Graham Paul - The battle for Commitment planet

While the meeting broke up in a welter of subdued conversation, Adrissa beckoned Michael over.

"Sir?" he said.

"Well done, Michael," Adrissa said. "That was good work, very good."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me," Adrissa said. "Parts one and two were the easy bits. So get started on part three. Now that we understand the problem we're trying to solve, maybe we'll find a solution that works."

"Sir." Thursday, January 3, 2402, UD FLTDETCOMM, Branxton Base, Commitment

The rest of Adrissa's staff had long gone, but still Michael sat at his workstation, his mind worrying away at the challenge Adrissa had dumped in his lap. Exhaustion washed through him, a gray fog that blurred the problem into a chaotic mass of unrelated issues until he no longer knew what he was supposed to be looking at, until lines of analysis fell apart, until the faint voice of common sense told him he was wasting his time.

Not that he would anymore. He had wrestled with what Adrissa liked to call part three for the best part of two weeks, deep inside sure he was not close to finding the answer. Hell, he did not even know what the answer looked like. Problem was, Adrissa was not going to buy that; she was unhappy enough as it was with the time he was taking.

Michael rubbed eyes gritty from too many hours spent laboring in front of a holovid screen. Enough was enough, he decided. He still did not have the answer, and if Adrissa did not like that simple fact, so be it.

He closed his progress report. He snorted softly: lack-of-progress report more accurately. Stamping it for Adrissa's eyes only, he commed it to FLTDETCOMM's mailbox with strict instructions that it be delivered no earlier than 08:00 the next day. He was leaving for a badly needed weekend off with Anna in an hour, and the last thing he wanted was Adrissa dragging him back into the office to tear strips off him.

"Wake up, Lieutenant. We're coming up to Mike-44."

"Uh, what?" Michael mumbled, for a moment totally disoriented. "Oh, thanks," he said to the corporal responsible for maglev security, belatedly working out where he was and why.

Michael had slept the whole way jammed into a corner on the overcrowded maglev, and his left leg was stiff and uncooperative. Under protest, it allowed him to stand up. Grabbing his pack and rifle, he wriggled his way through the car, which was jammed with NRA troopers going wherever NRA troopers went for the weekend. He did not care; all he did care about was that Anna and the 120th had been pulled back out of the line for a week, and unless things had changed in the hours it had taken him to get from FLTDETCOMM to Mike-44, she would be waiting for him a ten-minute walk from the maglev station.

With a soft hiss, the maglev eased to a stop, and Michael pushed his way through the doors before they opened fully. Grateful for the exercise, he limped off, all fatigue banished by the prospect of meeting up with Anna again. It had been too long, and he missed her.

Turning a corner, he made his way down a laser-cut tunnel toward the 120th's billet, a water-carved complex of caves opening out from an enormous cavern. Emerging, he presented himself to the security post controlling access.

"Welcome, Lieutenant," the young corporal said, handing Michael his identity card back. "I was at the River Kendozo breakout, so it's good to see you. You'll find Sergeant Helfort second on the right. She said to go on through and not to wake her or she'd kick your ass."

Michael grinned. "Okay… Hey, wait, Corp. You said Sergeant Helfort?"

"Yes, sir. I did. Fastest promotion in NRA history," the corporal said, returning the grin, "and well deserved."

"Shit, she never said anything about it."

"The colonel paraded the whole regiment yesterday, called her out of line, and pinned the chevrons on himself."

"Well, I'll be," Michael said. "Talk about hidden talents. I'd best go and congratulate her."

"Not if you value your life, I wouldn't," the corporal said. "She'll be asleep and probably wants to stay that way."

"Oh! Okay, in the morning, then. Thanks, Corporal. Catch you later." Friday, January 4, 2402, UD 120th Regiment billet, Sector Mike, Branxton Base, Commitment

Anna plowed her way through two bowls of whatever gruel the 120th's foodbots were dishing out that morning followed by a mug of coffee before she said a word.

"That's better," she said, pushing her tray away. "So when did you arrive?"

"About 03:00. You were snoring, so I decided I'd live longer if I left you alone."

"Huh! Good call, and I'm glad you did," Anna said, sipping her second mug of coffee. "First decent night's sleep in ages. I needed it."

Michael nodded; Anna's face was pale and drawn. Her honey-gold skin had faded to a washed-out gray, but her eyes were the same, bottomless green pools that had entranced him from the first day they had met.

"So," he said. "What's this I hear about you being a sergeant or something?"

"No something about it, flyboy. Yeah, as of two days ago, I am officially Sergeant Anna Helfort, NRA. Has a certain ring to it, don't you think?"

"It does," Michael conceded. "So let me guess. You were promoted because you are a careful soldier who refuses to risk her own life or those of her troopers. Tell me I am right."

"Umm, well… yeah, sort of. Yeah, I think that's right."

"Anna, Anna!" Michael shook his head in despair. "I'm the certified lunatic around here. I'm not sure this relationship can accommodate two. So what happened?"

"Oh, not much," Anna said, waving a hand. "Last week, B Company found themselves in a firefight with a PGDF battalion probing our sector. They were pinned down, and we were sent to bail them out. My platoon CO and sergeant were hit, so I took over, we killed a shed load of Hammers, and brought everyone home. Not much more to say."

"Yeah, right," Michael said, looking skeptical. "What about your section leader?"

"Section leader? Umm, let me see. Oh, yes, that would have been me."

"Anna!" Michael snapped. "That's two damn promotions, and you didn't tell me? No, make that three. I forgot trooper to lance corporal."

Anna shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't want to worry you," she said, not looking at all apologetic.

Michael tried to glare at her. He abandoned the attempt when Anna fluttered her eyelashes at him, eyes the color of deep jade drawing him in and down. "Oh, please," he muttered. "Stop that."

"Come on, flyboy. Janos Kallewi's been moved to our local rehab center, so why don't we go and check on him before we get the hell out of here. Battalion's given my platoon leave until Monday morning, and I intend to make the most of every second."

"Lead on, Sergeant Helfort."

"How you feeling, Janos?"

Kallewi scowled. "The honest answer, Michael, is bored," he said, "bored shitless. This rehab stuff is a pain, and all the more because it takes the Hammers a month to do something we'd get done in a week back home. They've got a lot of catching up to do, and the food's shit."

"No kidding," Anna said with a laugh. "Tell us something we don't know."

"So, Janos," Michael said. "How's the brain?"

"Getting there. Hammer medical technology might be slow, but it does the job… in the end. The headaches have gone."

"When are they releasing you?"

"Another couple of weeks, I think. I've been posted to one of the training battalions, the 774th. Can't say I'm too unhappy about that. I was lucky to get away. Did I ever say thanks for that?"

"You don't have to," Anna said. "We were there anyway."

"Oh?" Kallewi said. "That's not quite what I've been told. Not that it matters. I'm here, and I owe you both, and that's a fact." He leaned back in the battered armchair, eyes closing for a moment. "Sorry," he said, opening them again. "I still get tired. The doc says it'll pass."