Anna’s mouth hung open in disbelief for a moment. “They didn’t pick the breakout?” she said. “How? Since when have the Hammers been blind? How could they not see three whole regiments on the move? That’s a lot of people.”
“I’m sure they did, but don’t forget this. After what’s happened over the past few months, the average PGDF officer is scared shitless. He knows what happens if he gets things wrong: up against a wall and bang! Initiative is no longer a military virtue; hell, no. Initiative is a life-threatening liability. So who can blame the PGDF’s officers for sticking to the plan? Who can blame them for doing what they’ve been ordered to do until someone senior orders otherwise? And that’s what happened. By the time fresh orders came, it was too late.”
“Damn good thing, too.”
“Yeah, it was. Anyway, then the Daleel operation kicked off, the landers were pulled off task, and most of our lot made it back. Bloody lucky, though.”
Michael looked at Anna, a look of pure elation. “It worked, Anna,” he said. “It damn well worked.”
“So it seems,” she said with a huge grin.
“What worked?” Karlovic said, obviously baffled.
“Sorry, Karl, private joke,” Michael said.
“Oh, I see,” Karlovic replied. Clearly, he did not, and much as Michael wanted to tell him, common sense told him to keep his mouth shut. If ENCOMM wanted to tell the world what happened at the Kendozo River, fine. If they did not, that was fine also.
“What about our heavy landers?” Anna said.
“Made it back okay so far as I know,” Karlovic said.
“That’s good. Any idea what happened to the rest of my crew?”
“No, sorry,” Karlovic said with a shake of the head. “You’ll need to check with ENCOMM.”
“We’ll do that.”
One of Karlovic’s troopers entered the canteen. “Lieutenant, the transport’s here,” she said.
“Thanks, Enjada,” Karlovic said. “You guys ready?”
Anna and Michael nodded, and five minutes later they were on their way to the sector debriefing center. Two minutes after that, both were asleep, a rough tunnel floor and the cargobot’s inadequate suspension no match for overwhelming exhaustion.
Every muscle in his body protesting, Michael climbed down out of the cargobot. Anna followed, wincing as her wounded arm caught for a moment.
“Still sore?” Michael asked.
“Yup.”
Michael bit his lip while they walked down the narrow access tunnel leading to the small complex of caves that housed the Fed’s administrative center. The NRA medics had said Anna’s arm was well on the way to recovery notwithstanding the abuse it had suffered during their flight from Perdan. Anna refused to take the painkillers they prescribed, of course. “It’ll be a long time before I trust Hammer medicines” had been her first and last words on the subject. Taking careful note of the set of her mouth, Michael had changed the subject, even though he knew Hammer painkillers were both effective and safe.
The tunnel opened out into a small lobby where Captain Adrissa waited for them. “Welcome back,” she said. “I was beginning to wonder if we’d ever see you again.”
“So was I, sir,” Michael said.
“Me, too,” Anna added.
“Quick question, sir.”
“Shoot.”
“The rest of my crew: Ferreira, Bienefelt, Carmellini, Fodor, Morozov. Did they make it back?”
“Yes, they did. Chief Bienefelt’s arm is badly chewed up, but the rest of the crew is fine. Bruised and battered but okay.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Michael said, relief flooding through him in a cool, sweet wave. “Bienefelt’s arm. Any details?”
“Sorry, not yet. The NRA’s medics are under a bit of pressure.”
“I’ll follow it up. Any chance of a coffee, sir?”
“Of course.”
They followed Adrissa into a cave. Michael caught his breath when they went in. “Well, well,” he said. “Looks to me like the scroungers have been hard at work.” He was right. The place was filled with an impressive array of furniture: tables, benches, a cluster of battered armchairs, a wall-mounted holovid, and, most important of all, what looked for all the world like—
“Yes!” Anna said when she spotted it. “Tell me I’m not dreaming. Tell me that’s a Fed foodbot, please.”
“It sure is,” Adrissa said, her face split by a huge grin. “Didn’t see any reason why Hell Bent and Alley Kat needed all their foodbots. Took a bit of arm-twisting, but I won in the end. Can’t think why. So help yourselves.”
After weeks of NRA gruel interspersed with field rations, Anna needed no encouragement. Soon she and Michael were plowing their way through food as good as any in humanspace. Adrissa nursed a large mug of coffee and watched them in silence.
“Waaah! That was good,” Anna said at last, getting up to drop plates and cutlery into the foodbot’s recycler.
“Well, now that the important stuff’s out of the way,” Adrissa said, “is there any chance of getting down to business?”
“Oh, sorry sir,” Michael said, not feeling even slightly contrite as he scraped the last morsels of food off his plate. “Shoot.”
“Thank you. Right. First, the Perdan operation. You have the datalogs for Widowmaker’s last mission?”
“I have, sir,” Michael said. “Autodownloaded when we ejected.”
“Good. Comm them to my chief of staff. Don’t know that we’ll learn much, but we should have a look.”
“Will be done, sir.”
“Second, General Vaas talked to me this morning. His people have been over your debriefing report. He tells me that the two of you attacked … let me get this right … yes, you attacked an entire planetary defense battalion. The 1125th PGDF’s Second Battalion, to be precise. Is that right?” Adrissa looked at them both in turn.
Michael’s stomach executed a lazy somersault. Had something happened that Lieutenant Karlovic did not know about? “Er, yes,” he said, his voice faltering. “We didn’t know who they were at the time.” He turned to Anna for help.
“Yes, sir,” she said, the color rising in her face. “That was us. Wouldn’t say attacked exactly. Lobbed a few microgrenades at them, shot a few officers, then legged it.”
“That’s what I’ve been told”—Adrissa’s face dissolved into a broad smile—“and a damn good thing you did, General Vaas says. He asked me to say thank you. Because of your attack, the Hammer operation fell apart before it even started, and most of the NRA troopers in that valley escaped. Which means our marines escaped, too.”
“Kallewi?”
“Yes, though he was quite badly wounded. He was one of the last to get out before the Hammers started dropping those fuel-air bombs they like so much, but his grunts refused to leave him. They carried him back. He’s in one of the base hospitals in … yes, in sector Echo.”
“Can we see him?” Michael asked.
“Last I heard, yes, you can tomorrow. So if you’re passing that way, sure. I’ll comm you the first cut of ENCOMM’s after-action report. It covers the Perdan operation as well as the withdrawal. You’ll find it interesting. Now, orders. Anna.”
“Sir?”
“You’ll find the battalion at Zulu-56. Colonel Haadith wants you back”—Anna’s face fell—“in three days’ time.”
“Oh,” Anna said, her surprise all too obvious. Leave was not something the NRA held in high regard. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank General Vaas.”
“What about me, sir?” Michael asked. “Since I don’t have a lander to carry me into battle, I think I ought to join the 120th.”
Adrissa shook her head. “Maybe, but not yet. I’m giving you three days’ leave as well, though I’ve no idea where the pair of you can go.”
“We’ll find somewhere, sir, don’t you worry about that,” Anna said with what looked to Michael horribly like a leer.
Adrissa shook her head. “W
hen you get to my age, children, there’s something rather … rather disturbing about young love. Anyway, Michael. When you’ve taken your three days’ leave, report back here. You’ll be attached to my staff for a week or two. I’ve got a project for you. We’ll see where best to use your undoubted talents once it’s finished. Okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Michael said, troubled by an unexpected surge of relief that he would not have to face the Hammers any time soon, guilt-stricken that Anna would.
Monday, December 3, 2401, UD
Sector Echo Base Hospital, Branxton Base, Commitment
“Lieutenant Kallewi’s awake,” the nurse said. “We moved him out of the trauma tank this morning, but he’s still very weak.”
“Can he talk?” Michael said.
“Oh, yes, but we don’t want him overdoing things, so you can have five minutes and no more. This way.”
“Thanks,” Michael said. Taking Anna’s hand, he followed the man down the narrow tunnel, its walls punctuated every few meters by openings that led into brightly lit wards. Michael’s heart sank; these were intensive care wards, and every trauma unit he could see was occupied, banks of subdued indicator lights blinking out the fate of the occupant. Michael shivered; the Perdan operation had been a success for the NRA, but the cost in dead and wounded had been huge. Only the fact that the NRA had managed to destroy the best part of two regiments of marines along with thousands of PGDF soldiers had made the operation worthwhile.
“Here we are,” the nurse said. “Fifth bed on the left against the wall. I’ll be back in five.”
“Thanks.”
Anna and Michael walked down a short access tunnel before emerging into a large cave. In front of him ran four lines of beds, the space between them cluttered with equipment and monitors, and everywhere nurses in battle fatigues were moving from bed to bed, never stopping for long before moving to the next casualty. It was a terrible sight, the faces of the few alert enough to notice his arrival taut with shock and pain. Anna spotted Kallewi, and they threaded their way through the beds to where the marine lay, propped up on a pillow, face and forearms scarlet with flash burns under the slick shine of a yellow salve, eyes half-closed under bruised, puffy eyelids.
“Janos,” Michael said softly.
“Yo,” Kallewi said, his voice a strangled croak.
“You look good, Janos,” Michael said.
“You are a liar, Michael, a bad one. The doctor told me this morning that I have the worst case of sunburn she’s ever seen.”
“Have to say I agree.”
“Those fuel-air bombs are bastards. First one blew my helmet off; second one fried my face.”
“So how’re you feeling?”
“Okay, I guess. Hammer painkillers do the job; that’s all I care about. Everything’s fuzzy. Brain’s been shaken up.”
“What are the medics saying?”
“That’ll I’ll be fine. It’s just a matter of time now until the blast damage heals. Their medibots are nowhere as good as ours, but they work.” Kallewi’s eyes closed. “Sorry, guys. I’m a bit tired. Maybe late—”
Kallewi was asleep. Michael stood and stared at the man until Anna led him away.
Monday, December 3, 2401, UD
Lakash Valley Lodge, Scobie’s World
“No,” Chief Councillor Polk said softly.
The Pascanician president frowned, the geneered perfection of his face creased with frustration and disappointment. Polk’s eyes bored into Jack Mikoyan’s, basilisklike, forcing the man to sit back in his chair, his head turning to break eye contact.
“I see,” Mikoyan said, the fingers of both hands tapping the tabletop. “That seems clear. Not the most reasonable response, I have to say.” He looked across the table directly at Polk. “Will you walk with me, Jeremiah?” he said. “I’ve had enough of those people for the moment.” He waved a dismissive hand at the advisers who flanked both men.
He wants to concede, Polk thought exultantly, forcing his face to remain the impassive mask it had been throughout the day’s negotiations, he wants to concede. “Of course, Jack,” he said.
The pair walked to the far end of the deck. Out of earshot of their advisers, Jack Mikoyan turned and waved Polk into an armchair. “So,” he said when both were settled, “we seem to be stuck for the moment.”
“We do,” Polk said. “Much as I want to agree with what your people want in the interests of getting the deal done, I cannot. I’m sorry. After all, we’re the ones taking all the risks here. Let’s not forget that.”
Mikoyan shook his head. “I don’t think that’s right, Jeremiah. You’re asking the Pascanici League to make the single biggest off-world investment it has ever made, an investment that aligns the league with the Hammer Worlds against the rest of humanspace. As you well know, Jeremiah, you cannot guarantee success. So please, don’t tell me we’re not taking a risk. We are. Together with you, we are.”
“Okay, Jack,” Polk said, hands up to concede the point. “Okay. Let me think about this. Let’s say I agree to allow your ships exclusive shipping rights between all non-Hammer worlds …”
Polk paused, eyes narrowed and fingers to lips in a parody of thoughtful consideration. Mikoyan’s body stiffened, a movement so small that it was barely perceptible; you would make a lousy poker player, President Mikoyan, Polk said to himself, dragging the wait out.
“Yes, I think we should offer that, Jack, but—”
Mikoyan leaned forward. “Let’s finish this, Jeremiah. It’s a good deal for you, and it’s a good deal for us.”
“I agree, but I’ll need something back from you. We both know those rights are worth billions, no, make that trillions.”
“Only if the Hammer Worlds defeat the Feds, Jeremiah.”
“Which we will, Jack. That’s why we should stop the haggling. The only way the Feds can win is if we don’t do the deal.”
“Fine,” Mikoyan said. “We’ll increase our capital contribution by 100 billion over and above what we’ve already agreed in exchange for the shipping rights.”
“One hundred fifty and we have a deal.”
Mikoyan frowned; then he put his hand out. “You are a hard man, Chief Councillor Polk, but I think we can live with that.”
Polk took Mikoyan’s hand and shook it hard. “Good. While those parasites over there write it up, I have a bottle of real French vintage champagne I’d like to share with you and a few friends. We can drink to the day when the Feds no longer dominate humanspace.”
“A glass of champagne? I think I’d like that, Jeremiah.”
“Not as much as you’ll enjoy my friends, Jack.”
Wednesday, December 5, 2401, UD
FLTDETCOMM, Branxton Base, Commitment
Leaving Anna to pack up her gear and say her goodbyes, Michael had made his way to the Fleet detachment’s offices, his place of duty until Captain Adrissa relented and let him join the 120th. Not that he wanted to join the 120th; the thought terrified him. After all he had been through, he had struggled to work out why he was so frightened at the prospect. Lander operations did not trouble him; ground operations did. Being a grunt down in the muck and blood of ground combat, slogging it out meters from the Hammers, turned his bowels to water. He remembered an old marine, a veteran of years of combat, saying that each human only had so much bravery in him; bit by bit, stress and fear ate away at it until there was none left, until only sheer willpower kept you going … if you could, and some could not.
He prayed he never reached that point. The thought of being branded a coward in front of Anna was more terrifying than anything the Hammers might do to him.
It was early, and the office was empty. Michael found his workstation—an ancient holovid atop a battered packing case hacked into a crude desk—and logged into the NRA’s operations network. He had been out of the loop for three days and badly wanted to know what had been happening. He was engrossed in the daily summary of operations pushed out each morning by ENCOMM when a soft voice brok
e his concentration.
“Michael?”
Michael’s heart sank. So soon, too soon. Anna always intended to rejoin the 120th, but that made her leaving no easier. “Hi, Anna. One second … okay, that’s done,” he said, logging off. “Come on.”
Together they left the cramped offices that housed Captain Adrissa and her team: the Firefighters they called themselves in deference to the endless small crises they were called on to deal with. They walked in silence through a maze of narrow caves until they came to the sector transport terminus, a fancy name for the last stop on the sled line that connected to the Branxton’s main maglev network. Anna dumped her pack, helmet, and rifle into the waiting sled. Turning, she slid her arms around his waist.
“That’s what I call a leave.”
“Mmm,” Michael murmured, returning the embrace. Anna was right. A friendly trooper from the local portal security unit had told them about a small cave that opened into a thickly wooded glade complete with a spring-fed pool of crystal water screened from wandering Hammer battlesats and drones by an exuberant canopy of interlaced leaves and branches. The three days they had spent there had been idyllic; leaving had been all the more difficult for it.
Anna pushed away to look Michael full in the face. “You be careful, you hear?” she said softly.
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Michael said with a touch of bitterness. “From what she’s told me so far, Captain Adrissa seems determined to turn me in to some sort of glorified aide-de-camp running around following up her latest bright idea.”
“It won’t be so bad. At least you won’t be having your ass shot off.”
“Jeez, Anna!” he protested. “That helps.”
An uncomfortable silence followed. “Sorry,” Anna said eventually. “That was stupid. Sorry.”
Helfort’s War Book 4: The Battle for Commitment Planet Page 31