The AgroMech had been extensively refitted with autocannon and two missile launchers. Something had gone wrong with the launchers. Austin saw thin tendrils of black smoke twirling away from the unit mounted on the AgroMech’s right shoulder, betraying a serious malfunction. If the other pilot tried firing another barrage, one or two of the missiles might reach Austin. The rest would explode, causing a fiery suicide.

Austin forced his ’Mech forward at top speed, in spite of increasing accuracy by the AgroMech’s autocannon. Smoke filled his cockpit, choking him, but Austin had no choice but to get as close as possible. If he tried to run, the other ’Mech’s autocannon would blow him to metallic bits.

The impact of his MiningMech crashing into the other snapped his head back. Austin recovered fast. He brought the digging scoop up, then drove it at full power as if he scraped once more at the ground. Huge blue sparks leaped away when the digging edge crashed into the other ’Mech’s leg.

This was the only chance he got at damaging his opponent. Dozens of rounds from the autocannon blew away the top of Austin’s ’Mech. Hot air and cloying dust began to fill the cockpit. He could hardly see, much less control his ’Mech. But he had to keep fighting if he wanted to survive.

He guessed where the AgroMech had to be and charged again through the dust cloud. Austin knew his gamble had failed when the surge of heavy depleted-uranium slugs cut off his ’Mech’s legs just below the knees. His ’Mech whined in almost human agony as metal tore away. Then the engine hit a crescendo that was unsustainable. The ’Mech died around him in metallic pain.

Austin felt the ponderous machine toppling to the side and was powerless to stop it. The impact against the ground rattled his teeth and caused him to see a collapsing black tunnel for a moment, but he never quite lost consciousness.

“Austin, Austin! I’m coming! Are you alive?”

“Hanging in there,” he answered Marta on the phone. Somehow, it had bounced around the cockpit and had come to rest beside his head. He pressed it to his ear. “What do you mean, you’re coming?”

At first he thought he heard an explosion. Then he realized it was the crash of metal against metal relayed by the phone. Whatever Marta had done, it had stopped the incessant hammering of autocannon rounds into his disabled ’Mech.

Through the clouds of dust whirling around like a tornado, Austin caught sight of an APC grinding into reverse, then launching forward again to smash into the AgroMech. The armored personnel carrier didn’t have anything to fire, so Marta was using it as a battering ram.

And he saw the AgroMech turn an arm toward her. Smoke belched from the autocannon as they fired.

“Marta!”

Austin realized that warning her was pointless. If she didn’t know the autocannon fired at her, she was already dead. He frantically worked the controls of his MiningMech, hunting for something that still functioned. The digging scoop swung in a wide arc parallel with the ground and caught the AgroMech’s metallic ankle.

Metal twisted and the hot burning smell of tortured steel filled his nostrils. Then there was only silence.

Austin hung in his safety harness, too stunned to move. Slowly pulling himself together, he hit the releases on the web straps and fell almost a meter, cutting his hand against ragged metal. He got his feet under him, ducked around cracked polymer plate that had once been his window, and tumbled to the ground.

He had hoped to breathe easier outside the devastated ’Mech. He was wrong. The dust, the smell of burned metal and cordite and something more that sickened him, was worse outside. Austin wiped his mouth after retching, then staggered forward, fearing what he would find.

“Marta!” He saw the APC flipped onto its side. Flames lapped fitfully at the exposed skeleton where it had been ripped open by vicious autocannon fire.

“I’m all right,” came the woman’s choked voice.

She pulled herself out of the rear emergency hatch and flopped to the ground. Austin knelt beside her. She was bruised and bleeding and filthy, but she spoke before he could.

“You look a mess,” she said.

He realized he was in no better condition. Somehow, that struck him as funny. Then hysteria seized him until tears ran down his grimy cheeks.

“Sorry to lose control like that,” he said, holding his sides. They ached from laughing so hard. Austin swiped at his eyes, then found the AgroMech.

“You really did a number on it,” he said. “You rammed it head-on.”

“The digging claw on the MiningMech finished the job,” Marta said.

“Finished?” Austin said grimly. “It’s not finished. Not yet.”

He stumbled across the chopped-up field to where the AgroMech lay smoking. As he approached, he saw how it had been extensively refitted for battle.

He picked his way through piles of smoldering scrap metal and pulled the cockpit hatch all the way open. The cockpit was empty and the enemy driver had fled. Kicking his way through the debris, he hunted for the neurohelmet.

“What are you looking for?” asked Marta, peering in from behind.

“The identity of the driver,” Austin said. His heart sank when he saw how badly the neurohelmet had been damaged. He held up a few wires and the melted helmet itself. Destroyed beyond forensic recovery. “There’s no way this can be used now to match brain wave patterns.” He turned and saw Marta’s expression.

“Do you know who this ’Mech belonged to?” he asked. She didn’t have to answer. He read the answer on her face.

Palace of Facets, Cingulum

Mirach

1 May 3133

“What would Manfred be doing there at all?” Austin Ortega stared at his father in disbelief. The Governor’s office was bright with sunlight but so deathly quiet that Austin could hear the hammering of his own heart. “He hasn’t gone rogue, has he? Being transferred to the Home Guard didn’t please any of the FCL, but this would be treason. Unless—” He stared at his father, realization dawning.

“Manfred is a loyal aide,” Sergio said in a neutral tone.

“You knew he was at the plant, driving ’Mechs for the MBA. Why didn’t you say something to me?”

“There’s no need for you to become entangled in this.”

“Marta Kinsolving is involved, too,” Austin said, piecing together a jagged puzzle. “She didn’t want to tell me that was Manfred’s refitted ’Mech, but I got that much out of her.”

“She, with the MBA, are cooperating fully in my investigation of this situation,” Sergio said. “Please, Austin, do this for me. Don’t get involved.”

“I am involved. That wasn’t Manfred in the ’Mech. It couldn’t have been. He had no reason to come after me.”

“Someone else piloted the refitted ’Mech,” Sergio said, “and his identity is still a mystery. He covered his tracks well, destroying the neurohelmet. However, there’s no reason to believe he singled you out to kill. He was probably intent on destroying the IndustrialMechs being manufactured. You chanced to be on the test range, and he decided to demolish an operational ’Mech.”

Austin tried to digest the idea of his father, Manfred, and Marta Kinsolving being in a clandestine partnership. Whatever the purpose, it had little or nothing to do with Span-net. Some other strategic purpose was being hidden from him.

“You’ll only endanger Manfred’s life if you keep searching for answers to this, Austin.”

“Is it tied in with Dale’s and Hanna’s murders?” he asked. Austin spoke before he thought, but as the words rushed out, an electric thrill ran through him. On the face of it, this was absurd. Three unconnected assassination attempts, two successful and the third failing only through outrageous luck and Marta Kinsolving’s quick action.