Graham Paul - The battle for Commitment planet

"No, sir. In any case, I can't see a message being enough. This is going to take some serious negotiation."

"Yes, it will," Adrissa said, massaging her temples with the tips of her fingers. Michael thought she had aged ten years in the last week. "Tell you what, Michael. Get that brain of yours in gear and try to work out how we do this. I want you back in that seat in two days with the bones of a plan, a plan that'll work. Okay?"

Michael tried not to grimace. "It's a big ask, but I'll do what I can, sir."

"Too late for that. We need to make this work. Two days, Michael, two days."

"Yes, sir," Michael said.

Oh, shit, he thought as Adrissa waved him out of the alcove that passed for her office. Wednesday, January 16, 2402, UD Yamaichi marine base, Commitment

The convoy of troop carriers eased its way down the night streets until waved to a halt by the marine security detail protecting the sprawling compound that housed Marine Force 8's senior officers. The sergeant in charge made his way over to the passenger window.

"Identification," the man snapped.

Without a word, the colonel in charge of the night's operation flashed his card.

"That seems to be in order, sir," the sergeant said, stepping half a pace back and saluting. "May I know your business here to night, sir? I was not notified of your arrival."

"No, Sergeant, you may not know my business. Now stand aside and allow my men to pass. That's an order."

Confused and conflicted, the sergeant hesitated, torn between his duty as a marine and the overriding authority vested in all DocSec officers, an authority he had, along with every other Hammer, been taught from birth to obey. He made up his mind. "Please wait here, sir. I will let the duty officer know that you-"

"Do that, Sergeant, and you'll never see your family again."

The sergeant's face tightened into an angry scowl. "That's as may be, Colonel, but I have my orders, too," he said. "Wait here, please."

The colonel ignored the sergeant. "Drive through," he ordered his driver. "That pissant bit of timber won't stop us."

"Sir," the driver said, stamping his foot down, the carrier accelerating hard into the security barrier.

Nobody was ever able to establish who fired the first shot, but it quickly became a matter of only academic interest; the marines made short work of the colonel's troop carrier. There was a moment of silence before, without a word being said, the marines fanned out and started to take out the rest of the DocSec convoy and any troopers stupid enough to show themselves. The night was torn apart by the flat, slapping crack of rifle fire, a terrible blood lust driving the marines through the night until the last panicked DocSec trooper was cornered and shot out of hand.

The sergeant in charge of the security detail leaned forward and spit on the man's body. "Fucking DocSec scum," he said. "Lucky we didn't cut your balls off first, you piece of garbage." He turned to look at the rest of his men. "I don't know about you," he continued, "but I think it's time we made ourselves very scarce. I'm off to join the NRA. Good luck, boys."

With that, he was off, running hard into a night now raucous with Klaxons calling the marine base to action.

"Admiral Belasz is here to see you, sir."

"Send him in."

Without a word, Belasz entered Polk's office and took his seat, his face gray with fatigue and stress.

"What's the latest, Admiral?"

"Well, sir," Belasz said, "I've spoken to the new commanding general of marines. The situation is still very confused, but what appears to have happened is this. Every one of the three marine bases refused to allow in the DocSec snatch squads sent to arrest the senior marine officers responsible for the Branxton fiasco."

"Not one?" Polk said. "I don't believe it. Not one? The marines refused to obey DocSec?"

"That's what happened, sir."

"Kraa!" Polk hissed softly. "Go on."

"At Besud and Beslan the standoff ended when the officers ordered their men to stand down and hand themselves over."

Polk shook his head; that men went so willingly to what they must have known was certain death amazed him. "What about Yamaichi?"

"Not so good, sir. We don't know how or why, but there was a firefight with the marines securing the senior officers' compound. The entire DocSec arrest squad was killed, and matters got out of hand despite all attempts by MARFOR 8's commanders to regain control. A hard core of maybe a thousand marines went on a rampage. Some have disappeared, probably deserted to the NRA, and the rest pulled back to the airfield."

"Tell me the situation is contained, Admiral."

"Not yet, but it will be, sir. The rest of MARFOR 8 are standing back waiting to see what happens. I'm unwilling to rely on them to take back control, so marines from Amokran are on their way. They will secure the base and put a cordon around the airfield. If they cannot persuade the men to surrender, they will have to be taken by force."

Polk's fingers tapped out his concern. "You think marines will attack marines, Admiral?"

Belasz blinked. "I hope it won't come to that, sir."

"Answer the damn question!" Polk snapped.

"I'm afraid they may not, sir," Belasz said, "especially if they believe they are doing DocSec's dirty work, if they believe the men will be shot out of hand. The punitive action taken against the commanders of the Branxton operation has created a great deal of resentment among ordinary marines. Perhaps…"

"Perhaps what?" Polk said, glaring at Belasz from eyes narrowed in suspicion and anger.

"Perhaps… perhaps the decision to hand the senior commanders responsible for that operation over to DocSec should be rethought, sir."

Polk sat back in his chair, visibly angry, eyes locked on Belasz's face. The admiral refused to back down, returning Polk's stare. The chief councillor backed down first; looking away, he pushed the chair back and stood up. He walked over to the window. "You're questioning me now, Admiral?" he said, spinning on his heel to look directly at Belasz. "I've had men shot for less, and believe me when I say that I'll have you shot if necessary."

Belasz straightened up in his seat. "I know that, Chief Councillor. Frankly, I cannot worry about that anymore," he said with a dismissive wave of a hand. "So yes, I think I am questioning not you but the decision. In my opinion, it's a bad decision. I'm sorry I cannot agree with you, but a bad decision is a bad decision even if it's made by you… sir."

Polk stared, eyes narrowed in fury. "A bad decision?" he snarled.

"Yes, sir," Belasz said with a firmness belied by a tongue flickering restlessly across dry lips. "It is a bad decision. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but we cannot continue to execute or imprison our best officers every time there is a military setback. I am the third chief of defense in what? Less than two years? In that time, Space Fleet has seen DocSec rip the guts out of its officer corps not once but twice. First after the Battle of Hell's Moons and then after the loss of our antimatter plant. Planetary defense has been purged by DocSec after the attacks on Yallan, Gwalia, and Perkins. Now it's the marines' turn, Kraa help them." Belasz paused, shaking his head. "It takes DocSec only a few hours to tear down and destroy what it takes the military years and billions of k-dollars to build: an effective cadre of officers capable of leading the Hammer Worlds to victory," he continued, face flushed and voice rising as anger began to take hold. "And what have we ended up with? Officers who spend more time worrying about staying alive than they do about defeating our enemies. It's a bad decision, sir, because it costs us a lot more than the lives of a few officers. And why do we do what we do? Because that's the way we've always done business. It's bullshit, Chief Councilor, and it's time you were told that."