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“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 Ba
“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 tyra
“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 communiqué 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.”