Helfort's War Book 4: The Battle for Commitment Planet (28 page)

“Of course, sir. Anything.”

“I’ll remember you said that,” she said with a fleeting half smile. “You know the result of Sasaki’s court-martial?”

“Yes, sir. Seemed right to me.”

“Yes. Yes, it was right. There’s no doubt Sasaki tipped off the
Hammers just before we left Point Lima, none at all, so the sentence is right. This is war we’re in, not a bloody back-alley brawl. He betrayed us—for money and a safe-conduct pass off-planet, for chrissakes—and it came close to costing us. Backstabbing scumbag! We had our suspicions back in 5209 but not the evidence to do anything about him. Shit! We were lucky he only managed to contact the Hammers at the last minute. Otherwise …”

Michael nodded. If Sasaki had been able to contact the Hammers an hour earlier, even the demoralized officers in charge of the Hammer’s PGDF could have organized something more useful than a single missile battery.

“Anyway,” Adrissa continued, “I’m not here to debate the rights and wrongs of the court-martial. I’m confident the posttrial review will dismiss his appeal. No, it’s the sentence that’s my problem.”

“Oh?”

“Mmmm,” Adrissa said, forefinger tapping her lips, eyes defocused for a moment. “Yes, the sentence. I’ve made sure we’ve followed the Court-Martial Manual every step of the way. The extraordinary-circumstances provisions allow for everything that has happened. Nobody can ever say that the man was denied due process. Nobody can complain if the sentence is enforced, but … I could never have the man shot. Never. He might be a traitor, but he’s our traitor, and we do not shoot our traitors. Maybe we should, but we don’t.”

“No, sir,” Michael said. “Must say, everyone’s assumed you’d suspend the death sentence. Everyone.”

Adrissa shook her head. “No, Michael. That’s not right. Not everyone. Not General Vaas, for starters.”

“General Vaas?” Michael said, puzzled. “How is this any of his business? This is a Fed matter, surely.”

“I think so, but he does not see it that way. You see, Michael, when he said, ‘Your people must be part of the NRA,’ I agreed with him.”

“Oh,” Michael said with a frown as he worked out what Adrissa was trying to say. “So that means treating Sasaki the way the NRA treats any of its people caught dealing with the Hammers?”

Adrissa nodded. “Yup.”

“And … you’d like me to go and talk to Vaas, try to talk him around?”

“Knew you were a smart boy, Michael. Yes, that’s exactly what I want. We’ve done it informally. We’ve done it formally. I’ve tried, Commander Rasmussen’s tried, Lieutenant Commander Solanki’s tried, but we can’t shift Vaas.”

“Oh, shit,” Michael whispered. “I’m sorry, sir. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I am. I want you to see if you can change his mind.”

Michael grimaced. “That’s a big ask, sir.”

“I know that,” Adrissa snapped. “For chrissakes, Lieutenant, just do your best.”

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to question the order. It’s just … it’s just, well. I—”

Adrissa’s hand went to chop him off. “I know that,” she said softly. “Do your best. It’s all I want.”

“Sir.”

   “General Vaas will see you now.”

“Thank you, Major Hok,” Michael said.

Hok waved him in without another word. Talk about mission impossible, Michael said to himself.

Vaas looked up with a smile when Michael entered his private office, a cramped space furnished with a battered desk, three chairs, and a simple bunk. Vaas looked surprisingly alert considering it was two hours past midnight, the fingers of his left hand playing with the sunburst at his neck in a restless, fretting display of the energy that drove the man. Michael knew why Vaas looked so cheerful. The previous twenty-four hours had been good ones for the NRA. Operation Fender had unleashed a carefully coordinated torrent of death and destruction on the Hammers: four DocSec convoys ambushed with every one of the black-uniformed scum they carried dispatched to meet their precious Kraa, a convoy carrying supplies to the marine base at Besud ambushed and its contents looted, a new Hammer firebase close to the beleaguered town of Daleel overrun and destroyed in one of the NRA’s trademark human-wave attacks, four senior DocSec officers careless enough to
travel in a thin-skinned mobibot killed by a culvert bomb outside McNair, a pair of fliers carrying PGDF brass back to McNair hacked out of the sky by Goombah missiles, and countless minor attacks against DocSec and PGDF all across the McNair basin, with yet more attacks on soft targets across Commitment. Operation Fender had not stopped there: NRA units on Faith and Fortitude, the second and third planets of the Hammer Worlds, had not been idle, launching attacks on hundreds of soft targets.

Altogether, not a bad tally, Michael decided. Vaas had every right to look pleased; the Hammers’ propaganda machine had no chance of keeping that much bad news under wraps.

“Take a seat, Lieutenant,” Vaas said, waving an arm. “Let me guess. You are here to talk about that mercenary piece of Hammer-loving shit Sasaki”—Michael’s heart sank—“am I right?”

“Yes, sir.” Michael nodded. “Captain Adrissa asked me to talk to you.”

Vaas’s head went back, mouth open as he roared with laughter. “Oh, Kraa help me,” he said at last, wiping tears from his eyes. “You Feds”—he shook his head—“I’ll never begin to understand all that sanctity of life bullshit you seem so keen on. Come on, Michael! There’s a Kraa-damned war on. Sasaki deserves to die.”

“Yes, sir. He does. That Hammer air-defense battery nearly nailed us.”

“Well?” Vaas said. “Sasaki deserves to die; you just said so. What’s the problem?”

“The problem, sir, is that the Fed Fleet hasn’t executed a spacer or marine since the day it was founded. We neurowipe the really bad ones, lock away the rest for reeducation. That’s our way of doing things.”

“I know that,” Vaas said patiently, “and it’s one of the things I like about you Feds. Whereas us Hammers? Death, death, and more death.” Vaas’s face darkened. “Kraa! Sometimes I think killing’s the only thing we Hammers do well.”

“So,” Michael said, a tiny glimmer of hope springing into life, “maybe it’s time to change that.”

With a shake of the head, Vaas crushed the flicker into the
dust. “No, it’s not,” he said with a sigh. “Maybe when this war is over, but not now. We can’t allow a Fed traitor to be dealt with any differently from anyone who betrays the Nationalist cause. We cannot afford to. Your Captain Adrissa doesn’t seem to understand that. If I let Sasaki off the hook, if I allow a Fed to escape the firing squad, it’ll drive a wedge between us, a wedge that’ll be Kraa’s own job to pull out. It will be hard enough for your guys to fit in as it is. So the answer’s no. That’s not because I’m an asshole but because I cannot have two rule books: one for Feds and one for the rest of us. I’m sorry. The sentence must be carried out.”

“But sir—”

“No, Michael,” Vaas said firmly. “That’s it. You’ve done your best, and I respect you for it, but that’s my decision. If it makes Captain Adrissa feel any better, tell her I asked the Resistance Council to rule on the matter and their answer’s the same. This is not the time for experiments in social engineering. You, your people, your technology are only assets if the average NRA trooper accepts and can work with them. If there’s suspicion or mistrust, it all becomes one huge liability, and I can’t afford to let that happen. This war’s tough enough without spending hours every day trying to persuade everyone to get along. You understand?”

“Yes, sir. I understand. I’ll tell Captain Adrissa,” Michael said. A wave of revulsion swept over him. Sasaki deserved to die, but Michael knew he must accept some responsibility for the man’s death. How many more before this damn war was over and they all went home?

“Good,” Vaas said. “Ask her to talk to Major Hok when the appeals process is finished. We’ll help with the arrangements. You don’t have to scratch too deep to uncover the Hammer in us,” he said with a crooked half smile, “and death is what we Hammers are really, really good at.”

“Sir.”

“Fine,” Vaas said with a broad smile. “Now that’s out of the way, I want to talk to you about an operation we have in mind. Operation Pendulum we’re calling it. We’ve held your lot back, but I think the time has come to see how well you can fight.”

Michael’s heart sank. Vaas was notorious for not needing
much sleep, a trait Michael did not share. He liked his eight hours. “Yes, sir,” he said. Comming his neuronics to drop one of his precious drugbots into his bloodstream, he resigned himself to a long night.

Fed spacers and marines were arrayed down one side of the cave, a large, harshly lit space dominated by a single splintered post sunk into the ground in front of a bullet-pocked wall of limestone, the air acrid with the smell of pulverized rock. Beyond them, a small group of NRA officers waited; Vaas was nowhere to be seen.

Michael swore under his breath, sickened and angry at the same time. He felt sickened by what was about to happen and angry that Adrissa had detailed him to be the officer in charge of the firing squad. “We’re here because of you, Lieutenant,” she had said in tones that brooked no argument, “and this is one of the consequences of the decisions you have made.”

Choking off a protest at the blatant unfairness of Adrissa’s words—Sasaki had been a Hammer spy long before he ever turned up—Michael had confined himself to a simple “Yes, sir.”

So here he was. He glanced down the line of spacers and marines that formed the firing squad. Michael had not been surprised to find plenty of volunteers; Sasaki commanded neither respect nor mercy from any of the Feds.

The provost marshal commed him. “We’re on our way.”

“Sir.”

Taking a deep breath, Michael snapped to attention, the disciplined routines of military drill his only comfort.

“Firing squad … squad, atten … shun!”

In unison the squad came to attention.

“Shoulder arms!”

The seconds dragged past, and then Sasaki and his marine escort appeared, two with their hands under Sasaki’s armpits while he walked unsteadily toward the waiting post. A brief flurry of activity, and Sasaki was ready, bound in place, blindfold and small white marker positioned over his heart. Michael, sickened by the ritual, tuned out while the provost marshal read the orders convening the execution before turning and marching over to where Michael waited.

“Carry on, Lieutenant,” the provost marshal said.

“Sir!” Michael barked, his heart now battering at his ribs. “Firing squad … port arms … present … aim … fire!”

The flat crack of assault rifles shattered the silence. “Shoulder arms!” Michael barked. Turning, his eyes locked on a point three meters up the cave wall, Michael marched over to where the body of what had once been Leading Spacer Sasaki hung, an awkward shape slumped to the right against the ropes binding him to the post. Please be dead, Michael prayed when he reached Sasaki and the NRA doctor joined him. The prospect of having to unholster his pistol to finish the job was too much to bear. Sickened by the clinical brutality of the process, he waited while the man checked Sasaki.

“Dead,” the doctor said.

Michael nodded. Turning, he marched back to the firing squad.

“Squad! Shoulder arms, fall out!”

It was over, the cave filling with the muted hum of soft conversation. Anna broke away from the throng to make her way across to him. “You okay, spacer?”

“Yeah. I know it needed to be done, and I know why … but still.”

“You listen to me, Michael Helfort,” Anna said. “Yes, it was horrible, but that’s just the way it is. We’re fighting a war, and that treacherous dirtbag”—she flicked a thumb over her shoulder at the NRA recycling party bundling Sasaki into a body bag—“wouldn’t have broken a sweat if the Hammers had killed every last one of us. So come on.”

“I know, I know,” Michael said, “but—”

“But nothing,” Anna snapped. “Enough! So,” she said, her voice softening, “what time are you due back on duty?”

“Umm, let me see … yes, 12:00 for the Operation Pendulum planning meeting. I’m free till then.”

“I’m not due back on watch until 18:00, so follow me.”

“Okay,” Michael said. He followed Anna out of the cave. He had no idea where she was off to, and Anna was not going to tell him, so he fell in behind her.

Without neuronics to keep track, Michael would have been lost, a tortuous succession of twists and turns taking them away from the always-busy caves that made up this sector. He hoped Anna knew what she was doing. They had not seen anyone for a good ten minutes, and he needed no reminding that they were a long way from help if something went wrong. More than a few NRA troopers had died in these caves, lost in the labyrinthine nightmare that infested the Branxtons’ karst.

To his relief, the absolute blackness of the tunnel ahead started to shade into gray and then white, the change almost imperceptible. “Where the hell are we, Anna?”

“Hold your horses, spacer,” she said as she scrambled over a pile of broken rock. Resigned, Michael followed her to find himself on a narrow terrace of rock, protected overhead by a massive jutting slab of limestone, the cliff wall dropping sheer into the forested valley below.

“Wah!” Michael whispered when he looked out across the forest canopy, a turbulent, chaotic ocean of green stretching more than a kilometer to the other side of the valley, where a wall of rock rose sheer for hundreds of meters. “What a view. Are we safe here?”

“Relax, Michael. Yes, we are. It’s a designated R&R location. Didn’t you see the marker on the way in?”

“Marker? What marker?”

“The ‘do not disturb’ marker, you idiot.”

“Oh,” Michael said feebly. He slid to the ground alongside Anna, slipping his hand into hers and squeezing hard. The silence that followed was a long one, and Michael was happy enough to sit and stare out into the void at trees splashed golden by the early-morning sun. If there was any way to get off this planet, he decided, he would take it. It was time to put him and Anna first. He did not care where in humanspace they ended
up provided that it was nowhere near the damned Hammers, or the Feds, come to that. He struggled to work out who was the more pissed at him, then gave up, unable to choose.