Helfort's War Book 4: The Battle for Commitment Planet (19 page)

In close formation,
Alley Kat
and
Hell Bent
ran on ahead of
Widowmaker
, the landers invisible, the only sign of their passing twin trails of wave tops shredded white by the shock wave from the landers as their massive hulls bludgeoned their way through the rain-filled night. When
Widowmaker
’s AI eased the lander over to pass
Alley Kat
, Michael commed Sedova.

“Had us worried there for a while,” Sedova said. “We were sure you guys were going to take an unscheduled bath.”

“Wasn’t a good moment, Kat, I have to say.”

“I bet. All systems are nominal, and we’re on track. We’ll hit 5209 on schedule.”

“How are my marines?”

“The usual,” Sedova said with a grin. “Complaining about the ride and busting for a fight. I don’t envy the Hammers. Kallewi and his marines will tear them new ones.”

Michael laughed. “You don’t say? You’ve copied our systems status?”

“Have, sir. Pleased to see you’ll be able to do your bit after all.”

“Don’t be cheeky, Lieutenant Sedova. Anyway, good luck.
Widowmaker
, out.”

When he dropped the comm, Michael glanced at Ferreira. “You okay?”

“Apart from nearly shitting myself, yes, I think so.”

“Know what you mean,” Michael said. “Hold on while I update the troops. All stations, command. Well, folks, we’re good to go, and there are no changes to the ops plan. At the moment we are about 60 kilometers to the southeast of McNair, heading east. In two minutes’ time, we’ll cross the coast. There we’ll leave
Alley Kat
and
Hell Bent
to head for the lay-up point, Point Lima, to drop off Chief Bienefelt and her team before rejoining the rest of the team for the final assault on the camp. Command, out.”

Michael settled back, happy to leave
Widowmaker
in the capable hands of Mother, the lander rattling and banging its way through the turbulence toward the coast.

Bienefelt commed him. “Command, LALO leader.”

“Command. Why so formal, Matti?”

“Just wanted to say, sir, that if you ever put me through anything like this again, I’ll … I’ll, well, I’ll just have to do something about it,” she finished lamely.

“Sorry, Chief,” Michael said, grinning, “but it can’t be helped. Anyway, the lander’s fine, I’m fine, and so, by the sounds of it, are you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bienefelt grumbled.

“Joking aside, you set?”

“Yes, sir. All drop pods are nominal, and the sooner you can get us all on the ground, the better.”

“Let me see … yes, we’ll be feet dry in 50 seconds, then it’s 2 minutes 48 to Point Lima. I expect to have your size 500 feet on the ground in less than four minutes. Happy?”

“Yes, sir,” Bienefelt said. “Can’t wait. Good luck. Hope it all goes well.”

“Thanks. Command, out.”

“Sir,” Ferreira said, “I think that’s the NRA calling.”

“Patch me in, Jayla. It’s about time,” Michael said. “NRA, Helfort. Authenticate.”

“I authenticate Uzuma, repeat Uzuma.”

Relief washed over Michael. “Roger. Stand by burst transmission … sending now.”

“Roger … receipt confirmed.”

“Message is encrypted; passkey is name of man who escorted me after the attack on DocSec convoy. Repeat, passkey is name of man who escorted me after the attack on DocSec convoy. Do you copy?”

“Understood.”

“Good. Tell General Vaas I’ll be in touch. We’ve got work to do. Helfort, out.”

“Think they’ll buy it?” Ferreira asked, her face set in an anxious frown.

“Yes,” Michael said more firmly than he felt. “We’ve got too much to offer.”

Ferreira nodded, and
Widowmaker
’s flight deck fell silent while the lander rocketed toward the coastline. If anything, conditions outside were deteriorating. The tropical depression was more than living up to Michael’s expectations, dumping rain in thick driving sheets that smashed into the lander’s windscreen, winds gusting more than 60 kilometers per hour, the night sky punctuated by the spectral white flares of lightning. Michael was happy with that; the thick layer of cloud and the intense lightning overhead were making the Hammer’s elaborate spaceborne defenses all but useless and their formidable armory of ship-killing lasers and kinetic weapons impotent.

“Command, tac. Stand by decoy … now!”

“Command, tac. Stand by … feet dry. Coming right to 120.”

“Roger.
Alley Kat, Widowmaker
. Feet dry. Breaking away. Will confirm ETA at 5209 on completion of drop.”

“
Alley Kat
, roger.”

“Loadmaster, command. Two minutes to run. Stand by to launch pods.”

“Loadmaster, roger, stand by … LALO pods ready to launch.”

“Roger.”

“Command, tac. Point Lima coming up abeam. Turning in for drop run. All pods nominal.”

Michael had no time to reply before Mother slammed the lander over into a tight, banking turn, foamalloy wings biting hard into the air, artificial gravity rippling in its struggle to absorb the savage g forces. The maneuver was so brutal, so close to the limits, that afterward he would swear
Widowmaker
’s overloaded wings and airframe screamed in protest.

“Command, tac. Ramp going down.”

Michael did not need to be told; his hands were clamped to the seat as
Widowmaker
bucked and heaved under him. The lander’s aerodynamics resembled those of a brick at the best of times; forcing the ramp down at speed made it close to unflyable.

“Stand by pod launch … launching now … Launch was good, pods are good. Cleaning up.”

“Command, roger,” Michael replied, eyes locked on the lander’s aft-facing holocams while they tracked the pods, fleeting blurs against the night sky, gone almost before they were seen. Anxiously he watched the systems status board; drop pod technology was good, but like everything built by humans, pods failed sometimes. In quick succession, the pods’ tightbeam datalinks reported their progress: clean launch … pods stable in ballistic free fall … transition to winged flight … decelerating … established on vector to landing zone … chutes deployed … landed. He took a deep breath of relief and turned back to the command plot, his heart beginning to pound with excitement now that he was so close to rescuing Anna.

“Command, tac. Two minutes to target, and we’re on schedule.”

“Roger. All stations, two minutes.”

What followed remained burned into Michael’s memory for the rest of his days, burned deep by a mix of fear and elation: fear that Anna might not be there after all, elation that she might. “Command, tac. We have tightbeam comms with
Alley Kat
and
Hell Bent
. They are 10 seconds from the IP.”

Michael studied the command plot while it updated. The Gladiator operations plan called for
Widowmaker
to arrive
over the target after the two heavy landers had made their second pass. Without any detailed intelligence on the camp’s defenses,
Alley Kat
and
Hell Bent
would trash everything outside the camp’s razor-wire fences: guard towers, barracks, admin buildings, workshops, stores, everything. Then the landers would take out a planetary ground defense force training base next door. All had to go in an orgy of destruction that Michael knew the crews of the two landers were going to enjoy.

“Command, tac.
Alley Kat
reports first pass completed. No opposition. They’re lining up for the second pass, then will take out the PGDF base before landing while
Hell Bent
puts the blocking force in position.”

“Roger.”

“Command, tac. Second pass completed. We are cleared to land.”

“Command, roger. Sensors, anything from the Hammers yet?”

Carmellini shook his head. “No, sir. I’m picking up commercial channels with amateur holovid of one of the Hammer bases. Perkins, I think it is, in which case
Redwood
gave it one hell of a pasting. Place looks like it’s been nuked, so I reckon the Hammers are a bit distracted right now. So far, all I’m seeing is search radars, and we’re still below the detection threshold and will stay that way until we turn ass-on to leave.”

“Good,” Michael said. “Jayla, any contact with our people inside the camp?”

“Not yet, sir.
Alley Kat
’s been trying, but Sedova thinks the Hammers have been jamming all neuronics frequencies, and so far they’ve not managed to hit the transmitter.”

“Roger,” Michael said, his chest tightening. “Tell Sedova to find it soon. Otherwise we’ll have one hell of a job rounding this lot up.”

“Sir.”

All of a sudden, the blazing remains of Camp J-5209’s defenses reared up out of the darkness; beyond the carnage, the matte-black shapes of
Alley Kat
and
Hell Bent
flayed the PGDF base with streams of cannon fire before sliding away into the night.

“
Widowmaker, Alley Kat
. Don’t think the locals will be bothering us. We’ll land when you’re down.”

“Roger that. Landing.”

Widowmaker
’s nose lifted, belly thrusters fired, and with a shuddering thud, the lander’s AI dropped the lander onto the ground. Michael wasted no time; throwing off his straps, he jumped out of his seat and slid down the ladder into the cargo bay. Pausing only to shed his combat space suit and grab an assault rifle, he waved Petty Officer Morozov to follow him. He hurried down the ramp after
Widowmaker
’s complement of marines and out into the night, heading for the camp perimeter, oblivious to the rain sheeting down. A thunderous, head-splitting roar announced
Alley Kat
’s arrival, followed by
Hell Bent
; their ramps went down to disgorge yet more marines, their chromaflage capes fading them into the night when they spread out to secure the perimeter.

Michael ignored them, intent on staying as close as he could to the marines heading into the camp. He ran a scan, but where he should have picked up the neuronics of hundreds of POWs, there was nothing. Bloody Hammers. “Any luck with your neuronics?” he asked Morozov.

Morozov shook her head. “No, sir. We might have to get this done the hard way.”

“Shit! I hope not. We can’t hang around here.”

The pair slogged over the sodden ground and crossed the broken remains of the camp’s two fences. Ahead lay a large building, the only one inside the wire—the camp’s kitchens and mess hall most likely—and beyond it, two rows of huts of prisoners’ accommodation.

“Come on,” he shouted, “the idle bastards are still asleep.”

Running past the mess hall, Michael skidded to a halt outside the door of the first hut. Taking a deep breath, he hammered on the door. “The Fleet’s here, boys and girls,” he shouted. “Anyone want a lift out of here?” He stepped back; the last thing he wanted was to have his head beaten in by an anxious Fed spacer. Then all of a sudden his neuronics filled with the babble of hundreds of Feds all asking the same question: “What the hell is happening?”

Michael overrode the hubbub with a priority comm, a series of short, sharp orders telling the Feds to get out onto the muddy patch of ground between the huts—now! First one, then a flood
of bewildered Feds streamed out of the huts, milling around until the marines started to herd them toward the waiting landers.

Satisfied that Kallewi had matters under control, Michael commed Anna, his eyes scanning the faces of the Feds as they poured past. No Anna. He tried his neuronics again. Still no response.

“Oh, no,” Michael whispered. After all they had been through, Anna was not there. His heart lurched. Maybe that godless sonofabitch Hartspring had taken her out of the camp early. Mayb—

“Michael?” Her comm burst into his neuronics. “Michael, is that you?” she said, her face creased by shock.

“Yes,” he replied, a rush of relief flushing the fear and doubt from his system, all but torn apart by the urge to find her, to crush her into his arms and never let her go, even as his brain screamed at him to pay attention, to remember that he was dirtside on Commitment, surrounded by millions of Hammers. “Where are you?” he said, his voiced half-choked by emotion.

“Leaving Hut 14,” Anna said.

“Move it,” Michael said, forcing himself to think straight, to ignore the overwhelming desire to grab Anna and flee into the night, to leave the rest of the universe to its own devices. “We don’t have much time.”

Struggling to accept that Anna was there, Michael stood and waited, the flood of Fed spacers streaming past him ignored, his eyes scanning the darkness. Then, standing in front of him, the rain pouring down her face, there stood Anna. “Oh, Anna,” he said, tears of relief flooding his eyes as he folded her into his arms, “Anna, Anna, Anna.”

“Michael,” she whispered. “How, how …” She pushed him away. “What have you done, Michael?”

“Later,” he said, taking her back in his arms. “Later.”

They might have stayed that way forever, but Sergeant Tchiang had other ideas, huge arms sweeping the last of the prisoners ahead of him, a rolling tide of confusion and apprehension. “Time to go, sir.”

“Yes, yes,” Michael said, the awful reality of their situation crashing home. “Come on, Anna. We have to go.”

“But what—”

“Later,” Michael said, cutting her off. “We can’t stay.”

Taking her by the hand, Michael started to run, the pair joining the last of the Feds jogging back to the landers. Back at
Widowmaker
, Michael pushed Anna up the ramp. “Go strap in,” he said. “I’ll be back when everyone is loaded.”

She looked at him, frowning, distrustful. “What—”

“Later, Anna, please.”

“Okay.” Anna nodded; turning, she disappeared into
Widowmaker
. Michael forced her out of his mind while he tracked down Kallewi.

“How are we doing?” he said when he found the big marine watching the last of the prisoners make their way into the landers, doing his best to put Anna out of his mind and concentrate on the job of getting out of what was about to become one giant hornet’s nest infested with vengeful Hammers.

“We have … let me see, yes, 437 very confused Feds,” Kallewi said. “We’ve allocated them to landers, and we’re loading them now. We’ll be ready to go in five minutes.”