The battle for Commitment planet hw-4 Read online

  "Didn't think so," Bienefelt said. "Suffice it to say that Kumoro's people owe the Hammers big time, and I think they'd enjoy making a payment."

  "Umm… well, let's hope Anna comes around."

  "I'm sure she will," Bienefelt said. "Anyway, sir, can't stay here yakking. Duty calls. Captain Adrissa requires your presence."

  "Oh, shit. Any idea how she sees things?"

  "No, sir, sorry. She's been closeted with her two senior officers since you finished the briefing."

  Michael dragged air deep into his lungs to steel himself. "Where can I find the good captain?"

  "Alley Kat's crew mess."

  "Okay. Wish me luck."

  "No need, sir. You'll be fine."

  I wish, Michael thought, absolutely certain that he was not going to be anything of the sort.

  He made his way past Widowmaker and Hell Bent to where Alley Kat sat, her massive bulk tucked close to the rock wall at the head of the ravine. Walking up the ramp, he crossed Alley Kat's cargo bay and its mounds of stores before climbing the ladder to the crew mess. Knocking on the door, he went into the cramped compartment. The three officers were seated behind the pull-down table.

  "You wanted to see me, Captain?"

  "Yes, I did. Take a seat, Lieutenant."

  Michael sat; he studied the faces of the officers for any clues to what would come next. There were none; their faces were impassive. Michael knew Adrissa only by reputation: a straightforward, no-nonsense officer, unpopular with the brass for a tendency to speak her mind, competent, more respected than liked. The other two, Commander Georg Rasmussen, captain of the now-destroyed Yataghan, and Lieutenant Commander Pravar Solanki, captain of Dunxi, he knew only by name.

  Adrissa looked him straight in the face for what seemed like a lifetime before speaking. "So, Lieutenant," she said at last, "this is one hell of a situation you've dropped us into."

  Michael bobbed his head in apology. "Yes, sir. It is."

  "We've read the brief you supplied us, and it's all very clear. The question is what we"-Adrissa waved a hand at Rasmussen and Solanki-"do next. The problem is that none of us have ever been in a situation like this. More to the point, we don't know anyone else in Fleet history who has, either."

  "No, sir."

  "So," Adrissa said, "we have no precedents to help us decide what we do next. Setting aside naked self-interest, that leaves us with two guides: Fleet Regulations and pragmatism. If we follow Fleet Regulations, it's clear what we should do: It is our duty as Fleet officers to have you"-her voice hardened noticeably-"arrested and court-martialed. At which point there is no doubt you'd be found guilty and sentenced to death. And since we're in the presence of the enemy, I'd be within the regulations to approve that sentence, and believe me, Lieutenant Helfort, I would have no compunction about having you shot, none at all, not after what you've done."

  "Yes, sir," Michael said, wondering just how much worse his day could get.

  "The problem with that strategy is that while there are what… let me see, yes, let's say sixty of you and over four hundred of us, you're the ones with the guns, and it hasn't escaped our notice that your marine friends have been slow to meet our requests for weapons."

  "I know that, sir," Michael said, "and I'm sorry, but we needed to see how things panned out."

  "Hmmm," Adrissa said, "we thought so. If we cannot enforce Fleet Regulations, that leaves us with pragmatism, and it's clear what it tells us to do. Ignore the mutiny, endorse your plan to join the NRA, fight alongside them, pray like hell the day isn't too far off when they push the whole rotten Hammer government into the sea, and then we get to go home. That about sum up your grand plan, Lieutenant?"

  "Yes, sir," Michael said, acutely aware how half-assed Adrissa made it all sound. Half-assed? Piss-weak more like it. "That pretty much sums it up." And that's because there's nothing more to add, he wanted to say but did not.

  "Yes, it does. Not much of a plan, I have to say, though I admire, we all admire, what you've achieved so far. However misplaced your loyalties, Lieutenant, your Operation Gladiator will go down in the annals of warfare. If you ignore the costs, it is one of the most outstanding military operations of all time."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Don't thank me," Adrissa snapped. "You made a bad decision-nothing will ever change that-and whatever your motives, they cannot vindicate what you have done. Never!"

  Michael bit his tongue, choking back his response. He needed Adrissa on his side, and if that was too big an ask, neutral would do fine. "No, sir," he said.

  "So here's the deal," Adrissa went on, "and it's the only deal I'm prepared to offer. Should any one of us ever find ourselves in a position where we can return you and your accomplices to the Federated Worlds for trial, we will arrest you. That's our duty and is nonnegotiable. However, until that time, we need to accept the realities of the situation we find ourselves in. So we will be telling our people that they are free to decide what to do next. The one thing they can't do is turn themselves back over to the Hammers. They can stay under my command doing whatever we'll be doing. Or they can join the NRA and Nationalists. It'll be their choice, and I won't seek to influence any of them one way or the other, nor, Lieutenant, will you. Is that understood?"

  "Yes, sir," Michael said, his spirits rising fast. He would take the threat of arrest-Adrissa's chances of making good on the threat were minimal, to say the least-over outright opposition any day. "That's understood."

  "Good. Now that the formalities are out of the way, there are a couple of things I'd like to say."

  "Yes, sir?"

  "Yes. First, I meant what I said about Gladiator. I don't think I've ever seen anything like it."

  "It was a team effort, sir. They're good people: smart, sharp, motivated."

  "Indeed," Adrissa said with a faint smile, "though you left out 'misguided.' But I digress. Second, we've watched the vidmail sent to you by… what was his name?"

  "Hartspring, sir. Colonel Erwin Hartspring. Doctrinal Security. Nasty piece of work."

  "Yes, him. A lowlife piece of shit if ever I saw one. I can't begin to understand how you kept going with that hanging over you, and while I can never condone your actions, I can at least say that I sympathize. It is not a predicament I ever want to find myself in. Finally, your people. I can understand their feelings, and though it would be most unwise of me to say so publicly, I must say that I share many of their concerns about the conduct of this war."

  "So do I," Rasmussen cut in, the bitterness obvious. "Yataghan was a good ship. She died for no good reason, and so did far too many of my crew."

  "And me," Solanki added. "Dunxi carried a crew of one hundred ninety-eight. Only thirty-six made it to the lifepods, and two of them died during interrogation. Bastard Hammers, bastard Fleet, bastard politi-"

  "Enough," Adrissa snapped. "Enough, Commander," she continued, her voice softening. "Don't say things you may regret. You'll get your chance, I promise you."

  Solanki nodded, though Michael saw the anger burning ice-cold in his eyes.

  "One last thing," Adrissa said. "You may be mutineers, but the rest of us are not. So, effective immediately, I'm ordering the establishment of Fleet Detachment, Commitment Planet. Um, let's see… yes, let's call it FLTDETCOMM for short, shall we? I think it will be a good thing if you and your people agreed to be part of the detachment under my command. What the detachment's mission will be is something I'll leave for another day. You happy about that?"

  Michael needed only a moment to think the proposition through. "Yes, sir, very," he said, feeling like a massive load had been taken off his shoulders.

  "Good. The fact that you and your people agreed to come back into the chain of command will help in mitigation if we ever get to that point. Well, I think we're done here. No, wait, one more thing."

  "Sir?"

  "Do you trust me, Helfort?"

  "Yes, sir. Of course."

  "Good, because the first order I'm going to give is
that you issue all of my people with weapons. I'll be damned if I let them sit, surrounded by Hammers, armed only with sticks."

  Michael's heart skipped a beat; if Adrissa was not the woman he thought she was, he would be dead before the week was out. "Er, yes, sir," he said, swallowing hard. "I'll get onto it right away."

  "Good. Now, since this is your setup, I'm happy to take your advice. What's next?"

  "Well, sir. I've sent a message to the NRA's head man-his name is Mutti Vaas-outlining what we were doing and why. I've asked him to send us someone to take us to his headquarters. Once we're there, we'll make our case. Beyond that, who knows, but we think he'll be receptive to our offer of assistance."

  "We do, too, Lieutenant. He'd be mad to turn you down. Any idea when they might-"

  A tap on the door interrupted Adrissa. "Yes, come in."

  It was Ferreira. Licking her lips nervously at the sight of the assembled brass, she turned to Michael. "Sir, we've had-"

  Michael lifted his hand to cut her off. "Jayla. Captain Adrissa is the senior officer present. Make your report to her, please."

  "Oh, right," Ferreira said, her confusion obvious. She turned to Adrissa. "Sorry, sir," she mumbled.

  "Don't worry about it. You were saying?"

  "Umm, yes. Lieutenant Kallewi says there is an NRA patrol on its way in and can you… er, can Lieutenant Helfort please come to meet them. Kallewi's taking them to Hell Bent."

  "Okay. Michael… may I call you Michael?

  "Yes, sir, please," Michael said, reddening, embarrassed by Adrissa's sudden thaw.

  "The NRA, eh? Well, that was prompt."

  "Yes, sir. It was. Their communications must be good, and obviously they had a patrol nearby."

  "Well, I'm happy to see them. I hope they're happy to see us. Why don't we go and find out what the NRA has to say for itself? When we know what they propose, I'll clear lower deck so I can talk to everyone. The troops need to know how we intend to play things."

  "Sir."

  Michael and Adrissa made their way to Hell Bent. Kallewi stood waiting for them; Michael was relieved when Kallewi snapped to attention as the captain approached. "Lieutenant Kallewi, sir," he said formally.

  "Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant," Adrissa said. "I hear the NRA has arrived."

  "They have, sir. They're asking for Lieutenant Helfort."

  "I understand that, Lieutenant Kallewi," Adrissa said, "but just so's you know, from here on out we will do things by the book, follow the chain of command, all that boring Fleet Regulations stuff. Okay?" There was no mistaking the steel in Adrissa's voice.

  Kallewi hesitated, but only until Michael caught his eye and nodded his approval. "Yes, sir," the marine said. "Understood. Follow me, please."

  The group made its way up Hell Bent's ramp to where the NRA patrol waited. The troopers were a woeful sight: four men and two women dressed in combat overalls that had seen better days, hard faces tight with hunger and fatigue. But it was the eyes that caught Michael's attention-a blend of fear, suspicion, and hate-and their weapons: assault rifles shiny from months, maybe even years of hard use but clean and well cared for.

  "Which one of you is Helfort?" one of the men said abruptly.

  Okay, let's not waste time on the niceties, Michael thought. "I am," he said, stepping forward, "and this is my boss, Captain Adrissa. You are?"

  "Sergeant Farsi. General Vaas wants to see you."

  "Fine. Just me?"

  "Bring who you like. Provided they can keep up, it doesn't matter. You have chromaflage capes?"

  "We have."

  "Bring them, plus your personal weapons and food for a week. We leave in two hours."

  "Okay. We've got a few things to get done, but we'll be ready."

  "We'll wait for you down the ravine."

  "Hold on," Michael said. "Want some hot food? We've got enough to go around."

  Farsi paused to think about that for a moment. "That would be good," he said. His face softened; the tip of his tongue flicked out and across his lips. "Really good."

  Michael grinned. "Thought it might be. Follow me and I'll get you sorted." He turned to Adrissa. "Anything you need to ask, sir?"

  "No. Get the sergeant and his team fed. I'll talk to everyone. Once that's done, we can go."

  "Sir."

  "… so, to sum up, you have two choices: stay part of FLTDETCOMM under my command or join the NRA and the Nationalists in whatever capacity best suits your talents. It's your choice, and you are free to decide what is in your own best interests. All I ask is that you make your minds up before I leave to talk to General Vaas if you can; it will help me tell him how many of you they can expect. When you've decided, let Lieutenant Commander Solanki know. That is all. Carry on, please."

  The assembled spacers and marines broke up into a milling mass. Trying not to think about Anna-she had made a point of avoiding him-Michael set off to get his gear together, his mind worrying away at the problem of just how the hell he might handle Vaas. One thing was for sure: Vaas was no-

  "Michael?"

  He turned. It was Anna. She gave nothing away, her face expressionless. "Yes?"

  "Can you talk?" she asked.

  "Sure," he said, eyes wary. "Over here. What's up?"

  "What's up?" she hissed, her face flushed and her eyes blazing with anger. "What's up? Screw you, Michael Helfort, you sonofabitch. You know what's up!"

  Michael shoved his hands palms out as if to keep Anna at bay. "Anna, please," he said. "I know things aren't the best, but I just… I just hoped this was going to work out. What was I supposed to do? If I'd left you to Colonel Hartspring, you'd be dead inside a month, and it was never going to be an easy death."

  Anna's head slumped forward; face in her hands, her shoulders shook. She sobbed softly, so Michael did the sensible thing. Folding her in his arms, he held her tightly for a long time. Eventually, she pushed him back to look him right in the face, red-rimmed green eyes brimming with tears. "Oh, shit," she said, her voice breaking, wiping the tears away, "it wasn't supposed to end up like this. This fucking war was supposed to be over when we destroyed the Hammer's antimatter plant, but it's not, and the way things are going, it never will be."

  "But Anna, you're safe," Michael protested. "I'm safe; we're together. What does anything else matter? It doesn't, Anna; nothing else matters. It's just us. Me and you, and the rest of humanspace can go fuck itself."

  Anna stared at him for an age. A smile flickered across her face, gone no sooner than it appeared. "Michael Helfort, you are thick. Thick as pig shit, you know that?"

  "What? Thick? Me?" Michael spluttered, utterly confused.

  "Yes, thick… dumb, stupid, dopey, half-witted. I know it's just you and me. Why do you think I'm so upset?"

  "I have no idea, Anna. Honestly."

  "Like you just said, dumbo. It's you and me, and the rest of humanspace can go fuck itself."

  "You mean that?" Michael said, trying not to let a rush of euphoria overwhelm him.

  "Sure do, spacer," she said. "Now, even though the rest of humanspace should go screw itself, you have work to do."

  Michael's euphoria vanished. "Ah, damn. Duty, duty, always duty. Yes, Captain Adrissa and I are off to see the Nationalists. Don't how long we'll be gone."

  "I'll be here when you get back, Michael," Anna said softly. "I'll be here."

  "Okay," Farsi said, "here are the rules, and they are not open for debate."

  Off to a promising start, Michael said to himself while the NRA sergeant looked at everyone in turn.

  "Rule one," Farsi continued. "I'm in charge. Any time I'm not around, Corporal T'chavliki"-he pointed to a scrappy, underweight woman standing off to one side-"is the boss. What either one of us says goes. If one of you steps out of line, I'll blow your Kraa-damned head off. I don't have the time to argue.

  "Rule two. For Kraa's sake, maintain chromaflage discipline, so capes on all the time. Since we laid our hands on Goombah shoulder-launched surface-to-a
ir missiles, those Hammer fuckpigs don't send drones across our patch like they used to, but they're around. So are the battlesats; if the cloud cover clears, their damn lasers will fry you in a heartbeat. They might even drop kinetics on us, so don't give them a target.

  "Rule three. Keep up. If you can't keep up, tough. Make your way back here as best you can.

  "Rule four. If you look like you're getting captured, kill as many of the Hammers as you can before you kill yourself. Trust me; you should never, ever allow yourself to be taken alive."

  Michael shivered, an image of Erwin Hartspring popping unbidden into his mind's eye, the black uniform and pale, washed-out eyes every bit as vivid as the last time he had seen the DocSec colonel.

  "Rule five. There is no rule five, so that's it. Any questions?" Farsi looked around again. He nodded. "Good. Let's go."

  Without another word, Farsi waved them to move out, a trooper and Farsi up front, Adrissa, Kallewi, and Michael behind them, with T'chavliki and the rest of the patrol bringing up the rear. Tuesday, September 18, 2401, UD Gwalia Planetary Ground Defense Force base, Commitment

  Mouth open, Chief Councillor Polk gaped at the appalling sight sprawled out in front of him. Two weeks earlier, he had presided over a medals ceremony at this very base. It had been flawless. Air-superiority fighters and ground-attack fliers had been arrayed in precise lines, their crews and the base's support personnel drawn up immaculate in their dress blacks, hundreds upon hundreds of them, all proof positive that not every part of the Hammer Worlds was a corrupt, decaying farce.

  Now the place was a wasteland, a blast-smashed expanse of ceramcrete littered with the shattered wrecks of fighters, the base's elaborate infrastructure reduced to blackened piles of rubble through which casualty recovery teams picked their way with painstaking care, a red flag appearing every time a new body was located. There were hundreds of red flags already, Polk noted, and the teams had covered only a fraction of the base.