Natasha nodded grimly. "Then that's what we'll do." Phelan felt a weight begin to lift from his chest. "Then you've got first bid?"

"No, he has first bid."

"Why?"

Natasha smiled cruelly. "Because, Phelan, I want to make him sweat."

And you want to give me a heart attack.His chest felt as though invisible chains enclosed it in a steel cocoon. He glanced at his force estimates, then looked up to see Marcos' first bid appear on the screen. Dammit! He's a fool looking to regain the face he lost by having to ask Natasha for extra troops.

The giant display showed the Dire Wolficon on top. A large, eight-pointed red 'Mech star below it marked Marcos' desire for a full Cluster of BattleMechs. Phelan knew that would be enough to engage the Eagles and Drak0ns on the ground. Six green Elemental stars and three stars worth of aerospace support rounded put the first bid. As Phelan watched the unit breakdown represented by the symbols, he saw Marcos had requested just under two full-strength Clusters worth of troops.

Phelan pointed to the aerospace units. "Natasha, that's not enough aerospace support. And the Elementals are no good. He's got too many of them and they will be less than useless in an urban assault. He's cut his bid too close to the edge."

"Has he?" Phelan watched in horror as Natasha slashed the Elementals in Marcos' bid by two-thirds and eliminated a whole Triple worth of the aerospace fighters. As near as Phelan could tell, Natasha chose units at random, more intrigued by the pattern their elimination made on her console than out of any strategic concern. Before he could protest, she'd entered her bid on the computer, which appeared below her foe's on the overhead screen.

The only thing that kept Phelan's spirits from crashing to the deck was the stunned reactions of Marcos, Conal Ward, and Vlad as they studied Natasha's counterbid. Vlad hammered away at the keyboard on his information terminal, wiping away sweat from his head with the arm of his gray jumpsuit. His face brightened as he read some nugget of information, but Phelan's quick scan of new data from Gunzburg showed nothing to buoy his own feeling of doom.

He looked up at Natasha. "What are you doing? Vlad had things so close at the start that I don't see how we could win, and you keep cutting it down like a mad tailor armed with shears. I thought you shared my concerns for the people of Gunzburg."

Natasha turned on Phelan like a beast poked with a sharp stick. "I do share your concerns, but I do not have to make you privy to my every thought. There's more involved here than just the conquest of a planet, and whether or not a few innocents get splashed because they live in the wrong place. This is more than a fight between me and Marcos. It is a battle between the Wardens and the Crusaders. We hurt them with Memmingen, and they lost respect and materiel. Some of their bloodlines don't look so good now. If that happened at the cost of some civilian lives on Memmingen, too bad. Better they die that more can live."

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."