NRA command center, Branxton Ranges, Commitment
“That’s a damn shame,” Major Gidisu said as she frowned at the long list of names Colonel Tekin had put up on the holovid. “I’ve scraped every barrel and shaken every tree, and the best I can do is sixty-five teams.”
“So few,” Michael said. “Sorry, Major,” he went on, seeing the scowl on Gidisu’s face. “I’m not being critical. I know how stretched you are with Juggernaut. It’s just a shame we couldn’t target everyone on Colonel Tekin’s list.”
“It is,” Gidisu said, “and trust me, I’m sending anyone who can walk and shoot a gun at the same time. I don’t have anyone left.”
“Your list,” Michael said to Tekin, “it’s been prioritized?”
Tekin nodded. “Yes. The people the Hammers can least afford to lose are at the top.”
“Do you need any more from us?”
“No,” Gidisu said. “My ops planners will brief the teams; they’ll go out tonight.”
Michael frowned. “The Hammers have the Branxtons well and truly sewn up. How will you get everyone out?”
Gidisu smiled. “With the help of our friends inside the Hammer marines, usually in one of their truckbots. And if that’s not enough, we’ll do what we always do: resort to bribery, corruption, and threats of extreme violence. Works every time. Chief Councillor Polk likes to talk about the ring of steel he has put around the Branxtons, but that’s bullshit Hammer propaganda. His ring has more holes in it than a colander. We can always get our people out.”
“What about DocSec?”
“After what they’ve done to the marines, it’s a brave DocSec trooper who tries to stop a marine convoy to run identity checks. DocSec won’t try unless they’re in company strength, and even then they prefer not to.”
“It gets better,” Tekin said. “Last week we airlifted an entire battalion and all their gear from the Branxtons to the Velmar Mountains, 3,000 kilometers, and all courtesy of a friendly heavy lifter crew from the 662nd Marine Squadron.”
“How the hell did you do that?”
“The lifter was returning to Yamaichi for routine maintenance. It made an unscheduled landing to check out a problem, and our guys hopped aboard. Of course, it never went anywhere near Yamaichi. The lifter’s now tucked away in a cave in the Velmars. You never know; it might come in handy one day.”
Michael shook his head at the brass-balled audacity of it all. “General Vaas said the marines weren’t all they seemed to be.”
“They’re not,” Tekin said, “though the general is more positive than we are about the marines’ combat ability. Even after all they’ve been through, they’ll still fight if they have to.”
“We’ll see,” Michael said. “Anyway, I think we’re done here. Can you keep me posted, Major?”
“Of course.”
Michael followed Tekin and Gidisu out and headed for the ENCOMM canteen. He grabbed a bowl of gruel-the only way to describe the green-brown slop produced by the antiquated foodbots-and a mug of coffee and found a quiet corner to eat a belated breakfast. It was a struggle, and not because the food was so indifferent. No, it was something more basic, and it took him a while to work it out.
When he did, it was simple: Right now, he had nothing to do. Of course, Vaas being Vaas, there’d be another task for him, but only when the general found the time to dig one out.
Until then, he would be just another staff officer hanging around headquarters doing not much while others risked their lives.
Screw that, he thought. Back on Terranova, he had promised to hunt down and kill Polk and Hartspring, and that was what he would do. But Anna came first; more than anything he wanted to be with her again, if only for an hour.
And he knew exactly what he needed to do to get away from ENCOMM and back to her. Dumping the remains of his meal in the recycling, he set off to find General Vaas.
“Sergeant Shinoda. Can you spare a minute?”
“Sure.” Shinoda stopped; her eyes narrowed. “Hey, wait! Are those colonel’s eagles?”
Michael’s face flushed with embarrassment. “Uh, yeah, they are.”
“Colonel Helfort … hmmm,” Shinoda said. “It does have a certain ring to it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Michael muttered; he knew he’d never hear the last of it. “I know you were planning to join the 3rd of the 120th, but I need you for a mission.”
“Best I hear what it is, then.”
“You will, but before I do, you need to know that it’s risky, so you can say no.”
“Okay.”
Shinoda stood silent for a while when Michael had finished. “Hell of a mission,” she said, “not that I’m all that much the wiser.”
“Sorry about that,” Michael said, “but that’s just the way things are. Think of it as taking the long way around to get to the 3rd.”
“So why me? There must be hundreds of people here who could do the job.”
“Two reasons. First, I’d trust you with my life. Can’t say that about anyone else.”
“Okay.”
“Second, after we’ve rubbed in a bit of dirt and put on crappy clothes, we look like Hammers. Unlike most of the Feds around here; they’re all too big.”
Shinoda sighed. “Makes sense,” she said, “so I suppose I’ll have to say yes. I don’t like pissing off colonels.”
“Thanks.”
“But you’ll need to explain to me where we’ll get our IDs from. Without them, we won’t last an hour out there.”
“I don’t know how, but Major Gidisu says she can organize them. They’ll be good for only forty-eight hours, but that should be enough.”
Shinoda nodded. “I’ll tell the team I’m not going with them.”
Michael put a datastick into Shinoda’s hand. “Ask one of the guys to make sure my wife gets this,” he said. “I’ll be in ENCOMM reading intelligence reports if you need me.”
Two hours later, Michael shut down the workstation he’d been allocated by Major Davoodi-an antique holovid atop a battered plasfiber desk tucked away in a laser-cut alcove away from ENCOMM’s barely controlled chaos-and sat back. The strength of the NRA’s intelligence networks was impressive. Some of the reports he’d read had come from senior sources, some inside the Hammer military and others inside DocSec. None of them are patriots, Michael decided, turning to the next report. They’re just rats leaving a sinking ship, and nobody should forget it.
A voice broke Michael’s concentration. It was Davoodi; he put down a welcome mug of coffee. “Thought you might like a brew.”
“You’re a mind reader, Major,” Michael said gratefully. “I’ve just read the reports on those poor Hammer bastards in the 288th. They must regret the day they decided to mutiny.”
“They won’t have long to regret anything.” Davoodi’s face was grim. “We’ve just got word that DocSec is planning to execute the ringleaders tomorrow.”
“They don’t waste time, do they?”
Davoodi laughed, a short, bitter laugh without the slightest trace of humor. “They convened an investigating tribunal, mustered what was left of the regiment, found them all guilty, sentenced some to be shot and the rest to the mass driver mines on the Moons of Hell … and that all took less than five minutes.”
Michael broke the silence that followed. “But it is significant … that even the Hammer marines have had enough, I mean.”
“You’re right. People like Polk don’t seem to understand that you can’t go on beating people forever. In the end, they will fight back.”
“And they are, which is good for us, I guess.”
“It is. And it’s not just the marines. The riots on Faith have flared up again, only this time they’ve spread to Ksedicja and Cascadia. With a little help from Revivalist agents provocateurs,” he added with an evil grin.
“I’d say the Hammers made a big mistake transferring MARFOR 21 back to Commitment. The guy in charge of security on Faith-”
“General Killian.”
“Yes, Killian; he must be really pissed.”
Davoodi nodded. “That’s what we hear, not that complaining is doing him any good. Even though the transfer of MARFOR 21 to Commitment left him dangerously understrength, we don’t think he’ll get his marines back no matter how stretched planetary defense and DocSec are. All Polk cares about is keeping us bottled up here.”
“He’s right about that,” Michael said. “Once the NRA takes McNair, it’s game over, and he knows it.”
“Here’s hoping,” Davoodi said, raising his coffee, “and here’s to Juggernaut. The beginning of the end.”
Michael raised his mug in response. “To Juggernaut,” he echoed. “The beginning of the end.”