If she hadn’t already been atop that heap. Austin saw how Boris Chin deferred to her and even bellicose Benton Nagursky often yielded the microphone to Marta as questions came from the reporters about MBA participation and the hope for new jobs planetwide.

Austin began to wonder about the MBA and what political aspirations its members had. He knew next to nothing about the ancient, translucent-skinned Dr. Chin other than he was a respected, often brilliant plant genetics researcher, but Ben Nagursky had a reputation for ruthlessness and removing anyone who stood in his way. For Marta Kinsolving to run with these wolves, she had to be equally brilliant—and merciless. This thought set off a chain reaction in his head that led back to Dale’s death.

Someone had purposefully mislabeled the deadly missiles, and he doubted it was any of Tortorelli’s command. Gaining control of the FCL was quite a coup for Calvilena Tortorelli, but it had been announced and seemed less of a motive than Marta Kinsolving’s. She, her company, and the MBA were profiting handsomely. The money to finance her Span-net could have been tied up in legislative session for another year if Sergio had not seen fit to push through the appropriations. She, or AWC, certainly profited both mightily and quickly. But Dale’s death had not been linked to this. Austin frowned as he worried over motives.

An angry whisper drew his attention away from Marta to Lady Elora. She chewed out her director for missing some small detail in a camera angle. The Minister of Information had benefited from covering the war games and Dale’s subsequent death. The news had become the top-rated show on the air, and along with the growing audience came Elora’s new and less subtle jibes about the Governor and his ability to rule—his inability to rule. There had been scattered riots in other cities since Dale died, but Austin knew that it was only a matter of time before the cork popped. He felt tensions mounting whenever he went into Cingulum. Elora urged the people to test the boundaries of the law to find out if The Republic and its rulers were still best for the people of Mirach.

Austin couldn’t tell what had sparked Elora’s wrath, but the director wilted under it. Barnaby worked frantically to alter settings, to move cameras around, and finally to send the full transmission back to the Ministry of Information.

Final statements were read and the news conference wound down when his father said, “Thank you, Ms. Kinsolving. We look forward to the near future—the very near future—of virtually instantaneous communication.” The small crowd of reporters erupted with questions, but Sergio said decisively, “We have no further comments. Thank you all.”

Sergio left the impression that Span-net was better than the HPG, although Austin knew that wasn’t possible. But he wondered if the AWC project would bypass Lady Elora and the stranglehold she had gained on the dissemination of news.

“Son,” Sergio said to him as he started toward the door, “I’ve got a cabinet meeting. It’s always the Ventrale Coalition that gives me headaches and this time is no different. See to the matter we discussed, will you?”

Before Austin could do more than nod, his father rushed off, talking earnestly with his Minister of Mining and Energy. Austin stepped back and let Elora’s crew carry their equipment out. They were gone in less than five minutes. Marta remained behind, huddled with Nagursky and Chin.

“My father’s going to be in the cabinet meeting for some time,” Austin told them, thinking they were waiting to see the Governor.

“We have nothing more to do here. Thank you, Baronet,” Dr. Chin said, bowing the barest amount in Austin’s direction. Nagursky grunted as if someone had poked him in the belly, jerked his head in the direction of the door, and left with the aging geneticist. Marta leafed through a stack of papers, put them into a folder, and started to leave.

Austin hesitated, then stepped forward. “Is there any way I can help out?” he asked.

Marta’s eyebrows arched. Her brown eyes fixed on him.

“I can handle my own paperwork, thank you.”

“You promised me a tour of AWC while we waited for Envoy Parsons at the DropShip field.” Austin saw her heave a deep sigh of resignation; then she smiled.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to appear so reluctant. It’s just that my time’s being eaten by the Span-net project. Work piles up when I’m not at my desk digging away at it. And of course, there’s hardly been time for you, has there? I’m sorry for your loss.”

Austin thought she sounded sincere but wasn’t sure he should take her at her word. He moved through dangerous minefields and didn’t know friend from foe.

“Thank you,” he said. “Your earliest convenience would suit me.”

“Is your father assigning you as liaison on the Span-net project?”

“I’m doing all I can to take some of the load off his shoulders,” Austin answered.

“Come along now if you can get away. I have to check the labs to be certain all the fine gadgets I just promised can be manufactured and delivered on time.”

As they walked down the long corridor running the length of the office wing of the Palace of Facets, Austin was aware of eyes on them. Without being too obvious, he caught sight of several soldiers clad in the forest green of Tortorelli’s Home Guard trying not to be seen as they spied. Austin wasn’t sure if he was pleased that the Legate had assigned guards to the Palace. Why were they acting more like snoops than as guards?

Austin and Marta stepped out the west door into the breezy afternoon. The sun was setting, a huge gravid red blob on the hazy horizon. Clouds had moved in off the ocean and promised rain, but at this time of year Austin knew those clouds probably lied. Cingulum wouldn’t see significant rainfall until the monsoon season began in the fall.

“I’ll order a car and—” he began.

“You can ride with me. It’s a company car,” Marta said.

Austin swallowed. The sleekly aerodynamic white limo looked as if it were a block long with enough room in the rear for everyone in the Palace. A door opened silently and Marta ducked in. Austin followed, to settle down opposite her in a soft leather seat that was almost sinfully comfortable.

“I’m more used to the cockpit of a BattleMech.” He saw her sharp reaction. “I meant the BattleMech simulator,” Austin hurriedly amended. It’s made by AWC, isn’t it?”

“Made by one of our units. There’s not much call for them anymore.” Marta relaxed a little, but Austin saw he had thrown her off stride.

“Tell me about Span-net. Will it really replace the HPG?”

“Of course not,” Marta said, still guarded. “We will gain almost instantaneous person-to-person contact, though. All comm now goes through a few choke points at ground-based relays.”

Austin almost added, “Monitored by the Ministry of Information,” but refrained. He heard this in Marta’s description even if she didn’t say it straightforwardly.

“Span-net will go around those bottlenecks?” he asked.

“To one of the four moon stations, then back. With a network of relays on-world as well as in orbit, we can handle a millionfold more traffic than the current system, permitting personal video comm as well as commercial content, all in a single handset.”

“Will Lady Elora permit this?”

“She might be Minister of Information but she has no say-so over private industry. With your father’s blessing—and funding—the Ministry of Information will be relegated to a lesser role than it enjoys now.”

Austin leaned back and wiggled a little in the soft leather as he considered this. After the announcement today, AWC would become the target of Lady Elora’s propaganda if Marta did not move swiftly to get the necessary equipment in place.

“It will revolutionize communications on Mirach,” Marta said.

“But it’s not HPG,” Austin said.