“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 running, but the Behemoth withdrew and there’s an entire city full of Home Guard going after an Atlas.”
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 runnin’ the tanks bailed out and surrendered. Came to us, not wanting to fight the Governor.” Borodin smiled and added, “The Governor might have had a part in it, too. He used our short-range radio and asked for all loyal to The Republic to come to our side.”
Austin grinned. Maybe there’s some fight left in the old man after all.
“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.
38
Cingulum
Mirach
9 May 3133
“Welcome aboard, Lieutenant,” shouted the pilot over the rotor noise. Austin recognized her as an FCL technician in spite of the Home Guard insignia she now wore.
“I didn’t know you could fly a Lamprey, Sergeant Posner.” Austin swung into the rear infantry bay next to the machine gun mounted in a side door and started to strap himself into a drop seat.
“I learn fast, sir. I’ve always liked choppers and spent a lot of time in simulators, so the Legate stuck me in one. You thinking on using that gun, Lieutenant?” Posner called back. “Put on the door gunner harness. Don’t want you getting sucked out.”
“See how fast you can get us to the fighting, Sergeant,” Austin said, taking her advice, getting out of the drop seat and climbing into the web harness. He had barely finished cinching up the broad straps when the helicopter surged, shooting upward like a rocket as Posner applied full lifting power to the rotors.
Austin found a helmet and put it on, checked to be sure he could speak to the pilot, then dropped the face guard to keep the whipping wind from making his eyes water. He wanted to see everything. And from five hundred meters, he did. Austin turned grim as he stared down at the destruction Governor’s Park had sustained that he had been unable to see from ground level. The Behemoth had left deep ruts and the lighter Condors had chewed up a considerable amount of landscaping, but the real demolition had come from the fight between the BattleMech, the IndustrialMech, and the invading force.
A catch came to Austin’s throat when he saw the damaged bulk of Sergeant Death sprawled on the ground. As the VTOL gained forward speed, he spotted Manfred dutifully striding toward Cingulum in his modified ’Mech just beyond the park perimeter. The Lamprey flashed overhead at its top 150-kilometer– per-hour speed, leaving Manfred to plod along. Austin started to wave, then heard an explosion that brought him around.
He cycled on his helmet faceplate magnification and studied the city. Ahead he saw amber lasers licking across the Atlas. The BattleMech struggled to avoid the punishment as it replied with its own lasers. The explosion had come from a tank being hit by return fire. Austin couldn’t tell what type of tank had been destroyed—he was still too far away to look down into the urban canyon formed by the buildings. But the secondary, internal magazine explosion told him it was unlikely any of the crew escaped.
“Where to, Lieutenant? The middle of the action?” Sergeant Posner spoke to him now over the radio in his helmet.
“Circle the fight. I need to see what we can do to help out most.” He clung to a handhold welded on the side of the Lamprey as Posner banked sharply. Austin saw the battle centered in Havoc. Many buildings had been destroyed, leaving mountains of debris. Sharp, shining steel beams poked out of the rubble like bones of a skeleton. Worst of all were the immense craters that had been blown in the ground. Some were deep enough to swallow the Atlas whole.
“The BattleMech’s taken some serious damage, Lieutenant,” the pilot said. “It’s not putting up much of a fight. Not shooting unless it’s shot at. But it doesn’t look to be in immediate trouble.”
“When the ’Mech does respond, it’s pinpointing its target. No collateral damage, if it can avoid it.” Austin knew the orders had to go beyond that. Keep loss of life to a minimum. The Atlas had been given the unfortunate task of restoring order while faced with armored units of the Home Guard and not just unarmed, unarmored rioters.