“His message was that we can triumph over them. The FCL remained loyal and I purposely allowed them to be scattered throughout Tortorelli’s units. More companies in the Home Guard surrendered because the FCL undermined their feeble allegiance to Tortorelli. Force of arms had little to do with it.”
“Without the refitted ’Mechs, moral suasion would have meant nothing,” Austin said. He saw how clever his father had been, though. Tortorelli had accepted the FCL as a gift and had never thought it might remain a weapon for the Governor. Manfred had been given the freedom to work with the modified IndustrialMechs and build a bridge to Marta Kinsolving and the MBA. His father had used the FCL not as soldiers but as spies. Austin acknowledged this, but knew that force had been necessary for Borodin to protect the Palace and its occupant. Austin started to point this out.
Marta and Manfred stood close to one another, listening to the argument that threatened to go on endlessly until Sergio held up his hand.
“We have other pressing matters to discuss.” He fixed his colorless eyes on his son. Austin settled down, realizing his father was right. This was a disagreement that could go on for a long, long time.
“There will be some small realignment of authority on Mirach,” Sergio said. “Envoy Parsons has agreed in principle with me on this.”
“What realignment, Baron?” Marta asked.
“You will not find the changes too onerous, Ms. Kinsolving,” said Sergio. “Rest assured, the government will do nothing to compromise the assets of any MBA member or other privately held company. We are most appreciative of the aid you have provided. The loan of your ’Mechs was especially timely.”
“Do we retain the ’Mechs?” she asked.
“We need the ’Mechs,” Austin said. “We might never use them to defend Mirach, but if what the Envoy said is true about shifting loyalties in the Prefecture, we just might. Our first priority should be to repair the Centurion.”
Sergio thought for a moment. He looked from Austin to Manfred to Marta, and Austin got the impression he was considering each of their positions.
“Perhaps you are right, Austin, but only about the modified IndustrialMechs. They can be placed in the FCL, which is returned to my personal control.” Austin almost laughed when his father added, “If the FCL is in my control, I can choose whether or not to use the ’Mechs. But,” he said, hurrying on, “the Centurion goes back into the museum. It’s too powerful a weapon, and I don’t want us to be tempted to resort to that level of violence.”
Austin thought wryly, I got it out of the museum once; I can do it again if matters ever go that far. With such a compromise, he’d be content.
Sergio continued. “The real changes will be in governmental sectors. Lady Elora has been removed as Minister.”
“That’s as much to your advantage as ours, Baron,” Marta pointed out. “What are you going to do about her?”
Sergio rocked back in his chair, tented his fingers, and rested his chin on the top. He looked thoughtfully from Manfred to Austin and then to Marta before speaking.
“A public trial would only open old wounds. She is to continue in her position as a reporter for the Ministry of Information.”
“You can’t do that, Father! She—”
“She can perform her minimal duties from a different location. Say, on Kuton? You have a comfortable repair station on our largest moon, do you not?” he asked Marta.
“It’s not comfortable. Hardly. But what could she transmit from there? It’s only a relay station.”
“Perhaps she is on extended assignment without need to actually transmit her stories,” Sergio said, as if thinking aloud. “Let her stay in the airtight shelter some distance from the actual equipment AWC has positioned on the moon.”
“Without a pressure suit?” Manfred suggested.
Sergio shrugged. “Rebuilding Cingulum will require a considerable investment. Since we won’t be taking Mr. Bannson’s grant, not every project can be fully funded.”
Austin felt no sense of triumph. Lady Elora would be exiled to Kuton, unable to do anything but wait anxiously for the next supply DropShip and its crew to give her any direct human contact. In his gut he knew she had been responsible for the deaths of Dale and Hanna, but she would never be tried for those crimes. The proof was hidden away too well, but he would continue looking—for his own peace of mind. Exile to Kuton was as severe a punishment as she could receive, especially if it was for life.
Then his father dropped a bombshell.
“As to Legate Tortorelli, he is to continue in his post.”
“You can’t do that,” protested Austin. He saw that Marta was equally outraged but Manfred grinned slyly. “What do you have in mind for him?”
“I suspect Tortorelli would object strenuously to his own removal, since appointment of a Legate is the jealously guarded prerogative of the Prefect. Considering all that Envoy Parsons has told us, it would be unwise to draw unwanted attention to Mirach. Legate Tortorelli will remain at his post, but the past few months have shown what a difficult, demanding job it is for a single man.”
“A liaison would help him, wouldn’t it, Father?” Austin asked, understanding now. “Do you think Captain Leclerc would be suitable?”
“Captain?” Sergio nodded approval at his son.
“Accepted,” spoke up Manfred.
“Do what you can to make poor, overworked Calvilena’s work as simple as possible. Keep me informed of all matters relating to recruitment and procurement, Captain Leclerc. And day-to-day oversight of the armed forces. And anything else that might occur. That should lighten the Legate’s burden considerably and give him time for his hobbies, whatever they are.”
“You’ll need new comm equipment, won’t you, Captain?” asked Marta. Her smile was as large as Manfred’s.
“The two of you can negotiate that matter later,” Sergio said.
Marta, Manfred, and Austin’s father delved into discussion of other matters ranging from rebuilding Cingulum to the need for Span-net to be finished as quickly as possible. Austin’s new position as his father’s chief of staff would be a full-time, hectic job. So much to do, not the least of which was the restoration of a certain Centurion before its return to a place of honor in the Museum of Modern Mirach.
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The Ruins of Power Page 24