Lori's guard appeared, automatic pistol in hand. "What happened?"

"I might ask you the same thing, trooper. Where the hell were you?"

"It... it happened so fast..."

The adrenalin surge had passed, leaving Grayson suddenly weak, tired. He closed his eyes to the guard's incompetence. "Never mind. You'd better take the sergeant back to her quarters."

"Yessir."

"No, Gray, let me stay with you."

Grayson frowned. He was already late for his meeting with Mara. "No," he told her. "Go with him. I'll see you next work period. I've... got an appointment."

Lori's mouth set into a hard line. "Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir." She climbed into the front seat of the transport without another glance at Grayson. He knew she was upset, knew she wanted to talk more, but he felt so weak and suddenly tired. Did Singh want his death as much as Grayson wanted Singh's? Perhaps the man did not realize that Grayson's death would not stop the Trellwan Lancers. Though their training was still far below Commonwealth regular military standards or the standards Kai Griffith would have set, the cadre of trained and experienced troops was growing. Even if the bureaucrats wouldn't let Lori drive a 'Mech, several MechWarrior apprentices showed promise, especially the youngest one, Yarin.

Grayson clenched his hands into white-knuckle fists to keep them from trembling. It was just now dawning on him that he'd only very narrowly escaped death. It was the fact that Stefan had ignored Lori because he didn't consider her a threat — probably because she was a woman — that had saved him.

The transport pulled away from the curb and hurried off down the street. Grayson watched it go, then quickened his stride toward Mara's apartment

* * * *

"We don't dare attack, General. It would be suicide, and the end of everything we've built here."

Grayson paced the room before the desk where Varney sat. General Adel watched him from a chair in the corner. Chief Minister Stannic stood by the windows, his back to the group, a glass of something red and potent in his hand.

Grayson was afraid of Stannic. The planet's defense minister had a sharp, abrupt manner, a way of rapping out questions like autocannon fire. And Grayson did not know how much he knew about his daughter's liaison with the offworlder leader of the Trellwan Lancers. Trells were fiercely protective of their wives and daughters, and meetings between the sexes were usually supervised by a matronly female relative called a duennsha. Mara had more freedom and more unsupervised free time than most Trell girls. She had her own apartment next to her father's place on the Hub, and even walked unescorted to her place of work at the Palace offices. Does he know I've been sleeping with her, Grayson wondered?

Through the windows behind Stannic, green sky and red sun cast long shadows into the room. Seconday was passing with dragging hours. Outside, laborers worked to secure insulating panels to the windows. With the advent of Secondnight, the temperature would plunge in the final chill before the hemisphere's warming trend. In the distance, clouds hung grey and heavy over the mountains. It was still snowing up there, Grayson thought.

Adel stirred in his chair. "You lack confidence yet, youngster. Surely the Deliverer of Sarghad can be certain of his own accomplishments?"

Grayson turned to him with scarcely concealed impatience. "I can be certain we've been lucky so far, General. I can also be certain that three light 'Mechs are not going to get very far in a contest with heavies. General, do you have any idea what you're asking of us?"

"The people are expecting victory, Grayson," Stannic said. "In a way, your successes are working against you. After the capture of those two 'Mechs at the spaceport, they're wondering why you haven't gone on to take the Castle."

"Take the Castle!" Grayson hadn't expected that one. "Take the Castle — with three 20-ton 'Mechs?"

Varney stirred, his expression concerned. "What would you need to storm the Castle, Grayson?"

Adel snorted. "Seems to me the Castle was taken away from the Commonwealth garrison by three 'Mechs... and with four 'Mechs guarding it!"

"General, I don't think we need to get into needless recriminations," Varney said. He glanced at Stannic, then back to Grayson. "We're not ordering you, to attack, Grayson. But we would like to see some plan of action, some constructive use for the Lancers. See if you can work up a study, and have it on my desk in, shall we say, 70 hours?"

"But General..."

"Now, son. When you become a leader of men, you find out that everything you touch becomes political."

"Political? What do politics have to do with it?" Grayson had never cared for politics, had always been impatient with any system that produced more words and paperwork than anything else.

"I don't know if you realize it, son, but you and your Lancers are the focus of a lot of controversy just now."

Grayson shook his head. "I've been too busy."

"I should think so. But there are people who call themselves the Peace Party, and they have support on the Ministerial Council... people who argue that we have to make terms with the bandits."

"Terms!"

"Don't sputter, boy," Adel said. "You'll get spots on the furniture."

Varney cast a disapproving glance at Adel. "General, if you don't mind, I wonder if you would excuse us for a moment?"

The Guard General's jaw set in a hard line, but he relaxed after a moment, stood, and nodded to Stannic and Varney. "Very well. This is all nonsense anyway... you realize that, don't you? Stannic, you, of all people, ought to know better! You were a Guards officer before you became a politician! The Lancers must be put under a single, unified command, and it is the Guards who have the political clout to oversee their operation."

When Adel had left, Grayson said, "He doesn't like me, does he?"

Varney shrugged with a twitch at the comer of his mouth. "He's powerful, with powerful friends. He would like to control the 'Mech Lance."

"Why?"

"Because it represents more power. Grayson, I asked him to leave so that I could tell you frankly, without getting into a debate with General Adel, that there's a lot of trouble in the Defense Ministry over the Lancers. There are factions upset about the presence of offworlders in the unit..."

"I'man offworlder, General!"

"... and many who protest your use of known bandits. This woman — Kalmar — her presence on your staff is generating one hell of a storm. And now I understand you have a requisition in to use another captured bandit... Enzman?"

"Garik Enzelman. He knows as much about ‘Mechs as Sergeant Kalmar does."

Varney shook his head. "I tell you now, Grayson, the government is not going to be able to tolerate your use of prisoners of war in such an important military capacity. Really, son, you've got to see it our way."

"And with all respect, sir, you've got to see it mine! Kalmar and Enzelman represent valuable, Tech-trained resources. They know 'Mechs inside and out, as well as any Tech! We'd be stupid not to use them. General, I don't have anything else to work with!'

"That may be... that may well be. Grayson, I've got to give you all the support I can, but what I'm trying to say is that you've made enemies, powerful enemies who would like to see the Lancers handled differently... or eliminated completely. You've generated one hell of a lot of problems in the Palace with these offworlders. It gives the opposition ammunition... know what I mean?"