The urgency in her voice convinced Phelan that she believed in the utmost importance of her task, but he still could not see her goal. "I do not understand, Natasha. I thought that both you and Ulric, as Wardens, would try to end the attacks. Instead, all I see are the two of you working to out-Crusade the Crusaders. How does that make sense?"
"You can't lead a group until you're out in front and know you will stay there." Her expression grew darker, as though a thin curtain had been drawn across her face. "It's a dangerous game, Phelan, but we must play it, and play it by theirrules."
Marcos' return bid filled the line below Natasha's offer. The Dire Wolfremained available, but the 'Mech forces now appeared as fourteen smaller daggerstars. The bidding had trimmed the number of Elementals to a pair of Triples, but aerospace forces remained the same as the line immediately above.
Phelan shivered. The reduction of one company of 'Mechs did not seem like much of a change, but he knew it doomed any chances for a clean, decisive 'Mech victory. With the aerospace and atmospheric craft Miraborg had assembled, the Eagles would dominate the skies after only a short series of battles, and that would make things harder on the ground.
Suddenly, unbidden, the memory of Tyra Miraborg filled his mind. She was the golden-haired woman as he'd seen her the morning he'd been freed from Miraborg's jail. Strong yet compassionate, she had ordered a prison guard to give Phelan a jacket and then presented him with the belt buckle she'd made, the same one Vlad wore as a token of conquest over Phelan. She had even gone so far as to oppose her father when he wanted to keep Phelan imprisoned on Gunzburg. It was Tyra who had won Phelan his freedom.
Tyra was a Kapten in the Eagles' aerospace force when he met her and she'd refused a commission with the Kell Hounds when the mercenaries left her world. She was too much her father's daughter to ever leave Gunzburg. Now she'll be down there leading the fight against us.
The sound of Natasha's voice dragged him back to reality. "Forgive me, Colonel Marcos, but I must ask you something. Is that your best bid?"
Marcos looked like someone forced to eat soggy bread soaked in vinegar. "What?"
"I asked if that was your best, bid."
"I would suggest, comrade Colonel, that you make a counter-offer and find out."
Natasha rested her fists on her hips. "Listen up, Marcos, I'll beat whatever you bid. If you want me to make a counter-offer, I'll just close my eyes and shave something off."
Her hand hovered over the keyboard and Marcos blanched. He looked at Vlad, who seemed utterly perplexed. Conal folded his arms across his chest and said nothing, only watching it all with suspicion. Marcos pulled Vlad's terminal toward him and punched up his own request for data. He squinted at the information the computer reported back, his brow knotted in puzzlement.
He straightened up. "If you wish, I will revise the bid."
Natasha's finger poked one of the Elemental stars from the bid. "Just counter-bid this."
Feeling hollow inside, Phelan watching in fascination as Natasha tortured Marcos. If her opponent believed her boast that she would beat whatever he bid, he could wipe everything away and leave her with a single 'Mech star. Any bid even close to that range could be beaten, and would guarantee defeat for the leader beating it. Phelan knew that the main difficulty with so bold a bid was that Natasha could refuse it, leaving Marcos hoist by his own petard.
That meant Marcos would have to shave his bid as close to what he perceived as the edge, or even a bit below it, to successfully doom any effort of Natasha's. Phelan believed the bidding had already gone well below the margin he considered safe for the troops and citizens of Gunzburg, but Marcos, of course, did not have the same reservations about civilian casualties. Marcos' last bid had some slack built into it, probably in the form of a 'Mech star and an Elemental star. Natasha had removed the latter half of Marcos' safety net, so it was up to the Star Colonel to lop off the other half. When Marcos' bid appeared on the screen, Phelan saw he had done just that.
Natasha smiled cautiously. "Is that it? Is that your best?"
Marcos pulled himself up to his full height. "That is as low as I am prepared to go."
"So you mean that if I bid just one Elemental Star less, I will win the right to take the planet of Gunzburg? You do not think it could be done with less force than you have bid?"
Marcos faltered a bit. "No, Star Colonel, this is it. You will need everything I have bid to take this world."
"You're certain of that?"
Conal gently pushed Marcos to one side. "Warriors fight with 'Mechs, not words. Is there a point to this, Natasha, or are you stalling to work up the guts to make your bid?"
Natasha took two steps toward Conal. Phelan couldn't see the expression on her face, but her ramrod-straight back gave away her fury. "No, Conal, I've no need to stall for time on this bid. This is the one I've been intending to make since the start. I just wanted to know how far Marcos would go."
She pointed up at the screen. "I cannot use this thing for my bid because it will not register. I bid one."
Marcos hunched forward, waiting. "One what?"
"Just one." Natasha's hands curled into fists. "I bid just one warrior."
Marcos stared at her, stunned. "One warrior?"
"One warrior," Phelan whispered.
"One warrior," Natasha confirmed resolutely.
She turned from the Crusaders and graced Phelan with a hideous grin. "You want Gunzburg? It's yours, Phelan Wolf. Now all you have to do is go and take it."
34
Unity Palace, Imperial City, Luthien
Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine
25 December 3051
The irony of the situation almost gave Shin Yodama the desire to compose a haiku to describe it. Up above, on the surface, the Christian minority had decorated the streets of Imperial City with garlands of evergeen and ribbons of bright red. In small bands, they had gone throughout Luthien's largest city, doing what they could to beautify it, preparing for the advent of their savior. In Christian delirium, they rolled out a welcome mat for their beloved visitor.
Down in the bedrock beneath the city, Theodore Kurita's Defence Coordination Center was a stark contrast to the gaiety on the streets. Communication Techs remained hunched over scanners that monitored every cubic centimeter of the Luthien system. Other men, a select few that included Shin, attended the Kanrei—or, in Shin's case, his son—as the Kurita leaders studied various computer-generated battle simulations and actual spy reports.
Tai-saHideyoshi could barely contain his anger. "But, Kanrei, how can you ignore these reports from the Draconis March and the Isle of Skye? We have confirmations over and again that Hanse Davion has moved 90 percent of his troops from those borders."
Theodore's bright blue eyes were almost brighter than the muted lights of the command center. "I have not ignored his movements, Tai-sa.I merely chose to ignore the sinister motive you impart to them. Hanse Davion gave me his word he would not send his troops into the Combine. We have no evidence that he has done so."