Helfort's War Book 4: The Battle for Commitment Planet (8 page)

Michael sat back in his seat. Sedova had taken the heart of the problem and skewered it to the bulkhead. He would not, could not ask these people to risk their lives and careers just to help him rescue Anna, no matter what Bienefelt said. They might like the idea of taking the fight back to the Hammers, but that was not reason enough. It needed to be the right thing to do. It needed to be something that helped end the war.

He shook his head in despair at the arrogance of it all. Only one word described it: hubris. Hubris on a breathtaking scale.

“That is the million-FedMark question,” Michael said, measuring his every word. “So let’s be clear. Nothing we do can end the war, and I know none of us are so stupid as to think that. So what we are talking about is helping shorten it, and none of you should have anything to do with this business unless it helps do that. If you don’t believe what we do will shorten the war—and believe it body, brain, heart, and soul—you should, you must, walk away. Kat is right: Helping me is not reason enough. My problems are my problems; they are not your concern.”

“Yes, sir. We know that,” Kallewi said, a finger stabbing out to reinforce the point. “So what’s the answer? Can we help shorten this war or not?”

Michael had to smile; the big marine was not known for his finesse.

“Okay, here’s my view,” he said, picking his words carefully. He knew this was not the time to oversell; if Ferreira’s plan ever went ahead, that would come back to haunt him when the going got hard, and it would. “I believe we can help. I’ve met Mutti Vaas, the man in charge of the NRA. I’ve met their people. I’ve seen the NRA in action. I know what they’re fighting for, and it’s the same thing we’re fighting for: an end
to the Hammer of Kraa. I also know that the Hammer government is not the solid, monolithic structure it presents itself to be. Infighting, backstabbing, deceit, lies, treachery, betrayal, kidnapping, murder, torture … that’s what makes the Hammer’s wheels go around. Put another way, the whole edifice is rotten to the core, and the more people try to push it over …”

Michael needed a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. “I think we have it all wrong. We’ve tried to win this war the old-fashioned way. Our ships fighting their ships using missiles, rail guns, lasers, all the things we’re good at, relying on technology and good people to get the result we want. Problem is, it isn’t working … it won’t work. It’s the wrong strategy. This war can only be won from the inside, and that means backing the NRA and the Nationalists. I think history will show that our politicians screwed it up when they refused to provide direct assistance to the NRA back in ’93, and even now they won’t in case they are accused of being regime changers. Who knows why? But I can tell you something: This war only ends when the regime changes. So the war drags on, we kill their spacers and marines in the thousands while they kill ours, and all the time we don’t even know if we can beat them. Truth is, if they get a second antimatter plant up and running, there’s a damn good chance they might beat us. Of course I can’t be sure, but I think there’s a good chance we can make a difference. I think it’s worth the terrible risks we will have to take. So, Kat, does that answer your question?”

“Yes, it does,” Sedova said. “I understand there are no guarantees. I understand it’s the riskiest thing I’ve ever done, but I think it’s the right thing. More to the point, it’s better than taking
Redwood
into combat while the Hammers grind the rest of the fleet into the dirt before blowing us and our home planets to dust with their damn antimatter missiles.”

Heads nodded, the response unanimous, underscored by a soft chorus of agreement.

“No need to ask the rest of you, I know, but I want to be clear. Never mind the legalities. Are you all in because it is the right thing to do?”

The answers came one after another. When the last of the nine had spoken, Michael sat back and shook his head. “Okay,
that’s clear,” he said. “I guess it’s decision time for me. No surprises, team. I accept the offer. Let’s do it.”

The conference room erupted in a storm of cheers. Michael waited patiently until things quieted down.

“One question, though. The troops. How about them? It’s fine for us to sit here in furious agreement with each other, but what about them? Janos, you have the largest number of junior people. They want any part of this?”

Kallewi grinned, a hungry, wolfish grin, a grin of feral anticipation. “Well, sir. We won’t know until we ask, but Sergeant Tchiang and I think we’ll have no shortage of takers. Marines are born to fight, after all. They don’t like this stalemate any more than we do. There will be a few who say no, all married with young families. Gavaskar, Park, Mortenson, Nikola, Barret.” Kallewi looked at Tchiang. “Have I missed anyone, Sergeant?”

Tchiang shook his head. “No, sir. They’re the ones. I’d bet my pension that the rest will say yes. They hate deadlock, too.”

“Thanks, Janos. Kat. What about your team?”

“Don’t think any of mine will say no. Can’t be sure until we put the hard word on them, of course. Jackson, maybe. He’s a ‘by the book’ man. This might be too much for him.”

“Jayla?”

“I think all the
Redwood
s will say yes apart from Lomidze and Faris, sir. Both married, young kids. Don’t blame them. Renegade missions aren’t what they signed on for.”

“So having the people to do this won’t be a problem,” Michael said, “but I have to insist on one thing. Nothing is said to Mother, and nothing to anyone outside this room. That way, when it comes to decision time, our people can see what we want to do, how we’ll do it, and what our chances of success are. That way, they can make what I think the lawyers call an informed decision. Agreed?”

Again heads nodded in assent.

“Fine,” Michael said. “That leaves the detailed planning. We know what we want to achieve. Now we need to work out how to do it. We have a lot to think about and not that much time to do it in. So here’s how we’ll do it. Jayla, you take …”

* * *

Michael sat back while the meeting broke up and waved Bienefelt to stay behind. He was still struggling to come to terms with the enormity of the crime they hoped to execute. He had checked; no one in Fed history had planned and executed anything quite so extreme. He smiled. It would be a long time before the name Michael Helfort faded into history, that much was for sure.

Not that he was happy about what he was getting himself, not to mention the rest of the
Redwood
s, into. It would be dangerous, and success was far from assured. Even if they managed to rescue Anna, they needed to get away from the Hammers, then persuade the NRA and the Nationalists to take them in, not to mention survive long enough to see them topple the Hammer government. Only then would they all be able to go home.

Bienefelt coughed softly. Michael started. He had clean forgotten about her. “Shit, sorry, Matti.”

“No problem, sir.”

“Just wanted to … you know …”

“Check that what you’re doing is the right thing?”

Michael smiled, a rueful half smile of uncertainty tinged with fear. “Am I that obvious?”

“Know you well enough by now, sir.”

“You do. Well?”

“Legally, no, it’s the wrong thing. Morally? It’s arguable, but on balance I think we’re on the side of the angels.”

“That’s where I get to, Matti. Like most things in life, I guess, if it all works out the way we hope it will, it will have been the right thing. If it doesn’t …”

“Well, then, we’ll just have to make sure it does work out, won’t we?”

“We will. One other thing, though. You know now how I feel about the way this war is managed. How are the troops taking things?”

Bienefelt sat back in her chair. “You really want to know, sir?”

“Yes, Matti. I really want to know.”

“Well, I shouldn’t say this ’cause it’s all scuttlebutt, but things are not good out there in the fleet. The kicking we received at
Comdur started the rot. I know the Hammers pulled that one out of the hat, I know nobody had any idea they’d found a way to weaponize antimatter, I know there was nothing that anyone in Fleet could have done to avoid the disaster. Even so, being beaten so badly is hard for your average spacer to take, and it does nothing to inspire confidence in the brass. Whether that’s right or wrong doesn’t matter. It’s a fact. Then the Salvation operation followed. I know we won that one, but at what cost? Eleven ships sacrificed by Fleet, including your Anna’s
Damishqui
, because Fleet was too gutless to stand up to the politicians. Eleven ships! All those spacers, all those marines, and for what? For what?”

Bienefelt sighed and rubbed her face with hands the size of hams.

“For nothing,” she continued, “all for nothing. We were always going to kick the Hammers’ asses. So no wonder spacers began to worry where the hell this war was going to end up. After that came Devastation Reef. I know we won that one big time, but even the dumbest spacer was able to work out that was only because the dreadnoughts saved Fleet’s backside … no, not the dreadnoughts, you, sir. You saved Fleet,” Bienefelt said fiercely. “And the troops know it. The fact that most Fleet officers feel you did it the wrong way has pissed them off big time. Every spacer I speak to thinks the decision to stop the dreadnought project is madness, total madness. So what do they have to look forward to now? Five more years of war, at least. Jeez, that’s if they’re lucky. Plenty of spacers think this war will never end. Never! Even if it is only five more years, like Chief Fodor said, five years for what? We can’t win this war until every ship carries antimatter weapons, which won’t happen inside ten years no matter how much money we throw at it, and why are we surprised? Took the Hammers the best part of fifty years to work out how to make enough of the damn stuff to be useful. That means the Hammers can build a new antimatter plant to replace the one we destroyed at Devastation Reef, then do another Comdur on us.” Bienefelt paused for a moment. “Though there’s another possibility,” she continued.

“Which is?”

“That the war will end sooner than we think.”

“How?” Michael said with a puzzled frown.

“When the Hammers beat us. Fleet says five years. Who says that’s right? The Hammers must know that the sooner they restore their antimatter capability, the sooner they can destroy our fleet. Then it’s game over. I wouldn’t bet my life on us having that long.”

“Shit! There’s a cheery thought,” Michael muttered.

“There’s worse.”

“Jeezus!” Michael said. “What could be worse?”

“Fleet. Never mind the Hammers; they have their own problems,” Bienefelt said. “You heard the latest rumor?”

Michael shook his head. “Rumor? What rumor?”

“More than a rumor.
Palmyra
’s crew mutinied.”

Michael’s eyes opened wide with shock. “Shit! I didn’t know that.”

“That’s because nobody’s supposed to. Fleet’s trying to keep it real tight.” She sniffed, a sharp sound of utter disdain. “As if they could keep a lid on something that big. Anyway, it seems half the spacers refused to let the ship deploy on combat operations.
Palmyra
’s marines managed to keep a lid on it until reinforcements arrived, but things turned ugly.”

“Casualties?”

“Don’t know for sure,” Bienefelt said, shaking her head. “You know the rumor mill, but word is there were some.”

Michael sat, stunned into silence. There had not been a fullblown mutiny on a Federated Worlds warship in living memory; the last one was on the old
Fortress
back in ’32, and that was a very minor affair involving only a handful of spacers.

“There’s more, sir.”

Michael flinched. “More?” he said.

“Afraid so. There was a riot in the Comdur Fleet canteen, a bad one. Big bunch of spacers trashed the joint, barricaded themselves in. Needed the marines backed up by naval police to retake the joint. Lot of spacers hurt, some badly—”

“Holy shit!”

“And there’s been an increase in unexplained defects according to a friend of mine in one of the heavy maintenance units. Fleet canceled an operation last week because so many
ships went unserviceable at the last minute. Too much of a coincidence to be anything but sabotage.”

“Bloody hell, why am I the last one to find out?” Michael said, voice taut with anger; Fleet’s summary of operation had said only that
Palmyra
was being pulled out of the line because of main engine problems. “So what’s it all mean, Matti?”

“What it means is this. Fleet spacers are pissed: pissed at the Hammers, pissed at the politicians, pissed at the admirals, pissed at the way Fleet’s conducting this war, pissed because there’s no way out of the mess we’ve landed ourselves in.”

“And you can’t fight a war if the troops are pissed,” Michael said.

“No, you can’t. And don’t be surprised if there’s more of the same.
Palmyra
might not be the last. I’d lay good money down that it’s just the first.”

Michael half smiled. “Given what we just talked about, I think we can be sure of that, Matti.”

Bienefelt smiled back. “You know what I mean, sir. What we’re planning is different. More to the point, it’s what we should do. Sure as hell better than doing nothing, hoping things get better.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t matter. Decision’s made. Anyway, thanks for your faith in me, Matti. Let’s hope it’s not misplaced.”

“I don’t think it is. Permission to carry on, sir?”

“Please.”

Michael watched with mixed feelings as Matti’s hulking mass squeezed through the door. Even though she had told him a lot he had not known—the
Palmyra
mutiny was a huge shock—none of it changed what he already knew: Fleet was in trouble, and if Fleet was in trouble, then so were the Federated Worlds.

So what the hell are you doing, Michael Wallace Helfort? What are you doing making Fleet’s job of holding back the Hammers harder by taking
Redwood
, and maybe
Red River
and
Redress
as well, out of the line of battle? It was crazy, diverting three operational dreadnoughts to solve the personal problems of one lovesick captain. No, it was beyond crazy; it was the stuff of the worst trashvids ever made. He shook his head, cringing as he imagined how the rest of humanspace
would react when they were told that the Federated Worlds, fighting for its very existence against a rampaging Hammer of Kraa, had been deserted by one of its heroes to save one woman’s life.