Graham Paul - The battle for Commitment planet

"So the race is on, sir?"

"Yes, it is. If we rebuild the fleet before they finish their damn antimatter plant, we can invade: We win, they lose. If they finish their plant first and get enough antimatter warheads onto those damn Eaglehawk missiles of theirs, they win and we lose. It's that simple."

Michael broke what had turned into a long and uncomfortable silence. "Our antimatter project," he said. "What about that? What progress are we making getting our own antimatter missiles into service?"

"Above your pay grade, Michael, so I won't answer. However, the Hammers needed decades to work out how to weaponize antimatter and even longer to work out how to manufacture enough of it to support high-intensity operations, so I leave you to draw your own conclusions."

"Oh, right," Michael said. "Changing the subject, sir."

"Yes?"

"Morale, sir."

Jaruzelska looked at Michael quizzically. "Morale? What about it?"

"Well, sir. Nothing official's come through, but the lower deck is awash with rumors about a mutiny on Palmyra, and-"

Jaruzelska sat upright. "Mutiny on Palmyra? How the hell do you know that, Captain?" she snapped, chopping him off, her eyes blazing with anger. "That's classified information you should not have access to."

"I keep my ear to the ground, sir," Michael protested, raising his hands. "Some things Fleet can't keep secret, and a mutiny's one of them."

Jaruzelska stared at him, the anger draining away. "If word's leaked out, obviously that's true," she said. "Damn. The trash-press will have a field day when they find out."

"There's more, sir."

"More?"

"Yes. Palmyra may be a symptom of a wider problem."

"Oh?" Jaruzelska said with a skeptical frown. "That's not the view inside Fleet. The briefing I received from Fleet personnel said Palmyra's captain triggered the mutiny. The man should never have been given command of anything bigger than a cargo drone. We don't always get our command postings right, especially now, when we are so short of good officers thanks to Comdur."

"I'm sure that's correct, sir, but I think there's more to it. Word is that the troops aren't too keen on the way Fleet's handling things. It seems there are more than a few unhappy spacers out there. They no longer think we can bring this war to a successful conclusion. Putting it bluntly, they're losing faith in management's ability, and that's a worry."

"Your troops, too, Michael?"

"Yes, sir. Not that it's affecting my ship's operational readiness, but they are all thinking people. They see what's happening, and they don't like it any more than…" Michael's voice trailed off into silence.

Jaruzelska finished the sentence for him. "Than you do," she said quietly.

"No, sir."

"How bad is the problem?"

"All I know is what my coxswain tells me, sir, so it's anecdotal, but I trust Chief Bienefelt with my life."

"You know what? I would, too," Jaruzelska said. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"Well, Bienefelt says it's bad. I guess Palmyra proves that."

"Damn it to hell," Jaruzelska said, grim-faced. "I was afraid of this."

"Bienefelt says the problem's widespread, so Fleet may have another Palmyra on its hands if it's not careful. Since Bienefelt is telling me this, I am inclined to take it seriously. She is well connected, that woman."

"She is," Jaruzelska said after a moment's reflection. "Look, it's no secret that things are not going well, and the decision to terminate the dreadnought experiment despite their success at Devastation Reef has made things worse. The latest projections show that we will not have enough spacers to man an invasion fleet capable of taking Commitment inside four years at best. Now, those projections depend on some optimistic assumptions about Fleet's ability to deal with Hammer missiles tipped with antimatter warheads, which they still have enough of in inventory to cause us problems. So I reckon it's going to be more like five years. The Hammers hurt us badly at Comdur. We have a long way to go."

"It's not good, is it?"

"No, Michael, it's not, and it'll be even worse if we can't rely on our spacers to do their duty. I'll talk to the commander in chief. She needs to get a handle on this. Talk to me in a year's time. Maybe Fleet can pull a rabbit or two out of the hat. I'll also talk to Admiral Chou at personnel. I think Fleet needs to establish just how bad things are out there."

"What about the politicians. Have they seen the projections? How do they feel about waiting five years?"

"That's also above your pay grade, Michael, so sorry, no comment."

"Understood, Admiral. Forgive my French, sir, but they'll shit themselves, though."

Jaruzelska shrugged. "Can't say. Anyway, enough of that. Let's talk about you."

Michael's heart sank. Jaruzelska's ability to get to the heart of things was legendary. "Okay, sir," he said, struggling to keep his voice matter-of-fact despite the fact that his heart had started to thump.

"I've been reviewing your recent operations: Balawal, Barcoola, Grendell, Tyrlathi. To be fair, you did what you were sent to do, but I can't say that you executed them with the flair I've come to expect from you. Too many unnecessary risks, too many shortcuts. It's as if you just wanted to get the job done quickly, like… oh, I don't know… like there was something better for you to do, somewhere else you'd rather be."

"Every one of those operations did what it was supposed to do, sir," Michael said. "And the Nyleth system commander hasn't raised any concerns."

Jaruzelska's eyes narrowed in a sudden flare of anger. "That's because he does not know you the way I do, Lieutenant," she said, her words clipped, "and I know you very well. So I strongly suggest that this is not the time to play games with me."

"No, Admiral," Michael said with an apologetic bob of his head; with a sudden stab of fear, he knew it would not take much for the admiral to tear the truth out of him. "Sorry, sir."

"Hmm." Jaruzelska paused. She looked Michael directly in the eye with a focused intensity that kicked his heartbeat up yet another gear. "So tell me… why would that be?" she said.

Fighting back an overwhelming urge to tell Jaruzelska about Anna, Michael forced himself to sound calm and in control. "Well, sir. The honest answer is, I don't know," he said. "But what you say is right. My executive officer shares your concerns, and she's already spoken to me."

Jaruzelska's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "She has? That takes guts. Not many executive officers would have done that."

"Jayla Ferreira's a great XO, sir. She's tough, she's smart, and she's focused. She also has a clear view of right and wrong. I'm lucky to have her."

"I think you are, but she's not the issue here. You are. So what're you doing to fix the problem?"

Michael offered a silent prayer of thanks that Jaruzelska had moved past the still unanswered question: Why was he performing below his best?

"Recognize the problem," he said, "accept it, make sure I deal with recommendations made by my CIC team, consider them, don't dismiss them out of hand. Less Michael Helfort, more Redwood command team."

Jaruzelska smiled. "In other words, act like the Michael Helfort I know so well, the Michael Helfort who blew the Hammer antimatter plant at Devastation Reef to hell."

"Yes, Admiral," Michael said, doing his best to look chastened rather than relieved. He doubted he could have withstood one of Jaruzelska's cross-examinations; he had seen her reduce tougher spacers than he to quivering blobs of jelly.

"I'm pleased to hear it," Jaruzelska said, "because if I'm right about Ferreira, she'll understand precisely what Fleet Regulations have to say on the subject of a captain's fitness to command."

"She does, sir. She told me she understands her obligations under Fleet Regulations, section 34, subsection 15."