Austin jerked around when a tiny pop! sounded and a brilliant white star illuminated the area from a height of almost ten meters. His eyes swept around and up to the burning spot on a third-story window ledge, then dropped back to the silently stalking dark form. His pistol lifted.

“Halt or I’ll fire!” he called. When the man hunting him did not stop, Austin fired. Once, twice. Both rounds hit squarely in the center of the man’s torso. Austin saw flesh and blood sail away from the impacts, but the man only hesitated. He looked at his chest, touched the two small round wounds, then grinned.

Austin started. The man confronting him was missing all but two teeth, but most frightening were the sunken eyes, mad and manic. No shred of sanity remained.

Austin fired a third time. This time the round detonated and sent blood and body parts into the air like water from the Czar Alexander Fountain. He recoiled, dropped to one knee, and used his free arm to cover his head as the grisly rain cascaded down. When Austin looked up, he fought to hold down his rising gorge. Hot blood had splattered in lumpy puddles as it fell on the street around him.

“Killing isn’t quite as sanitary as it is in a trainer, is it?” came the calm question.

Austin swung around to face the new threat but quickly elevated the muzzle away from Manfred Leclerc.

“I don’t know why the first two rounds didn’t stop him,” Austin said, his voice cracking with strain. “I hit him. I saw.”

“They were armor-piercing rounds and went through him like a laser through vacuum. Where’d you get the pistol?”

Austin knew that wasn’t Manfred’s real question. He really meant, why are you carrying a weapon whose capabilities are a mystery? Manfred was always the commander, always the instructor.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Austin said. “Marta Kinsolving—”

“Marta!” The look on Manfred’s face confirmed all he suspected.

“She gave me the pistol. She’s back there in her limo. We’ve got to get you into hiding where—” Austin stumbled when another white-hot pinpoint blossomed above him, this time from the other side of the street.

“What was that?” Manfred asked, rubbing his dazzled eyes. “I was looking almost directly at it when it blew up.”

“Come on,” Austin said, realizing what Manfred did not. “Don’t say a word. Just follow me. Fast!”

The two set out at double time. Austin wasn’t sure he remembered the way back through the tumble-down buildings but felt the need to show Manfred he wasn’t a complete idiot stumbling over his own feet. Austin had always thought of himself as an expert soldier, but this brief excursion in Havoc convinced him there were soldiers and there were soldiers. Urban warfare hadn’t been his military specialty.

He preferred the cockpit of a ’Mech to being on foot, without armor, with a small but potent weapon that was inappropriate for the mission.

“There’s the limo,” cried Manfred, breaking into a dead run. Austin followed at a slower pace, winded from the dash through the ruins. He blinked as another of the brilliant white points flared a dozen meters beyond the limousine. He caught himself against the side of the car, looked behind, and realized he and Manfred had attracted a considerable amount of attention. A small crowd of haggard, almost skeletal men and women dressed in rags trailed them, as if they were magnets pulling iron filings. Austin thought to shoot at them, then lowered the pistol and swung into the back of the limo. It would have been a mercy for the people, but it was wrong to murder those he was sworn to protect.

Manfred and Marta sat side by side, their thighs pressed together tightly. Other than this he would have thought they had just met, given how they kept their eyes locked on him and their hands to themselves. He dropped into the seat opposite them and said, “Can we get out of here?”

The words hardly escaped his lips when he was thrown forward by the sudden acceleration. Manfred caught him and gently pushed him back into the soft leather-upholstered seat.

“I’m glad to leave,” Austin said. “How’d you survive there, Manfred? That place is terrible. I’ve got to tell my father and do something.”

“He knows,” Manfred said. “Other, more pressing problems need to be taken care of first.”

“But—”

“Austin, be quiet,” said Marta. “Did you notice the small explosions back there?”

“What were they?” Manfred asked.

“Remote surveillance cameras. Tortorelli might have ordered them installed, but any picture has already made its way to Elora. Count on it,” Marta said.

“Why did they blow up?”

“All WorldComm makes them, so I can locate them. I might not be able to tap into their encoded signal, but once I know where they are, I can send a radio spike that will blow out the electronics. And I did.”

“What are we going to do?” Manfred said. “Tortorelli and Elora both know where I am—and that puts you in danger, too.”

“While you were out sightseeing, I contacted my security chief. There’s no way we can hide you, not on Mirach. We’re going directly to our company’s launch facility,” Marta said. “A DropShip is taking off soon. You can hide out on Kuton.”

“I’m not leaving Mirach, not now!” Manfred protested.

“She’s right,” Austin said. “We need a leader and that’s got to be you. If we don’t split the Legate’s forces somehow, he will seize complete control.”

“You’re talking mutiny, treason,” Manfred said. “I don’t think so, Austin. Not enough troopers in the Home Guard would go along.”

“If you don’t try, there won’t be any stopping Tortorelli and Elora,” Marta said. “Austin’s convinced me that the MBA can’t put those refitted ’Mechs into the field without them causing terrible collateral damage.”

Manfred stared at Austin for a moment, as if seeing him in a new light. Then he nodded slowly. “He’s right, if he’s been arguing that. The ’Mechs can defend your plants, but they’d be at a real disadvantage if you tried to field them offensively against soldiers in battle armor. Property damage in the city would be awful, and every soldier a ’Mech killed would be a loyal Mirach citizen following what would appear to be legitimate orders from the Legate.”

Austin sank back in the soft seat and felt every ache and pain in his body.

“That was clever leaving the message on the fountain,” he said to Manfred. His friend smiled and nodded once. Austin got the message. Shut up.

He watched Manfred and Marta pressed so close together in the spacious limo, trying to appear as if they hardly knew each other, but since he was looking, he saw the glances and the small, furtive touches. He almost asked if Marta would accompany Manfred to the moon.

“There it is,” Marta said, the window polarization changing to show the DropShip field. “Let’s hope we’ve stayed one step ahead.” She looked at Austin and pursed her lips. “You should go with him. Your life’s in as much danger as his.”

“I need to get my father out among the people where he can speak freely, without having every word censored by Lady Elora.”

The limo drove to the far side of the field where the smallest of the ships stood. Austin fancied he could see the DropShip quivering in eagerness to launch, but that was only his imagination. If anything, there was less activity around it than around its larger companions across the field.

“I’ll release the security ring,” Marta said. She leaned across Manfred, who did not mind at all, and took out a small Span-net phone from the armrest console. Marta fiddled with it a few seconds and gave the authorization codes that would allow them to approach the DropShip this close to launch.

“I feel as if I’m running away,” Manfred said. “There’s got to be a better way for me to rally support. If I’m on Kuton, it’ll make me look like a coward.” He took the phone from her and tucked it into his pocket.