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There was a buzz of static from the radio, then a cacophony of chatter.
“Some units are breaking off, sir,” said Posner.
“What’s the nearest that isn’t?” he asked.
“Almost directly below us.”
“Manfred, can you still fight?”
“I’m with you!”
The Lamprey swung about and spotted a squad of battle-armored troopers trying to double-time advance on the Atlas.
“Battle armor, break off your advance on the Atlas!” Austin yelled into the radio. He fired the machine gun, careful not to hit the combatants, but aimed close enough to scare them. The troops scattered as Manfred’s ’Mech roared up, diamond-edged cutting wheel on his left shoulder looking like fire as it spun. None of the soldiers was in danger, but the sight of the ’Mech broke their attack.
“The Atlas is backing off. It’s not going into the cross fire trap laid by the Behemoths,” said Posner.
Austin was too busy firing to respond. Then the machine gun belt ran out. No more ammo. But he had a clear comm cha
“Cease fire! Don’t put any more citizens of Cingulum in danger.”
“You really the Baronet?” came a faint question on Tortorelli’s command frequency.
“I am. Surrender, and no action will be taken against you for following orders.”
“I see one of those refitted ’Mechs coming toward me.”
“All AWC units, stand down,” Austin ordered. He hoped they would listen to him. If not, he had to waste valuable time and relay orders through Manfred—or Marta Kinsolving.
“Standing down,” came the replies, one by one. Austin was surprised that he received five acknowledgments. Some of the mod ’Mechs were still on their way to Cingulum but reported in to show how much firepower was being mustered.
He heard other chatter, mostly FCL urging others with them to stop fighting. If they were persuasive enough and confirmed that he was not the sort to lie about amnesty, units all over the middle of Cingulum should be stopping. They were.
The Atlas strode past. Austin looked down on the mighty fighting machine and saw the damage was extensive but not irreparable.
Austin played on the BattleMech’s still functional armament, repeated the threat of the approaching MBA ’Mechs, and then let the First Cossack Lancers, wherever they might be scattered among the battle-armored troops, complete the surrender.
“We got a problem, Lieutenant. A big one.”
Austin swung out the side bay and saw the Behemoth rumbling down the middle of the street, heading directly for Manfred’s damaged ’Mech. The Gauss rifle was loaded and aimed.
“Captain Mugabe, I am placing you in command of Legate Tortorelli’s troops. See to the orderly surrender immediately,” Austin radioed.
“That’s Mugabe in the Behemoth? Tortorelli’s top tanker?” asked Posner. “Will she—”
That was as far as the pilot got. A crisp message came through from the Behemoth commander.
“Captain Mugabe in receipt of your orders, Baronet.”
The Gauss rifle elevated off target.
“All Home Guard units, stand down. Do not fire; I repeat, do not fire. This is Captain Mugabe. Do not fire.”
Austin let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, made sure he was on an open frequency, then radioed, “Governor Ortega, the city is secure. I am ordering Captain Mugabe to establish patrols to maintain order.”
“Well done, Austin,” Manfred radioed him on a closed frequency. “That lets everyone know where they stand, especially Mugabe.”
Austin stared down from the Lamprey at the Atlas, carefully picking its way through the city streets, hunting for the route to take it out of Cingulum while causing the least damage.
“Yes,” Austin said. “Well done. Well done, all around!”
39
Palace of Facets, Cingulum
Mirach
12 May 3133
“The last tank commander has surrendered out by the Blood Hills Barracks,” Sergio Ortega a
Austin didn’t flinch. “If I hadn’t powered up the Centurion–your BattleMech—Tortorelli would have overrun the Palace and you’d be dead. Mugabe had her Behemoth’s Gauss rifle pointed straight at your head.”
“But she refused to obey Tortorelli’s—Elora’s—order to destroy the Palace. It was too powerful a symbol of The Republic for her to blow up.”
“The Centurion held her at bay and gave her time to consider how wrong her orders were,” Austin shot back.
“You’ve forgotten what really happened? I contacted Manfred,” Sergio said. “The show of force was enough to compel Mugabe to surrender.”
“After more than a hundred soldiers died.” Austin swallowed and tasted bile at this terrible statistic.
How could I have done it differently? he wondered. Was there a way to keep my father safe without killing any of the Legate’s troops? If there had been a way, he couldn’t see it—neither in the heat of the fight nor in its aftermath. The threat of force was meaningless without the use of force if the bluff was called.
“Are you forgetting my role in all this?” asked Manfred Leclerc. “You were dog meat until I saved you.”
“My point is made, Father,” Austin said. “Without that cutting wheel and autoca
“You should never have gotten involved in the battle. Your presence is what put you at risk.”
“If I hadn’t engaged Tortorelli’s forces from the helicopter until Manfred and the other MBA ’Mechs arrived, we’d have lost everything.”
“Your plea to the soldiers caused many to reconsider the legality of the orders Tortorelli—and Elora—had given,” said Sergio. “Words, not bullets, turned the fight.”
“If I hadn’t fought to clear that cha
“Please, you two,” cut in Manfred. “Stop arguing. You’ll never get the other to agree. Governor Ortega has a point, Austin. The combination of Parsons’ political muscle and Marta Kinsolving’s loyalty to Mirach made victory over Elora and Tortorelli inevitable sooner or later. And,” Manfred hastily said, turning on the Baron, “you needed force to bring about your goals. Without the MBA’s ’Mechs you would have been killed.”
“As Manfred said so colorfully before, ‘dog meat.’” Austin gri
“The use of force means failure of diplomacy,” Sergio said. “Diplomacy and a certain element of stealth served me far better than brute violence. That’s how I contacted Manfred and warned him about taking off in the cargo DropShip.”
“Baron,” said Manfred, inclining his head slightly in the direction of the open office door.
Marta Kinsolving came into the office, Envoy Parsons at her side. She looked a little flushed, but her brief glance in Manfred’s direction might have explained that.
“Envoy Parsons, Ms. Kinsolving, so good of you to come.” Sergio stood and graciously indicated that they take comfortable leather chairs in front of his desk.
“This meeting must be short,” Jerome Parsons said brusquely. Austin compared this with the man’s earlier visit and the way he had seemed diffident then. Now he was all business. “I am pleased with the outcome of my mission to your fine planet and commend you all.”
Austin looked at his father. Something sounded wrong in Jerome Parsons’ compliment.
“Why did you choose to bring an Atlas here at all, Your Excellency?” asked Austin. He left the rest of the question unstated, but his father did not.