"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."
"What are the medics saying?"
"That'll I'll be fine. It's just a matter of time now until the blast damage heals. Their medibots are nowhere as good as ours, but they work." Kallewi's eyes closed. "Sorry, guys. I'm a bit tired. Maybe late-"
Kallewi was asleep. Michael stood and stared at the man until Anna led him away. Monday, December 3, 2401, UD Lakash Valley Lodge, Scobie's World
"No," Chief Councillor Polk said softly.
The Pascanician president frowned, the geneered perfection of his face creased with frustration and disappointment. Polk's eyes bored into Jack Mikoyan's, basilisklike, forcing the man to sit back in his chair, his head turning to break eye contact.
"I see," Mikoyan said, the fingers of both hands tapping the tabletop. "That seems clear. Not the most reasonable response, I have to say." He looked across the table directly at Polk. "Will you walk with me, Jeremiah?" he said. "I've had enough of those people for the moment." He waved a dismissive hand at the advisers who flanked both men.
He wants to concede, Polk thought exultantly, forcing his face to remain the impassive mask it had been throughout the day's negotiations, he wants to concede. "Of course, Jack," he said.
The pair walked to the far end of the deck. Out of earshot of their advisers, Jack Mikoyan turned and waved Polk into an armchair. "So," he said when both were settled, "we seem to be stuck for the moment."
"We do," Polk said. "Much as I want to agree with what your people want in the interests of getting the deal done, I cannot. I'm sorry. After all, we're the ones taking all the risks here. Let's not forget that."
Mikoyan shook his head. "I don't think that's right, Jeremiah. You're asking the Pascanici League to make the single biggest off-world investment it has ever made, an investment that aligns the league with the Hammer Worlds against the rest of humanspace. As you well know, Jeremiah, you cannot guarantee success. So please, don't tell me we're not taking a risk. We are. Together with you, we are."
"Okay, Jack," Polk said, hands up to concede the point. "Okay. Let me think about this. Let's say I agree to allow your ships exclusive shipping rights between all non-Hammer worlds…"
Polk paused, eyes narrowed and fingers to lips in a parody of thoughtful consideration. Mikoyan's body stiffened, a movement so small that it was barely perceptible; you would make a lousy poker player, President Mikoyan, Polk said to himself, dragging the wait out.
"Yes, I think we should offer that, Jack, but-"
Mikoyan leaned forward. "Let's finish this, Jeremiah. It's a good deal for you, and it's a good deal for us."
"I agree, but I'll need something back from you. We both know those rights are worth billions, no, make that trillions."
"Only if the Hammer Worlds defeat the Feds, Jeremiah."
"Which we will, Jack. That's why we should stop the haggling. The only way the Feds can win is if we don't do the deal."
"Fine," Mikoyan said. "We'll increase our capital contribution by 100 billion over and above what we've already agreed in exchange for the shipping rights."
"One hundred fifty and we have a deal."
Mikoyan frowned; then he put his hand out. "You are a hard man, Chief Councillor Polk, but I think we can live with that."
Polk took Mikoyan's hand and shook it hard. "Good. While those parasites over there write it up, I have a bottle of real French vintage champagne I'd like to share with you and a few friends. We can drink to the day when the Feds no longer dominate humanspace."
"A glass of champagne? I think I'd like that, Jeremiah."
"Not as much as you'll enjoy my friends, Jack." Wednesday, December 5, 2401, UD FLTDETCOMM, Branxton Base, Commitment
Leaving Anna to pack up her gear and say her goodbyes, Michael had made his way to the Fleet detachment's offices, his place of duty until Captain Adrissa relented and let him join the 120th. Not that he wanted to join the 120th; the thought terrified him. After all he had been through, he had struggled to work out why he was so frightened at the prospect. Lander operations did not trouble him; ground operations did. Being a grunt down in the muck and blood of ground combat, slogging it out meters from the Hammers, turned his bowels to water. He remembered an old marine, a veteran of years of combat, saying that each human only had so much bravery in him; bit by bit, stress and fear ate away at it until there was none left, until only sheer willpower kept you going… if you could, and some could not.
He prayed he never reached that point. The thought of being branded a coward in front of Anna was more terrifying than anything the Hammers might do to him.
It was early, and the office was empty. Michael found his workstation-an ancient holovid atop a battered packing case hacked into a crude desk-and logged into the NRA's operations network. He had been out of the loop for three days and badly wanted to know what had been happening. He was engrossed in the daily summary of operations pushed out each morning by ENCOMM when a soft voice broke his concentration.
"Michael?"
Michael's heart sank. So soon, too soon. Anna always intended to rejoin the 120th, but that made her leaving no easier. "Hi, Anna. One second… okay, that's done," he said, logging off. "Come on."
Together they left the cramped offices that housed Captain Adrissa and her team: the Firefighters they called themselves in deference to the endless small crises they were called on to deal with. They walked in silence through a maze of narrow caves until they came to the sector transport terminus, a fancy name for the last stop on the sled line that connected to the Branxton's main maglev network. Anna dumped her pack, helmet, and rifle into the waiting sled. Turning, she slid her arms around his waist.
"That's what I call a leave."
"Mmm," Michael murmured, returning the embrace. Anna was right. A friendly trooper from the local portal security unit had told them about a small cave that opened into a thickly wooded glade complete with a spring-fed pool of crystal water screened from wandering Hammer battlesats and drones by an exuberant canopy of interlaced leaves and branches. The three days they had spent there had been idyllic; leaving had been all the more difficult for it.
Anna pushed away to look Michael full in the face. "You be careful, you hear?" she said softly.
"Shouldn't be a problem," Michael said with a touch of bitterness. "From what she's told me so far, Captain Adrissa seems determined to turn me in to some sort of glorified aide-de-camp running around following up her latest bright idea."
"It won't be so bad. At least you won't be having your ass shot off."
"Jeez, Anna!" he protested. "That helps."
An uncomfortable silence followed. "Sorry," Anna said eventually. "That was stupid. Sorry."
"It's not that, Anna. I just wish I knew this would all work out."
"It will."
Michael shook his head. "You don't know that, Anna. Nobody does. I'm beginning to think that we'll still be here in ten years wondering if we'll ever get home, if any of the Feds here because of me ever will get home."
"Is that so bad? You and me. We'll be together."
Michael snorted. "You know the life expectancy of an NRA trooper?"
"No, Michael," Anna said, "and I bloody well don't want to. What's done is done. Stop beating yourself to death. Hey"-her voice softened-"I'll be careful, I promise. No stupid risks. I'll see you in two weeks' time when the battalion's pulled back for training, okay?"
"Okay."
Anna lifted her face to his and kissed him long and hard, and Michael's world folded into the moment, an instant of intense intimacy, an instant in which the two of them became the entire universe.
Anna pulled away. "Love you," she whispered. She turned and without a backward look climbed into the sled.
"Love you, too," Michael replied.
He watched the sled accelerate; banking to one side, it disappeared into the tunnel, the soft squealing of its wheels fading as it raced away, swallowed by the darkness.