Grayson stood upright, in full view, with the green image of the towering
Locust filling
veg sex the crosshaired sights of his
launcher, his finger tight on
the trigger.
He gave the pilot veg sex a moment to scan the veg sex electronic emanations of the armed
triggering circuits in his missile warheads. & veg sex quot;You can kill me," he called
again, "but you'll fry! Your heat exchangers must be up to shutdown mode by
veg sex now. One round of veg sex Willie-Pete will finish you. And that's a very nasty way
to go!"
The Locust pilot spoke,
the voice electronically reproduced in a gravelly,
amplified bass. "What do you want?"
"Don't touch your weapons. I want you to come veg sex out of there, unarmed. If I
even imagine I see a weapon move in my direction, I'll fire!"
There was a pause, and Grayson could hear the sharp ping of hot metal
cooling on the 'veg sex Mech's hull, could smell the sour-rubber stink of melted
circuit insulation. The temperature inside must be ...
"All right," said the pilot. "Don't shoot. I'm coming put." The
electronically-produced voice could not veg sex register emotion, but to Grayson it
sounded tired, perhaps resigned.
He remained standing as though the launcher on his shoulder were cast in
veg sex bronze. From veg sex the Locust came the sharp hiss of a broken pressure seal and
the rasp of a hatch winched open by hand. There veg sex was a clatter, and a metal-
runged chain ladder spilled veg sex out of the hatch, jiggling half a meter from
the ground.
City militia troops were entering the cul-de-sac entrance veg sex now, weapons
held ready. The MechWarrior's veg sex legs appeared from the Locust's belly hatch,
and it became apparent that the pilot was female. Scarcely more than a
girl, she was dressed only in slippers and a veg sex scrap of black panty veg sex briefs.
MechWarriors generally fought scantily clad in the hothouse confines of
their machines, and she had not had time to get dressed before coming out.
Her long blond hair hung in veg sex dank, wet strands across