He knew very soon why the newcomers had disliked their food. Both the soup and the bread were flavored with a rather strong, unfamilar spice. It took some getting used to, but he found himself liking the taste. Probably a condiment rare and wonderful to the people of Dragon's Field, which they hoped would help make the planetfall pleasant for the warriors about to go into battle.
"Very fine soup!" he called to the cook. The man smiled, looking surprised.
"What is the seasoning? I find it interesting."
"Shad-seed. Our best I'm happy you like it." He turned to serve three more men who had arrived as they spoke.
Ardan soaked his bread strips in the last of the soup and spooned them into his mouth slowly. He would make it now. When they took off for Stein's Folly, he would be too charged-up to worry about his stomach. When he was in battle-mode, nothing physical, other than something life-threatening, could make itself felt
"Mind if we join you?" He looked up to see Felsner and Hamman standing with laden trays beside his table.
"Please do. Here, let me move over." Ardan scooted himself and his empty bowl around a bit farther, letting the other two also sit with their backs to the walls. He knew they would want to.
"It looks fairly good at this point," Hamman said, setting an electronic notepad on the table and swinging one leg after the other across the narrow bench. "What do you think?"
Ardan frowned. "I can't see anything wrong. But something keeps bothering me about it all."
Ran Felsner grinned. "Your stomach always bothers you after a jump."
"True enough, but now that I have that under control" —he gestured at the bowl—"something stillworries me."
Hamman and Felsner exchanged glances. "Well... what?" Hamman asked.
Ardan studied the backs of his hands for a long moment before speaking. "Look...just how flexible is our battle plan?" His eyes locked with Felsner's. "I mean, how easily could we change the plan, even now?"
"Just what did you have in mind?" Hamman asked. "I mean, it's a bit late in the day for..."
Ardan reached across the table and took Hamman's E-pad. He touched keys, clearing a berthing manifest from the screen and bringing up the sketch function. Hamman plucked a stylus from a sleeve pocket and handed it to Ardan without a word. Ardan sketched rapidly across the surface of the pad's screen, leaving a tracery of green lines on black.
"Here...this is part of North continent on Stein's Folly. Steindown is here, on the Highland Peninsula...right?" The other men nodded. "Now, Steindown was the first settlement on Stein's Folly—probably because it was the only dryland the poor guy found first time he touched down." The others chuckled as Ardan kept sketching. "The peninsula is rugged and mountainous on its east coast and comes down to a narrow little isthmus just...here. This strip is—oh, maybe—fifty klicks at its widest. Folly's Neck, it's called. North of the peninsula is this big basin. The Ordolo River meanders south from the Yaeger Mountains, and this whole, vast bowl between these mountains here, and these over here, all the way north to the equator is one enormous, God-forsaken swamp—jungle, bogs, marsh, and a chain of minor seas they call "Lost Lakes"—probably because the mapmakers can never decide where to put 'em. During the wet season, most of the lakes run together, and it's hard to keep track of shorelines.
"Along here are other settlements. As the colony grew, way back when, you can see how settlements must have sprung up along the coast...here, at Lollan, Travis, Grebuchin, and over here at Harbor. There are other spaceports on the Folly, of course, but the one just south of Steindown is the main one. That's where the freighter DropShips call, mostly, and where most offworld trading takes place."
"You seem to know a hell of a lot about this swamp, Ardan," Hamman said.
"Like I said, I've been worrying, and that made me find out what I could." He shrugged. increases the efficiency of my worrying. O.K....like I said, Steindown is the trading center, offworld center, planet capital, call it what you want. The city has a population of, maybe, five hundred thousand."
"So? We'll be fighting Liao troops, not local troops."
"The point is, where do half a million people get their food from?"
"Eh?" Both men looked again at the sketch, as though searching for the answer.
"Steindown has a fair-sized fishing industry of its own, but the peninsula, except for Steindown and the plains to the east, is steep and rocky. Very poor for farming. Up here is the Ordolo Basin and the swamps. No...these communities out along the coastline, Lollan and Travis especially, are farming centers. See? The land is open here—rolling prairie and grassland, with rich, black soil washed down from the mountains. The Coast Road runs along here, from Harbor to Grebuchin, Grebuchin to Lollan, Lollan to Travis. Then it cuts through a pass in the mountains—right here, called Jordan's Pass—then south across Folly's Neck and down the peninsula's west coast, to Steindown. Nearly all of the capital's food comes to them by the road net, from the farms and plantations along the mainland coast off to the east"
Ran Felsner nodded slowly. "I think I follow you."
"I hope so, because things get fuzzy now. So...fleet orders call for the usual approach: secure the jump points, engage the enemy space defenses, gain space superiority. They'll send up their fighters, and we'll knock them down."
"That'll take some knocking," Hamman said, rubbing his chin. "From what ComInt says, our fighters took a pounding when the Liao strike force first moved in."
"Agreed. But if we don't win the space approaches, the whole campaign is lost anyway, right?" The other two gave assent with chorused grunts. "Next come the landings. Tactical doctrine would call for heavy air-space strikes against major ground installations, especially the spaceports, followed by 'Mech landings in force." He changed colors on the pad and circled the coast cities in red. "Here—here—here—'Mech landings right along the coast But the main landings"—his stylus swooped a triple circle around Steindown—"have to be made here. Smack dab in and around the city and the port"
"Well, yes," Felsner said slowly. "That'll be where Liao has most of his forces, at the capital. We'll have to engage them."
"Why?"
"Eh?"
"Why...when we control their food supply? Look... Travis and Lollan both have spaceports. We secure those for our supply pipelines. We grab these other cities and garrison them...and put our main force down here." The stylus circled the isthmus called Folly's Neck. "I'm willing to bet that this pass could be held by a company or two, and a battalion could hold the isthmus clear down the spine of the east coastal mountains here and hem Steindown in. We pour in lots of air cover to keep their air-space fighters grounded, and to make sure they don't use boats or hovercraft to supply themselves by sea." He dropped the stylus with a small clatter on the table. "No city holds enough food reserves to last more than three...maybe four days. After that, things get grim."
"It’ll be hard on the civilians," Hamman said. Ardan nodded. "War always is, Lees. So would having us drop right on top of them to fight it out with the Capellan 'Mechs in the streets. As it is"—he shrugged, sadly—"maybe they'll pitch in and help when the food runs out. Throw open the gates, so to speak. The Liao garrison will have to know that it won't be able to hold out long when half a million of their new subjects suddenly get hungry—and mean."
The three men studied the electronic pad's screen a moment. Felsner nodded. "Y’know, there's another thing about all this. I've been worried, too, ever since the first planning session for this show. That peninsula gives me the willies, y'know? Like it's got T-R-A-P written all over it."