“You did that perfectly, my wild Highland friend,” Benjork told Danny as they paced off the distance to his target. “You kept him occupied while I took aim.”
“Didn’t see my thirty-millimeter slugs doing much good. Would’ve just sent ricochets and fragments all over the place,” Danny said.
“Right, Danny. I had the only weapon good against the Jupiter. When I was ready, you unmasked it. We are a good team—Lone Cat and Kilted warrior.” The two shared a laugh, then examined the wreckage. Most of the huge machine showed only the minor damage of its flight, but the cockpit would need complete replacement. Small fires were dying down in the space that had once held a man, controls and armor. Mick and Sven would probably have it working again in a month.
“Well, that was fun,” Danny half laughed. “Think there are any more like that around?”
“Let’s go see.”
They circled back toward the Guild Hall. The walk was informative. Here and there, a burned-out ’Mech MOD or overturned gun truck showed where Black and Reds had been cornered. Other ’Mechs were abandoned and uniforms shed. More often than not, less than a block beyond such efforts to abandon the past, a body lay pummeled and pulped. “The streets may seem empty, but the walls have eyes, and have seen much that demands vengeance.”
Danny snorted at Benjork’s wisdom. “If you ask me, those damn Black and Reds aren’t getting anything they don’t deserve.”
Benjork had seen no signs of Grace during the chase, and a glance around the Guild Hall’s plaza told him why. Except for the burned-out Ryoken II, all evidence of the occupation was gone. Now people stood in small clumps, pointing and gesturing as they rehashed the events of the day. Danny popped the cockpit and climbed down, shaking his head. “Not talk-talk stuff again.”
Benjork joined him on the ground. “Remember, my hotheaded Highlander, this is what we fought for.” Then the Lone Cat took a long look around and finished with, “You’ll have to remind me why.” They shared a laugh and went looking for Grace.
Grace cleaned up the plaza quickly. One fallen Black and Red ’Mech MOD driver, intent on resisting to the end but not knowing what he was doing, fired both of his shoulder-mounted SRMs into the pavement beneath him. That didn’t leave a lot of that ’Mech to clean up, or a lot of fight in the others. Hanson’s infantry, with a bit of guidance from Betsy and a few choice words from the Sergeant Major, cleaned up the bent ’Mechs and smashed trucks. Those that could be walked or driven away were. Commercial wreckers handled the rest.
Then Grace discovered the true evil of Santorini.
He had created a special atrocity just for her: All the mayors had been summoned to Allabad for his grand performance, and now they wanted to reestablish the council. They had come full circle, back to the very point she had argued so eloquently five months ago.
Grace wanted to run. Jobe suggested that ’Mechs be used to chase the mayors out of town. Chato checked inside the Guild Hall and declared it ready, though in need of redecorating. A large throne dominated the hall. Jobe and several others grabbed axes and hacked at the throne until others demanded a turn. It became great entertainment. Chato found where the tables were stored and got others to set them up in one large square. No head, no foot, just one large square table. “I would make it round if I could but—” He shrugged softly.
“So what do we do now?” Grace asked.
“Govern ourselves, I suppose,” Chato said.
People slowly filled the great room. Different people this time; younger, older, unfamiliar faces—almost none that Grace recalled from earlier meetings. Many of the mayors Grace had met with during the war were also absent, their bodies maybe still dangling from a signpost or streetlamp. The meaning of eminence, the price of leadership had changed under the pressure of blood and fire.
Just as Ben and Danny walked into the hall, the young woman from Kilkenny who’d succeeded Gordon Frazier as mayor handed Grace the gavel. “Shouldn’t we get started?” she said.
Grace hammered the meeting to order, her mind awhirl as she hunted for what to say. The room fell silent as stragglers found chairs. It was the silence that spoke to Grace.
“People have died to give us the privilege of sitting at this table. Let us pause for a minute to remember those who welcomed a gory bed rather than accept chains and slavery.”
Grace had never heard the Guild Hall so quiet. The minute stretched far beyond sixty seconds. Here and there a choked sob or softly called name broke the silence as loved ones were remembered by those who had paid in full for their right to rule themselves.
Beside her, Chato uttered an “Amen” that made its way like a wave around the room. That left Grace still searching to pluck a first order of business from a mind so full yet so empty that she could think of nothing to say.
Beside her, Chato’s eyes slowly swept the room. “Months ago I rose from among you to place in nomination the name of Grace O’Malley for Governor of Alkalurops until such time as The Republic may affirm or change that appointment. I do so again.”
Heads nodded as Jobe got to his feet. “I think I was the one who nominated her, Chato, but I will stand as second for your motion. Are there any other names to put forward?”
The hall remained silent, and it dawned on Grace that if she didn’t do something, she would end up Governor. She turned to the Navajo. “Chato, a moment ago you said it was time for us to get back to governing ourselves. Now you stand to nominate a Governor that Terra may or may not accept.”
Under her gaze, he sat. She turned to the assembled. “Look at what we have done. Look at what we did without Knights, without any help from Terra, without any help from The Republic.
“Alkalurops takes care of itself. Our grandparents said it before us, and we just showed what we can do. I thank Ben and Danny and all the MechWarriors who helped us, but in the end, it was us. Us using our brains, our hands, our guts and our blood.”
Slowly, in silence, she looked at every citizen seated at the table, taking her own poll. Heads nodded, some softly, others with pure enthusiasm. No one stood up in the silence to argue with her.
“The Republic of the Sphere didn’t help us when we needed it. I’ll be damned if I’m going to see our militia drafted into their regiments and shipped off to help this faction or that pull their nuts out of the fire. Alkalurops takes care of its own—and only its own.” Now people were on their feet, clapping, cheering, stomping, yelling. A wilder demonstration of support Grace had never seen. She let it run, even as she let the tears run down her cheeks. Chato hugged her, then Jobe joined in. Danny rushed up and gathered all of them in one huge embrace.
Even Ben, the reserved former Nova Cat, came to rest a hand on Grace’s shoulder. Into her ear he whispered, “For years my dream led me away from everything I knew, but never did it show me my destination. When I first saw you, something told me I might finally know what that was. Now I see that your dream and mine are the same. I hope there is room alongside you for this dangerous Cat.”
“You’ve never been a danger to me or mine,” Grace assured him.
Grace let the roar for Alkalurops run long, then gaveled the room to silence. “All for Alkalurops standing alone, ruled by its traditional assembly, raise your hands.”
Hands shot up around the table, joined by a roar of “Aye!”
A long minute later Grace again gaveled for calm. “That looks pretty unanimous, but I’ll ask. Any nays?”
A single hand rose. Grace recognized the gray head that had first supported her in that long-ago assembly. So she had survived it all.
“I’m sorry, Grace,” the woman said into the quiet hall. “I simply can’t let you get elected unanimously. Might give you a swelled head.”