He had escaped. But now what?
20
Ministry of Information, Cingulum
Mirach
3 May 3133
“What went wrong?” Lady Elora asked. She fought to keep her voice level, but the man irritated her. He stood in front of her desk, smug and self-satisfied, and he had failed.
No one failed her. Twice.
“Relying on military police proved to be a mistake,” he said. The man who had been a waiter, a technician loading missiles, and an IndustrialMech pilot was still dressed in an MP uniform. “It’s only a matter of time before they are found. As angry as the MPs were at the beating they took, neither Leclerc nor Ortega will live long enough to be interrogated.”
“I know where Austin Ortega is,” Elora said. “He was observed returning to the Palace an hour ago.”
“Then I can leave this uniform on and take care of him before dawn.” The man shrugged. “With the guards Tortorelli assigned to the Palace, I could walk past them without any trouble. With this uniform, I could get them to help me slit the Baronet’s throat.”
“And how will you find Leclerc?”
“That, Lady Elora, is my secret, but I have ways to unearth anything. Anything at all.” He crossed his arms and looked at her as if this were his office and she was the menial.
Secrets, fumed Elora. What do you know of secrets?
She leaned back and considered him. He had proved useful twice. But now?
“I see you are thinking about removing me,” he said without any sign of fear in his pale blue eyes. Elora hated him for those eyes. Her mother had spent years describing the man who had fathered her, until Elora had a perfect mental image of the raping sadist. The Clansman who had sired her had eyes this color. There the resemblance ended. He had been so large and physically powerful in her mother’s fierce reminiscences of the rape. This man lacked stature, which was perfect for his job of assassin. No one remembered a man who looked like this. No one remembered ordinary.
The Clan blood flowing in her veins might be dilute, but she had vowed to make up for that while still a young girl. Her mother’s hastily arranged marriage to a young landowner from Ventrale had provided her daughter with legitimacy and nobility, but Elora still railed against her fate. Not good enough to be Clansworn? Over and over she told herself that genetic engineering could not matter as much as determination. She would show them her greatness by turning over the entire planet to Kal Radick.
Of course, she’d received no response to the communiqué she’d sent via DropShip so many weeks ago. He didn’t know who she was, but she’d show him. In a way, it didn’t matter to her if he even acknowledged such a fine gift. Conquering a world using words and carefully spun schemes would be reward enough for her. She would know she had deposed Ortega and made a fool of Tortorelli, then grabbed power.
But if Radick offered her the planetary governorship in his new order, she would not turn it down. She would show him and the Steel Wolves that even a drop of Clan blood was enough to triumph.
This nothing in front of her had failed. It troubled her that he read her so expertly, but he had survived on several worlds using his wits.
“You have to prove your worth to me,” she said. “I would be a fool to waste a valuable asset. I would be equally foolish to permit a flawed one to survive.”
“I kill to make my living. I also find out things,” he said, grinning wickedly. “You’ve worked your way up in the Ministry of Information by character assassination and double-dealing.”
“This is the best you can do? All you needed to do was ask anyone in the Ministry. They all hate me—and all could give detailed recitations of every person I stepped on as I came to my current position.” She kept her face impassive as she saw the expression on his face. He thought he held a trump card.
“You’ve contacted Prefect Radick about giving him control of Mirach,” the man said. “Reports say Radick is no longer loyal to The Republic, and you plan to take advantage of this shifting allegiance. Mirach would be a different world under Clan domination.”
“You spin fanciful tales as well as fail in what should have been simple assignments,” she said.
“Your childhood was spent battling an inferiority complex. You were a bastard child with endless ambitions to prove herself, to have someone to respect, if not love, her.” His smile broadened even more. “I like that.”
“That I am a bastard of a Clan warrior?”
“That you have ambition. I hold no store by their genetic program.”
“Yes, you fought against them, didn’t you? That’s where you learned to pilot a BattleMech. But you were a coward who fled rather than engage in combat and were stripped of your command.” It was Elora’s turn to grin. “I find out things, too.”
“Just so we understand each other,” the man said. His smile had melted into a scowl now.
“I understand you well,” Elora said. “You failed to kill Leclerc, who is now in hiding and probably teaching MBA pilots to use their modified ’Mechs. That will make my coup that much more difficult to achieve. You also failed twice to kill the Baronet, so what information he might carry is still a threat.”
“His brother and the reporter, they were the ones to fear. Austin Ortega doesn’t know anything that can harm you.”
In a rush of intuition, Elora knew the source of the man’s background data on her: Hanna Leong’s files. After killing her, he had searched the woman’s files and read what she had discovered.
“Was there anything about an air transport crash?” Elora asked.
“What? I don’t understand.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Elora said. She took a small pistol from her desk, aimed, and fired a single deadly shot into the man’s skull. He had misjudged her, thinking her only weapons were spoken and whispered.
One solved problem lay dead on her office floor. Now Elora needed to deal with other, more troubling unfinished business.
21
Palace of Facets, Cingulum
Mirach
3 May 3133
“Father, listen to me,” Austin Ortega said angrily. “They weren’t trying to arrest Manfred and me. They were trying to kill us!”
“I don’t think so, Austin. Not only had I told you to let the matter lie, you met him in secret. How would it have looked if the MPs had caught you, along with Manfred?” Sergio Ortega stared at his son, colorless eyes unfathomable. There was a hint of worry but not the way Austin expected. His father was more upset by the bad publicity of the Baronet being caught with a renegade officer than he was over the unfairness of it.
“They were military police, not civilian officers,” Austin said. “They killed the people in the Borzoi and set fire to the tavern to cover their crimes.”
“I read the official legate’s report on the incident,” Sergio said. “There’s no evidence that the MPs did anything wrong. It was the bartender, this Pavel Orndorff, who set fire to the place. They have surveillance video of it happening.” He shook his head sadly. “You could have been killed. You and Manfred.”
“I can take care of myself,” Austin said, trying to keep his anger in check. “You can’t treat me like a child.”
“You’re not a child, but you’re behaving like one. Just for one instant consider the possibility that I know more about what’s going on than you. If you keep blundering into business that’s not your own, I might not be able to save you.”
“I don’t need saving. Tell me what you’re planning. Why don’t you remove Elora? You know she doctored those surveillance tapes to show whatever she wanted. I’m sure, Father, that the bartender wouldn’t set fire to the place and kill himself. That’s a cover-up.”
Austin saw the shift in his father’s expression and didn’t like what it might mean.
“You can’t send me off-world or to Ventrale or wherever far away to get rid of me. I swear, Father, I’ll be back. You have to take me into your confidence.”
“You’ve sh
own you don’t deserve it,” Sergio said coldly.
“I do, Father. My fitreps in the FCL were always tops. I’m a quick study. I can find out what happened to Dale and Hanna if you let me.”
“You’ll do as you’re told,” Sergio said, his anger flaring now. “People have died needlessly because of your ill-conceived rendezvous. Leclerc is on the run and is hiding who knows where. That alone makes it more difficult for me to act against Elora and to stop the rioting.”
“This isn’t fair,” Austin said.
“There is no such thing as fair. I thought you’d learned that by now. You’re on my staff to learn. Keep quiet and do so.” Sergio shook his head once to forestall more argument. He leaned over and touched the annunciator button on his desk. The tall carved wood doors swung inward on their silent hinges.
Only the doors were silent. A gabbling crowd pressed through from the Armorer’s Chamber to shove against the Governor’s desk.
“Governor Ortega, what can you tell us about your son’s involvement with the traitor Manfred Leclerc?” shouted a reporter Austin had seen briefly on an early Ministry of Information newscast.
Austin stepped to one side, shocked at the ferocity of the questioning. Somehow, through the crush of reporters representing most news purveyors on Mirach, he saw the only one who counted. Lady Elora stood toward the rear of the Armorer’s Chamber speaking quietly with her director. The harried rat-faced man held a small control panel rather than using a full-scale one. From the amount of sweat on his wrinkled forehead, Barnaby obviously had trouble performing the intricate maneuvers with the cameras that Elora demanded.
For a brief instant, Elora’s emerald eyes locked with Austin’s. He thought a flicker of a smile danced over her thin lips, and then her amplified voice boomed over the din of other questions. There was no doubt about how she used her position as Minister to best the others technologically.
“Governor Ortega, is it true that your son evaded arrest last night after consorting with a known traitor?”
“Ladies and gentlemen, please,” cried Sergio. “This is my office. I will answer your questions in the conference room. Not here.”
Austin looked for guards to move the crowd from the outer office, but none were in sight. He maneuvered his way around the group of reporters and gave the secretary instructions. The man corralled five others from the Governor’s office staff and began to herd the reporters out and down the hall. They went more willingly after Elora made a point of leading the parade. Austin found his way back to Sergio as the crowd dispersed.
“You need the FCL guarding you,” he said. He thought his father started to say something, then stopped. A mask of calm settled, the mask he always wore when dealing with difficult situations. Austin envied him in that moment. He couldn’t find composure when his best friend was running from the authorities and he had no idea who had murdered his brother.
Worse than such turmoil was his father refusing to trust him.
“Thank you,” Sergio said, eyes forward. Austin wasn’t sure if the Governor thanked the secretary and the others or him. He didn’t ask as he followed at the proper two steps behind as they went to the conference room. The Governor’s protocol officer ought to have prepared for this, but Austin hadn’t seen him in days. More to the point, as Minister, Lady Elora should have helped control the news flow instead of being in the forefront of blowing up the dam.
The tumult hit Austin the instant he stepped onto the dais with his father. A hundred questions from a hundred mouths all vied for supremacy, but one came through loud and clear.
“Why was the Baronet consorting with a known felon?” Elora might have asked the question, but she didn’t. She didn’t have to because this was the single query they all wanted answered.
“My son Austin was attempting to get Captain Leclerc to surrender to authorities when this incident occurred,” Sergio said. “He had almost convinced Leclerc of the folly of remaining a fugitive, when heavy-handed officers of the Legate’s military police interrupted. Leclerc was scared off by their unnecessarily violent entrance into the tavern.”
“Isn’t it true that your son fled with the traitor Leclerc?”
“You play fast and loose with our legal system by such unproved accusations. Manfred Leclerc deserves his day in court. When he is arrested, his guilt or innocence will be determined.”
“Then you don’t deny that your son consorts with traitors and killers?”
“Next question, please,” Sergio said. Austin wanted to say something to defend himself but saw his father’s clenched fists and how he struggled to remain calm.
“One last question, Governor Ortega,” Elora boomed, drowning out the other reporters. “How do you respond to the recent off-world communiqué from both Prefect Radick and Lord Governor Sandoval expressing ‘no confidence’ in your ability to perform your duty as head of Mirach’s government?”
The room fell silent. Then the other reporters babbled their own questions.
“Why haven’t you told us of this message from the leaders of The Republic, Governor?” asked one. “What are you hiding?” asked another. “What else aren’t you telling us?” The noise rose to a deafening pitch. Even if Sergio had answered, no one could have heard him.
Austin fought to protect his father as the reporters surged forward with their shouted questions. Elora was Minister of Information and had flatly stated that not only had the Governor lost the confidence of the two most powerful leaders in the Prefecture, but he had also committed what was quickly becoming the ultimate crime: not revealing communications from other worlds immediately. The fall of the HPG built new conspiracies at every turn.
Austin had almost forced back the reporters when he heard Elora’s final cut.
“Since the leaders of Prefecture IV have lost confidence in your ability to lead, Governor Ortega, when will a replacement be named?”
Austin felt as if he had been hit in the belly with a sledgehammer. Elora’s scheme was transparent. There wasn’t a replacement because the Lord Governor had not lost confidence in Sergio Ortega. But Elora could make a strong case for Legate Tortorelli leading a military coup until a civilian replacement arrived.
Which it never would.
She would disgrace the Governor and then put her toady in Sergio’s place. Retaining the powerful position as head of the Ministry of Information, Elora would control Mirach completely from the shadows. Tortorelli would retain his post as Legate, giving him military and de facto civilian authority.
All the reins of power ran to her grasping fingers.
“Father, this way,” Austin said. Sergio let his son guide him from the conference room into the hall. To Austin’s surprise, Dmitri Borodin and four other soldiers he did not recognize hurried toward them. All five were dressed in the forest green Home Guard uniforms.
“Nobody’s allowed out, Austin,” Borodin said, putting up his hand to stop Austin from leaving.
“It’s a mob scene in there,” Austin said. “Help the Baron back to his office—”
Borodin looked grief-stricken as he stepped away from the other four. In a low voice he said, “We’re here to make sure Governor Ortega doesn’t try to go anywhere but his office. Those were Legate Tortorelli’s orders, straight from his own lips before we came here from the barracks.”
“That’s an outrage!” Austin cried.
“Don’t argue,” Sergio said. “It’s not worth it, son.” He went directly back to his office trailed by two guards, leaving Austin behind with Borodin and the other soldiers.
Austin seethed at such injustice. His father was a Baron, Governor of Mirach, and was being treated like a prisoner. Then he settled down and realized that Borodin was a good soldier and followed orders, even if they ran counter to his own loyalties.
“Thanks for what you’ve done so far,” Austin said. “Can I count on you later?”
“You can count on me, sir, but the patrol with me,” Borodin said uneasily, “they’re all loyal to
Lord Governor Sandoval—if he declares for the Federated Suns. Every time a DropShip lands, there’s stories. They’re sayin’ Sandoval’s trying to take back FedSuns worlds, and there’re some who’d just as soon have it that way.” This was a shock to Austin, too concerned with the local situation to even consider what might be going on in the rest of the Prefecture, especially with the HPG net down. The FedSuns was one of the older states from which Devlin Stone had taken worlds to build The Republic. If the rumors were true—and Austin had no way to be sure that they were—then Mirach was in more trouble than he’d realized. And where did the Envoy from Sandoval, Parsons, stand? “They don’t exactly trust me, knowing I prefer The Republic, but it’s gettin’ hard, Lieutenant, it’s getting real hard, to keep thinkin’ The Republic’s the right way to go.”
Austin saw the two with Borodin overheard and grinned. This would be reported to the officer of the day.
“Carry on, Master Sergeant,” he said, as if he were still Borodin’s commanding officer.
“Wait, Lieutenant; I got more orders coming in.” Borodin pulled out a small radio and pushed it close to his ear. “Come on,” he said to the two soldiers. “We’re shutting down the news conference. The Governor’s incommunicado from now on, by order of Legate Tortorelli.” Borodin cast an anguished look at Austin, then silently mouthed, “Get out of here,” before leading his small squad to the conference room.
Austin wondered if the next order from Tortorelli would be to arrest everyone in the Palace. This was as close to a coup as there could be without shots being fired. And he had warned his father about turning over the FCL to Tortorelli’s command.
Feeling vindicated did little to ease the fear growing like a cancer in Austin’s gut. With Tortorelli shutting off the Governor and his staff from the reporters, Lady Elora would be the only source relaying government news to the public. Austin knew what those reports were likely to say after she had openly charged the Governor with being a traitor.
The Ruins of Power Page 15
