FWSS Eridani, berth Bravo-10, Comdur Fleet Base Repair Facility
Lieutenant Commander Lenski strode grim-faced into Eridani’s wardroom, waving her officers and senior spacers to be seated. She grabbed a coffee from the drinkbot and sat down.
“Okay, folks. First, some good news. The casualty recovery teams have done a great job getting the crews off the ships. Well, those still alive,” she added bitterly. “Anyway, the base hospital is struggling, but thank God there are plenty of regen tanks, so we should be able to save most of them. Radiation damage takes a lot of fixing, so we won’t see them back in uniform for a long time. They’ll start shuttling the survivors back to their home planets tomorrow.”
She paused to take a mouthful of coffee and then another. Michael thought she looked terrible, and it was not from lack of sleep. True, they were all tired. Nobody had slept much since the Hammers had come calling, but it was not that. No, it was something much more fundamental; Michael had seen the same thing on the faces of every spacer he had met since what was now being called the Comdur Disaster. It had taken a while for him to work out what it was, but now he was sure he knew.
It was the awful realization that for all the power, all the technology, and all the wealth possessed by the Federated Worlds, nothing in humanspace was guaranteed. The Federation could be beaten and beaten badly, beaten like they had never been beaten before. Worse, they had been beaten by the Hammers, a people all Feds thought little better than brutal fundamentalists pursuing a bizarre and arcane religion spawned from the deranged mind of an indentured Martian colonist. More than any of that and worst of all, it was the humiliation of losing the Federation’s rightful place as the leader of humanspace.
Lenksi continued. “Apart from the fact that the Hammers missed the planetary assault vessels, the other good news is that the ships damaged in the attack are not all write-offs. Some are. My first ship for one, but-”
“That can’t be right, skipper. The ark went to the scrap yard centuries ago,” a voice chipped in from the back of the wardroom.
“Watch it, Chief O’Halloran, ’cause I know where you live,” Lenski called out with a tight smile as laughter rippled around the packed wardroom. “Anyway, as I was saying, most can be recovered, so thank God for radiation-hardened optronics. Again, it’ll take time, but a lot less time than building from scratch. Most of the damage is to bow armor, though there’s a lot of spalling up forward. Fleet will be calling for ferry crews to get them back to the builders’ yards for repair, so stand by for some detached duty.”
Lenski took a deep breath. “Now the bad news. The final casualty lists are out, and they make pretty grim reading. The other bad news is that Operation Falcon has been postponed indefinitely.”
A soft hiss filled the air. Nobody present could have been surprised to hear that the invasion of Commitment was off, but it hurt to hear the news officially.
“The last thing I have for you is that yesterday two Hammer cruisers dropped into Terranovan farspace and fired two antimatter-armed Eaglehawks. Fortunately, they detonated a long way out, so apart from some spectacular atmospheric fireworks followed by a pretty sizable electromagnetic pulse when the gamma radiation arrived, there was nothing to worry about. There was no damage and no casualties. Nobody knows what the Hammers meant by that little stunt. Some sort of demonstration obviously, but to what end we don’t know. So that’s the latest. Any questions?”
“What do we do now, skipper? Surely we’re not going to give up?” one of the engineers asked.
Lenski shook her head emphatically. “Not a bloody chance,” she replied, her voice hardening. “The Hammers have given us a good belting, no argument, but word is that we’ll finish what those Kraa-worshipping Hammer filth have started, and by the time this is all over, they’ll regret they were ever born.”
For a full minute, there was a profound silence. Lenski watched, a grim smile on her face, the faces in front of her taut with steely determination. She nodded. If she had had any doubts about her spacers’ willingness, about their ability to take the fight back to the Hammers, they were gone.
Michael stared at the glass of beer Petty Officer Bienefelt had put down in front of him. She was unimpressed. Canteen etiquette was strict: Buyee raises glass first.
“Fuck’s sake, sir!” she complained. “You are one hell of a slow drinker, and I’m dying of thirst here.”
“Yeah, I know, Matti. Sorry. Here’s to. . well, here’s to anything that gives the Hammer grief,” he finished lamely, raising his glass.
“Amen to that.” Bienefelt downed most of her beer in one swallow. “So what do you think? Captain seemed pretty sure it would be business as usual.”
“I don’t know, Matti. Wish it was business as usual, but that’s hard to see. Things have changed. People say what the Hammer did off Terranova was only a stunt, but it doesn’t seem like a stunt to me. Seems more like. .” He paused for a moment to think.
Bienefelt finished the sentence for him. “A message?”
Michael nodded. “Spot on, Matti. That’s exactly right. It’s a message.”
“Okay, it’s a message, but what does it mean?”
“Well, I’m not sure.” His frustration showed in hands clenched into fists. “But. .”
“But what?”
“Well, I hate to think this, but only one thing makes any sense. I think they are telling us to give them what they want or they’ll destroy Terranova. Shit! We know they can.”
Bienefelt frowned skeptically. “They’d do that? I know they’re Hammers, but would they destroy a whole planet? Surely not.”
“That’s the million-FedMark question, Matti.”
Michael was quiet for a long time. He looked Bienefelt right in the eye. “You know what, Matti. I think they might. If we push them too hard, if they think we’re serious about invading Commitment, then they might. What have the people who run the Hammer Worlds got to lose? If we invade, all that rotten Hammer of Kraa bullshit comes crashing down; the jokers who run the place all have their balls cut off before being strung up from the nearest lamppost. Jesus, if it was you, would you care too much about Terranova?”
Bienefelt shook her head. “Guess not, but if they nuke Terranova, we can do the same to them, surely.”
Michael smiled grimly. “Maybe we can. Then they can. Mutually assured destruction it’s called, if I remember my history properly. So a stalemate is where this is all heading.”
He shook his head despairingly.
“Another beer, sir?”
“Why not?” Michael lifted his empty glass.
Bienefelt shook her head and pushed her glass across the table. “Oh, no. This one’s your shout.”
“Tightwad!”
Lenski waved Michael into a seat.
“Right. I’ve got new orders for you. You are to take the Adamant back to Terranova for repairs. You’re scheduled to leave in twenty-four hours, so I suggest you get your gear together and get across to her. You’ll get detailed orders on board.”
Michael stared for a moment. “Um, yes, sir. Anyone else from Eridani?”
“Yes. I’m giving you Pavel as your chief engineer, plus four techs. Who do you want for coxswain?”
Silly question, Michael thought. “Petty Officer Bienefelt if I can, sir.”
Lenski nodded. “Thought you might, but that’s fine by me. Have her pick eight spacers as working hands. Not that there’s going to be much to do. The AIs will do the work. Any questions?”
“Only one, sir. Who’s the skipper to be?”
Lenski’s eyebrows shot up. “Jeez, Michael. You’re a bit slow today. You, of course, you bonehead!”
Michael’s mouth dropped open, “Me? Adamant’s a light cruiser. I’m only a junior lieutenant.”
Lenski laughed at Michael’s confusion. “Let’s not get carried away, Michael. Yes, it’s a light cruiser, but a pretty battered one, and it’s only a ferry trip. Go on, off you go. We’ll see you back here Friday morning. Go on, go!”
“Sir!”
When he left Lenski’s cabin, Michael tried not altogether successfully not to let the news that Pavel Duricek, the king of pompous windbags, was going to be his engineer get him down. Still, at least it was a short run, and he would have Matti as his coxswain. She would keep things in line.