Austin saw the two with Borodin overheard and grinned. This would be reported to the officer of the day.
“Carry on, Master Sergeant,” he said, as if he were still Borodin’s commanding officer.
“Wait, Lieutenant; I got more orders coming in.” Borodin pulled out a small radio and pushed it close to his ear. “Come on,” he said to the two soldiers. “We’re shutting down the news conference. The Governor’s incommunicado from now on, by order of Legate Tortorelli.” Borodin cast an anguished look at Austin, then silently mouthed, “Get out of here,” before leading his small squad to the conference room.
Austin wondered if the next order from Tortorelli would be to arrest everyone in the Palace. This was as close to a coup as there could be without shots being fired. And he had warned his father about turning over the FCL to Tortorelli’s command.
Feeling vindicated did little to ease the fear growing like a cancer in Austin’s gut. With Tortorelli shutting off the Governor and his staff from the reporters, Lady Elora would be the only source relaying government news to the public. Austin knew what those reports were likely to say after she had openly charged the Governor with being a traitor.
He took a side corridor and quickly lost himself in the maze of the Palace. This had been home for all his life and now it felt as if he walked an alien landscape, terrain as odd and deadly as the plains outside the Blood Hills Barracks.
Austin rounded a corner and came to an abrupt halt. In an alcove not five meters away Marta Kinsolving held a Span-net device to her ear and spoke rapidly into it. Austin caught only snippets but went cold inside when he caught the gist of her conversation.
“Marta!” he called. She looked up, startled. She hastily clicked off the phone and shoved it into her pocket.
“I’ve got to go,” she said, spinning away from him and walking as rapidly as she could without running. Austin was under no such polite rule. He caught up with her before she reached the door leading to the small snow-crusted park south of the Palace.
“I heard what you said to Manfred,” he said. “You can’t do this.”
She faced him squarely. Marta’s face hardened and she set her jaw.
“Protect yourself, Austin. I know the orders Tortorelli just gave. He and Elora have finally made their move and we can’t let them succeed.” She pulled away and dashed into the mazelike hedges in the south park. Austin hesitated for a moment, then ran after her. If he didn’t convince her to call off the rebellion, the entire planet would be plunged into civil war.
22
Cingulum
Mirach
3 May 3133
Austin Ortega sprinted and dived into Marta Kinsolving’s limousine as the door closed. The woman looked up in surprise at the unexpected intrusion.
“Austin!” Marta scowled at him. “You shouldn’t meddle, Austin. What do you think you can do against the Legate?” she asked tartly. “Get out right now and go protect your father.”
“Tortorelli won’t hurt my father,” he said. “He won’t even imprison him until he’s moved his forces and Elora has whipped up even more fear and made a transfer of power plausible. The majority of citizens still support the government,” Austin said. His heart hammered and his mouth had turned to cotton. He had listened to his father prattle on endlessly about “key moments” and “turning points in history.” He had never believed such phenomena existed and had thought even if they had he would have nothing to do with them. Austin realized how wrong he was. The destiny of his world hung in the balance now, this very instant. Even more worrisome, what he did mattered most.
“You don’t know anything,” Marta said. She reached to signal the driver, but Austin caught her wrist.
“Even a lance of refitted AgroMechs won’t stand against the Legate’s combined forces,” he said. Austin knew he had hit the target by the way Marta blanched.
“Don’t try to stop us,” she said, recovering some of her poise. She yanked free of his grip but made no move to alert the driver again. “You, of all people, should see what’s going on. Mirach is facing a civil war that will destroy us. The riots are only a prelude to the troubles falling on our heads like a runaway DropShip.”
“It’s Elora’s doing,” Austin said. “A blind man can see that Tortorelli’s her pawn. She plays on the lack of HPG communication. She’s responsible for fueling the street demonstrations with fear and paranoia, but the only way she can get rid of my father is through Tortorelli. She’s chosen a weak tool for that job.”
“Not as weak as you think. He’s issued a full mobilization order, but he’s not doing the planning this time. It won’t be an easy victory like you had in the war games he tried to impress Parsons with.”
“So you’re saying it’s Elora’s strategy?” Austin knew Tortorelli had expert field commanders. Given decent orders and unleashed, they were a match for any on-planet opposition.
“The MBA is right in fielding ’Mechs to protect ourselves. Ultimately we’ll be protecting the people—and your father’s government.”
“But think of the slaughter,” Austin said. He surprised himself. He was beginning to sound like his father, arguing against the refitted ’Mechs rallying against the Legate’s forces. “Your modified ’Mechs can do incredible damage to Tortorelli’s troops, but the collateral damage could be bad, especially if fighting takes place in the city.” He wanted to save Mirach, but not at the expense of the lives of the populace. “Even if Manfred’s worked with your pilots, they can’t have gained enough experience to prevent wholesale destruction when they engage troops in battle armor supported by tanks.”
“What do you suggest?” she asked, leaning back. Marta wasn’t at ease but was willing to listen. Austin counted that as progress.
“You need a wedge driven through the middle of Tortorelli’s force. Psychological warfare, and not military action, is your only chance. I’ve spoken with a few noncoms and know their loyalties are divided.” Austin didn’t itemize exactly how divided that loyalty was nor that he had talked to only one noncom. Master Sergeant Borodin sounded like an island of fealty in an ocean of confused allegiances. Out of that confusion, Austin had to build a new loyalty for the Baron, but Elora had to be countered forcefully. With Sergio Ortega bottled up, he could not be the rallying figure.
“Are you that wedge?” she asked bluntly.
“No,” Austin said. “Dale would have been, but he’s dead. I’m liked but not as respected as Manfred Leclerc among the FCL. We need to find him and reestablish his role as leader.”
“Easier said than done,” Marta muttered. “Elora has turned him into a criminal. Having him in command of the FCL again won’t be enough, especially if it becomes a rebel unit in the midst of the Home Guard.”
Austin hoped that Tortorelli had not had enough time to fully deploy the FCL soldiers yet. A strong leader like Manfred at the head of a strong unit like the FCL might sway some of the soldiers in the Home Guard. Austin slumped a little, knowing he was grasping at straws. But the alternative to weakening Tortorelli’s forces was unleashing the MBA ’Mechs. He didn’t think Marta understood the potential for extreme destruction by the mechanical juggernauts.
“We need to talk, you, me, Manfred,” Austin said. “Call him and—”
“I can’t reach him,” Marta said. “He calls me.”
“I know how to contact him, but I don’t have the resources to help him when I do.”