Graham Paul - The battle for Commitment planet

"I understand," Michael said softly. "I'm sorry, too. I'll miss you all." He looked right into Jackson's face. "I know you think I'm wrong doing this, but I have my reasons. We all do. I hope you can at least understand that. I wish there'd been another way, but there isn't. Chief Bienefelt?"

"Sir?"

"Take them away."

"Sir."

When the spacers were gone, Michael looked at those left. "Now, the rest of you," he said. "You need to be sure about this. This is a one-way ticket. There's no going back. It will be dangerous. It will be hard. I don't know if any of us will ever see home again."

"May I speak, sir?" Leading Spacer Paarl said, coming to his feet.

"Of course."

"I think I'm right in saying that your mother and sister were onboard the Mumtaz when the Hammers hijacked it."

"Yes, they were."

"The man in charge of the hijack operation, Andrew Comonec. He shot a woman in cold blood soon after his men took the ship. You remember that?"

"How can I forget? My sister still has nightmares."

"That woman, the woman he shot, she was my grandmother, sir," Paarl said, the pain of memory all too evident on his face. "Agnetha Jasmina Paarl was her name, and I loved her like she was my own mother. She was ninety-seven years old, going to see her sister for the first time in fifty years. She was a good woman. She never harmed a soul, and the Hammers shot her out of hand. For me," he continued, "this is a no-brainer. Just thought you should know where I'm coming from, sir," he finished, voice cracking, overwhelmed by emotion.

"You're not alone, spacer. Welcome aboard. Now, Leading Spacer Faris."

"Yes, sir?"

"We didn't think you'd want any part of this. You sure?"

"Yes, sir. I am," Faris said, his voice rock-steady. "Absolutely sure."

"What about the wife and kid? I can't think of a better reason to say no."

"Ah, yes. The family." Faris's eyes flicked from side to side. "Ah, yes, sir. Umm, well… I meant to tell the coxswain, sir, but hadn't gotten around to it. Received a vidmail from Lori a few days ago. Things haven't been too good between us for a while, and Lori wants a divorce. So I figured… well, I figured, what the hell. Anyway, turns out the kid's not even mine, so a few years' absence won't be that big a burden. I'm in, sir. No problems."

"Fine. If you're sure," Michael said, amazed yet again by the things he discovered about the spacers under his command. "Right. We've a lot to get through, so that will do. We'll be dropping into normal space in… let me see… yes, about three hours from now to drop off those who don't want any part of this, and then we'll be on our way. There'll be a more detailed briefing after we've jumped back in pinchspace. The XOs set up the AIs with a detailed sim of the operation. We'll do a first run-through when the briefing's over. Unless there are any questions… No? Good. I'll see you all later. Carry on, please." He turned to Ferreira and Sedova. "Let's do the last of them."

"Not looking forward to this, sir," Ferreira said.

"Nor me," Michael said, grim-faced. The command pilot and loadmaster of Redwood's new heavy lander, Hell Bent, were unknown quantities. He had no feel for how they might respond. One thing was for sure, though: They were in for the biggest surprise of their short careers.

Junior Lieutenant Acharya and Petty Officer Krilic waited in Conference-6, a small, bleak compartment boasting a table, chairs, and a single bulkhead-mounted holovid. They came to their feet and snapped to attention when Michael entered.

"Sit, please," Michael said, taking a seat opposite the pair. He waited until Ferreira and Sedova sat down on either side of him. "I have something to ask both of you, but first I want you to watch a holovid. Then the XO will tell you what comes next. So sit back and pay attention. Okay?"

"Sir," the pair replied, their faces turning to utter bafflement when the menacing figure of Colonel Erwin Hartspring appeared on the holovid and started to speak, the flattened vowels, chopped syllables, and staccato delivery stamping him indelibly as a Hammer.

"Hello, Lieutenant Helfort, or may I call you Michael?" the man said. "Do you remember me? Yes, I'm sure you do, but just in case…"

When Ferreira finished summarizing Operation Gladiator, Acharya and Krilic sat unmoving, their mouths hanging open, faces drawn tight in shocked disbelief.

Acharya spoke first. "Sir, you cannot be serious," Hell Bent's command pilot croaked. "I understand the problem, I sympathize, but… but this is mutiny, sir, not to mention about a hundred other crimes. Surely there must be a better way. A legal way. Surely?"

"I wish there was, Lieutenant, but trust me, there isn't," Michael said. "I would not be sitting here doing this if there was a better way. I hate doing this to you, putting you on the spot. I know it's not fair, but that's just the way it is. I know you don't know me well enough to trust me, but sometimes in life that's just the way things turn out. That's the real question here: Are you prepared to trust me or not? There's nothing more I can tell you. You know everything we know. Now it's for you to decide."

"Do I have to decide this instant?" Acharya said, anguished.

"I'm afraid so. Anyone who cannot go along with this will be off-loaded when we drop in a couple of hours. You have to decide now."

"Shit," Acharya muttered. "Sorry, sir, but that's one hell of an ask." His head went down and stayed there.

"I know," Michael said. "You think about it for a moment. Petty Officer Krilic?"

"Sir?"

"You're a bit quiet."

Krilic sighed. "I am, sir, but only because I've decided."

"Oh?"

"Yes, sir. Part of me… no, that's not right. Most of me wants to agree with you. Like most spacers, I'm not happy with the way Fleet's handling things, not happy at all, but I can't go along with you. I'm sorry. Do I need to say more than that?"

"No, no, you don't," Michael said. "It's your call. If you're sure"-Krilic nodded-"that's quite okay. Jayla?"

"Sir. Come with me, Petty Officer Krilic."

The silence continued long after the pair had left. Michael, conscious of all the things he needed to finish before Redwood dropped into normalspace, forced himself to wait. Operation Gladiator needed Acharya. At last, his head lifted. He looked Michael right in the eye.

"You have no right to ask me to be part of Gladiator, sir… none at all, and I will resent what you've done to me here for as long as I live. It's wrong, so wrong I even don't know where to start. So I won't waste your time trying. Suffice it to say"-Michael held his breath-"that you can count me in, sir."

Michael breathed out slowly. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Please, sir, don't thank me." Acharya's tone turned abrupt, sharp. "Let's be very clear. I'm not doing it for you."

Michael blinked. Acharya might have volunteered, but that did not mean he should be part of Gladiator. Was he agreeing to go along just to be the hero, the spacer who saved the Federation from the worst mutiny in Fleet history? Acharya was a smart man, but even smart people were stupid sometimes. Michael knew he had been.

"I understand that," Michael said. "So tell me why you are doing it. I need to know. If I'm to trust you," he added under his breath.

"Well, sir. Petty Officer Krilic's partly right, but there's more to it. Twenty months ago, I was part of MARFOR 3. We'd embarked in Tourville and were training flat out for the invasion of Commitment. Then the Hammers kicked our ass at Comdur. Since then, all I've done is training, training, and more training, and for what? I'll be dead before we ever invade the Hammers. I've not seen action once, which was why I was more than happy when posted to Redwood. With your reputation, sir, I was damn sure I wouldn't be sitting around scratching my ass waiting to do my next training sim, even though I didn't grind my way through combat flight school to go through this war picking off Hammer signal intelligence stations one by one. Sorry, sir, don't mean to… you know…"