. If we run into Kurita ‘Mechs, we'll have ourselves a fight, contract or no.

"The terms are generous enough. We're being hired to transport Citizen Erudin and the gear he's purchased here on Galatea to Verthandi, then remain there to train his people in ‘Mech and anti- ‘Mech warfare for 900 hours. As payment, Citizen Erudin has posted 150,000 C-bills as advance bond with the ComStar agency in Galaport. We're are authorized to draw on that for preliminary expenses, plus another 600,000 CBs, which will be released to us upon completion of our contract period."

"Generous?" A sour look passed over Delmar Clay's face, as he sliced the air with his hand. "Seven-hundred-fifty thousand to be divided among more than 180 people is generous? That’s about 4,000 apiece.. ifwe get back to spend it."

"Ha! We don't even get that,Del," Use Martinez said. She made a slashing motion with her finger across her throat. "Our expenses come off the top first, remember?"

Piter Debrowski leaned forward, his hands clasped before him as though trying to contain his eagerness. "Hey, it's still more than we'd get sitting in a Galaport bar!"

The youthful earnestness in Debrowski's voice pained Grayson, though the boy was only three years his junior. Debrowski and Yorulis represented a special problem in pulling the unit together. The two of them had signed on together. Both had trained with Lyran Commonwealth line BattleMech regiments, though neither had been good enough to secure one of the rare ‘Mech pilot vacancies in their training regiment. After months of repeated tries, each had made his way to Galatea, Yorulis from Morningside, Debrowski from the Commonwealth's capital world of Tharkad. They'd met on Galatea and teamed up in the hope of doubling their chances of finding a pair of open billets.

Grayson noted the barely restrained eagerness in their faces. This was their chance, possibly their only chance, and he could see they were determined to prove themselves. The biggest question, of course, was how they would react the first time into combat. That, after all, was the finaltest for any Warrior.

Grayson leaned back from the table and spread his hands. "I never promised any of you a fortune. If we stay on with these people for more than 900 hours...if we actually have a chance of beating the Combine forces cold - maybe we can negotiate more. For now, this seems to be the best we could do."

Clay snorted. "Three quarters of a million was all Erudin had with him, and he was out shopping for mercs?"

"He had other expenses, Mr. Clay. His supplies are being loaded aboard the Phobosnow." Grayson looked around at the others, his gaze resting for an extra beat on Lori who seemed still to be studying the contract printout. "People, this is your chance to back out...any of you. If you don't like the terms, if you don't like the assignment, tell me now."

Yorulis laughed. "Sounds great to us, Captain! Count usin!"

Grayson swiveled his seat to face the other newcomers to the Legion. "How about you? Khaled?"

So far, Hassan Ali Khaled had made the close-mouthed Delmar Clay appear talkative. His heavily lidded eyes looked almost reptilian. "It is not my place, Kolarasi,to advise you. You have my bond. I go where you lead."

The answer was less than satisfactory, but Grayson knew he was not likely to get more from the man. Khaled was decidedly an unknown factor in the unit's ranks.

Let it go,he told himself. He looked toward the far end of the table at Sherman and Klein. "How about you two?"

"We're with you. Captain" Sherman said. Grayson noticed that the young man's hand now covered Sue Ellen's on the table before them. Grayson felt a small, sharp pang inside and stole a quick glance again at Lori, but her eyes still did not meet his.

Romances and BattleMechs don't mix,he thought humorlessly. The relationship between those two would be something he'd have to watch. Or was he still feeling hurt because Lori had backed off from him? He still didn't understand her reasons, except that she'd asked for time. It’s none of my business,he told himself. Unless it starts affecting the operation of the unit. Then I'll damn wellmake it my business!

"Lieutenant Martinez, how long until you're ready to boost?"

The DropShip skipper grinned. "Any time, Captain...once our new employer gets his precious junk stowed aboard. The ‘Mechs are all slung and webbed in, and we've topped off our reaction mass tanks. Ten hours, I'd say."

"That's it men, people. Ten hours, if you want to back out. Sergeant Ramage, Captain Tor...you've been over this with your people? Good. I'll want a final report for each department no later than T-minus two hours. Now, let's take a look at the Verthandi map...."

* * *

In the end, none of the 186 members of the Gray Death Legion chose to remain on Galatea. The prospects of another billet were too lean. Almost exactly ten hours later, the DropShip Phobosarced heavenward on a pillar of fire, her course shaped toward the Jump-Ship balanced on softly thrusting ion jets at the zenith jump point of Galatea's star. Passage took nine days.

At the Galatean jump point, the Phoboswas secured to her docking ring along the rapier-thin length of the Invidious'sdrive spine. Her crew and passengers remained aboard, though they had access to the slightly less cramped facilities of the aging freighter.

Grayson found Lori in the observation lounge. The slight but constant nudge of the ship's ion thrusters had ceased and the Invidiouswas in free fall toward the Galatean sun, a fiercely brilliant, barely discernible disk 10 AU distant. The sun was visible now that the ship's solar collector had been furled and stowed for jump. Around them, vast powers surged and thrummed, building toward a computer-ordained climax. Somewhere, an electronic voice gave warning of transit in one minute.

Grayson drifted into the small room, catching hold of a stanchion to arrest his movement. Lori hung motionless beside him, clinging to a handhold on the bulkhead. Weightless, there was no down or up. They looked out upon Galatea's sun, whose arc-glare banished the stars even across a billion and a half kilometers.