"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 Firestarterhas been replaced with a Centurioncaptured 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 Holmesholovid 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.