Graham Paul - The battle for Commitment planet

"Well, then, we'll just have to see, won't we?" Hrelitz said. "I'm not much of a betting woman, Sergeant, but my money's on the NRA. We need this. The Hammers don't. Remember that. Now, enough talk. Anna, I want you to take over Second Platoon. You'll find them down the back somewhere. Ask for Corporal Gur. He knows you're coming."

"Sir."

"You might as well go along, Lieutenant," Hrelitz said, turning to Michael. "I know you can handle an assault rifle, and the Second has taken a bit of a beating."

"Fine by me, sir," Michael said, feeling anything but fine. After the transcendent peace of his and Anna's weekend escape, the day had turned into the stuff of his worst nightmares. It was not going to get any better. Screw it, he thought, too drained to worry about what might happen. Shouldering his rifle, he set off after Anna.

"Right, any questions?" Anna paused, looking at each of her subordinates in turn. "No? Okay, good. Right, we jump off in sixty minutes, so section commanders, make sure everyone's fed, canteens topped up, gear checked, and ready to go. You know the drill. And one more thing. The Hammers' tunneling machines have dumped loads of caustic dust outside the portal, and the barbecues won't have burned it all off. So watch out for any white stuff lying around and make sure your masks are secure; trust me when I say you don't want any in your lungs. Okay, that's it."

Michael watched Anna's platoon break up in subdued confusion; they were the roughest collection of soldiers he had ever seen, combat overalls tattered, faces streaked with dirt, hair tangled with sweat and dust. Rough, maybe, Michael thought, but the burning intensity in their eyes more than made up for it. Anna waved one of them over, a tall woman with eyes so dark that they were almost black, her body, like that of most NRA troopers, painfully thin.

"Michael, meet Lance Corporal Ketaki Sadotra. She has Yankee section."

"Corporal Sadotra," Michael said as he and Sadotra shook hands.

"Welcome to Second Platoon, C Company, sir," Sadotra said. "The sergeant says I'm to keep an eye on you."

"Oh, right," Michael said, acutely aware of how inexperienced he must seem.

"You have three things to remember, Michael," Anna said. "Just three things, okay?"

"Three things. Got it."

"One, stay close to this woman. Two, do what she says, no arguments. Three, shoot as many Hammers as you can, and if you can't find one of them to shoot, shoot down a drone instead. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sarge," Michael said.

"Good. Do that and we'll all be happy," Anna said. "All right, Corp, I want to borrow your rookie for a while. You'll get him back by 21:30. Sorry to turn you into a baby-sitter, Corporal, but he can at least shoot."

"Roger that, Sergeant. Anyone who can kill Hammers is fine by me. See you later, sir," Sadotra said to Michael with a grin. With a casual wave of the hand, she turned and followed the rest of the platoon.

"Gee, thanks for that," Michael said with a scowl. "Bit old for a baby-sitter, don't you think?"

"No, I don't," Anna said with a firm shake of the head. "Trust me. What comes next is like nothing you've ever been through before. You'll be scared witless, you'll be confused, and all your experience captaining dreadnoughts will not count for a pinch of shit out there. Don't think I'm saying this because I love you and all that romantic bull dust."

"Hey," Michael protested.

"Well, maybe partly," Anna conceded, "but it's more because I need everyone in Two Platoon to do their bit, and as long as Lance Corporal Sadotra keeps you pointed in the right direction, I know you won't let me down."

"I'm not sure whether you've just insulted or praised me," Michael said, "but in the interests of our long-term happiness I'll assume the latter."

"Good call. Right, Michael, chow time," Anna said, pointing down the tunnel toward the mobile canteen, the NRA's term for a ramshackle cart carrying a vat of gruel and a coffeebot.

"Not for me, thanks."

"Listen up, soldier," Anna said. "It might be a long time before we get to eat, and a smart trooper never argues with his platoon commander."

Michael was about to do just that when the determined set of Anna's jaw changed his mind. She might be the love of his life, but right now she was Sergeant Helfort and he was a no-account trooper.

"Yes, Sarge," he said, face creased into a frown of resignation.

"That's better. Come on."

Collecting a bowl of gruel-garlic chicken, according to the skinny kid in charge of the canteen-and a large mug of coffee, Michael sat down beside Anna. For a while there was silence. Spooning the last of the gruel into his mouth, he set his plate down before taking a sip of coffee, as always amazed at how good it was. Under the circumstances, it was close to miraculous.

"So, Anna," he said. "I know I'm just a grunt, but this operation… well, it looks like a recipe for disaster. It's going to be dark, we're outnumbered n thousand to one, Mokhine's splitting his forces into two, and we'll be attacking in two directions at once. I have to say-"

Anna frowned. "Yeah, well, you may be right. Probably are right, but needs must. When the 5th and 12th jump off, anything we can do to take the pressure off them has to help. As to the fuckup factor, what can I say? Yes, it'll all go to shit, but so what? As long as we're creating mayhem, we'll be doing our job, and if the Hammers think they're under attack from two directions at once, that'll be a bonus. Remember this. We don't have to beat them. We only have to convince them they are wasting their time."

"Not a recipe for a long and happy life, though, is it?"

"Nope," Anna said. "It's not, but so be it. I'm here, I hate the damn Hammers, and I'll kill as many of them as I can and hope they don't kill me."

"Wish you wouldn't say that."

"Sorry," Anna said, taking his hand. "Look, Michael. Keep your head down and your wits about you and you'll come through. And if we're confused, the Hammers are going to be even more so. Okay?"

"Yes, Sarge."

"Right, company orders group awaits," Anna said, climbing to her feet, "and I am told that Hrelitz does like people to be on time. I'll see you in twenty. Just hope the damn plan's not changed. I just want this to get started."

"Over would be better," Michael said softly as Anna worked her way through the crowd milling around the mobile canteen. What a life, he said to himself as he made his way over to refill his coffee mug. Anna was right, of course. Get in there, wreak havoc, and survive if possible. What more was there?

At least the plan was simple; what Michael knew about infantry operations was not worth knowing, but he did know one thing: Keeping operations as simple as possible was one of the cardinal military virtues.

When ENCOMM fired the fuel-air demolition charges, 5 and 12 Brigades would launch their attacks on the Hammers in the valley. Amid the confusion, C Company, supported by combat engineers, would slip out of Juliet-24. Its objective was the equipment park holding the Hammers' heavy tunneling equipment, 300 meters to the east of Juliet-24. Once there, their job was to destroy the hardware, wire up demolition charges to take out the fusion power plants, then move into a blocking position across the crudely constructed road connecting Juliet-24 with the Hammer's forward lander base to the east. While all that was going on, the rest of Second Battalion would head for the Hammer's command post; ENCOMM liked their chances of cutting the head off the Hammer operation around Juliet-24.

So what could be easier?

Yes, Michael decided, put like that, it was pretty simple… until you factored in all the problems: It would be dark, the NRA's comms were not the best, the Hammers outnumbered them by a large margin, the NRA was desperately short of heavy weapons, they had no artillery or air support, the attacks launched by the 5th and 12th might fall apart, the… Michael stopped there; there was no point listing the NRA's weaknesses. Anyway, maybe they were not that important; maybe the NRA's incredible fighting spirit outweighed all of them.