Helfort's War Book 4: The Battle for Commitment Planet (39 page)

“You both stink something terrible, but we’ll just have to put up with that. First we’ll get you the ten-dollar medical, followed by something to eat before we send you to talk to the debriefers. You can grab a shower and new kit once they’ve finished. Okay?”

“That’d be good. Food ran out days ago; I never want to see another qolqass root as long as I live. There was plenty of it, but you’d think the geneers could have made the bloody stuff taste better. I’m Michael Helfort, by the way, and this sad-assed specimen is Mrs. Helfort, though since she became a grunt, I think she prefers Trooper Helfort.”

“Dickwad!” the woman said softly.

The lieutenant grinned. “Karl Karlovic,” he said, shaking hands with Anna and Michael. “Glad you made it back. Come on, follow me. The aid station’s this way.”

“Sounds good to me,” Anna said. “My arm’s badly in need of a new dressing.”

   Overwhelmed by grinding tiredness, Michael struggled to stay awake while Karlovic grabbed bowls of green gruel and steaming mugs of coffee.

“Get into it, guys,” he said, slapping the food down.

Michael and Anna piled in. With every mouthful of what Karlovic assured him was beef chili, Michael’s energy returned and his spirits rose. Five minutes later, he had been transformed into a new man. “Shit,” he said, pushing his tray away. “That is one hell of a lot better than the field rations we haven’t been eating.”

“Never imagined I’d say this,” Anna mumbled past a mouthful of gruel, “but this stuff, whatever it is, is the best damn food I’ve ever tasted, and the coffee’s good, too.”

“Pleased you like it,” Karlovic said with a wry smile. “Personally, I hate the bloody stuff.”

A companionable silence followed while they finished their coffee and Michael went for refills. “What’s the story?” he said, sitting down and then straightening out a painfully stiff left leg. “How was the pullback from Perdan?”

Karlovic grimaced. “Not too bad, not too good. We had more casualties during the withdrawal than we suffered capturing
Perdan. Those fucking landers and their fuel-air bombs. Kraa! Those bastards don’t mind trashing their own planet.” He shook his head despairingly. “They used bunker busters on the 98th and the 34th. Nukes, for Kraa’s sake; they used nukes,” he said with another shake of the head. “Unbelievable. Anyway, casualties weren’t as bad as the planners had expected, so I guess that’s the good news.”

Michael flicked a glance at Anna. “The Fed marines, how did they go?”

“Your guys? The marines with the 120th?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, all things considered, they were damn lucky. They were holed up north of here along the Kendozo River together with the 88th, the 142nd, and stragglers from Kraa knows how many other regiments. ENCOMM sent word to them. Plan was for them to sit tight and wait for a diversionary attack on Daleel before moving. The idea was to keep the marine landers busy while they made a run for it. Don’t know how, but the Hammers located them. Their plan was simple. Establish a perimeter to contain our guys, surprise them with the landers, carpet bomb the valley with fuel-air bombs, wipe everyone out. Anyone who tried to make a run for it wouldn’t get past the containment line.”

“Bastards,” Michael whispered. “What then?”

“One of the Hammer units went off half-cocked, before the units responsible for the containment lines were established. The 120th’s colonel worked out what was about to happen, and they managed to break out and get clear of the valley before the landers turned up. The other bit of good luck was that the Hammer’s forward air controllers were not on the ball, so the Hammers wasted a great deal of ordnance blowing the crap out of an empty valley, trashing Kraa knows how many hectares of rock and scrub.”

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. “When 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.

“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.”