BattleTech : MechWarrior - Dark Age 03 - The Ruins of Power - Robert E.Vardeman (2003)

by Robert E. Vardeman

  "Ms. Kinsolving, something like this takes time, planning," Dr. Penrose said. She cleared her throat. "It's likely that whoever did this is already long gone." "You don't know that. We have to try. If we come up with nothing, then we'll decide what to do next."

  Marta pushed aside a tech and commandeered a comm-link. Within a few seconds familiar faces appeared on the screen. Austin recognized Dr. Chin in the top half of the screen and a sleepy Benton Nagursky in the lower section.

  "Pseudosecure link," Marta explained hurriedly, as much for Austin's benefit as to inform the other MBA directors. "We have reason to believe that the Legate sabotaged a DropShip. We're starting an investigation now." She swallowed hard and then added, "Manfred Leclerc was aboard." "Do you want us to authorize use of the 'Mechs?" asked Dr. Chin.

  "Yes," was all Marta said. The other two touched controls out of range of their cameras and the screen went blank.

  "You can't attack Tortorelli," Austin said in exasperation. "I explained why that's foolish. This might be the very opening Elora is looking for!" "I know, but Manfred was on that ship." Tears flowed unashamedly now. "I don't know if he could have rallied the military as you hoped," Marta said, "but he would have done the best he could."

  "He was as strong a supporter of The Republic as anyone I know," Austin said. "And he was my friend." "I'll get full telemetry records," Marta said, her shoulders squaring. "It doesn't matter what destroyed the DropShip, but we can get evidence of who ordered it and let everyone who'll listen know." "We already know that," Austin said.

  "Elora's moving sooner than we feared," Marta said in a low voice. "If we aren't to continue paying the price for underestimating her, we have to act. Now!"

  26

  Ministry of Information,

  Cingulum Mirach

  3 May 3133

  "Yes," Lady Elora gloated, grinning ear to ear. She laughed and then leaned back in her comfortable desk chair, relaxed for the first time in days. Looking past Legate Tortorelli, she took in the fake view of Cingulum. With a careless pass of her hand over an IR controller, she changed the window so that it became sunrise. Then she activated another control, one that set into motion a new series of attacks on the MBA. The time was finally right for power to be transferred on Mirach.

  The sudden light from the faux window brought Calvilena Tortorelli upright. He stared at the magnificent scene.

  "It's not supposed to be dawn," he said, frowning as he worked on the solution to this conundrum. "That's not the same direction it was a few minutes ago. That looks eastward now." He brightened. "Ah, you sly fox. You're changing the projection just to please me."

  "I can't put anything over on you, Calvy," Elora said. She spoke mechanically as her mind raced along a dozen different paths, all leading to power. With a major AWC shipment to Kuton destroyed, Marta Kinsolving's plan to oust her monopoly was, if not ended, then at least delayed. But now it didn't matter.

  Fate had put Manfred Leclerc on that transport, and with his death, the MBA lacked an effective pilot-commander for their refitted IndustrialMech fighting force. More than this, Leclerc's death meant the dissolution of the FCL. The last unit loyal to Governor Ortega had lost its leader and rallying point.

  "Everything is looking up, Calvy," she said. "The dawn of a new day." "But it is still so late."

  She glanced at the video feed from the lone camera recording the furious salvage operation at the DropShip launch facility. Another screen showed a coded message confirming, rather redundantly, that the package had been delivered. Finding someone to execute the sabotage had been easy; getting the military-grade explosives for this particular job had been even easier. Elora knew that Tortorelli's forces were factionalized.

  Finding someone loyal to him, against Baron Ortega, and stupid enough to believe the lies of an attractive and powerful woman had been an entertaining project, and quite successful. Of course, her need for such people was at its end. Now matters could be taken to a larger stage, where events were decided not by one well-placed pawn, but rather by a savvy and dangerous queen.

  "An impressive package. I didn't think this man had it in him, quite frankly," Tortorelli said softly. Elora jumped. She had not realized he had drifted around the room on his nervous quest to touch every knickknack and had stopped behind her chair. He laid a hand on her bony shoulder. "If you are going to order troops from my command in my name, tell me. I can ensure a successful mission. Neither of us has any love of Sergio Ortega."

  "You're right, Calvy," she said, tossing back her mane of red hair and looking up at him appraisingly. Perhaps he wasn't such a fool, after all.

  27

  AWC DropShip launch pad

  Mirach

  4 May 3133

  "There's no hope," Marta Kinsolving said. She bit her lower lip until Austin saw beads of blood well around her sharp white teeth, but the woman remained ramrod straight as she studied the photos of what remained of the DropShip. "Any radiation leakage?"

  "Some but not as much as I feared," Dr. Penrose said. "Initial reports say that the fusion plant has a very manageable breach, and that's being taken care of now. The size of the explosion was more a result of heat touching off combustible chemicals on the DropShip, and they worry me more. Those fires on the field will burn for several days.

  Contamination of the area is significant." Penrose hesitated a moment, looked from Austin back to Marta, then said, "Ma'am, what did you mean, 'There's no hope'? Hope for what? You knew the instant of the explosion that we couldn't salvage anything from the 'ship."

  "I counted on the equipment being sent to Kuton," Marta said, not lying very effectively, or so thought Austin. "Now more than ever we need the relay station."

  "Of course, for Span-net," Penrose said. The woman stood only 155 centimeters tall, but Austin felt the power wrapped tightly within her. She was no one's fool and did not believe Marta's explanation. A new DropShip could be prepared in just days. The financial burden was huge, but a megacorporation like AllWorldComm would bear it, since the return on establishing the world- bridging Span-net was greater.

  Marta turned toward him, her brown eyes pools of sadness.

  "Is there anyone to notify? Manfred never mentioned family."

  "The FCL was as close to family as I ever heard him mention." The desperation of the hours following the DropShip crash were now replaced with quiet frustration-for them. He and Marta had Manfred's loss to bear in silence.

  "Ms. Kinsolving, you might want to see this," called a technician working at a bank of monitors. The screens flickered endlessly from one scene to the next. How anyone could decipher the visual morass was beyond Austin, but the man in the center of the screens homed in on one specific view. A few seconds of fiddling brought the same newscast up on all the monitors.

  "... our sources report that the Mirach Business Association has denounced The Republic and is currently negotiating an alliance with Jacob Bannson." "That's a lie!" raged Marta.

  "The other 'cast, the one on-air now, that's what I wanted you to see, Ms. Kinsolving," said the tech. "This was a recorded 'cast from a couple hours ago." The screens flowed like oil on water and firmed on Lady Elora's angular face. She looked as grim as Austin felt.

  "Citizens of Mirach," Elora said solemnly, "what should have been a day for celebration has become one of peril. Less than an hour ago, the Ministry of Information received its first transmission from Prefect Kal Radick concerning the reestablishment of the HPG network." The hush that fell on the room erupted a second later into pandemonium.

  "Quiet!" bellowed Marta. "Why wasn't I told of an HPG comm?"

  "It never happened, that's why," Dr. Penrose said, hastily checking another bank of recording instrumentation. "We might have been up to our asses working to salvage that cargo DropShip but I'd never let anything as important as an HPG message from off-world slip by. It never happened, Ms. Kinsolving. I swear it."

  "The lying bitch," Marta growled.

  "I want to hear what she
's saying," Austin said. He stepped closer to the screens, but Elora's words were drowned out by the tumult in the command bunker. He cocked his head to one side and listened hard. There had to be a way to turn her lies against her, no matter how clever she was.

  "Prefect Radick has declared for the common citizen," Elora went on, her voice aquiver with excitement now. "He will support a populist movement intended to depose tyranny. In this pursuit of maximum freedom, he urges every citizen to obey only Legate Tortorelli until the reins of government can be passed successfully to those more capable of leadership."

  "Civil war, that's what she's declaring," Austin said. "She's trying to get the populace to back Tortorelli-and her-when the two of them move against my father." Austin closed his eyes for a moment and knew what would happen as surely as if he watched it unfold.

  The military he had hoped to split into factions would be securely in Tortorelli's command.

  Manfred was dead. Dale was dead. Sergio Ortega was being held incommunicado in the Palace. Lady Elora controlled the news.

  The only credible opposition to the coup would be mounted by the MBA's converted IndustrialMechs. As potent a force as they would be, Austin knew the combined might of an entire planet would be flung against them.

  Austin saw nothing but disaster on the horizon. He lacked the experience of Manfred Leclerc or the charisma of his brother, but someone had to marshal the forces believing Mirach could survive and prosper under The Republic. His mind raced.

  The people of Mirach had been told the net was working again-and would believe anything Elora told them.

  "You look panicked," Marta said.

  "I... no, not that. There's so much swirling around that it's hard to decide what I ought to do.

  I've got to go to the Palace and get my father away. If he can prevent even a few of the soldiers from following Tortorelli, he must do it." "Your father has been mighty passive, so far. He might have other plans," Marta said.

  Austin felt nothing but contempt for his father. The old man's finest days were gone and he now faced nothing but disgrace. His elegant words would not stop the missiles and lasers arrayed against him by the Legate. This was a coup, not a debate. The loser died.

  "We've got to stop Elora and Tortorelli somehow," Austin said. "Can you jam her newscasts? AWC probably built the equipment. Your technicians know it better than anyone else could."

  "You don't understand, Austin," Marta said. "Elora's already told the world that she received an HPG communique from Radick.She is the anointed, as far as they are concerned. The riots came from fear of isolation, of not knowing what is going on throughout the Prefecture. She has established herself as the oracle who can tell them not to worry."

  "And what to do," Austin finished bitterly. Marta was right. "Elora's way ahead of us." "No one will protest when the Home Guard is sent to seize our companies, because the people think Radick is backing Tortorelli to the hilt. The power of belief that the HPG is up again will drive them to destroy us, unless we use the 'Mechs."

  Austin saw no way out. The MBA could negotiate now, hope that Elora was merciful, or they could send out their ultimate weapons in an attempt to break the Legate's military power.

  Elora would never be lenient.

  Everyone lost. Everyone but Elora.

  Marta snapped orders and began marshaling her forces and those of the Mirach Business Association. As her attention focused on the immediate needs of protecting her plants and workers from the mobs that were undoubtedly on the way, Austin backed away, then slid the heavy bunker door aside and stepped into the new dawn.

  The ruddy sun lifted painfully above the horizon and promised rivers of spilled blood before it set at the end of the day. Austin commandeered the limo and roared off toward Cingulum and his father.

  28

  Palace of Facets, Cingulum Mirach

  4 May 3133

  "Halt!"

  For an instant, lost in thought as he was, Austin Ortega didn't realize the guard meant him. He had lived in the Palace all his life until he moved to the FCL barracks for service with the unit. The situation had changed and Austin had foolishly ignored it in his haste to see his father.

  "Austin Ortega, aide to the Governor," he said, reaching for his ID. Austin was shoved back against a wall and looked down the muzzles of two rifles.

  "Keep your hands where we can see them," the guard said.

  "The Governor's my father. Don't you recognize me?" "Get the captain of the guard. We caught him," the soldier immediately in front of Austin said.

  Austin looked around and saw gun emplacements where none had been before just inside the southern entrance to the Palace. Rifle barrels bristled from behind massive carved stone columns, and from the distance came the click-click of heels marching along the marble corridor.

  "What's going on? I demand to see the Governor!" Austin knew his words fell on deaf ears. He only bought time to think. If the captain of the guard had been summoned, that meant he would be frogmarched to a cell away from the Palace. "I-my belly!" Austin screeched, doubling over and clutching his midsection.

  As he bent, he got his head away from the rifles for a split second. This gave him the chance to drive forward, burying his shoulder in the gut of the soldier in front of him. The other two tried to cover him, to shoot him. Austin didn't give them the chance. He knocked one soldier into another, spoiling her aim. Kicking out like a mule, he caught the third guard on the kneecap. Bone crunched like stepped-on plastic and then triggered a loud scream of pain. The confusion of this shriek gave Austin the chance to keep moving, spinning, grabbing, hitting with short, quick punches that dazed and bewildered.

  By the time all three soldiers were sprawled on the floor, Austin had a rifle securely in hand.

  He fired the instant he saw an officer's insignia rounding a column five meters off. The bullet ripped at the stone and sent sharp fragments flying like angry bees.

  The brief, fierce scuffle had drawn the attention of the soldiers in the gun emplacements. They swung their automatic weapons around and opened fire, but Austin was already dodging among the pillars, using the massive limestone columns to protect his back. Even so, the heavy rounds whined past his head and kept him bent over until he reached a low railing. Without breaking stride, Austin vaulted the steel rail and fell almost four meters.

  The landing jarred him, but he recovered fast. He had to if he wanted to stay alive. Their insignia indicated that these were Legate Tortorelli's personal troops, and Austin decided they were under orders from Lady Elora, whether they knew it or not. He cursed his own self-absorption at barging in as he had done. He knew his father wasn't allowed to communicate with anyone outside the Palace; people trying to contact him would be stopped, too.

  The small passage took a right turn into darkness. Austin had come this way many times before, he and Dale having discovered the passage when they were youngsters.

  Running his hand along the cool stone, he found it harder than he expected to find the depression he sought; then he remembered he had been only fourteen the last time he had used this secret route. Austin hunted lower on the wall, found the spot, and pressed hard until the wall slid back silently. Austin slipped inside as a hail of automatic fire rattled along the tight passage. He shouldered the door shut and leaned against it, breathing hard. He heard angry cries in the narrow passageway as the guards wondered how they could have missed him, quickly blaming one another for what had to be a mistake.

  Austin felt his way through the darkness. He and Dale had left flashlights here years before, but Austin didn't take the time to hunt for something whose batteries were probably dead. Depending on old memories, he worked steadily beneath the Palace through the maze of tunnels once designed for servants and other service personnel.

  A small, lighted rectangle above told him he was close to the exit he wanted. Austin took the stone steps three at a time until he pressed his eye against the panel and looked out into the corridor leading from the conf
erence room to his father's office. If there had been a secret way into the Governor's presence, he would have taken it, but he and Dale had never found such a path when there had been all the time in the world to explore. Now Austin felt time crushing him.

  A squad of Tortorelli's soldiers marched past, perfect parade ground troopers all. Clutching the rifle, he made sure a round was chambered, then forced open the ancient latch and stepped into the corridor.

  Ten quick steps brought him to the Armorer's Chamber. He turned grim when he saw all the weapons on display had been ripped from the walls. The office staff was gone. Although it was early, a few should have been on duty.

  As elegant as the Palace of Facets was, the Baron was still being held in solitary confinement.

  Austin worried for a moment that he'd have to break his father out of some prison cell that Tortorelli- Lady Elora-had consigned him to, but the instant he reached the inner office door, he knew Elora had held off making her final move against the Governor.

  The Baron looked up as Austin came in and closed the door.

  "You shouldn't have come, Austin. I told you to stand down." "I'm here to get you out, Father." "You're armed," Sergio said. "Put that down. It's not going to help." "You've got to get out of here and establish a government-in-exile. You need to appeal to as many of the Legate's soldiers' loyalty to The Republic as possible, split his force, regain some control." "Not with force!" This brought Sergio up. His eyes shot sparks as determination was reborn.

  "You have to learn, Austin. Violence does not accomplish anything." "Thinking like that's got you bottled up and unable to do your job. How can you protect the citizens of Mirach when Elora controls the communications in and out of your office? How can you govern if Tortorelli won't let you step into the corridor without being surrounded five-deep by his soldiers?" "You don't understand," Sergio said. "I still wield considerable power. I need to be here where I can use it."

  "Use it, then!" cried Austin. "Stop the rioting. They killed Manfred, you know." Austin blinked when he saw that his father didn't react as he had expected. Such news ought to have shocked him into action, into the realization that Tortorelli and Elora were playing for keeps and would destroy friends and family to seize power.