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“You got it, Lieutenant.”
“AWC force, come in,” Austin said. He shifted his focus for a moment to send a long burst from the machine gun raining down against a Condor tank. The tank’s armor was more than up to the task of deflecting his rounds, but he got the tank driver’s attention and halted its advance. For a few seconds.
“Who is this?” came the suspicious reply.
“Lieutenant Ortega, FCL,” he identified himself without thinking. “Are you bringing up modified IndustrialMechs?”
“We need more ID, Lieutenant.”
“There’s no time. Manfred Leclerc is on his way in his ’Mech from Governor’s Park. The Palace is secure and Governor Ortega is safe. I’m in a VTOL above the city and the Atlas is being boxed in.”
“Can’t contact the BattleMech,” came the reply. “Frequency is jammed.”
“How far away are you? Can you clear a retreat path for the Atlas?”
“We’re under heavy fire from a tank, a Behemoth,” came the reply.
Static drowned out contact, but a distant voice came through that set Austin’s heart racing. He shouted, as if this could make Manfred hear him better.
“Manfred! How long before you can engage?”
“The other MBA ’Mechs are under attack,” Manfred reported. “I’m using a frequency to them that Elora’s not jamming.”
“I need to break that jamming. Can you send a ’Mech to the Ministry of Information and destroy the broadcast towers on top of the building?”
“Done,” Manfred reported a few seconds later. “The ’Mech will reach the Ministry in a few minutes.”
Austin came to a quick conclusion. There wasn’t time to wait. The Atlas was advancing into the shooting gallery formed by three Behemoth tanks. If they all opened up on the BattleMech, it would be seriously damaged and the battle-armored troops on the ground could disable it.
“Engage immediately. We have to let the BattleMech get free.”
“I’m not going to worry about collateral damage,” Manfred said.
“Tortorelli’s troops are still citizens of Mirach,” warned Austin. He now saw firsthand how terrible a civil war could be. Anyone dying wasn’t “one of them.” It was a neighbor or friend, a brother or sister.
“Understood. Now attack!” cried Manfred.
The Lamprey swung around above the Atlas so Austin could take in the situation. Directly ahead, not a klick down the main thoroughfare, waited a Behemoth tank. Along streets branching at right angles were two more, ready to fire as the Condor and battle-armored soldiers behind the Atlas herded it into the Behemoths’ sights.
“There’s no chance for us to take out a Behemoth,” Austin radioed the pilot. “We go after the forces behind the BattleMech.”
He saw an IndustrialMech making its way down a broad street, heading for one of the Behemoths. Austin started to warn the ’Mech away. It was a converted MiningMech, armed with an autoca
“Here we go, Lieutenant,” Posner said. Austin felt his stomach try to leave his body through his throat as they plunged downward. Grimly gripping the machine gun, he started firing. The slugs bounced off battle armor and, he thought, brought down one soldier. More important, he had forced the squad to take cover.
Then the battle changed drastically. Manfred lumbered into view, his modified ’Mech firing its autoca
But it was Manfred’s attack that stopped the tank. The tank responded with laser fire, then vanished in a cloud as Manfred cut loose with his autoca
“Go get ’em!” Austin cheered. Manfred lurched forward, the damaged cutting wheel on his left arm spi
“Got him,” came Manfred’s excited report. “Tank is down.”
Austin lurched as the chopper swung about. He fired a few rounds in the direction of another tank—a Demon—but missed.
“Battle armor moving on the Atlas. They’re getting frantic now,” reported Sergeant Posner. “The other mod ’Mech disabled the Behemoth before going down. Gauss rifle round fired almost point-blank got it.”
“We can sweep the street clear for the BattleMech,” Austin said to Sergeant Posner. “Keep us down low.”
He used the cocking lever to load in a new ammo belt, then concentrated on hitting every battle-armor-clad soldier he could find in the street. As the Lamprey flew back and forth, Austin saw Manfred going after another tank. A laser bolt slashed at Manfred’s right side and bathed him in deadly energy that boiled off much of his armor. From the way the ’Mech limped, more than armor had been damaged.
“What’s the status on bringing the Ministry of Information towers down?” he asked.
“’Mech is almost there, sir,” reported Posner.
“Manfred’s tangled with another tank and this one’s stripping him naked. Fly closer so we can lend support.” Austin wished he had more than a single machine gun in the infantry bay door. They swooped down so Austin could concentrate on the tank, but the Condor launched a volley that crashed into the Lamprey, sending it reeling.
The shock of missile impact dazed Austin for a moment. He sat up, not sure how he had ended up away from the machine gun.
“Got it,” came Manfred’s cry of triumph. “But I’m losing power. The internal combustion engine’s not up to sustained fighting.”
“What about the ’Mech going to the Ministry?”
He got his answer when a cacophony of voices filled his head. A dozen soldiers all shouted in his ears at the same time, the jamming lifted so they could again communicate.
“Attention, Home Guard,” Austin broadcast as Posner patched him through on the Legate’s command frequency. “Cease fire. I repeat, cease fire. This is Baronet Austin Ortega ordering you to hold your fire.”
“Not much happening, sir,” said Posner.
Austin wasn’t going to give up if there was a chance the carnage could be halted here and now. He searched for the words that could make a difference.
“Home Guard of Mirach,” he began slowly, “anyone who can hear me: for the last three months, you’ve been bombarded with messages about the tyrant Sergio Ortega, and now Legate Tortorelli and Lady Elora Rimonova have ordered you to take up arms against him.” He paused and wondered, How can I reach them? He could hear Elora’s voice over other comm cha
“But these orders aren’t Legate Tortorelli’s, are they?” he asked. “Listen to the voice giving orders: it’s Lady Elora. The Minister of Information has ordered you into the streets to defend Mirach against Governor Ortega, whom many of you have met and have served under for years, a hero of The Republic—a man who has been a prisoner in the Palace of Facets for the last week, unable to contact anyone, unable to help his own people.
“This fight isn’t about defending Mirach from its Governor. It’s about defending ourselves against the propaganda war being waged by the Ministry of Information. The Republic sent that Atlas to Mirach to help restore the order and reason its Governor believes in. And look—the Atlas has not attacked. It has only defended itself and the city.” Now Austin’s voice grew passionate.
“I appeal to all FCL soldiers, cease fire. You know what I’m saying is true. For the sake of peace in Cingulum and a united Mirach, lay down your weapons. We can’t let fear and misinformation tear our world apart. I urge all those following Lady Elora’s orders, cease fire!”