Helfort's War Book 4: The Battle for Commitment Planet (50 page)

The convoy of troop carriers eased its way down the night streets until waved to a halt by the marine security detail protecting the sprawling compound that housed Marine Force 8’s senior officers. The sergeant in charge made his way over to the passenger window.

“Identification,” the man snapped.

Without a word, the colonel in charge of the night’s operation flashed his card.

“That seems to be in order, sir,” the sergeant said, stepping
half a pace back and saluting. “May I know your business here to night, sir? I was not notified of your arrival.”

“No, Sergeant, you may not know my business. Now stand aside and allow my men to pass. That’s an order.”

Confused and conflicted, the sergeant hesitated, torn between his duty as a marine and the overriding authority vested in all DocSec officers, an authority he had, along with every other Hammer, been taught from birth to obey. He made up his mind. “Please wait here, sir. I will let the duty officer know that you—”

“Do that, Sergeant, and you’ll never see your family again.”

The sergeant’s face tightened into an angry scowl. “That’s as may be, Colonel, but I have my orders, too,” he said. “Wait here, please.”

The colonel ignored the sergeant. “Drive through,” he ordered his driver. “That pissant bit of timber won’t stop us.”

“Sir,” the driver said, stamping his foot down, the carrier accelerating hard into the security barrier.

Nobody was ever able to establish who fired the first shot, but it quickly became a matter of only academic interest; the marines made short work of the colonel’s troop carrier. There was a moment of silence before, without a word being said, the marines fanned out and started to take out the rest of the DocSec convoy and any troopers stupid enough to show themselves. The night was torn apart by the flat, slapping crack of rifle fire, a terrible blood lust driving the marines through the night until the last panicked DocSec trooper was cornered and shot out of hand.

The sergeant in charge of the security detail leaned forward and spit on the man’s body. “Fucking DocSec scum,” he said. “Lucky we didn’t cut your balls off first, you piece of garbage.” He turned to look at the rest of his men. “I don’t know about you,” he continued, “but I think it’s time we made ourselves very scarce. I’m off to join the NRA. Good luck, boys.”

With that, he was off, running hard into a night now raucous with Klaxons calling the marine base to action.

   “Admiral Belasz is here to see you, sir.”

“Send him in.”

Without a word, Belasz entered Polk’s office and took his seat, his face gray with fatigue and stress.

“What’s the latest, Admiral?”

“Well, sir,” Belasz said, “I’ve spoken to the new commanding general of marines. The situation is still very confused, but what appears to have happened is this. Every one of the three marine bases refused to allow in the DocSec snatch squads sent to arrest the senior marine officers responsible for the Branxton fiasco.”

“Not one?” Polk said. “I don’t believe it. Not one? The marines refused to obey DocSec?”

“That’s what happened, sir.”

“Kraa!” Polk hissed softly. “Go on.”

“At Besud and Beslan the standoff ended when the officers ordered their men to stand down and hand themselves over.”

Polk shook his head; that men went so willingly to what they must have known was certain death amazed him. “What about Yamaichi?”

“Not so good, sir. We don’t know how or why, but there was a firefight with the marines securing the senior officers’ compound. The entire DocSec arrest squad was killed, and matters got out of hand despite all attempts by MARFOR 8’s commanders to regain control. A hard core of maybe a thousand marines went on a rampage. Some have disappeared, probably deserted to the NRA, and the rest pulled back to the airfield.”

“Tell me the situation is contained, Admiral.”

“Not yet, but it will be, sir. The rest of MARFOR 8 are standing back waiting to see what happens. I’m unwilling to rely on them to take back control, so marines from Amokran are on their way. They will secure the base and put a cordon around the airfield. If they cannot persuade the men to surrender, they will have to be taken by force.”

Polk’s fingers tapped out his concern. “You think marines will attack marines, Admiral?”

Belasz blinked. “I hope it won’t come to that, sir.”

“Answer the damn question!” Polk snapped.

“I’m afraid they may not, sir,” Belasz said, “especially if they believe they are doing DocSec’s dirty work, if they believe the men will be shot out of hand. The punitive action taken against
the commanders of the Branxton operation has created a great deal of resentment among ordinary marines. Perhaps …”

“Perhaps what?” Polk said, glaring at Belasz from eyes narrowed in suspicion and anger.

“Perhaps … perhaps the decision to hand the senior commanders responsible for that operation over to DocSec should be rethought, sir.”

Polk sat back in his chair, visibly angry, eyes locked on Belasz’s face. The admiral refused to back down, returning Polk’s stare. The chief councillor backed down first; looking away, he pushed the chair back and stood up. He walked over to the window. “You’re questioning me now, Admiral?” he said, spinning on his heel to look directly at Belasz. “I’ve had men shot for less, and believe me when I say that I’ll have you shot if necessary.”

Belasz straightened up in his seat. “I know that, Chief Councillor. Frankly, I cannot worry about that anymore,” he said with a dismissive wave of a hand. “So yes, I think I am questioning not you but the decision. In my opinion, it’s a bad decision. I’m sorry I cannot agree with you, but a bad decision is a bad decision even if it’s made by you … sir.”

Polk stared, eyes narrowed in fury. “A bad decision?” he snarled.

“Yes, sir,” Belasz said with a firmness belied by a tongue flickering restlessly across dry lips. “It is a bad decision. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but we cannot continue to execute or imprison our best officers every time there is a military setback. I am the third chief of defense in what? Less than two years? In that time, Space Fleet has seen DocSec rip the guts out of its officer corps not once but twice. First after the Battle of Hell’s Moons and then after the loss of our antimatter plant. Planetary defense has been purged by DocSec after the attacks on Yallan, Gwalia, and Perkins. Now it’s the marines’ turn, Kraa help them.” Belasz paused, shaking his head. “It takes DocSec only a few hours to tear down and destroy what it takes the military years and billions of k-dollars to build: an effective cadre of officers capable of leading the Hammer Worlds to victory,” he continued, face flushed and voice rising as anger began to take hold. “And what have we ended up
with? Officers who spend more time worrying about staying alive than they do about defeating our enemies. It’s a bad decision, sir, because it costs us a lot more than the lives of a few officers. And why do we do what we do? Because that’s the way we’ve always done business. It’s bullshit, Chief Councilor, and it’s time you were told that.”

Belasz’s outburst had triggered a wave of raw fury that threatened to overwhelm Polk; the last man to talk to him so bluntly was long dead. He regained his self-control with an enormous effort, a tiny grain of common sense telling him that Belasz was not all wrong. “By Kraa, Admiral,” he hissed through still-clenched teeth, “you take some chances.”

“Some things have to be said, sir,” Balasz said, eyes still blazing anger and defiance, “whatever the consequences.”

Suddenly the fight went out of Polk. He slumped back into his seat. Belasz had a point, but the problem with the Yamaichi marines was much bigger than the admiral allowed.

Much bigger, so big that it threatened his hold on power.

The fact was that ordinary marines had refused to cooperate with DocSec; the Hammer system had a linchpin, and it was the people’s unquestioning acceptance of DocSec’s authority. If well-trained and disciplined marines started standing up to DocSec, the foundation on which the entire apparatus of state terror rested was at risk.

That he could not allow. Not now, not ever, not if he wanted the Hammer of Kraa to endure. No matter what Belasz might say. He straightened up in his seat the better to look Belasz right in the face. “I’ll forget your insubordination, Admiral … this time. Do not ever presume on my tolerance again. Is that understood?”

“But sir,” Belasz protested, “how am—”

“Enough, Admiral, enough!” Polk’s voice slashed across Belasz. “Enough or by Kraa …” Polk drew in a huge breath, letting it out in a long, slow sigh. “I take note of your comments concerning the effect of what I think you called DocSec purges.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But,” Polk continued, “this Yamaichi business is another matter. The arrests of the marine officers responsible for the
Branxton debacle must stand, and that includes General Baxter. The old fool stood in front of the entire Defense Council and assured every last one of us that Medusa could not fail, and it did. In any case, I will not compromise DocSec’s authority.”

Belasz’s mouth started to open, then snapped shut. Wise move, Polk said to himself, wise move. “As for the rabble at Yamaichi, there will be no deals with the mutineers, and since you are obviously not convinced that the marines of MARFOR 8 can do the job, I want them replaced by a combined planetary defense and DocSec task force. I expect a detailed briefing on how you plan to retake control of Yamaichi inside twenty-four hours. That is all. You may go.”

Belasz sat, his mouth tight in a thin, bloodless line. For a moment, Polk thought he was going to take him on. Just try me, Admiral, he thought, and you’ll be joining the commanding general of marines in front of a DocSec firing squad before the day is over. But Belasz’s survival instincts must have kicked in; without another word, he stood up and left.

Polk watched him go. Something told him he might be looking for a new man to run the Hammer defense forces rather sooner than he had planned.

“… so there you have it, sir. It’s a bit risky, but with a bit of work it’s doable.”

Captain Adrissa’s eyes had long since opened wide in shock and disbelief. “A bit risky?” she sputtered. “A bit risky? You cannot be serious, Michael. What you are suggesting is, is … insane! I cannot order anyone to execute a mission as dangerous as this. I cannot, and I will not.”

“You don’t have to, sir.”

Adrissa snorted. “Volunteers? Is that the answer?” She shook
her head. “I don’t think so. Nobody will volunteer for this mission unless I ask for volunteers, and I won’t. Since I cannot order anyone to carry it out, it’s a nonstarter. Sorry, Michael, but that’s the way it is. We need to find another way.”

“Sorry, sir, but that’s not right. You just need one volunteer, and that’s me. I dragged everyone into this mess, so I think it’s up to me get everyone out.”

Adrissa sat back and steepled her fingers. She stared at Michael for a long time. “You’re a stubborn little bastard, Helfort; that much is a gold-plated fact,” she said at last. “And yes, you did drag everyone into this mess. So tell me. If I don’t give this crazy plan of yours the green light, you’ll harass and hound me until I do. Am I right?”

“Pretty much, sir, pretty much, but to be serious, I know what I’ve suggested is risky, but so’s being stuck here on Commitment while the Hammers kick the crap out of us for the next ten years. I’ve only had two days to think the mission through, and I agree with you. As it stands, it’s too risky. Give me a week and let me see if I can get the risk down to something you can live with.”

“One week.”

“I’ll also need access to ENCOMM’s intelligence knowledge base. I need to know everything they know about the Hammer’s ballistic missile and nearspace defenses, and when I say everything, I mean—”

“Everything, got it.” Adrissa frowned. “Mmm, that might be a problem. They keep their intel very close to the chest. Leave it to me; I’ll see if I can persuade General Vaas to make an exception in your case.”

“He’ll want to know why, sir.”

“He will, but since your plan …” Adrissa paused. Shaking her head, she continued. “Plan? Not even close to being a plan, not yet, anyway. What was I saying? Oh, yes. Since your deranged scheme involves the NRA, I suppose we might as well bite the bullet and tell him what we’re thinking. The sooner we get Vaas onside, the better.”

“Then I guess I’d better get started, sir. The general will want to see something a bit less, er … adventurous.”

Adrissa laughed. “He will, he sure will. Right. You’d better
get started. Make sure you don’t discuss this with anybody, not even with the lovely Sergeant Helfort, and that’s an order.”

“Aye, aye, sir. By the way, she’s been promoted. It’s Lieutenant Helfort now.”

Adrissa rolled her eyes. “Oh, for chrissakes, two Lieutenant Helforts! One was bad enough. Go!”

“Sir.”

“Hello, spacer. Why so glum?”

“Oh, hi, Kat.” Michael pushed his coffee mug around the tabletop. “Oh, the usual. Just got a vidcomm from Anna.”

“And let me guess,” Sedova said, her face a sympathetic frown. “Your plans for some time together have just been trashed?”

Michael sighed. “Yup. The 120th is going back into the line sooner than she expected.”

“I’d heard. Seems General Vaas thinks we’ve all had enough time to recover, so it’s back on the offensive we go.”

“So it seems,” Michael said. “Must say, I’m surprised. The NRA might have kicked the Hammers back where they came from, but it cost them.”

“Yeah, it did, and it shows. We’ve just been briefed on ENCOMM’s plans for the next three months. All small-scale stuff.”

“Which begs the question, how—”

“Are they ever going to win this fucking war?” Sedova said with a scowl. “That’s the only question that matters to me.”

Michael tried not to wince; every time the question was asked—and it was asked a lot—it reminded him that he and he alone was responsible for Sedova’s predicament. “That is the question,” he said, “and I wish I knew the answer.”