“All secure, Baron. We got a dozen from the Home Guard to join us. Me or at least two FCL vouch for them.”
“That’s good enough for me, Master Sergeant,” Sergio said.
“You see the newscast she’s putting out?” Borodin spoke as if the words burned his lips.
Sergio quickly viewed what the Ministry of Information was broadcasting. He sucked in his breath at the sight of the Atlas trapped in downtown Cingulum, surrounded by heavy tanks and badgered by battle-armored troops. The BattleMech strove to contain the Legate’s forces without destroying the buildings—and killing the populace—but Sergio knew that was an impossible mission. Either the horrific fighting machine used its weapons or it would be repeatedly attacked by heavy tanks and battle-armored troops trained to harass and bring down even such a fierce fighting machine.
Sergio knew he had indirectly hampered the BattleMech’s deployment by insisting that deaths among the civilian populace—and the military—be kept to a minimum, but they were all citizens of Mirach.
A monitor on his desk flickered as Elora’s face appeared. There was a wild look about her he had never seen before, reminding him how dangerous it was to corner a rat. Trying to escape, the rat might fight more ferociously than anyone expected. He had to allow her a chance to back away and stop the carnage.
“Surrender, Sergio. You cannot possibly win. Save lives,” Elora said. Sergio heard the bluff in her voice.
“There must be some reason you want me to surrender, Elora,” he said. “If all went your way, you’d ignore me. Or kill me. What’s wrong? Is there a chance the BattleMech will break free and come to the Palace to stand guard? That would show the people of Mirach that the Lord Governor still supports me.”
“I’m trying to save your miserable life, Baron,” Elora raged.
“I won’t give up,” Sergio said. “I’ve ordered my personal guard to defend the Palace and the sovereignty of my office. My only regret is not understanding the depth of your ambition earlier. So many have died needlessly.”
“Too little, too late,” she sneered. “If I know you, you probably ordered the soldiers not to shoot, to try to bore my soldiers to death.”
“Yours?” Sergio asked mildly.
“Are you going to give up, Baron?”
“No.”
“The Legate’s best tank battalion will reduce the Palace of Facets to a hundred-meter-high pile of debris.”
He glanced over at Borodin. The master sergeant looked grim as he listened to a radio report. He silently mouthed, “They’re bringing up the Behemoths. South of the Palace.”
“This is your only chance, Baron. All you have to defend yourself is a few traitors with rifles.”
“There might be more,” Sergio said. “The Atlas is on its way to the Palace.”
“The BattleMech is trapped,” Elora said, sneering. “So are you. And both of you will be destroyed completely!”
The line went dead.
Sergio swallowed hard as he stared at the news broadcast. Elora was right about the BattleMech. The Atlas tried to elude the Condor tanks pecking away tenaciously at it—and it couldn’t. Even if the MechWarrior put the ’Mech into full power and headed for the Palace, it could never arrive before the Behemoth moving up inexorably from the south opened fire.
“Master Sergeant Borodin,” Sergio said, “prepare to evacuate the Palace.”
“Evacuate, sir? No! We’re here to protect it—and you.”
“Unless you want to face a tank with hardly more than a rifle, you’ll do as you are ordered. Leave. Now. Retreat.”
Borodin’s sputtering reply was cut off as a shell from the leading Behemoth slammed into the outer façade of the southern entrance. The resulting concussive blast shook the huge Palace and destroyed most of its communications equipment.
Sergio Ortega leaned back in his chair, watching an external camera’s view of the tanks advancing, firing as they came. They would get the range soon enough and the end would come.
So be it. He would die before surrendering the government of Mirach to Elora.
33
Ministry of Information, Cingulum
Mirach
9 May 3133
Lady Elora felt flushed, her translucent skin ruddy now with the rush of excitement. She sat on the edge of her chair, leaning forward intently as if she played some gigantic musical instrument. Her desk had come alive with lights, indicators flashing warnings and OKs, a dozen views of the city and the skirmishes being fought.
Is this what it feels like to have power, real power? she wondered. Her fingers flew like jeweled birds across the array as she guided one unit after another into battle and supplied tactical intelligence to Tortorelli’s forces.
She positioned a Behemoth II Tank and ordered it to fire on an APC carrying former FCL troopers to the Palace. The heavy laser lashed directly into the side of the armored personnel carrier and snuffed out the lives of a dozen fighters.
The enemy, she gloated.
“I say, how’s it going? You are deploying according to the battle plan I gave you?” Calvilena Tortorelli turned from his position in front of her office window. Elora had left the tranquil city view on the screen and this pleased the Legate, although it had no bearing on the death and destruction actually stalking Cingulum. The thought flashed through her mind that the citizens were much like him. Give them pretty pictures and they would sit for hours, content and willing to be guided in whatever direction she chose.
It was time for The Republic to lose Mirach. Kal Radick would provide far better rule. And he would receive it because of her.
“Everything is going well, Calvy,” she said. “Do you want to see?” With almost savage glee, she transformed the cityscape into the transmission from a camera mounted at the corner of a building in downtown Cingulum. Tortorelli rocked back as a dozen missiles burst in front of his face with hellacious force.
Elora had to switch to another camera because the one she had activated had been destroyed. From farther down the street she focused on the advancing Atlas.
“The BattleMech,” Tortorelli said with a hint of fear. “Parsons should have placed that in my command. But such a slight doesn’t matter, not really. My soldiers have been trained to bring it down, and it’s not giving a bit of trouble to them. Why, it’s not even fighting back!”
“Its pilot doesn’t want to destroy any more of the city and its people than necessary.”
She didn’t add that it was too late for the BattleMech to save itself. With careful movement she had ringed it with heavy artillery and tanks. A few Condor tanks made swift attacks, only to dart back before the BattleMech’s heavy lasers could take them out. But the Atlas was doubly limited. It couldn’t use the incredible power of its Gauss rifle, nor did it have jump jet capability. Stuck to plodding along at ground level, it was hindered by the closeness of urban buildings its pilot had been ordered not to destroy.
Elora had practically ignored Tortorelli’s strategic plans in favor of her own. She was no fool. The ebb and flow of battle was laid out in front of her as clearly as could be. What was needed and what was impossible were obvious in a flash, thanks to her constant flow of intelligence about the battle, the enemy, and the position of the Legate’s forces.
“I’m keeping up the propaganda barrage. Kinsolving’s techs aren’t able to jam my transmission. If she had succeeded in activating the relay stations on the four moons, it might have been a different story. But on the ground, the Ministry of Information has the technological muscle to make the people believe anything we want them to!”