Grayson looked in turn at each of the others. "A military unit cannot be run as a democracy... but all must at least have some voice in this decision." He looked at Montido and Dace. "Would you gentlemen excuse us for a moment?"

When the Verthandians had left the room, Grayson continued. "I think a show of hands is sufficient. Who wants to stay and help these folks?"

Hands went up around the table: Lori and McCall together, Khaled an instant later. Clay looked at those three, shrugged, and put up his own hand. Sergeant Ramage looked worried. "Captain, I can't speak for all my people, you know that. A lot of the Legion people: would be delighted to get off this dirtball."

"I daresay we all would, Sergeant"

"I also know a lot of them have gotten close to the rebels these past few weeks, I don't think anyone wants to see them slaughtered by Nagumo's bastards." He raised his hand.

Martinez put up her hand, too. "I still don't care for the indigs," she said, "but I don't want to scuttle poor old Phobos,especially after all the work and heartache I've put into her!"

Debrowski was the only one left. He looked thoughtful, then added his hand to the rest. "I'll vote with the rest of you. Jaleg was my friend. Somehow, I don't want to just leave him here, as though it had all been for nothing."

"So we know what we wantto do," Martinez said, "but we still don't know how. I mean, we go out and win the war, right? How?"

Grayson folded his hands together, steepled his forefingers, and studied them. Despite his shower, they were black with ground-in grime. He wondered if he'd even gotten off all the blood.

"In one way, Piter is right," he said at last. "We're not going to win, not in the long run. We could spend years in this jungle, knocking off Kurita supply depots and patrols. But the Combine is going to keep right on tunneling men, ‘Mechs, and supplies into Regis, and Nagumo's ‘Mechs are going to keep right on hunting for us. Sooner or later, they'll get lucky."

Clay scowled. "So what'll we do?"

"We start by doing what we've been doing, only a lot more of it. We hit the Dracos every chance we get to remind them there's a rebellion on. We build training camps in the jungle, organize training cadres, do everything possible to arm, equip, and train local forces wherever we can find people who want to fight We've got an army big enough to fight the Dracos... if we can just mobilize it"

"A lot of them are Loyalists," Martinez pointed out

"The majority are in the middle, uncommitted. It's that way with any fight, of course...but we're going to have to find ways to reach them. I think a lot of the Loyalists will come over, too, if they're given the chance.

"But the firstthing we do is put together the message that we're going to beam at the Invidiouswhen Captain Tor pops back in-system." He looked at each of the others. "We'll have him fetch us some help."

"Who?" Lori asked. "Another bunch of merc ‘Mechs?”

“No...something Free Verthandi needs more right now than a whole BattleMech army.”

“What's that?”

“Recognition."

26

Sergeant Ramage gritted his teeth, took another turn of the nylon line about his gloved hands, and set his feet to the ferrocrete wall. His boots scraped faintly as he hauled himself hand over hand up the face of the three-story building.

From the valley on the far side of the building came the sound of gunfire. A moment before, he'd been crouched among the boulders on the crest of the ridge, watching the first moves of the Verthandi Rangers as they swarmed up over the Basin Rim, but he could see nothing now. The attack was going well so far, he knew. Rebel laser and autocannon fire had slashed into the scattered force of light enemy ‘Mechs gathered on the edge of the plateau, catching them by surprise.

One hand found the top of the wall close beside the grapnel, which had lodged behind it. He eased his head up, took in the expanse of the flat, open rooftop. Against the far wall, he saw a pair of sentries whose backs were to him and whose eyes were glued to the viewpieces of their electronic binoculars. Sentries...or perhaps Techs from inside the building. They wore heavy automatic pistols in low-slung belt holsters, but neither carried a rifle or subgun.

That made sense. The base was supposed to be part of the Verthandian government's chain of military outposts along the Basin Rim. The flag waving just below the spidery struts and braces of the station's massive deep space antennae was the green, red, and gold banner of Verthandi... Loyalist Verthandi, the Verthandi that danced to the tune of far Luthien. Yet, the two men observing the battle wore the severe black of Draconis Combine officers.

Advisors, then. Or watchdogs. Ramage wondered how much Nagumo trusted the native forces under his command. The two were intent on the panorama of the battle spread out below them. Neither noticed as he carefully drew the sonic stunner from its holster under his arm, switched off the safety, and drew down on the pair of them.

His weapon gave a sharp, warbling hum once...twice. The two Kurita officers crumpled onto the roof without a sound, and Ramage hoisted himself up and rolled across the rim of the parapet. He saw a wooden trap door and stairs leading into a lighted room below, but there was no sign of other officers, sentries, or soldiers. Turning toward the anxious rebels waiting in the shadows at the base of the building, he gave a thumbs up sign.

As the hand-picked team of ten commandos climbed the rope after him, Ramage stepped over to check the bodies of the two officers. Both were unconscious and would be so for hours. Chancing a peek over the wall, he saw the head and shoulders of an immobile Pantherdirectly below him, the reason he'd chosen to enter the building up the back wall and down from the roof. That Kurita BattleMech sentry was there to prevent a direct assault on this deep-space transmitter station, an attractive rebel target. Its destruction could interfere with Kurita space fleet operations and communications, and it would be expensive to replace.

He spared a second to look down at the battle. With the sun so low on the southwestern horizon behind him, the battlefield was already in the shadow of the com station's ridge. Flashes of autocannon fire stabbed repeatedly through the gathering gloom, and the funeral pyre of a loyalist Waspglowed like a flare. There were perhaps a dozen Loyalist ‘Mechs on the field, more than the rebel scouts had reported, and many support units as well. Yet, the rebel assault was going well anyway. Five rebel ‘Mechs were sweeping forward onto the field, plowing through the Loyalists' center. Ramage easily recognized Montido's big Dervishamong them. Meanwhile, the three heaviest Legion ‘Mechs—the Shadow Hawk, Rifleman,and Wolverine—stayed on the edge of the Basin Rim, pouring round after high-explosive round into the scattering defenders.

At a soft noise behind him, Ramage whirled, stunner up. It was only Gundberg and Willoch slipping over the wail, followed by Chapley, Sorenson, and six more commandos clambering up the rope close behind. Their faces showed relief that the Pantherhad not come around the corner of the building on a check-and-see.

The ten Verthandians hauled up the grapnel rope and began unshouldering their assault rifles. Willoch handed Ramage his. Not knowing what waited on that third-floor roof, the sergeant had not wanted to make the climb encumbered by a rifle.

Tight-lipped and silent, Ramage deployed his men with nods and hand gestures. The next step was to get inside the building. He reholstered his stunner, clicked back the bolt on his TK to bring the first round into the chamber, flicked off the safety, and advanced toward the open trap door, rifle probing ahead.