Graham Paul - The battle for Commitment planet

"Nor me. Come on, let's grab a bite to eat, and I'll tell you all about it. I'm starving."

Michael followed Hok out of ENCOMM to the canteen without enthusiasm. He might be hungry, but the NRA's food was both awful and monotonous. But food was food, and he was hungry. Silence reigned as the pair shoveled food into empty stomachs.

Pushing her tray away with a soft belch of satisfaction, Hok sat back, mug of coffee in hand. "Kraa, that was good," she said. "I do love that garlic chicken."

"You're kidding me, right?" Michael said, looking up in disbelief.

"Yes, I am. I hate the shit. We have the worst foodbots in humanspace. Now, where was I?"

"Pendulum. Ground ops. Not so good."

"Ah, yeah. The good news is the diversions worked as planned. General Vaas asked me to say well done, by the way. Not too many of those DocSec scum will get home for the weekend. Millfield is a wreck."

"Tell you what, Major. When it comes to killing DocSec troopers, I'm happy to oblige."

Hok's eyebrows lifted at the quiet intensity in Michael's voice. "Don't like them too much, do you?"

"Why would I? The way they treated me the first time around, not to mention that little stunt Colonel Hartspring tried to pull. Bastards, all of them."

Hok grimaced. "No argument. Interesting, though," she added. "They're beginning to worry we might win."

Michael's eyebrows shot up in surprise. This was news. "DocSec is?"

"Seems so. Nothing definite, of course, but DocSec is so badly compromised that we know what their brass is planning before their troopers do. Apparently, more than a few of them are finding reasons to visit Scobie's World, and surprise, surprise, they never come back. Changing the subject, I finally got to see the holovid, by the way."

"The Hartspring vid?"

"Yeah," Hok said. "Nasty piece of work that one."

Unaware he was even doing it, Michael ran a finger lightly down the side of his face where Hartspring's riding crop had sliced him open all those months before. "Tell me. He and I have unfinished business." Michael breathed out slowly to help control the sudden rage. "Can we stick to Pendulum, Major?" he said.

"Sure. Like I was saying, the diversions worked well. Your other landers made quick work of the bases around Perdan. Have to tell you, the general was happy to see them get back safely. They make a difference."

"How did the Daleel diversion go?"

Hok sighed deeply. "I never knew two NRA companies could make so much ruckus. Act like a half brigade, the general said, and that's what they did. We know the Hammers have long been worried about an attack on Daleel, and our guys were so convincing, they forced the Hammers to commit the PGDF quick reaction force from Ojan. Our guys didn't stand much of a chance, but they did the job. Those poor, brave bastards kept the Hammers busy."

Hok was silent for a long time, her head turned away, but not before Michael saw the tears running down her face. His heart went out to her. The troopers tasked with the diversionary attack on Daleel had known their chances of getting out alive were not good. "How many made it back?" he asked finally.

"One," Hok said bitterly.

"One?" Michael said, voice rising in shock.

"One. Only one trooper made it back. A and B Companies, third Battalion, 45th Regiment, no longer exist. Give or take a few, that's two hundred troopers lost."

"Shit," Michael whispered.

"Shit is right. Those Kraa-damned Hammers captured forty-six troopers alive, all wounded… They shot them. Lined them up and shot them," Hok said flatly. "Forty-six troopers. We won't forget them. I sometimes wonder why the Hammers think they can beat us."

Hok was silent for a minute. "Anyway," she continued, "the attack on Perdan's firebases kicked off on schedule. At first…"

Michael lay on his bunk, his mind churning through the events of the day. With the Hammers distracted by the Daleel diversion and the threat of an immediate PGDF counterattack gone, the NRA had overrun the firebases that ringed Perdan without difficulty, their PGDF defenders falling back in the face of an attack relentless in its ferocity, the NRA attackers' bravery almost suicidal. In less than thirty minutes of desperate fighting, five of the firebases had fallen. Ground-attack flyers diverted from the Daleel operation were left circling, unable to assist, the tactical situation on the ground so chaotic that they were unable to separate friend from foe. Destroying what they were not able to steal, the NRA had slipped away south into the protective cover of the forests that surrounded Perdan, hounded and harassed all the way but too spread out to suffer heavy casualties.

That was the good news.

Firebase Merino, occupied by an artillery battalion, was a different matter. In a major intelligence failure, the NRA had failed to spot the arrival of two companies of Hammer marines airlifted in from Beslan to stiffen its PGDF defenders, who were on the brink of falling apart thanks to the battalion's cadre of corrupt and in effective officers. In three hours of bloody hand-to-hand fighting, the marines, aided by their reluctant planetary defense comrades, had fought the NRA's 111th Regiment to a standstill before pushing them back.

The NRA commander in charge of Pendulum's ground forces had made a bad problem worse: slow to understand what was happening to the 111th, she had thrown her reserves to support the attack instead of disengaging. It was too little, too late; any chance the NRA had of withdrawing was blown away by the belated arrival of more marines from Amokran.

Hounded out of Firebase Merino by marine counterattacks, their retreat cut off by air-dropped blocking forces, the NRA troopers had been sliced to pieces, troopers dying as they made desperate attempts to get clear. In the end, only a handful survived the Hammer marines' savage response.

Michael despaired. The Perdan operation was a crucial part of the NRA's strategy. The Branxton Ranges dropped sharply down to meet the floodplains of the Oxus River in the west and the Krommer River in the east. Three sizable towns anchored the Hammer's line of defense protecting the approaches to McNair-Bretonville in the west, Daleel in the east, and Perdan in the center, a small town sprawled across a low saddle-and the NRA was compelled to take them all if it was ever to break out of the Branxtons and drive north to threaten McNair. Judging by the outcome of that day's bloody fighting, its chances of doing that were not good.

That meant-Michael's heart fluttered as the implications hit home-that this damn war was doomed to drag on and on. It meant that all his romantic ideas of helping the NRA liberate their worlds from Hammer oppression were pure fantasy. It meant that he had condemned the spacers and marines who had helped him hijack Redwood, Red River, and Redress to an uncertain future trapped on Commitment. It meant he had destroyed any chance the Fed prisoners might have had of getting home.

And now Anna, the only reason he had come to Commitment, was in the front line fighting alongside the rest of the NRA's 120th. Shit, he swore despairingly, if her regiment was thrown into another Perdan fiasco, if they suffered the way the 111th had, he might never see her again. Nothing could help her-and him-if the Hammers captured her. One thing was for certain.

If that happened, Colonel Hartspring would make sure they both died slow and painful deaths. Sunday, November 11, 2401, UD Chief councillor's residence, McNair City, Commitment

"The idea has great merit, General Baxter, great merit."

"Thank you, sir."

"But," Chief Councillor Polk said, raising a cautionary finger, "will it work? That is the question."

"My staff believes it will, sir, and so do I. We have a solid plan: realistic, conservative, a plan that learns from the mistakes of the past."