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Austin checked his console again, but he was weaponless. His rear-facing laser had been removed before the Centurion had gone on display and the one on the right side of his torso struggled to recharge. Given its wildly fluctuating voltage, the laser might never work again. And the autoca
A heavy blow knocked him forward a few steps. He swung the Centurion around as quickly as he could and faced his rescuer. Through the forward view screen Austin saw the other pilot gesturing to the radio.
Austin shook his head to indicate he had lost all communication capability. The other pilot signaled that Austin should eject, but Austin wasn’t going to abandon Sergeant Death. That would be like leaving a fallen comrade for the enemy. It had shown itself to be as deadly a resource now as when his father had driven it.
He coughed, then blinked as smoke burned his eyes. Austin saw the trouble now. Red lights had replaced all the green on his control console. The recycling pump for his coolant had died. Stealthy fires worked their way along most of the wiring, spelling death for the magnificent BattleMech. Austin hit the emergency shutdown, then scrambled to unstrap and pull off hoses going to the coolant vest. Twisting until he thought he would tear himself into pieces, he got free of the pilot’s couch and scrambled up and out of the hatch.
Standing on the Centurion’s shoulder, he waved to the IndustrialMech. The deadly spi
From the hatchway of the Centurion erupted flame so intense his pants legs began to smolder, though he was five meters away. The ’Mech driver was already turning away to protect him with the bulk of the fighting machine. With practiced ease, he bent to let Austin jump to the ground.
The hatch on the ’Mech popped, and Austin got another surprise.
“Manfred!” he called, staring at his rescuer. “You’re alive!”
“Be grateful you can’t get rid of me so easily!” Manfred laughed and then dropped to the ground to clutch Austin in a powerful bear hug.
“How? I saw you blown up!”
Manfred laughed and shook his head. “Your father called me as I was leaving the limo and warned me about some missing explosives. Borodin had found out and told the Baron in time for him to tell me. The Kuton station is such a threat to Elora that it didn’t take long to figure out that a DropShip filled with supplies headed to the moon might not be the safest place for me to be.” Manfred turned somber. “I never entered the ’Ship.”
“I saw you. Marta saw you!” Austin protested.
“The bulk of the ’Ship blocked your view. I made a serious mistake then. I didn’t go into the ’Ship, but I tried to contact the pilot. All I had was one of the Span-net phones. No one in the DropShip could pick up that frequency, so I couldn’t warn them.”
“You should have told Marta. She could have contacted them through the control bunker,” said Austin.
“The engine ignition sequence started, and I ran like a fool to keep from getting fried. I found a ditch to protect me from the backwash. Then it was too late. The ’Ship blew up as it lifted off. There was nothing I could do, so I thought it would be better to let Tortorelli and Elora think they had actually killed me.”
“But where did you get the ’Mech? You must have told Marta you were alive.”
“Sure, but by the time I got in touch, you’d disappeared. Your father and Marta knew I was alive. Maybe even Borodin, though I doubt it. I bet if you asked him, he’d say he knew.”
“You saved me,” Austin said, looking around. Governor’s Park was silent now. Craters had been blown in the ground and smoldering tree limbs littered once immaculate lawns. But Austin ignored that. The damage to the Palace of Facets seemed minor, although a fire chewed fitfully at the south wing and immense chunks had been blown out of the eastern section.
“My father?” Austin asked.
“He’s alive. Borodin’s watching him.”
“What do we do now?” asked Austin. “It looks peaceful here.”
“There’s still a war to be won. We took out the medium tanks and set the infantry here to ru
Austin looked at the Centurion and knew its fighting days were at an end.
“Get me a ride and let’s go mop up the Legate’s troops in town,” Austin said.
“Nothing for you to maneuver. I’ve radioed for the other MBA ’Mechs to converge on the Atlas. Fighting’s got to be stopped there, but your place is here,” Manfred said. He turned to get back into his ’Mech.
“You can’t do this. I want to fight. I deserve to be there.”
“Sorry,” Manfred said, vanishing into the ’Mech. The hatch clanged shut like a peal of doom for Austin. He stood staring as Manfred got the modified ’Mech moving toward Cingulum.
Austin refused to be left behind. He ran to the south entrance of the Palace and was met by Dmitri Borodin and a half dozen soldiers he recognized as FCL.
“Master Sergeant,” Austin said. “Is everything under control?”
“Lieutenant, we got things all quieted down. We lost a fair number, but it’s no surprise we gained a fair number as the Home Guard ru
Austin gri
“Two tankers and a fair number of infantry,” Borodin confirmed. “I’m not too sure about the captain in charge of the mission—the one in the Behemoth. I think she might be fixin’ to quit, too.”
“Excellent work, Master Sergeant,” Austin said. “You are in command.”
“You’re rankin’ officer, Baronet,” he said. “I think the Baron wants to see you.”
“How fast are the tanks, the ones that surrendered?” Austin asked.
“You don’t want to get in those metal coffins,” Borodin said, his eyes fixed on Austin. “That wouldn’t be a fittin’ way for the Baronet to travel. What you want is something that’d go in style.”
“I won’t mention it to the Baron if you don’t,” Austin said, his heart racing. He looked at Sergeant Death and knew his ride wouldn’t be a BattleMech. Even if Manfred had a spare modified ’Mech for him, it would take too long to program the neurohelmet so he could get into the thick of battle.
Borodin took out his radio and spoke in it, then looked skyward.
For a moment, Austin didn’t see anything. Then a small dark dot appeared at the far north end of Governor’s Park.
“An FCL sergeant talked the crew into letting her give you a look at the battle,” Borodin said. “FCL’s got our fingers stuck about everywhere. You might keep that in mind, Lieutenant. They’re all loyal troopers, no matter what uniform they’re wearing.”
“I understand, Master Sergeant. Thank you.” Austin threw up his arm to protect his face as a Lamprey Transport VTOL—it looked like a modified model—kicked up dirt and debris all around him. Austin turned, saluted Borodin, knowing he would keep the Palace and the Baron safe, then put his head down and sprinted for the open door.
The battle at Governor’s Park was over. The war had yet to be won.