“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.

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 shown 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.”