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Her quick, long, ring-burdened fingers clicked as she worked. Her eyes narrowed when she received her response.
Jerome Parsons refused to acknowledge any communication from her.
31
AWC DropShip launch pad
Mirach
7 May 3133
“Guidance locked in, Ms. Kinsolving,” came the excited call from the landing-field director. “You want me to query again, to be certain?”
“There’s no need,” Marta Kinsolving said. She was puzzled why Envoy Parsons had specifically refused to land at the Mirach DropShip Field and had vectored in on the much smaller AWC facility. It was a mystery, but Marta was more concerned that the debris from the destroyed cargo ’Ship was hauled out of the way before Jerome Parsons landed than she was about figuring out his motives.
Marta’s phone jangled. She almost shut it off to keep from being bothered but on impulse accepted the call. Sergio Ortega peered up at her from the small vidscreen.
“Marta, good to see you,” said Sergio Ortega. “It’s good to see anyone. I don’t have much time before the guards take me away.”
“They wouldn’t do that, Baron,” Marta said. “Elora might have whipped the populace into a froth over bogus HPG transmissions, but forcibly removing a Governor is more than she wants to tackle right now.”
“If it weren’t for Parsons returning, I’d have followed my own course by now. I’m tracking him to your field. Are you prepared to televise his arrival?”
“The Ministry of Information is blocking AWC frequencies,” Marta said.
Sergio snorted in disgust. “AllWorldComm built most of the Ministry’s equipment. You know how to circumvent it. Jam her signal. I give you official approval. It’s necessary you show everyone that the Lord Governor’s Envoy is avoiding Tortorelli and Elora.”
“I understand, Baron,” she said. “We’ll do everything we can to transmit what’s really happening here.”
“Keep this line open as long as possible,” Sergio asked. “I’d like to see firsthand what Parsons is up to.”
“What Lord Governor Sandoval is up to, you mean,” Marta said. “Parsons doesn’t exhale without explicit orders.”
“You underestimate him. Don’t. But on one point you’re right. Parsons is loyal to both Sandoval and The Republic.”
Marta hesitated to say anything more, distracted by alarms and lights flashing throughout the control bunker.
“Baron, I’m switching you to multiple images, on the field and at the reception area. Parsons’ DropShip has touched down.” Marta didn’t wait for acknowledgment. She shot from the chair and hurried to the heavy door, where she waited impatiently until poisonous vapors from the DropShip’s landing blew away.
Marta walked out onto the field, head high and wishing she had a couple of the MBA modified ’Mechs behind her as honor guard. Meeting Parsons without any idea why he had returned so soon after his last visit was troubling. She took the steps up to the observation platform two at a time and stepped forward to wait for the Envoy to emerge from the DropShip. The gusty winds died, but Marta experienced chills ru
“Are you tracking, recording, and transmitting?” Marta asked, switching her phone co
“Ms. Kinsolving, the cargo bays are opening.”
The crunching and grating of one hundred tons of metal could not distract her from the sheer, overwhelming presence of the BattleMech emerging through the haze. She had watched the refitted IndustrialMechs practice their war games, and they were impressive.
The Atlas towering fifteen meters awed her.
“Greetings, Ms. Kinsolving,” boomed a voice she hardly recognized as Jerome Parsons’. It came from a speaker back on the DropShip. “Excuse the moment of drama but I find it is always useful to capture attention before speaking.”
“Y-you’ve got mine, Envoy,” Marta stammered, assuming he had a directional mic aimed toward her. She took a deep breath and checked that her comm-link was still transmitting, not that anyone could do anything if this Behemoth took a few more strides forward and squashed her.
“This is an Atlas BattleMech, equipped with a Gauss rifle, two Extended Range Large Lasers, one in each arm, and two torso-mounted SRM launchers.”
“Impressive, Envoy.” Marta knew Parsons would have a battle-trained MechWarrior in the cockpit, unlike the men and women who struggled to pilot the MBA’s modified ’Mechs.
The BattleMech stirred slightly, as if impatient to begin destruction. Ozone from electrical discharges in its ECM Suite made her nose wrinkle and eyes water, but nothing detracted from the overwhelming impression made by the mountain of stark power that was the BattleMech.
“Why do you bring this here?” she asked.
“For demonstration purposes, Ms. Kinsolving. Lord Governor Sandoval wishes everyone on this planet to know of the devotion to The Republic shown by the Mirach Business Association and your personal commitment to both Mirach and the rule of law.”
“Demonstration?”
“The ’Mech is yours to command, Ms. Kinsolving. For a while.”
Marta stood stock-still for a moment, then thumbed her phone to reco
“Baron,” she said softly into her phone, “what do you think?”
“You know what I’d do with the BattleMech,” came the Governor’s answer.
Marta cleared her throat and addressed Parsons in a clear voice. “I’d like the Atlas to restore civil order in Cingulum. No more rioting. No more looting. Keep violence to a minimum.”
“As you command.”
The BattleMech turned slowly, took inertial guidance bearings on the distant city, and then gathered speed until it was rushing along at its full sixty-five kilometers per hour. As the BattleMech vanished from sight, Marta checked her phone. Static. Lady Elora had finally jammed the signals from both the AWC DropShip launch pad and the Governor.
Marta shuddered when she realized this was the opening shot. Sergio Ortega would never condone the use of the BattleMech against Tortorelli’s troops due to his philosophical leanings, but nothing prevented Elora and Tortorelli from pitting the Legate’s entire military might against the BattleMech. It didn’t matter to them if Cingulum was laid entirely to waste, if they came out the victors. Parsons and Lord Governor Sandoval had chosen sides, and the Legate and Minister were obviously in the wrong faction. The showdown had come sooner than anyone had thought.
In that, Marta knew, might lie the salvation of Mirach—or its destruction.