Governor's palace, Arluna...
Eleven barons, men whose feudal holdings included the twelve largest cities on Arluna, sat around the table. The DeGaurdes were gone, of course-stripped of title and lands, their chair empty.
Garcia
Ramirez,
Odelav,
Cassano
Phillips
Castonado
Jimenez
Houst
Pfielberger
Hendrickson
Castellano
eleven men, from 'mechwarrior families, the leaders of the 'old militia', pushed aside by Margrave Ngo, but this final insult, worse than Wilder, who was at least from the right social class, would not be tolerated.
Outside the room, followers of these men were taking up position. the coup would be clean...well, clean enough. The Brat would be taken in hand, or she would have an accident. Either way was acceptable, the resources obtained were discreet enough, and they had a numerical advantage on the reduced Coast Guard unit in the Capital.
outside the Palace, 'mechs were already securing the streets. Ostensibly they belonged to the Ducal throne, but in reality, the pilots were loyal men-loyal to these men, supported by militia well acquainted with suppression of rioters and breaking strikes.
Upstairs, Governor's office...
"they're positioning for a coup." Seether told her, "You know that I can't allow that."
Debra nodded, "Ah know." she adjusted her belt, and slid a heavy revolver into a holster at her side. "They's ready t' move. is yours?"
"We're ready. How are we going to play this?" Seether asked.
"Save th' public th' cost of a trial." Debbie told her. "when ah walks in, you shut theys commo off lahk they plan ta. Only cut it all the way off. Ah lets them make theys demands, show theah hands, an' when it goes off, you move. decapitate their units in the field. ah drops mah hat, an' Mistah Voorhies opens fahr."
"And you drop to the floor." Seether told her, "no stupid heroics, you cover low and stay out of it until it's done."
"Ayeh." Debbie said.
The girl finished adjusting her outfit, drawing a shawl of wool over her jacket to help hide the light body-armor under a layer of cloth. she walked out...
Council chamber, Governor's palace, Arluna...
the doors opened as the men were beginning to wonder if their prey was going to hide from them.
"Her Grace, the Duchess of Arluna, All rise!"
The men rose, as she approached the table. "Ah see we's got one seat empty." Debra said. She studied them. "Imagin thet."
she sauntered up to the chair in question, and stood next to it. "So, who wants t' begin?"
They didn't sit down, instead, several displayed personal weapons. "Your being here is a mistake, puta."
"Ah 'magine you feel thet way." Debra said, "ah'll give each an' ever' one of y'alls a chance to set down an' do your job, them standin' after thet, can leave. Ten secons."
They looked at each other, the nervousness and indecision was palpable-whatever they had expected, her remaining calm, and not calling for guards, was not it.
"Nahn." Deb hooked one hand on her belt, and laid the other on the chair's back.
"Ocho." she said, studying these men's faces, where they looked.
"siete." Castellano moved to be seated, but a clearing sound from Garcia stopped him.
"Six." Ramirez's hand drifted to the butt of a Sternacht in a chest-rig.
"Cinco...foah secons." she said, an then in almost unaccented spanish, "be seated or be gone..."
"Tres.."
one of them went for his gun.
debra went for the floor and brought hers up under the table, as the conspirators made their move.
The room filled with a cacophony of gunfire as the concealed Centurions stepped out, delivering immediate gunfire at chest level, while Debra began picking off men at the knee, beginning with Ramirez.
Outside the palace, Marines and Militia moved on their armsmen with cold professionalism, snipers removing the leadership, sappers engaging Battlemechs from hidden positions.
inside, was a gunfight. The best personal ballistic protection and laser pistols, against high velocity bullets delivered by experts.
the whole event took less time than Debra's count-down. Eleven Barons of Arluna lay dead on the floor, the Duchess stood up in the smoke, "Cleah?"
"Clear."
"Y'alls recorded th' meetin'?"
"Record made."
"fair 'nough. gimme all bands city wide, an' connections to each 'n ever' city on-world, use th' emergency broadcast system...an' stage th' meetin's they had where they planned this. Ah want it crystal clar whut jes' happen' an' who won."
"By your command, your grace."
