Graham Paul - The battle for Commitment planet

"Abusing the troops again, Janos?"

"You know me, sir. Busy marines are happy marines, even if they are kicking the crap out of each other. Free play self-defense drills. Fighting in a crowd is an art." Kallewi paused to look at Michael. "You okay, sir?"

"Better, thanks. Your guys went well on Balawal-34. A good, tight operation. Well done."

Kallewi waved an arm as if to dismiss the compliment. "Routine stuff, sir. Thankfully, the Hammers didn't think to reinforce their internal security force even though they seemed to have warning of the attack. Things would have been a lot harder if they had."

Michael nodded, conscious how cavalier he had been with the lives of the men and women under his command. "They still haven't worked out dreadnoughts yet. Would have been a different story if we'd been conventional heavy cruisers. Anyway, how's Lance Corporal Baader?"

"Not a happy marine, sir, but he'll be fine. Flesh wound to the upper arm. Nothing serious. He should be a hundred percent inside a week."

"Good. Anything else I need to know?"

"No, sir."

"Okay. I'll be in the CIC when I've done my walk-around."

"Sir."

Michael set off aft, making his way through the massive armored doors cut through the secondary armor protecting Redwood's machinery spaces and into the ship's starboard main engine and primary power compartment. There, according to Mother, he would find Redwood's complement of engineers stripping out a shock-damaged pump, and find them he did, the four spacers struggling to move the mass, which was awkward and uncooperative even with the help of liftbots. Michael hung back; when they broke for a breather, he walked over.

"Winning?" he asked Chief Fodor, Redwood's senior engineer and the man responsible for the ship's fusion reactors.

"Think so, sir, though I'm too old for this shit," Fodor said, giving the recalcitrant pump a kick. "I love dreadnoughts, but there are times when I miss having hundreds of junior spacers around to do the hard stuff. Like moving"-he gave the pump another kick-"this pigging piece of crap."

"Amen to that," Chief Chua, Redwood's propulsion tech, said with some feeling, mopping his sweat-beaded brow. "I'll be glad to see the back of this sonofabitch. Tell you what, sir," he added, "maybe Lieutenant Kallewi can lend us a few marines. There are plenty of them."

"They're too busy on the mats killing each other at the moment, Chief, but if you're stuck, just ask."

"I will, sir, though it goes against the grain, asking marines for help."

Michael grinned. Generally, spacers and marines rubbed along okay, but the relationship could be prickly at times. "Ask anyway, Chief. Now, Petty Officers Lim and Morozov. All well with the power and habitat departments?"

"My part of ship's sweet as a nut, sir," Lim replied, brushing the hair out of her eyes. "Can't speak for habitat, though."

"It's fine, and well you know it, Petty Officer Lim," Morozov said with a grin. "Well, this week, anyway."

Michael returned the smile. Morozov had a point. Redwood's conversion from heavy cruiser to dreadnought had involved ripping out every piece of equipment not required for her new role, a task carried out in some cases with more enthusiasm than good sense. Morozov had been forced to spend hours keeping Redwood's recycling systems online thanks to the yard's carelessness.

"Thanks for the update, team," Michael said. "I will now exercise the privileges of rank and decline the opportunity to lend you guys a hand"-a muffled chorus of hrrmpphs greeted this statement-"and if anyone wants to moan about that, I'll be in the CIC, where I will be happy to hear what you have to say."

"Don't worry about it, sir," Fodor said. "We need the exercise."

"No comment, Chief. See you later."

Returning forward, Michael had one more stop to make. Sedova had reported a defect on one of Alley Kat's fusion plants, and although Mother had briefed him in detail on what the lander's problem was, he wanted to hear it for himself. Returning to the hangar deck, he ignored the marines, their mock riot now back in full swing, and made his way across to the looming bulk of the heavy assault lander, its brutal, functional shape a stark reminder of its enormous power. Once inside the lander's brilliantly lit cargo bay, he found Sedova talking to her loadmaster.

"Petty Officer Trivedi," he said. "Mind if I borrow your skipper for a moment?"

"No problems, sir," Trivedi said. "I'll be on the flight deck if you need me."

"Kat," he said when Petty Officer Trivedi had left. "How's things?"

"Good, sir," Sedova said. "Florian thinks she's found the problem with Alley Kat's starboard fusion plant."

"Fixable?"

"It is. One of the controllers is unstable. We have spares, so it's only a matter of swapping it out."

"Pleased to hear it. Don't like our backup ride home ending up defective on us."

Sedova grimaced. "Nor me, sir. I know Fleet's pushed for ships, but not sending a casualty recovery ship along to provide backup seems to me to be… well, not a good thing," she said.

Michael nodded his agreement even though Sedova's words contained more than a touch of implied criticism. "I agree, and my report on Balawal-34 will have a lot to say on that subject. I know we have to use Alley Kat for ground assaults, but I also know we shouldn't, not if she's our only one and only pinchspace-capable lander. I've spoken to Admiral Jaruzelska, and she agrees, so I'm hopeful we can get us another Block 6 lander. If Fleet won't task a casualty recovery ship in support of our operations and we lose Alley Kat, we must have another way home."

"Pleased to hear you say that, sir. The admiral… I know she's still Commander, Dreadnought Force, but does that mean anything? I mean, there are only three dreadnoughts left. Not much of a force."

"No, it's not. As for the admiral, she has clout, probably more than she's ever had, thanks to the Devastation Reef operation. Winning that one was a big feather in her cap. The politicians love her, so if she says she can swing it, yes, I think we'll get what we want."

"Hope so."

Michael knew what Sedova was thinking. Fleet's unwillingness to continue the dreadnought experiment despite the success the ships had achieved at Devastation Reef-against overwhelming odds, it had to be said-was inexplicable, not to mention a source of considerable frustration for all of Redwood's crew. He broke the moment of silence that followed. "The rest of your team. All okay?"

"Yes, all good."

"Fine. I'll check on our guests, then I'll be in the CIC."

"Sir."

Michael left the hangar and went forward to the drop tube. Stepping in, he dropped down to what had been the mine magazine when Redwood was a conventional heavy cruiser. Stripped back to bare metal, it housed over a hundred unhappy Hammer prisoners of war. Even with Kallewi's marines, there were too many of them to take chances, so they had been locked in for the duration of the transit back to Nyleth, living off emergency rations and dependent on chemical toilets to meet the demands of nature. Michael hated to think what the magazine smelled like.

The marines standing guard snapped to attention when Michael appeared.

"At ease, Lance Corporal Karoly. How are our guests?"

"Quiet, sir," Karoly said, "and bored shitless. Lying around. Couple of hours ago, they tried the old fight routine, hoping we'd be dumb enough to come crashing in. Morons! We left them to it, and they gave up eventually. Apart from that, nothing much to report."

"Way I like it, Corp. Holocams still working?"

Karoly smiled. "Didn't take them long to find them, but even the most determined Hammer can't get through armored plasglass. They spent ages trying, though. Slow learners, those Hammers. We've organized a temporary holovid if you'd like a look," she said, waving a hand at a screen sitting on a battered old desk.