Good-looking man, Grace allowed. George Stillwell joined them, and Grace showed them aft to a trail among the huge containers.

The second day's run was with Ben alone. The man set a fast pace, but not so quick that Grace couldn't ask about Victoria. "Paths do not always lead where they should," the albino said. "Victoria is a superb 'Mech handler. An expert eye for the right target at the essential moment. However, she is not one to socialize. Danny told me that she once attended a dinner and kept the same gla.s.s of scotch in her hand all evening-untouched. She does not drink, nor does she carouse. While she does not judge those who do, I know that Danny feels the hot breath of guilt every time he sees her. Their banter is light, but there is true steel at the heart of it. With things the way they were before the HPG went down, that was enough to put Victoria Birdwell on the outside looking in."

That answered, Grace went on to ask the questions her own study of 'Mech warfare on the trip to Galatea had left unanswered. Ben shared lunch with her, and the others quickly joined them.

As days and weeks went by, they answered Grace's questions, but raised two new ones for every one they answered. And those two raised four more questions that usually resulted in three more answers and the fourth being met with a shrug. But since that fourth could easily kill you, Grace usually pushed the matter until the warriors glanced around the table and admitted there was no answer to it. You accepted it as part of the job or left for other employment.

"Are there no situations in mining that will kill you in a flash and do not yield to any of the safety precautions you can imagine?" Ben said by way of conclusion.

Grace pursed her lips at that. Certainly hard-rock mining underground could go from fine to h.e.l.l in a flash if you tapped into an unforeseen gas pocket or water sump. "Yes, there are some things you just accept," she admitted.

"And there are things we leave to luck. When your luck runs out, it is just gone."

"Of course, a good man will be running right along with it," Danny said with a laugh, as he raised an imaginary mug in salute.

Grace continued her education, even during runs. One day she tapped George for a jog. "Isn't maneuver warfare pretty cut-and-dried?" she asked. "I've read the book the Twenty-first Centauri wrote on maneuver warfare. It says where to put your tanks and your infantry-and the tactics look pretty hard to beat, either in attack or defense. What does that leave a commander like you to do?"

George chuckled as he jogged along. "Everything, my dear mayor. Everything." He paused to let that sink in, then went on. "If you write the book, everyone who pays good money to buy it must consider you the expert. Is that the way it is in mining?"

"Yes," Grace said, dodging around a large-diameter pipe.

"Well, if you read the book and I read the book, who wins when we both apply the book?"

Grace didn't see an answer to that question. "In mining, I apply the book's answer and the minerals flow," she said.

"But minerals don't have the nasty habit of shooting back."

Grace laughed. "Not the last time I got to do any mining."

"And they aren't likely to develop that tendency the next time, but my opposition does so rather regularly. I want to be where I can shoot at him before he can shoot at me. If he studiously applies the book answer, I know exactly where he'll be at any given time. If I don't follow the book, he won't know where I am. Easier to shoot at him and not get shot at."

"a.s.suming you are smarter than the book," Grace pointed out.

"a.s.suming my boss is willing to admit that there is such a thing as being smarter than the Twenty-first Centauri's book. That's why I'm working for you, if you were curious. The Kell Hounds like to win. The present CO can't conceive of a better way to win than by applying the book. So long as he goes up against idiots who haven't read the book-and there are a lot just now-he wins. Even if he fights someone who's read the book, he won't do worse than a tie, which most clients find okay. Is a tie okay by you?"

"That's what I got last time. Cost Alkalurops good people and good 'Mechs. Probably would have lost more if they'd had a bigger ship. Next time, I want to win."

"Glad to be working for you," George said, reaching across to shake her hand without missing a step in his jog.

The JumpShipOff We Go was done charging, so there was no delay getting to Alkalurops. A few days later Grace learned more than she wanted about Syn Bakai when she was called to the captain's cabin at two in the morning. While the MechWarrior sat off to one side, buffing her nails and wearing nothing but underwear that covered little and interfered with the view even less, the captain fixed Grace with a gimlet eye.

"I don't much care for pa.s.sengers sleeping with my crew. It's bad for the morale of thems what get left out, though your woman here doesn't seem to have missed many. What I will not allow is a pa.s.senger dealing herself into the crew's poker game and concealing extra cards on her person. That is hazardous to a player's life. The Line takes a dim view on the odd pa.s.senger showing up suddenly dead. You paid for her ticket. You keep her out of my hair for the rest of this run."

Grace escorted Syn back to the room she shared with Betsy Ross. "You will stay in pa.s.senger country or I will have Ben and Victoria s.p.a.ce you, you understand me?"

"Get a sense of humor, Mayor. Those swabbies were just having a little fun feeling me up."

"And finding cards," Grace said, holding up the four aces the captain had given her to back up his claims. Slowly Grace tore them in half and gave them to Syn. "I don't play poker, Syn. I can't bluff worth beans, but cross me-cause us trouble before you prove you're worth the effort-and I'll see you dead."

Syn said nothing more as she slipped into her cabin. Back in her own, Grace asked Victoria what unit Syn was from.

"Bannson's Raiders. If you want a guess from me, they're the likeliest group to have taken a raiding contract. If you've got a snarling enemy in front of you and a Bannson's Raider behind you, turn around, or at least keep one hand on your wallet."

"Syn should have fit right in."

"Too true. I understand she was too much even for them. But I once saw her in a tournament. She had her 'Mech dancing on a wall not twenty centimeters wide. You'll want her. Either to fight for you or to slit her throat, but you'll want her."

Only Betsy remained an enigma to Grace as they approached their landing on Alkalurops. No question that the woman knew her infantry tactics inside and out. Her grasp of large-formations tactics left Sean silent in his seat, taking notes, and George nodding quietly. What she knew about small-scale, special-ops-type jobs left Grace shaking her head. She'd followed the news from several planets along the border of House Davion that had suddenly changed governors over the last several years. Betsy tended to let drop a bit of this and some of that to the point that Grace was pretty sure the woman had been involved in some way. What was someone like that doing looking for a job? Grace considered asking the woman if she had big enemies that Grace should know about, but somehow the topic never came up. After Betsy showed them some hand-to-hand tricks that left Jobe shaking his head and rubbing his throat where she could have killed him, Grace made a mental note to stay on Betsy's good side.

They were on final approach when Ben called them all into the ship's lounge. "We took our leave of Galaport rather hastily. Not that spending an extra day there would have been worth it," Ben said once they settled in. "Normally, a mercenary unit clears its contract through the Mercenary Review and Bonding Commission. I do not think Grace could have paid the board's minimum fee after Ally took her for the ride Grace was hoping Ally would take instead." That got a laugh. "And we did get everything Sven could beg, steal, or borrow to keep us alive next fight. But Grace had nothing left over to post bond. As I recall, none of you even paused to ask our gracious host what the pay was. Now, I understand a miner can expect to earn about fifteen hundred a month, so I've got a contract here calling for us to be guaranteed the princely sum of three twenty-five."

The warriors looked at one another. Danny groaned as if for all of them. "Clerks get better pay. But since you put it that way, I guess I can get along on that."

"In return for this monetary consideration, we pledge our sacred honor to the defense of the people of Alkalurops," Ben finished. He produced a pen and signed the contract. One by one, the others signed below his name. That left plenty of s.p.a.ce on it when he handed the paper to Grace.

She studied it for a moment. "Sacred honor is highly valued where I come from," she said, then wrote below their names for a moment. "In return, I pledge all that I possess in guarantee of this contract," she said, and signed it. Chato took the pen from her and added his name as well.

"My first wife is going to tan my hide for this," Jobe said, but he reached for the pen and added his name.

Ben folded the paper. "Now we begin-warriors, miners, farmers-to see where our dreams will lead us."

Allabad, Alkalurops 5 August 3134 Grace called Angus Throckmorton from the s.p.a.ceport and tasked him with renting a wareyard or machine shop. Jobe set to arranging transport for their gear. Most of the MechWarriors stayed with him, but Grace, Chato, Ben and Betsy hailed a cab and headed for the Guild Hall. A meeting was in session, which sounded much like the last one Grace attended. She spotted the little old woman who had been the first to give her an encouraging word and joined her at the tea cart.

"You're back so soon," the woman said.

"Stranger things have happened," Grace admitted. "What's under discussion?"

"Whether we should apportion votes in the Council of Elders based on the taxes paid to support our government," the woman said with a smile. "That will decide how the election goes for temporary Governor, you know."

"I didn't," Grace said. "We haven't elected a Governor?"

"Oh, heavens no, dear child. I don't think we've agreed on anything since you left. Your wanting to hire people to train our militia raised the issue of taxes immediately. We can't defend ourselves on the small income The Republic generates here. No, we need to raise money, and that is such a touchy subject."

"Yes, I know." Grace scowled, having just pledged her own land as guarantee for eight paychecks.

"Grace," Betsy cut in, "is there any chance we could get the floor for a few minutes? We really need to know what Alkalurops is willing to pony up for their own defense, and they need to know what you've hired."

"I was kind of hoping I could talk to a few people alone first. Folks around here take to ideas a little at a time. Hit them too hard and they can get a bit skittish."

"Grace, I heard you were due back," Garry McGuire said from the head of the table. "Are those some of the MechWarrior candidates you brought back for us to interview."

"Candidates?" Ben said with an arched eyebrow.

"These are both fully qualified MechWarriors," Grace said by way of introduction as she walked toward him. Again, no surprise, her table was now occupied by men who headed small suburban communities around Little London. The Council was whoever the Council said it was.

"This is Ben Lone Cat, once a Nova Cat, and this is Betsy Ross, an expert in infantry tactics. I hired them."

"You hired them?" Dev Coughlin, who still sat at Garry's right, jumped up. "You did not have permission to hire anyone when you left here."

Grace would have to put a stop to this right now. "Dev, I had authority to commit as much as ten percent of what profits were generated on Alkalurops last year. I alsohad to hire them. It takes almost six weeks to travel here, one-way. People do not come here for interviews. They come here for jobs."

Garry pulled on the sleeve of his crony, and Dev sat down. "I can see how you might have left with that impression," Garry began soothingly. "Why don't you give us a few minutes to talk to your, ah, a.s.sociates. We do need help, and if you think these fine people can defend Alkalurops, we should hire them."

"Who will be defending whom?" Ben said to Grace.

"Just let them get comfortable," Grace said. Chairs were produced, but that caused a debate on where to set them. Finally, a s.p.a.ce was cleared on the side at right angles to Garry and Dev.

"See the nice animals," Betsy said, her smile showing plenty of teeth. "Grace, a.s.sure them we haven't bitten anyone lately."

"And, dear Betsy, I thought you were about due for your rabies shot," Ben said, disproving Grace's conviction the man was incapable of humor-she hoped.

"Young lady," Garry said to Betsy, "I didn't catch what merc unit you were from."

The olive-skinned woman smiled at him. "I didn't say."

"How can we get references from them if we don't know them?"

Betsy laughed, a clear bell of an affair. Beside her, Ben m.u.f.fled a chuckle, and Grace began to suspect today was not going to go as she planned. "Old man, I would not ask any of my former employers for references. I can't recall one that would admit to having employed me, and I can't think of one I would want to admit to being employed by."

"Every good employee carries references," Dev said.

"For jobs like maid or street sweeper," Betsy shot back. "But that's not what you want. You need someone who can kill a man five ways before his body hits the ground. You want a commander who can turn your town into a death trap for any 'Mech stupid enough to stalk your streets. People like that don't come with fine pedigrees and completed paperwork. We are few, and we are rarely remembered fondly."

"Turn our streets into death traps," came in a gasp from several mayors. "What would that involve?"

Garry asked.

"A 'Mech with a long-range rocket or laser can pick off what it wants, be it a man or a building. Out on the battlefield, you have to work hard to get close to a 'Mech without it making you very dead. I understand that quite a few of your local Constabulary, hired, no doubt, with full paperwork, ended up quite dead when they took on 'Mechs across gra.s.sy fields. Grace told us she barely survived her first battle." Betsy stood, eyed the room, and walked around her chair. She continued, her body swaying gently on the b.a.l.l.s of her feet.

"Grace survived because she had the luck of a few well-placed boulders-a few firing positions where the rolling hills rolled in her favor. With worse luck, she would be dead.

"If you want to kill 'Mechs, you hire 'Mechs. None being available, you train infantry in the fun sport of 'Mech hunting. It's a sport best done in towns, where you know the sewers and bas.e.m.e.nts." She whirled to address the foot of the table. "I didn't see many power lines on the drive in. Are they underground?"

"Yes," a technician behind Garry answered. "The tornadoes and winds would whip them around all the time. We put them underground years ago."

"So you have tunnels under your streets filled with com cables and power cables," she said. Around the table a lot of mayors nodded.

"Good. We can pull the cables out and put explosives in. A 'Mech strolls by, we detonate the charge, and poof; no 'Mech."

"But what would we do for electricity?" objected several around the table. "That's our infrastructure. It cost money!"

"And you don't think defense should cost anything?"

"Your salaries, of course," Garry said, "but, but-"

"Grace, you might want to fill these folks in on your hiring efforts," Betsy said, but didn't sit down.

"I went to four merc units on Galatea. I got four cost estimates for a battalion-sized task force of 'Mechs, armor and infantry with support." Grace read off the prices of each offer. Around the table mouths fell open, while others whistled softly.

"But we could never pay that," Garry finally said. "We've never had to pay anything like that."

Betsy barked a harsh laugh. "In The Republic you didn't have to. One Knight shows up and everybody starts making nicey-nicey. Now your Legate's dead and no Knight's in sight. Folks, the HPG is dead, the night is full of hungry wolves, and you're bare-a.s.s naked to a cold winter wind."

"Young lady, mind your language," Garry demanded.

"You want me to mind my language, but you've already had your first visit from wolves that didn't mind your gavel. Do you want to defend yourselves?" Betsy asked, slowly turning to let her eyes circle the room. "Or do you plan on throwing yourselves on the tender mercies of those who will rob, rape and kill you?"

"What we do, we will decide for ourselves," Garry snapped, hammering his gavel. Dev was on his feet and quickly recognized.

"Grace O'Malley, we sent you out to find someone to defend us, not maniacs who would turn our streets into bombs. We've spent generations building up our property. Nuts from off-planet can't just walk in here and tell us to turn it all into a wild shooting gallery. We won't make our planet into someplace not worth raiding by making it someplace not worth living."

"That's not what she said!" Grace shouted, jumping up.

"We all heard it," Dev shouted back as Garry whacked away with his gavel.

"Some places-maybe Allabad-might need to be fought for inch by inch," Grace shouted, "but if we beat them back where they land, they'll never get to the rest of us."

"Right-never get to out-of-the-way places like Falkirk," Dev shot back.

"Would everyone quit shouting!" Garry screamed as he gave up on his gavel and joined in the verbal slugfest.

"That woman is crazy," Dev shouted. "Both of them!"

"Get out of here, Grace. It's clear you can't keep a civil tongue in your head," Garry ordered. Two men at what Grace still thought of as her table stood, strong arms out, threatening. Betsy gave them a hard look that froze them in their tracks.

"I suggest you two ladies take a break to regain your composure," Chato whispered. "I'll stay here."

"There's nothing more to say," Betsy said.

"No, you slapped them in the face with it fast," Ben said.

"You know a better way?"

"No," Ben said. "Not with the little amount of time these people have to decide their fate."

"Little time?" Grace said as Ben led them from the hall and signaled for a cab.

Betsy shook her head. "It's time for me to go my way and you to go yours." She turned to Grace.

"There are too many questions about who is doing what here. Let me hunt down a few answers while Ben helps you get ready for what's coming as sure as gra.s.s grows." Before Grace could argue, Betsy was gone and Ben was helping Grace into a cab, whose driver demanded to know where she wanted to go.

Fl.u.s.tered, Grace called Angus. "I've leased a warehouse from an optimistic young mechanic who opened a major IndiMech repair facility just before so many of the local 'Mechs disappeared." He gave Grace an address in the district along the river, and she and Ben were there in ten minutes.

A large sheet-metal-and-pole building offered room to park four flatbed trucks and their loads. A fellow of maybe thirty extended a hand to Grace. "I appreciate the rental," he said. "I really like working with your man Sven. He knows his machines. He's got a few of mine humming like I've never heard them before."

Grace found Angus at Sven's elbow, the mechanic half under a drill press. Not far away, Sean was tweaking the programming of the control 'puter. Danny and George were prowling the building, examining other tools and figuring where to place their own. "I haven't managed to rent a 'Mech loader,"