Graham Paul - The battle for Commitment planet

"Don't mess around, do they?"

"No, they don't. It's the Hammer way, and it's one reason why the average Hammer's only loyalty is to himself. Anyway, whatever the reasons, the best PGDF could manage was one air-portable Gordian battery to intercept you, and thank Kraa for it. Most likely, the poor bastard who ordered the operation's been shot for his troubles."

"Doesn't say why Sasaki left it so late, though," Michael said.

"Maybe he only got his chance in all the confusion of breaking camp."

"Don't know. There were a lot of people running around, I must say. Anyway, I'm sure the interrogators will get the answer to that one. Now, changing the subject, and don't take this the wrong way. The Chalidze operation? Impressive."

"Yes and no," Hok said. "Good that it went to plan. Bad that it cost us the people we lost. The worst thing?"

"What?"

"The fact that operations like Chalidze will never finish this war." She sighed heavily. "What the hell. Beats being a Hammer marine, which is what I was in a previous life. Come on, let me introduce you to a few people. After the death and destruction you dumped on Perkins, Yallan, and Gwalia, people are keen to say thanks. Those bases have been a massive pain in the ass."

"Oh?"

"That's where the air support for their ground operations against us came from. That's why we were able to take out Chalidze; we couldn't have done it a week ago. Planetary ground defense fliers from Yallan would have been all over us five minutes after we blew the wire, and as usual the marines weren't interested in lending a hand. Baxter, the commanding general of the Hammer marines, hates the PGDF with a passion. Last we heard, Baxter is still refusing to allow his landers to relocate closer to McNair. He says it's PGDF's fault their bases were trashed, so they have to fix them."

Michael whistled softly. "Shit! How screwed up can you get?"

"That's the Hammers for you. We know the marines and planetary ground defense hate each other more than they hate us, and long may that state of affairs continue. Anyway, come on. People to see."

"Quick question, something that's been bugging me?"

"Go on," Hok said.

"General Vaas has a gold sunburst on a chain around his neck, the same sunburst worn by DocSec officers. What's the story?"

"Ah, well spotted. Happy with the short version?"

"That'll do."

"The general ripped it off the uniform of the first piece of DocSec shit he killed. A lieutenant called Morales, Lieutenant Eric Morales. He arrested one of Vaas's friends, then beat him to death during interrogation. Vaas caught up with him and blew his brains out. It's become a tradition with NRA troopers ever since. That answer the question?"

"Ah, yes," Michael said, surprised but not shocked. "It does. Not a man to cross, then?"

"No, definitely not. Oh, by the way, I almost forgot. Have a read of this." Hok pushed a tattered piece of paper across the desk to him.

"Oh, shit," Michael muttered as he read it. He pushed it back. "Seems I'm now worth ten million dollars."

"Hey, be happy. You're only worth that much alive," Hok said. "Ten mil's not bad, though, considering you've only been here a few days. The bounty on General Vaas's head is half that. Somebody out there must hate you big time. Come on, let's go."

Michael woke with a start for a moment, confused, wondering what the hell was happening. Belatedly, he worked out that it was Anna wriggling her way into the narrow bunk alongside him.

"Anna," he whispered. "What time is it?"

"Too late is what time it is. I'm butchered. Talk to me in the morning."

"Get a result?"

"Yes. Sasaki tipped off the Hammers. Adrissa's people had their doubts about him. They were supposed to be keeping an eye on him, but somehow he managed to slip away and fire off a comm without being detected. Sonofabitch."

"Shit. That's not good."

"Adrissa's totally pissed. Anyway, she's told Damishqui's provost marshal to prepare the brief of evidence and pronto. Poor bastard won't be getting much sleep."

"That's quick."

"Adrissa's worried about the NRA. The whole business is a huge embarrassment. My guess is she doesn't want to appear weak. Look, Michael. I'm tired, it's late. Leave me be. I'll fill in the gaps tomorrow."

"Okay." Tuesday, October 2, 2401, UD Offices of the Supreme Council for the Preservation of the Faith, McNair, Commitment

The Defense Council chamber was silent as Polk's outburst of incandescent rage soaked into the tired acoustic paneling that lined the walls. Taking a ragged breath, Polk struggled to recover his equilibrium. Kraa help me, he swore silently. This bullshit has to stop.

"So," he hissed, his voice all silken menace, "once again we see what happens when planetary defense refuses to trust the marines. Now the NRA has the services of not one, not two, but three Fed assault landers, landers we should have destroyed the instant they broke cover. No, no," he said putting his hand out to forestall the inevitable objections from the PGDF's supporters. "It's not all planetary defense's fault, though it has good reason not to trust the marines: Sit down and shut up, Councillor. I don't give a flying fuck that your father was once commanding general of the PGDF, nor do I think that gives you the obligation to defend them come what may."

Polk paused, breathing heavily, face red with rage. "Where was I? Oh, yes. There is fault on both sides, both sides." He paused to glare in turn at the men around the table. "And now," he continued, "the time has come to fix this problem."

"What are you proposing, Chief Councillor?" Under-Councillor Kaapsen said. "There is no mention of this item in the briefing papers for this meeting of the council."

"No," Polk said. "There isn't. You have a problem with that?" he added, face hardening into a belligerent scowl. He had no time for Kaapsen, the man responsible for the PGDF. He had the job only because he was what his political allies liked to call "a safe pair of hands" when it came to looking after planetary defense's interests.

"No, no, no, Chief Councillor, of course not, no," Kaapsen said, the words tripping over themselves in his hurry to get them out.

Polk snorted. Kaapsen might be a safe pair of hands, but he was gutless. "As I was saying," he continued, "we must find a way to ensure that the marines and PGDF work together. Only a blind fool can fail to see the threat the NRA poses to all of us, and only an even bigger fool would argue that forcing this Council to meet every time the PGDF needs the assistance of the Hammer of Kraa marines is not utter stupidity."

"It may be," Councillor Jones said. "And I agree that it is," he added hastily when he saw the anger flooding across Polk's face, "but it is the Constitution."

"That's true," Polk conceded, "but what good will the Constitution be if the NRA wins this war and puts the Nationalists into power? The first thing they will do is to tear the Constitution up. So what is it to be, Councillors? Slavish adherence to a piece of paper or pragmatic good sense in the face of an unprecedented challenge to our authority, a challenge that will see us all dead if we fail to meet it?"

"What is it you propose, Chief Councillor?" Jones asked.

"A new unitary command authority, responsible for all military operations against the NRA, to which would be tasked all PGDF forces in the McNair theater of operations along with Marine Forces 3, 6, 8, and 11. I believe-"

Whatever else Polk had wanted to say went unheard as the room erupted in violent protest that engulfed all present, voices rising as everyone struggled to make his point. It took repeated hammering of his fist on the table before Polk could restore order.

"Gentlemen," he said. "This is no way to conduct Defense Council business. I do not know how often I have to say the obvious: The NRA poses a serious threat, the most serious in the Worlds' history, a threat that will see us all hanging from lampposts if we do not crush it."