Some of the steam seemed to go out of Lombroso’s glower. He remained anything but happy, yet Yardley’s firm tone and projection of confidence were having their effect.
At least until the next time Frolov gets on the com to rattle his cage, the general thought sourly.
She’d heard quite enough from the Trifecta manager herself, and she wished to hell that he’d just leave her alone. And that Lombroso would, too, for that matter. She had more important things to do than sit around holding frightened politicos’ hands! Still, it would have been foolish to expect anything else. The attack on the Summerhill security point had penetrated into one of the Trifecta uppercrust’s more palatial residential districts before Guard quick response teams could reinforce the Trifecta Security detachments. The security personnel had taken heavy casualties. Worse, over a dozen Trifecta bureaucrats had been hurt or killed before the attackers withdrew, and Frolov had made it abundantly clear that lapses like that were unacceptable.
And considering how much Trifecta’s invested in Lombroso, Frolov obviously thinks he’s entitled to a better return. I’ll bet he hasn’t been shy about making that point, either. Funny how much more enthusiastic about “taking the fight to the terrorists” he was when all it was likely to do was get Guernicke killed, isn’t it?
“All we have to do is hold them until the gendarmes get here,” she said out loud. “I’m going to hit them as hard as I can anywhere I can in the meantime, and I think there’s a damned good chance we’ll be able to handle this on our own,” she added with rather less than total truthfulness, “but in the final analysis, all we really have to do is hold them. If the first batch of gendarmes doesn’t do the trick, Governor Verrocchio and Brigadier Yucel will send in however many reinforcements they have to. Do you really think either of them wants Trifecta screaming for their blood to OFS headquarters, Mister President?” She smiled unpleasantly. “This is going to turn into the best chance we’ve ever had to burn out the infection once and for all, Sir, and all we have to do is hold them.”
* * *
“What’s the latest from Lewiston?”
Michael Breitbach looked exhausted and his shoulders sagged with fatigue. His voice was pretty much gone, too, but his eyes were still focused and intent as he asked the question, and Kayleigh Blanchard checked her notepad display.
“Segovia says his people are making good progress now,” she replied. “They’ve got over half the city and they’re moving in on Beaver Run Heights. He says that once they take out the satellite police station there, they should be able to start sending additional manpower to us here in Landing. He—”
She broke off as her com beeped at her. She listened intently for several seconds, then nodded with a grunt of satisfaction and looked back at Breitbach.
“That was Leamington. She says her people have hacked the Guard’s satellite feeds. She doesn’t know how long she’ll be able to stay in the system, but for right now we’ve got access to their recon birds right along with them.”
“Good, Kayleigh. Good!” Breitbach managed a weary smile, but there was worry—a lot of worry—in those focused eyes, and Blanchard looked a question at him.
“All of that sounds good,” he told her after a moment, “but I’m not sure it’s good enough.” He shook his head, looking down at the map displayed on the terminal in front of him. “We needed to get deeper quicker here in Landing. Even with Leamington getting into their recon, we just aren’t deep enough, and I’m not sure were going to get there, either.”
“But we’re winning in almost all of the outer cities,” she pointed out. “And practically the entire farm belt’s come in on our side.”
“I know.” He nodded. “And I know they’re going to be a hell of a lot more cautious before they try any more of those air assaults.” He showed his teeth in a vicious smiled. The Presidential Guard had lost twenty-three sting ships and nineteen counter-grav transports trying to reinforce Brazelton. Now that they’d discovered that the MLF had modern impeller wedge SAMs, they were unlikely to try that again—not without far better EW capabilities than any of their antiquated equipment boasted, anyway! He savored the memory of that moment, but then his smile faded and he shook his head once more.
“I know,” he repeated more softly, “but even Lombroso’s always recognized that Landing’s the real key. There are eight and a half million people in Landing and the suburbs, not to mention the main planetary spaceport, the Guard’s central barracks, Trifecta’s entire planetary headquarters complex—and staff—and most of the SUPP’s core membership and all of its leadership. If we’re going to claim that we control the planet, which makes us the legitimate—or at least the de facto—system government, we’ve got to hold Landing. And you can bet your ass that as long as Lombroso and Trifecta hold it, they’re going to claim to be the legitimate government. And, frankly, we need it for its hostage value.”
“Hostage value?” Blanchard looked at him in shock.
One thing he’d always insisted upon was that the MLF had to target legitimate objectives and do its level best to hold collateral civilian casualties to an absolute minimum. He’d even successfully opposed the demands of some of his rank and file that the Liberation Front go after anyone who did business with Trifecta. She knew part of that was a cold calculation that the MLF had to avoid providing any grist for SINS’ “independent newsies’” efforts to label it a terrorist organization. But she also knew that another part of it—probably the greater part of it—was his personal hatred for the Lombroso régime’s policy of ruling by terror and atrocity.
“I’m not planning on shooting people in the street, Kayleigh,” he said wearily. “But there’s a quantitative difference between Landing and any of the other cities, even Laurent.” Laurent, Mobius’ second-largest city, had a population of almost two and a half million. None of the planet’s other cities topped three hundred thousand. “Lombroso—or the frigging gendarmes, when they get here—could take out twenty or thirty cities the size of Brazelton and Lewiston combined without killing as many people as live in Landing all by itself. And don’t think for a moment that Frolov doesn’t recognize that, too. I want us holding Landing when the gendarmes get here because I doubt even OFS is going to be willing to take out eight and a half million revenue-producing Trifecta helots with an orbital strike. Not when they know how all the other transstellars are going to react to that kind of threat to their bottom lines. And the longer they hesitate to take us out from orbit, the longer we’ve got for the Manties to come riding over the hyper limit in the proverbial nick of time.”
Blanchard looked at him for several more moments, and then she nodded slowly.