Chief Councillor’s residence, city of McNair, Commitment
Fleet Admiral Jorge stood unmoving as Chief Councillor Polk’s rage washed over him, the relentless torrent of invective like nothing he had ever been subjected to before.
“Sir!” he said, rather more firmly than he had intended-a lot more firmly, in fact.
Polk stopped dead, staring at Jorge, his face an angry red mask.
“Sir,” Jorge continued gently. “What’s done is done. Can I remind you that it is a long time since any Hammer ship took on and beat a Fed heavy cruiser? In fact, sir”-Jorge was warming to his task now-“I will be submitting a recommendation that Commodore Monroe be awarded the Star of Kraa for his leadership of Operation Cavalcade to date. I will also-”
Polk’s hand went up. Polk stared at him for a long time. To Jorge’s surprise, the man smiled for an instant. Then, to Jorge’s utter astonishment, the bloody man was laughing, his chest heaving until tears began to run down his cheeks.
“By Kraa, Admiral, you really are something else,” Polk sputtered finally, getting himself back under control with an obvious effort, wiping the tears from his eyes. He shook his head in disbelief. “You are unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. I wanted to have the bloody man shot. Kraa’s blood, I wanted to have you shot, too, but no! You want me to give him a medal! Not any old medal, either. Oh, no. You want me to give him the Star of Kraa, no less!” Polk’s voice rose in disbelief. He took a deep breath and waved a hand at Jorge. “For Kraa’s sake, sit down, Admiral. Sit,” he said resignedly.
“Thank you, sir.” Jorge sat, praying as hard as he could that the storm was over.
“So if I accept your proposition that Monroe did the right thing,” Polk went on, to Jorge’s relief sounding much more relaxed, “then what the hell am I going to do with Kraa knows how many damn Fed spacers? I don’t suppose you’ll let me have DocSec shoot them?” Polk asked hopefully.
“Sir, we have that under control, and”-Jorge’s voice hardened noticeably-“with all due respect, having them shot by DocSec is not a good option. On behalf of Fleet, I must point out that our spacers get captured, too. If the Feds find out we have shot almost three hundred of theirs-and they will-then. . well, let’s just say it makes things very difficult all around.” Not to mention the fact that the Feds will pursue me to the ends of humanspace and beyond, he thought despairingly.
Polk stared at Jorge bleakly, all traces of good humor gone. “You know, Admiral, I don’t think I will ever understand spacers. Kraa! The things you get worked up about! I really don’t give a rat’s ass what the Feds do to Hammer prisoners of war.” Polk snorted dismissively. “The cowardly losers should not have let themselves be captured in the first place. They’re no damn good to us anymore, that’s for sure, so the Feds can make meat pies out of them for all I care.”
The look on Jorge’s face-a mixture of horror and disgust-stopped Polk dead. “All right, Admiral, all right. I’ll let this one go,” he conceded reluctantly. “I know these things matter to you, but I’m sure I don’t have to warn you what happens if the Feds find out about Cavalcade before we decide to let them in on the secret.”
“No, sir,” Jorge agreed stiffly, trying extremely hard to keep the relief out of his voice, “you don’t.”
“Good. Let’s get on with it. So, these Feds. If I can’t have them shot, what in Kraa’s name are you going to do with them?”
“That problem’s been solved, sir. They’re in transit to one of Fleet’s old camps from the last war, the most remote my staff could find, on Maranzika. Nobody will know they even exist. The camp is so remote that escape is pointless, I have imposed a complete communications blackout, and an air exclusion zone is now in force around the camp. Supply and security have been taken over by Operation Cavalcade personnel, so operational security will not be compromised.”
Jorge held his breath. Polk had to be reassured that Cavalcade operational security really was safe; if Polk was not, he was dead. After a lifetime’s thought, Polk nodded his head.
Jorge breathed out slowly-the man did not look happy, but then again, neither was he tearing his head off, so maybe he had gotten away with it-before continuing. “There is one exception, though, sir. One of the Feds is an officer called Helfort, Michael Helfort.”
Polk looked puzzled “Helfort? Who the hell is Helfort? Remind me.”
“Well, sir. According to the Feds, he’s one of the heroes of what they like to call the Battle of Hell’s Moons. Quite a celebrity, I understand.”
Polk scowled. “Ah, yes. Helfort. A smug little man. I remember him now. Bloody Feds. What about him?”
“DocSec’s Section 22 has him in custody. They think he might be useful. He might be, er, well, persuaded to put a different spin on the Mumtaz affair.” Jorge did his best to keep a straight face; privately, he thought DocSec had lost the plot, but if they wanted Helfort, he was happy to oblige. But there were some things he did not want Polk finding out about; the fact that he had horse-traded Helfort to DocSec in exchange for the right to keep the rest of the Feds under Fleet control was one of them.
Polk grunted derisively. “Admiral, why in Kraa’s name would I care? The Mumtaz affair is history. If DocSec wants to play with him, that’s fine by me. At least Section 22 can be trusted to keep their mouths shut.”
Jorge nodded. Polk was right. By Kraa! If there was one thing DocSec was really good at, it was keeping secrets, and Section 22-the section responsible for VIPs-was the best.
“So,” Polk continued, “whatever. Have DocSec brief me if anything of value comes up. That’ll be all, Admiral. You can go.”