Which left Jasek to deal with his father.
“It remains,” the younger Kelswa-Steiner said, “that Miliano is in no immediate danger. I’ve ordered Kommandant Duke to Norfolk, which sits in the path of any Jade Falcon push out of the New London area. Colonel Petrucci is pushing back a Jade Falcon expeditionary force with half the assets left to the Lyran Rangers.”
“And the Tharkan Strikers?” Tara asked, noting that he had not volunteered their whereabouts. Duke Gregory glared harder with every use of Lyran rank and mention of the Stormhammer units.
“What’s left of them pulled out on their own two days ago, moving to the aid of the Steel Wolves. Anastasia Kerensky was in trouble, forced into the coastal lowlands outside of Second Bristol. Between them, they forced a rout of the Falcons’ Seventh Striker Cluster.”
Jasek’s seizing Norfolk behind the Falcons’ position had had a great deal to do with that as well, Tara guessed. Just like he had pressured the Jade Falcon WarShip by bringing in the Lyrans’ fabled Mjolnir. Both WarShips were circling out near the zenith now, holding each other back from Skye. On the face of it, Jasek seemed to be doing everything in his ability to throw off the Jade Falcon occupation.
So why did Tara assume he was holding out on her? The voice of experience whispering to her? Or was it the attraction she felt and wanted nothing to do with?
“The Seventh Striker Cluster.” Duke Gregory glanced sidelong at Tara. “Is that the unit you let walk from Chaffee?” She could have thought of a better way to phrase it. “If you had hit them harder, there wouldn’t have been as many to reinforce the Falcon offensive.”
“There wouldn’t be as many of my Stormhammers either.” Jasek shrugged. “But I doubt that means as much to you.”
“They were my subjects before they became your renegades. They are still sons and daughters of Skye. Most of them. Their lives mean as much to me as… as…”
“As mine does?” Jasek smiled without humor. “A stunning endorsement, Father.”
“Against the survival of Skye and the prefecture,” Duke Gregory said coldly, flushing into his beard, “all resources must be measured with a critical eye.”
“Which brings us right back to where we were.” Tara stomped into the middle of the father-son battle, grabbing the conversation with both hands and wrestling it back on topic. “Deciding what is best for Skye. We’ve lost our best advance post at New London and some very good people. Our forces are stretching thin, gentlemen.” She included Leutnant-general Brewster’s force in the assessment, shooting a pointed glance at his wounded Zeus. He nodded reluctantly. “Jasek has retaken the Shipil Company facilities at Norfolk, and we still hold Cyclops, Incorporated, as well as Miliano. How do we use that?”
“We reinforce our position,” the lord governor of Skye said at once. “Bring at least half of the Tharkan Strikers back to Miliano. Let the Steel Wolves guard what’s left of Cyclops on Roosevelt. We dig in and hold, and make the Falcons pay for every meter.”
Hiram Brewster considered, and gave the duke a reluctant nod. “Sounds right,” he said. “Fortune favors the defenders.”
“Strategy favors the offense,” Jasek replied. “A defensive posture is nothing more than a waiting game. Can we get reinforcements out of Prefecture X before the Falcons draw from their garrisons on Glengarry, on Ryde? Can we use local industry to make up for increased losses—which we will take if we surrender the initiative?”
Tara sipped at her coffee, letting it warm her. She tore Jasek’s plea apart word by word, analyzing it with a cold eye rather than letting his charisma sway her. “What would you have us do?” she asked.
“Miliano is the key to the continent’s lower seaboard, but Norfolk is the key to Miliano. Unless the Jade Falcons are willing to risk a nonstop DropShip brigade to tie two remote areas together—and we have better aerospace assets than they do without their WarShip in place—they need to control the ground corridors. We mass our forces at Norfolk. Stormhammers. Highlanders. Militia. Lyran.” He nodded to Brewster. “Everyone. Malvina Hazen will come at us, and we will have our chance to break her.”
“What’s to stop her from seizing Roosevelt Island or Miliano when our backs are turned?” His father sounded skeptical.
“If she does, and wants to safeguard New London, she does so without enough force to hold them. Whatever we lose, we can take back.”
“You’ll turn our most important cities into battlefields. No.” Duke Gregory shook his head. “We play the long game.”
There it was again. A hard mask slipping over Jasek’s face. Something…
Tara Campbell looked from one leader to the other. Father to son. Politician to faction commander. Jasek’s plan had a strength of audacity behind it, much in keeping with the younger man’s own stunning personality. Tara felt herself drawn to it, convinced, ready to take a stand and defend The Republic as well as avenge her fallen Highlanders, Prefect Brown, the people of Skye.
But at what final cost? She was not part of the Founder’s Movement. Her charge was the defense of Skye, and to uphold the security of The Republic. A desperate gamble was not in her nature. In the long run, she believed, the side that remained truer to its ideals would win out. And in that, the Lord Governor had the stronger position.
She remembered her vow. The Republic first, in all things. It was the only way she could continue to do her job, and live the life she’d chosen after Terra. So be it.
“We hold our lines,” she said. “Norfolk is a tactical strongpoint, but gives us no strategic advantage in the long run. Not like Miliano does.” She saw the disappointment flare on Jasek’s face, but quickly buried her feelings. “I’m ordering my Highlanders forward,” she said, “but to secure this city and hold Avanti Assemblies. With some adjustments to our supply routes, we can make this the focus of our logistics network.”
“Excellent,” Brewster congratulated her. “I’ll rotate in our damaged vehicles as soon as my Zeus is back in prime condition.”
“Prime condition?” Tara shook her head. “If it can walk and has armor, it’s good enough for the field.” She caught Jasek’s gaze, held it. “You will have to defend Norfolk with what you have. Can I count on you?” She’d meant to say, could she count on his Stormhammers?
He nodded. His ego had not been caught up in his proposed plans. Jasek folded his hand with grace, and accepted her lead. It made her feel worse instead of better. “We’ll give our best,” he promised. “For the long game.”
“For Skye,” she reminded them all.
And felt a pang of loss when Jasek refused to meet her gaze.
33
Norfolk
Skye
22 December 3134
Clouds over the Norfolk area were thick, leaden gray, heavy with the promise of rain, though not a drop had fallen. Dry thunder occasionally rolled over the forested wetlands and brush-covered hills, put to shame by the constant, heavy echoes of artillery fire that shook the battlefield from one horizon to the other.
Jasek Kelswa-Steiner strained at the controls of his Templar, riding the tide of battle that swept him up a long hillside. A single squad of Hauberk infantry followed, losing themselves behind a pile of old snags, waiting for their chance. Farther along, a broken lance of Demons and Pegasus staggered around a bend in the narrow valley below, pulling back to regroup. Getting out from under the Jade Falcons’ heavier weapons.
Dawn was several hours past, though still newer than this Jade Falcon assault, which had begun a few hours past midnight. Muted light crept across the overcast skies. The brightening day drew back morning’s haze like a blanket of gauze being stripped away layer by layer. Jasek had a good idea what it revealed. BattleMechs stomping across ridgelines, pushing their way through stands of dark green pines and yellowed alders. Heads thrust toward the sky, masters of the battlefield. Their spade-shaped feet scarring the earth beneath them with deep prints chewing into dark, loamy soil. Vehicles and battlesuit infantry cutting back and forth over those tracks, racing forward to press an advantage, falling back as the enemy responded.