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“I’ll check to be sure everything’s in order,” Austin said, wanting to leave Manfred and Marta alone for a moment. He climbed out of the limo, looked around, and then walked toward the DropShip to stare up at its bulk. From a distance it had looked small; this close, he estimated that it towered more than a hundred meters. Lights from around the field caught the shining exterior and turned it silvery, with darker markings declaring that this was an AllWorldComm cargo vessel. Austin sucked in a deep breath, tasted the airborne metallic tang of reactants used as fuel.
Austin saw Marta hurrying toward him, but Manfred remained in the limo.
“Anything wrong?” he asked.
“No, he’s coming. He’s taking care of some last-minute business.”
Austin frowned when he saw Manfred using the phone. From the expression on his face, it looked as though whomever he spoke to must have given him disturbing news. Manfred looked around as if he expected to see MPs swarming over the field, then hastily broke the co
Who’d he call? Austin wondered. He started to ask, but Manfred rushed past him.
“Hurry,” Marta said. “The less time we take, the less likely Elora is to know what’s going on.” Manfred’s arm snaked around Marta and he pulled her close to kiss her. Then he released her, slapped Austin on the back, and ran for the far side of the DropShip, where the small elevator would take him to the midships entry port.
“We’ve got to get out of here fast. The ship’s on schedule for launch in five minutes.” Marta hesitated, shot an almost shy smile in the direction of the DropShip, and climbed into the limo, Austin immediately behind her.
The limousine roared off at top speed, heading for a line of concrete control bunkers at the far side of the field.
“I’ve tapped into the field control,” Marta said, putting the feed from the bunker onto the limo intercom. “We’ll be well out of blast range.”
Austin caught his breath as the countdown neared its end. “Engines ignition,” the controller intoned. “Five, four, three, two, one, liftoff.”
Austin leaned forward anxiously, barely able to make out the DropShip through the rear window. A sudden flare illuminated it and made him squint, in spite of the polarization.
“There he goes,” Austin said.
Then words failed him. The DropShip had risen less than a hundred meters, still building speed, when it exploded.
25
AWC DropShip launch pad
Mirach
3 May 3133
The accusation of treachery came unbidden to Austin’s lips, but the instant he saw Marta’s stricken face he knew she had no part in the explosion and Manfred’s death.
“Find out what happened,” Austin said, pushing aside his shock to take command. “The control center must have telemetry.”
“I… yes, of course. The controllers.” With a shaking hand, Marta pressed in the access code that linked her directly with the DropShip launch bunkers.
Austin looked outside. Chaos reigned. Technicians ran about, shouting, gesturing, blaming one another, getting emergency equipment out to the crash site.
“We’ve never had a cargo DropShip blow up on us. Ben Nagursky had a few, but those were test vehicles. These… these were all nothing but workhorses. They’re supposed to be dependable, reliable.” Marta savagely threw down the phone. “No answer. Come on.” She piled out of the limo and led the way to a nearby bunker. Austin pushed through the technicians inside so Marta could speak to the launch director.
“Dr. Penrose, what happened to the cargo launch?” demanded Marta of a pale-faced, still shaking woman.
“I can’t say. Everything read in the green, Ms. Kinsolving,” the launch director said. “But the sudden loss of thrust and the explosive nature of the accident makes me think the DropShip was sabotaged.”
“Someone sabotaged the ship? You mean a bomb of some kind?” asked Marta. She ground her teeth as she waited for the information. Austin knew better than to say a word.
Dr. Penrose pointed to a screen with a razor-sharp glowing line across it. “Here it is. A millisecond before the ship itself exploded, there was a major concussion inside, right by the fusion reactor. We’re going to have to look for trace evidence and find out what kind of explosive was used. If we can figure out what was used, we can start building a case for who is responsible for this. Whoever it was, they were good enough to breach our security, and they know something about DropShips.”
“The Legate would have access to all kinds of explosives,” Austin said in a low voice. “Anyone with military ID could justify inspecting a ship leaving the planet.”
“Seal the area,” Marta said decisively. “Question everyone. I want the saboteur located.”
“Ms. Kinsolving, something like this takes time, pla
“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, gri
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.