The Final Battle hw-5

by Graham Sharp Paul

  “But why would they do that?” Anna shook her head. “Surely they’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

  “Not in Chief Councillor Polk’s mind. If the man’s not insane, he’s awfully close to it. He wanted me to go to my death knowing what he planned to do to you, knowing that there was not a damn thing I could do about it.”

  “The son of a bitch. Well, fuck Polk. Didn’t work, did it? I’m here with you.” Anna sat back. She looked at Michael for a moment; her eyes narrowed. “I know you, Michael Helfort, and well enough to know that there’s something else you’re not telling me.”

  Michael threw his hands up. “Okay, okay,” he said. “ENCOMM told you that I’m one of Vaas’s aides?”

  “They did. Aide-de-camp or some such bullshit title. Too good to join us grunts down in the mud, eh?”

  “No!” Michael protested. He paused. “I am his ADC,” he went on, “but when the time’s right, I’m going after Hartspring, and once I’ve dealt with him, Polk’s next. I just wanted you to understand why.”

  “Dealt with him. You mean kill him, don’t you?”

  Michael nodded.

  Anna stared at him; her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Michael,’ she said, a catch in her voice, “let it go. Forget Hartspring, forget Polk … please. The Revival and the NRA will deal with them. Do your best for Vaas and help us finish this damn war. Then we can all go home and get on with our lives.”

  “I can’t do that,” he said. “Not after what those two have done.”

  “You can’t do that? That’s it?”

  “I’m sorry, but yes, it is. I love you more than I can ever say, but I have to do this. Tell me it’s okay.”

  Anna stared at him.

  The silence dragged on until Michael could not stand it anymore. “Anna,” he said, “Anna, please-”

  “I can’t say it’s okay,” Anna said, “because it’s not. It’s crazy, it’s stupid, it’s dangerous-”

  “But Anna!”

  “-and it frightens me to death just thinking about it. After all you’ve been through, don’t you think you’ve done enough, taken enough risks?” Anna rolled her eyes and sighed. “Why am I saying that? Of course you don’t. Look, if going after Polk and Hartspring is what you have to do, then go ahead. Nothing I can say will stop you. Just promise-” The words caught in her throat and forced her to stop for a moment. “-that we will leave this pissant planet together when all this is over.”

  “I promise … and no more of that crazy marine shit from you,” he added.

  Anna smiled through tears. “I promise. Oh, crap! Look at the time. I have to go.” She got to her feet. “My leave pass expires in … let me see, yes, in ten minutes.”

  “Leave pass?”

  “Colonel Balaghi said he would kick my ass all the way to McNair if he saw me back in battalion headquarters before 22:00. But I do need to go. I’ve got a lot to do. I’ll see you back at my billet, though who knows when.”

  “Go,” Michael said. He climbed to his feet and folded Anna into a clumsy one-armed embrace. “I’ll be waiting.”

  She kissed him, then pushed him away. “You’d better be,” she murmured.

  Saturday, July 17, 2404, UD

  Sector Kilo, Velmar Mountains base, Commitment

  “Come on, lard ass. Colonel Balaghi and the 120th Regiment await the arrival of General Vaas’s illustrious aide-de-camp.”

  “Piss off, you heartless woman,” Michael muttered.

  “I’ll see you later,” Anna said, pushing his head back to kiss him full on the mouth.

  “Okay.”

  Forcing his unwilling body upright and out of the bunk, Michael groaned as the weight came onto his left arm. The medics had said his shoulder was healing well, but that didn’t stop it from hurting like hell. He was soon dressed and on his way, the battered buggy rattling and banging along the tunnel to where the 120th had its headquarters.

  Colonel Balaghi turned out to be a man of Michael’s height and, unusually for an NRA trooper, well padded to the point of being rotund. His face was open and welcoming, with deep laughter lines etched around warm brown eyes and a mouth that smiled a lot, his teeth brilliant against mahogany skin.

  Michael liked the man the instant they met.

  “Welcome, Colonel Helfort,” Balaghi said, crushing Michael’s hand in his. “Call me Joe.’

  “Michael Helfort,” Michael said, doing his best to crush Balaghi’s hand back and failing.

  “This way. Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Michael followed the man through the regimental command center and into a small cell-like office. He felt awkward. He had checked Balaghi’s bio. The man was many years his senior and had picked up a gun to fight the Hammer before Michael was born, yet they were equals as far as the NRA was concerned.

  Awkward? he thought as he took a seat. This is downright embarrassing. I feel like a fraud.

  If any of that bothered Balaghi, it did not show.

  “General Vaas said to expect you,” Balaghi said once the coffee had arrived, “though I’m assuming your visit had more to do with seeing the other Colonel Helfort.”

  “I cannot tell a lie, Joe, so yes, it was.”

  Balaghi laughed, a rich, infectious laugh that had Michael laughing too. “Vaas tells me you’re his new aide-de-camp.”

  “I am.”

  Balaghi leaned forward, the smile gone. “I think that’s good,” he said. “The NRA is getting so big, it’s hard for the brass to know what’s really going on sometimes. But …”

  Oh, shit, Michael thought. He thinks I’m Vaas’s spy.

  “… you should understand one thing,” Balaghi said, the sudden steel in his voice taking Michael by surprise. “You can go anywhere, talk to anyone about anything you like, but if there’s something I should know, you must tell me. Okay?”

  “I wouldn’t do it any other way,” Michael said, reminded again that he would have to tread carefully.

  “That’s good,” Balaghi said, sitting back with a huge smile. “Now that the end is in sight, there are far too many politicians crawling out of the NRA’s woodwork for my liking.”

  “You think the end is in sight?”

  “I do, though it’s not a done deal. We still haven’t worked out how to deal with John Calverson.”

  “Calverson? The Teacher of Worlds?”

  “Yes, him. He’s the man Jeremiah Polk fears more than anyone else. Calverson snaps his fingers and his priests can have 50 million Hammers on the streets, and they wouldn’t be rooting for us, I can tell you.”

  “And will he snap his fingers?”

  “Of course. We might win this war-we will win this war-but winning the peace is another matter. Calverson knows the threat we pose to all that fundamentalist bullshit the Brethren depend on. The Word of Kraa is the single largest organization in the Worlds, and it is the most corrupt. He will fight us to a standstill to make sure it survives. He has to.”

  “So what are we doing about it?”

  “Nothing, which is why I’m dropping the problem onto your shoulders.”

  “Ah, okay. I think I’ve just found my first assignment.”

  “You have. Look, the problem is this: ENCOMM is a military beast; its solutions are military solutions. The Resistance Council is a political beast, so its solutions are political.”

  “Why isn’t the Resistance Council concerned about Calverson?”

  “It’s ironic. They’re not concerned because of the success of Juggernaut. It delivered everything ENCOMM wanted and more. It even delivered a solution to those Kraa-damned orbital kinetics the Hammers love to drop on us.”

  “The mobile laser batteries, you mean?”

  “Yup. We’re very happy to see them, I have to tell you. We can cope with almost everything the Hammers throw at us, but not tungsten-carbide slugs spearing down out of space.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “ENCOMM says it can finish off Polk and his apparatchiks qui
ckly and effectively.”

  “A military solution to a military problem?”

  “Exactly. And they’re wrong. Calverson has to be neutralized. If he isn’t, we’ll still be fighting this damn war in ten years’ time.”

  “How do we do that?”

  Balaghi threw up his hands. “That’s the problem,” he said. “I have no idea. That’s why I can’t convince the brass they’ve got it wrong. And there’s no way I can talk to anyone outside the NRA. Vaas would kick my ass if I tried.”

  Michael smiled; Anna had said Balaghi was sharp. She was right. “But I can?” he said.

  “That’s between you and Vaas.”

  “Leave it to me.”

  “Thanks. Want to hear what the 3rd’s been up to?”

  “Please.”

  “Well, they’re unofficially known as the Federal Battalion since there are so many of you off-world heretic scum on its books.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Michael said.

  “You’re welcome,” Balaghi said with a big grin. “I prefer to call them my Shock Battalion …”

  Michael winced at the images that conjured.

  “… because they never, ever falter. They hit the Hammers like a bomb and keep on hitting.”

  “They have reason. Feds don’t like the Hammers any more than the NRA does.”

  “That’s part of it, for sure. But that woman.” Balaghi shook his head. “I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s a natural-born soldier-Kraa knows why she ever became a spacer-and she has a gift for bringing order out of chaos. Her people would follow her anywhere.”

  “She’s a remarkable woman,” Michael said, proud and appalled at one and the same time.

  “That she is. She tell you about the Amokran operation?”

  “No.”

  “Ah, well, I’m not surprised. It was a bloodbath, and that Hammer special forces unit did not help, I can tell you.”

  “I heard about that.”

  “I bet Anna didn’t tell you that she killed three of the bastards with her bare hands … well, not quite. She killed two with her pistol and one with a knife.”

  Michael looked at Balaghi in horror. “She didn’t say anything about that,” he muttered.

  “Somehow I don’t think the Hammers will mess with the boss of my Shock Battalion again.”

  I wish that were true, thought Michael.

  “Now, you’ll have to forgive me,” Balaghi said, “but I have to go see Brigade.”

  “I have to get back too,” Michael said, standing up, “and I need to catch up with some of the Feds before I go.” They shook hands. “Good to meet you, Joe.”

  “Likewise. And let me know how you do with the Calverson problem.”

  “I will.”

  “Bye, Anna,” Michael said, kissing her long and hard.

  “Look after yourself, Michael,” Anna said, holding him tight. “And no heroics, okay?’

  “You’re one to talk,” he said, breaking the embrace with reluctance, “but no heroics. I’d better go.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You ready, sergeant?” Michael said to Shinoda, who was standing a discreet distance away.

  Shinoda nodded. “Always, sir,” she said, shouldering her rifle and pack.

  They climbed into the buggy; with a jerk, it moved off. Michael’s eyes stayed locked on the solitary figure of Anna until she was lost to view.

  Michael slumped back, drained of all emotion. It wasn’t just the intensity of Anna’s farewell. No, even a good two hours later, it was the impact the 3rd Battalion had made on him that still resonated through every fiber of his being.

  Nothing had prepared him for the brutal power of the Federal Battalion’s battle cry, the air filling with the thunderous roars of ‘Remember Comdur, remember Comdur, remember Comdur,’ on and on until Michael’s ears rang.

  When the parade was over, the men and woman of the battalion were no less impressive in person. Even though he’d spent barely more than a few seconds with each one, he had been left in no doubt that their commitment to finishing the job at hand was real.

  Then there was Anna. She might have been overtopped and outmassed by all but a handful of her troopers, but there was no doubting who was in command, a remarkable thing considering how many in her battalion had once been senior to her. Michael had been forced to suppress a smile at the incongruous sight of Fleet Captain, now NRA Trooper, Adrissa standing motionless in the ranks as Anna’s second in command-a marine major-had reported the battalion all present and correct to her.

  And Adrissa was only one of more than twenty former warship captains in the battalion.

  It had been an astonishing display, one that had frightened Michael almost as much as it had impressed him. Trying not to think about how much time Anna and the Federal Battalion would spend in harm’s way over the coming months, he slipped off to sleep.

  Sunday, July 18, 2404, UD

  ENCOMM, Branxton base

  Much of the journey back to the Branxtons had been courtesy of an obliging Hammer marine warrant officer commanding a resupply convoy. Michael still found it hard to believe. He made his way to the security post outside ENCOMM.

  “General Vaas wants to see you, Colonel. His office, 15:00,” the trooper said once he’d checked Michael’s identity.

  “Thanks. I’ll be there.”

  Michael walked down the rock-cut tunnel to the ENCOMM canteen, not that he wanted a bowl of its piss-poor gruel, but a coffee would be nice. Mug in hand, he searched for somewhere to sit and came to an abrupt stop, halted by the familiar sight of Admiral Jaruzelska.

  “I don’t believe it, sir,” he said making his way over. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Well you may ask, Take a seat, and to answer your question, I had the poor old Iron Fist shot out from under me. We were lucky; the crew had time to get to the landers, so here we all are.”

  “This is the last place I expected to see you. The last I heard, you’d been arrested.”

  “I was,” Jaruzelska said, “but it was all bullshit. They had to drop the charges, and since Juggernaut was my baby, there was only one place I could be.”

  “Speaking of Juggernaut, have you heard about Recognizant? I was outside of Gwalia; we found some of the wreckage and a body.”

  “I did hear. Hell of a shame. Admiral Moussawi was one of our best. I’ll miss him.”

  “I’m a bit out of touch, sir,” Michael said after a pause. “How did Juggernaut go?”

  “Better than we expected, though I hate thinking about the ships and spacers we lost. We got almost all of the landers dirtside, and although they took a bit of punishment early on, we were able to keep those bloody orbital kinetics at bay once we got our laser batteries deployed.” Jaruzelska frowned. “Those orbital kinetics are nasty, and don’t the Hammers just love them.”

  “Tell me about it, sir.”

  “The Hammers don’t seem to care what they do to this planet of theirs. One of the ENCOMM guys told me they use tacnuke bunker busters.”

  “Not often. They’re not very effective; the Branxtons are so huge and the limestone is hundreds of meters thick. The locals hate them, of course, and it’s one thing they aren’t afraid to object to. Even Polk and his thugs can’t ignore such an emotional issue.”

  “Using nuclear weapons on your own home planet.” Jaruzelska shook her head. “That is unbelievable.”

  “Does anyone have a feel for how the Hammers see things now?” Michael asked.

  “Now, that is an interesting question,” Jaruzelska replied, “and yes, the NRA does. You’ve got to give it to them. Their intelligence networks are superb.” She paused. “There’s a report you should see. What’s your security clearance?” she said.

  “Top Secret Gold,” Michael said, pushing his NRA identity card over for Jaruzelska to check.

  “That will do,” the admiral said. “Come with me.”

  Michael sat back from the holovid screen. “That’s impressive, admiral,”
he said, “and this man Ngaro is right when he says UNMILCOMM’s assessment of Operation Juggernaut was, let me see … yes, ‘overly optimistic.’”

  “He’s not Chief Councillor Polk’s chief of staff because he’s an idiot; that’s for sure.”

  “Look here,” Michael said, his finger stabbing out at the screen, “where he says ‘Operation Juggernaut has given the NRA a mobile missile and laser defense capability, a capability that will allow them to sustain offensive operations outside their Branxton and Velmar bases for the first time.’ That must mean they know the NRA will attack McNair.”

  “Of course they do, and that’s the problem with the NRA’s strategy. It’s all so obvious.”

  “What choice do they have, sir? The NRA has to take McNair if they want to get rid of Polk and his crew.”

  “This is now a war of attrition, Michael. The next time the NRA breaks out, all the Hammers have to do is throw everything at them, then grind them down and go on doing that until there is nothing left of the NRA but blood and dust.”

  Doubt clouded Michael’s face. I’ve never looked past Juggernaut, he realized. I’ve always assumed that taking McNair was just a matter of time.

  “And all the Hammers have to do is keep it together,” Jaruzelska went on. “Don’t forget that they have the resources of three industrialized worlds to draw on. That gives them more men, more armor, more missiles, more ordnance, more of everything. If they can outlast the NRA, then they win. Simple as that.”

  Michael shook his head. “Ngaro’s not at all confident they can do that,’ he said. “He says morale in the military is at an all-time low and civil unrest is becoming a serious problem.”

  “He can thank the Revival for that. Their agents are doing a good job of destabilizing things. Mindless vandalism, flash mobs hurling bricks and Molotov cocktails, sabotage shutting down factories, crippling transport, and disrupting power supplies, and no matter how brutally DocSec cracks down, it’s not showing any signs of stopping. If the Hammers are to lose this war, then that’s why.”