Marta jumped when alarms sounded and a red light began flashing.

“A hundred or more have broken down the gate,” Ryumin said, consulting a data display. “The fence shorted out without stopping them.”

“Use the ’Mech,” Marta said. She turned to stone inside. She owed it to her employees to keep them safe. Those in the crowd might once have worked here, but they should have accepted their layoffs and not resorted to force against former coworkers. “And get me a secure conference link to Nagursky and Chin.”

Marta hated to admit that the other two senior officers in the Mirach Business Association governing troika had been so right so soon. She had to discuss safety issues with the AWC board of directors, but after this violation of her company’s property, threatening both production and workers, the AWC directors had to go along with the MBA proposal. The IndustrialMechs would be refitted.

“Will do,” Ryumin said, “but that call you placed before the riot started just came through on comm-link 703.” The security chief pointed to the end of the control console.

“Order the ’Mech driver out,” Marta said. “Minimal use of force.”

Ryumin picked up the mic to give the command.

All trouble saved up to crash down on Marta at once. She donned a headset and flipped on the secure-line baffle so no one could overhear as she focused her optical pickup. A quick security check showed an untapped link, although Marta knew this report was suspect. Especially considering whom she had called. She turned on the screen.

“Ah, Ms. Kinsolving, so sorry to take this long getting back to you,” said Lady Elora. The redhead smiled insincerely, her grin almost a grimace. “Disturbances throughout the city have taken up my time. The Baron wanted pictures and reports from my staff.” Elora turned slightly and gestured to someone just beyond the photo pickup perimeter. “You don’t mind if Legate Tortorelli listens to what you’ve got to say, do you, my dear?”

“Go on, make it a party,” Marta said sarcastically. She knew her anger was getting the better of her again. Glancing across the room, she saw that Ryumin had unleashed the IndustrialMech against the mob. There was no way to keep this quiet; she had to pass along the confrontation through official channels immediately. And the Ministry of Information provided as immediate a conduit as she could get.

“My dear, you are so kind,” Lady Elora said with mock gratitude.

“I want to file a report for the Governor’s consideration.”

“This sounds serious. Should I put you on record?” Lady Elora lifted a bony finger, pointed it at a control offscreen, and waited. The spotlight fixed on her caused her rings to flash and glitter, distracting Marta for a moment.

“Do as you please. I am registering a formal complaint against the Ministry of Information.”

“As CEO of AllWorldComm?”

“The company will issue a comprehensive statement later, but I wanted you to know that AWC protests strenuously the so-called news stories you have aired hinting that the company is responsible for the destruction of the Mirach HPG station and that AWC in some way profits by Mirach’s communications blackout. These reports have created unrest at our fabrication plants and necessitated action against rioters attempting to destroy property.”

“What action is this?” Elora looked wolfish.

“You’re an expert at innuendo and half-truths,” Marta continued, a cold rage filling her. Monitors showed men and women being injured by the ’Mech as it herded the mob out of AWC grounds. “You’re inciting the people, using AllWorldComm as a scapegoat.”

“As Minister, I assure you only the strict truth is aired on our official newscasts. We are an arm of the government, concerned with informing the public.”

“I realize our position is precarious. Never argue with anyone holding the microphone,” Marta said. “You might hold it, but AllWorldComm manufactures it.”

“Are you suggesting that equipment vital to the public’s need to know might be withheld from the Ministry of Information unless stories sympathetic to your company are aired? Did something similar happen with the Hyperpulse Generator equipment? Would you comment on AWC’s role in the destruction of the HPG station?”

Whatever she said now would be edited, reedited, and twisted into any statement Elora wanted. It would be bad enough when news of the rioters being injured was aired.

“The formal statement will be transmitted by the end of the day.”

“I’ll be waiting to read it,” Elora said. “Oh, one thing before you cut the circuit. What of the disturbance you mentioned? Can you fill me in on that?”

“The pictures are ever so disheartening,” Tortorelli cut in. “Are you using a ’Mech to quell the disturbance? Eyewitnesses tell of a powerful fighting machine threatening them.”

Marta motioned to Inger Ryumin and opened her side of the conversation. Either Lady Elora or the Legate had a direct visual feed of the carnage outside, and she wanted her security chief to cut it. Ryumin figured out right away what was needed and called up technicians to track down the cameras and destroy them.

“The MBA has a private security force to protect its members’ property when necessary,” Marta said carefully. Ryumin gave her a thumbs-up. Elora’s visuals of the mob scene were scrambled now. But the cat was out of the bag.

“This is a serious matter we need to discuss with Governor Ortega,” Tortorelli said. “As Planetary Legate, I insist use of any ’Mech be halted immediately.”

“Thank you for your input, Legate Tortorelli,” Marta said. She broke the link, ripped off her headset, and threw it across the room in a fit of pique. She stalked out, leaving Ryumin to restore order. Marta had to contact her directors and the senior officers of the MBA to brief them before they saw the distortions Lady Elora was likely to run on an emergency breaking newscast. Old ways of business had to fall by the wayside. This was a different world, one with Lady Elora’s bony, beringed fingers strangling the flow of information to the masses.

“My, she seemed so upset,” Calvilena Tortorelli said. “Did my suggestion upset her that much?”

“Calvy, does it matter?” Elora sneered as her cameras at the AWC plant went off-line in a rush of static. Marta Kinsolving’s security chief was efficient. Elora wondered if Ryumin could be bought off.

“Of course it matters!” Tortorelli pursed his heavy lips and then pouted. “She can’t flaunt my authority. I’m Legate!”

“You’re right,” Elora said, reaching out to place a calming hand on his arm. “Domestic peace must be maintained. That’s what we all want, but I’m afraid the Governor isn’t doing a very good job with that and—” She abruptly cut off what she was going to say.

“What is it, Elora? You’ve found out something, haven’t you? What is it?”

“It might be nothing,” she said slowly, building the man’s anticipation. “It occurred to me that AllWorldComm might be forging an alliance with Jacob Bannson.”

“Why’s that? That pirate can’t come onto my planet! I was outraged that the Governor was even considering a trading station here!”

“No, he shouldn’t be allowed to gain a foothold here, Calvy,” she said. “I think my lord Ortega is grasping at straws, but not AWC. Kinsolving might see Bannson as a way of revitalizing her failing company. If not AWC, then the Mirach Business Association might be responsible. Remember those mercenaries and the attack over in Ventrale last year? They might have been a detachment of Bannson’s Raiders. I’ve heard rumors that Bannson’s put together a private army. Perhaps that attack was Bannson’s heavy-handed way of attempting to set up shop here. After all, where there’s money and trade to be had, you’ll find Bannson meddling and stealing.”

“Never! Not on my world!”

Lady Elora watched as the Legate hurried from her office, face flushed and muttering to himself. He was so easy to manipulate. When she finally contacted Kal Radick and offered him a new world for the Steel Wolves, she could dispense with Tortorelli. And the Baron.