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 autocannon.
“Go get ’em!” Austin cheered. Manfred lurched forward, the damaged cutting wheel on his left arm spinning wildly. The ’Mech was swallowed by the dust cloud, and sparks began flying.
“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 channels, egging the soldiers on… and then he knew the answer to his question.
“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!”
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 channel and used it.
“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.”