Dan shifted uneasily in his chair. He already knew the answer to his question, but he had to hear the answer from Morgan's lips. "Wait for what?"
Morgan Kell looked away, as though seeing far away, down some corridor in time. "We wait for someone to determine which is the Genyosha homeworld, and then we bring the war home to Yorinaga Kurita."
43
New Avalon
Cruris March, Federated Suns
25 September 3028
The air hung heavy in the underground command center known as the Fox's Den. Acrid with the scent of nervous sweat and filled with tension, it defied all attempts of the air conditioning system to do more than swirl into a turgid breeze. Hardly anyone looked up when Prince Hanse Davion appeared in the darkened doorway, while those who did merely nodded, too weary for more. Studying the tired faces, the Prince smiled to himself. Here, now, we are equals, and that familiarity pleases me in this setting. Here I need men and women who will tell me the truth, not courtiers who will falsify reality to gain their own ends.
An orderly handed the Prince a wireless headset. He slipped it onto his head, then adjusted the microphone to hover just at the corner of his mouth. Radio chatter filled the earphone clapped against his right ear, but by lightly touching the back of the ear piece, he cut the volume to little more than a light whisper.
Moving through the darkened command post built deep beneath his palace, the Prince approached the holographic wartable through a crowd of milling bodies. Surrounding the rectangular room and extending down into the massive amphitheatre to his left were giant computer screens that displayed scrolling lines of data or recorded battlefield vids assembled from the 'Mechs fighting light years away.
The Prince saw Quintus Allard hunched over the wartable. The holograph's phosphorescent greens and reds overlaid Quintus's face like a topographical map, etching dark valleys onto the Minister's face.
Quintus looked up as Hanse reached the table's edge. The Minister greeted the Prince with a smile and a nod, then pointed to the battle unfolding on the massive wartable. "It worked, my Prince. Redfield's Renegades landed successfully in the Liao family estate on Liao. It placed them directly behind the Capellan Hussars. The word we have now is that the Hussars have left the world."
Hanse Davion nodded. "Excellent. Liao surprised us by having the Hussars on the world, and we return the favor by having the Renegades pull off a dangerous assault." The Prince tapped two fingers against his chin. "We shall reward Redfield and his people for their effort." Hanse narrowed his eyes. "Have you discovered how the Hussars happened to be on Liao without our knowledge?"
A sour expression washed over Quintus's face. "It turns out a clerk in the Quartermaster Corps had been collecting pay for a halfdozen phantom troopers. He delayed recording the Hussars' shift in station until he could clean up his files, which is why our people didn't spot the move initially. Our agents on Liao knew the Hussars performed exercises there each summer, so they routed their reports via the normal channels. We'd expected the Hussars to end up on Liao, but we thought it would be later. Without the payroll confirmation, we just didn't have them on-planet yet."
Hanse nodded. "They got offworld?"
Quintus nodded. "And they took one battalion from the House LuSann unit and one badly damaged battalion from the Confederation Reserve Cavalry's First Regiment. That unit, for all intents and purposes, is destroyed. The officer corps and command structure is gone."
The Prince touched a glowing stud on the table's edge. The holographic projection changed away from the battles on Liao to a representation of the planet Aldebaran. "Any more trouble here?"
Quintus shook his head. "House Ijori got a company and a half off the world. Since their departure, trouble has dropped to a minimum. The Fourth Guards have a good handle on things, and per your instructions, have opened a number of temporary relief centers for refugees. The Fourth Deneb Light Cavalry has regrouped and is ready for the next wave of strikes."
Quintus typed a short command into a computer console off to his right. "Liao got one battalion of the First Ariana Fusiliers off Algol and one and a half battalions of New Hessen's First Irregulars regiment off New Hessen." He looked up with a grim smile. "Liao's salvaged two weakened regiments from the garrison forces on nine worlds. We've been hurt in a couple of places, but we're still strong. In fact, the units scheduled for participation in the next wave of attacks are virtually intact."
Hanse nodded thoughtfully. "On Algol, did we pick up the prize?"
Quintus nodded. "Half alive, but we have him. He ejected from a damaged 'Mech and headed into the wilderness. Infection almost cost him his leg, and his broken ankle will never heal quite right, but we've got him."
Hanse smiled to himself. Excellent. A son is such an effective tool to use against the father. "No one is to know his true identity. Have him brought here." Accepting Quintus's nod as a reply, Hanse shifted subjects. "Has an evaluation of the close assault company's activity on St. Andre been completed?"
Quintus again typed a command into the computer console, then touched a button on the table's edge. Aldebaran's image faded, to be replaced with a data display. Projected in bold blues and greens, the column indicating the tonnage destroyed by Redburn's company towered over the column representing tonnage lost by the same group.
The Prince smiled broadly. "This is better than expected."
Quintus nodded. "You should remember, my Prince, that the Goliath 'Mech is notorious for its lack of close-in weaponry. The Delta company was fighting a Liao force singularly susceptible to their configuration. That said, the most important thing to remember about the Delta company is how well they fought when they believed Redburn had died."
Quintus shifted the wartable's display. It went from the graphics breakdown to holographic battle footage. "We captured this from one of the Goliaths." Quintus pointed to a Goliath slowly turning after being hammered by a series of LRM explosions. "That's Colonel Cochraine's 'Mech."
Lasers blasted into the 'Mech, scouring the remaining armor from the turret, but failed to stop the war machine. Its turret slowly turned, then focused on a Jenner. Off to the Goliath's right, a Firestarter shot into the sky on silver jets of ion flame, then landed, feet first, on the Goliath's head.
The resulting fusion engine explosion filled the war-room with a blinding white fire. As the light died, the Prince saw the legless torso of the Firestarter whirl up and away from the ruined Goliath. The broken 'Mech spun through the air like a discarded toy, then slammed into the shoulder of another previously damaged Goliath. That assault 'Mech's shoulder collapsed, sending it crashing to the ground, while the Firestarter bounced off and lay face up. It did not move.
Quintus stopped the display, leaving the 'Mechs frozen in the midst of battle. "Redburn suffered a concussion and remained unconscious for the rest of the battle. Leftenant Craon immediately directed his Valkyrie fireteams to keep Goliaths off the Captain's position, then drove the three other lances deeper into the Goliath formation. He even radioed Colonel Stone and told him that the rest of the First Battalion could, quoting now, 'join in any time they wished.' "
That drew a chuckle from the Prince. Stone must have loved to hear that! "Imagine that, Quintus. A unit built from one of my training battalions inviting an academy unit to join them. Mech-Warriors like Craon would never have had a chance if we'd not started that program. Let us hope this kind of thing will help kill criticism of that program."
"Yes, Highness, let us hope." Quintus summoned the data display back to the wartable. "The Delta company is still at full strength. Redburn is fine, and his Firestarter has been replaced with a Centurion captured from Liao forces. It occurred to me that the Delta company could be used for tactical drops similar to the way we used Redfield's Renegades on Liao. I can allocate a DropShip to them if you think it wise."
The Prince nodded. "Do it. It appears that everything is under control. All the preparations for the second wave are proceeding apace?"
> Quintus smiled. "We could go early in some cases."
The Prince shook his head slowly. "No, we stick with the plans. I want each wave to land hard—hard enough for Maximilian Liao hear his doom in every step."
Quintus narrowed his eyes. "And the data going to Michael?"
The Prince clapped Quintus on the back. "Focus the spotlight on our weak points, as we've discussed. We don't want to make the Maskirovka's job any easier for them, but we can't have them miss the obvious weaknesses in our strategy. If they do, our plans will not fulfill their potential."
Quintus nodded solemnly. "It will be done as you direct."
"Good." The Prince gave Quintus's shoulder a squeeze, then removed the headset and placed it on the wartable. He strode from the command center, and after giving his eyes a chance to adjust to the hallway's somewhat brighter light, he marched on past the bank of elevators. Turning the corner at the far end of the passage, he nodded to the two CID guards posted beside the entrance to his private elevator. He entered the open carriage, then leaned back against its oak-paneled walls as it silently carried him aloft.
The invasion had gone well, very well. It had, in fact, exceeded his wildest dreams of success. His forces had suffered no major losses and their attacks truly appeared to have been surprises. Liao salvaged even less in the way of troops and materiel than the Prince and his advisors had calculated.
As the elevator slowed, Hanse Davion stood away from the wall, straightened his military style tunic, and composed his face with a smile. The next wave is in place and goes off in October. I hope its harvest will be equally bountiful.
The elevator door opened into the Prince's private apartments. "Hello Melissa . . . Morgan. How are you?"
Melissa, her golden hair framing her face, smiled. She set her teacup and saucer on a white marble table before her, then rose to greet her husband. She slipped her hands into his and kissed him lightly on the lips. Pivoting to her left, she pointed at the holodiscs on the table, then smiled at Morgan. "Your nephew brought me discs of the latest episodes of the New Adventures of Sherlock Holmes holovid series. They've not yet reached the Commonwealth for rebroadcast." Holding his left hand within the folds of her pale blue skirt, Melissa squeezed it a bit more than necessary.
Hanse smiled. "That's very considerate of you, Morgan."
Morgan stood, folding his hands behind his back. "I need to speak with you, Uncle." The look of concern on his face echoed the emotion in his voice. "I did not come here only to bring Melissa those discs, and we both know it. Again, I ask you to let me rejoin my unit."
Hanse slipped his hand from Melissa's and drifted over to a small desk as his wife again took her seat near Morgan. "I cannot, Morgan. You know that." Hanse turned toward his flame-haired nephew. "Your unit is performing successfully—perhaps not as well as it would with you leading your battalion—but I need you here."
Morgan shook his head angrily. "You told me I'm too valuable because I am your heir, but that never prevented me from participating in combat operations before."
Irritation settled over the Prince's face like a thundercloud. "Before was different, Morgan."
"No, Uncle, it was not. Before, I became a rallying point. The Heavy Guards knew you were confident of them because you let them fight with me in their midst." Morgan pointed angrily toward the ceiling, but his gesture encompassed the sky and the universe beyond it. "They knew you knew they'd win because, otherwise, you'd not have sent me out with them. You would never risk losing me."
Hanse shook his head slowly. "I have Ardan Sortek leading them. They can take the same confidence in the fact that I have entrusted my best friend to them."
Morgan snarled. "No, Uncle, it's not the same. Ardan has no blood tie to you. As much as I like him and believe in him as a commander, he is little more than a pawn in this battle." Morgan jabbed a thumb into the middle of his broad chest. "I'm a prize, Uncle, and we both know it. Were I to be captured, Maximilian Liao could use me against my father. He could bargain my father's neutrality in return for my life."
Hanse's head came up. "There. You yourself have given me the perfect reason to keep you here."
Morgan's shoulder slumped forward, pain showing on his face. "No, it's not a good reason. You should have me out there, in the field. It would say to everyone that you know our victory is inevitable."
Hanse's eyes narrowed. "And, if it isn't? What happens if you are killed in battle? Your father will accuse me of having bungled my plans. He'll say that I needlessly thrust you into danger, just to get at him. Instead of fighting Liao, I'll end up fighting him."
Morgan shook his head. "No, Uncle, you don't know him as I do. He would rally to your side if I died. He would commit his troops and crush Liao." Morgan allowed himself a wry smile. "You and I both know that as good as are the troops we've committed to the invasion, we will need the Capellan March forces if we are to succeed."
Hanse raised one eyebrow. Does your facility for planning extend beyond military matters, Morgan? Are you equally insightful and careful when it comes to politics? Hanse's voice sank to the whisper of a boneyard breeze. "If it is as you say, perhaps I should just arrange for a Maskirovka assassin to kill you here on New Avalon. It would galvanize the Capellan March, yet save me the demoralizing effect your death in combat would have on the Heavy Guards ..."
Melissa gasped and Morgan stiffened. Morgan drew himself up to his full height. "All I've ever asked is to serve as you see fit, my Prince. If my death would suit your needs, I only need time to settle my affairs . . ."
Hanse waved off that suggestion with both hands. "No, dammit, I'm not Takashi Kurita and you're not one of his fanatical samurai. Your death will not serve me at all! Your presence, your insight, your support is what I need, and I need it here, on New Avalon." Hanse swallowed hard, then met Morgan's emerald stare unflinchingly.
"Here, Morgan, untouchable on New Avalon, you are the future. Your presence, your life, irritates Maximilian Liao to no end. He knows he cannot defeat my troops. And if by some fluke, he kills me, he knows you, my young lion, are waiting in the wings to take my place."
Hanse smiled confidently. "Furthermore, Morgan, your presence at my side tells our people that this war, though horrid and costly, will be won. Events have not forced me to commit you to battle. I hold you in reserve to be the rallying point that I may need. In this, you have more value than you know."
Morgan broke off his stare, yet Hanse knew that even though he'd won this round, his nephew would return again and again. Each attack will be different, but they will come. That's the heart in you, Morgan, and your loyalty. Stay strong, because I will refuse your request every time. I cannot put you in the field. Hanse glanced at Melissa. I cannot have you in the field until she has given me an heir.
Morgan's head came back up. "I accept what you have said, Uncle, because it makes some sense. If I cannot be with my unit destroying Maximilian Liao's 'Mechs, I might as well contribute to his sleepless nights." Straightening himself, he settled his face into a look of calm acceptance. "I stand ready, my Prince, to fulfill whatever role you choose for me. When the time comes for me to lead troops, I will not shrink from that duty, either. Whatever task you assign me, I promise to carry it out to success."
44
Sarna Commonality, Capellan Confederation
20 October 3028
A green light burned to life on the command console of Captain Andrew Redburn's Centurion. He stabbed it with a long, thick finger, but kept his voice low. "Centurion here, go ahead."
Robert Craon's voice buzzed into Andrew's neurohelmet. "Fox Lance has readings indicating about a dozen Marauders coming down the slot."
Andrew frowned. "Are you sure?"
Craon's tone convinced Andrew that Craon did not doubt the information. "We've measured the time differences between the vibration pickups with different seismic monitors. Factoring in the conductivity of the terrain, the estimate is solid. They're varying their footstep cadence, but the pil
ots are tired and are getting sloppy. We've got them."
Andrew nodded his head. "Good. Notify the other lances and then prepare to shut the back door. Have Archer and Demon Lances fire off their first volleys after my signal. Take it slow and don't sever your land-line with the lances until battle is joined."
"Roger. Just like we planned it."
Andrew nodded. "And, Robert, do not arm the mines until I give the command."
Craon's voice echoed his reservations from an earlier discussion. "I'm still uneasy about the number of mines we have. I'd have liked more."
Andrew shook his head. The Aragon Borderers were really reluctant to give anything to a "March recruit troop” like ours, but we’ll show them . . . "We make do with what we are given. Orders understood, Leftenant?"
"Roger, sir. Out."
Andrew smiled as he mentally estimated where the enemy 'Mechs had to be. Your raiding days are over, Major Xong.
Andrew punched a button on his command console, bringing his combat computer on line and filling his primary monitor with a display outlining the Centurion's weapons systems. Good. Both the autocannon in the right arm and the LRM launcher in the chest are operational. Andrew glanced at the lower section of the monitor. And the torso mounted medium lasers fore and aft check out as well. Now if I could only get some targeting assist.
Andrew looked out through the Centurion's broad viewing canopy. Beyond it, he saw a warped landscape of reddish brown frozen lava flows and half-melted purple hillsides. Pale yellow vapors twisted from sulphurous geysers, rising through the thick, brown soup, belching out steam in fetid gouts.
Xong knew what he was doing when he brought the remnants of Freemont's Cuirassiers First Battalion into the Hellfire Mountains. The volcanoes and springs make this place too hot for infrared scans to be effective, and the sulphur vapors hamper radar and magscans. Makes targeting all guess and luck.
Warrior: riposte Page 29