David Drake - The Forlorn Hope

The signalman plucked at Lieutenant Waldstejn's sleeve. The officer recognized him by sight, but the only name he could think of was 'Porky', the pudgy man's nickname. "Sir," the signalman pleaded, prodding Waldstejn with the envelope he carried, "the land-line's out, somebody must've tripped over it, and I'vegot to get this message to Major Lichtenstein. Can…?"

It did not sound like something a Supply Officer should be getting involved with. Waldstejn did not touch the envelope. "Put it on the air, then," he suggested. "Somebody in there surely has a working receiver."

Porky nodded like a man trying to duck his head out of a noose. "Lieutenant," he said, "they do, but the meres have them too. I don'tdare put this on the air in clear." He swallowed. Despite the rapt silence of the squad on guard, he added, "It's from the… it's from east of here."

Waldstejn took the envelope in the hand that held his own print-out. "All right," he said, "I'll deliver it to the Major."

His face was still as he opened the door into the building. Maybe itwas something that a Supply Officer got involved in. At least, if the Supply Officer had friends among a group of mercenaries that might be set for a long fall.

"Look," Captain Tetour said abruptly, "what if they won't take any offer? We'd be better off fighting than surrendering. You know the stories that all Federal officers are executed in the field."

Brionca, the Operations Officer, sneezed out her snuff and slapped the table for emphasis. "We've been through that, dammit, we can't fight, the armored regiment they'll send will plow us under. What we need to think about is how we'll sweeten the pot so they'vegot to deal."

"Well, I've been thinking some more about that," said Captain Strojnowski. He watched the point of his stylus click on the table instead of looking around at the others. Strojnowski's Third Company was perhaps closer to being a military unit than was Tetour's First, and the Captain himself had shown promise in line service before discrepancies had shown up in his pay vouchers. "We've been talking as if they'll just swarm down the valley with tanks and troop carriers. But they won't risk that against Fasolini's men; and besides, we've got the two laser cannon-"

"Which gave us so much air defense," Brionca thundered, "that they weren't even switchedon until after the ship had blown up. Want to betyour life it'll be any better when it's tanks ripping us apart?"

"Now wait a goddam minute," said Stoessel, the young lieutenant in charge of the lasers. He had been included in the council of war even though he was not a member of the 522nd Garrison Battalion. The guns were detached from Central to Smiricky #4, but their chain of command still ran directly to Praha. "You guys give me a target," the lieutenant continued in a high voice, "and I'll hit it. But there's no acquisition system in the universe that'll hit a starship that's in normal space only a-" He broke off, suddenly aware of the disdain on all the faces watching him. "Not that Iwant to engage tanks," he concluded lamely. "I mean, they mount lasers too, and they're armored.

…"

"Then don't worry about it until somebody tells you to," snapped Captain Khlesl, the Intelligence officer who cradled a handset between his shoulder and ear. He turned to the Battalion Commander on the chair beside him. "Major," he said, tapping the handset without taking it away from his ear, "I think the damned thing's broken again. Maybe we'd better send one of the guards over to Signals and see-"

Someone knocked on the door to the outer office. An officer swore. Major Lichtenstein himself began to rise from his seat with an expression of fury. His face smoothed into mere sourness when a voice, muffled by the door panel, announced, "Sir, Lieutenant Waldstejn with the figures you requested. Also a message from the Signals Sectionthey say the line's gone down again."

Captain Brionca was closest to the door. She pulled it open without any need to be asked. Smoke and warm air swirled from the meeting room. The draft from the outer office felt cooler because that within had been heated for hours by eight bodies. "Give me that," she said, reaching for the papers the Supply Officer held. Other staff officers were getting up.

"Sit down, Brionca," rumbled Major Lichtenstein. "Bring them here, Waldstejn."

The Lieutenant stepped briskly to the head of the table and attempted to salute his commanding officer. Lichtenstein ignored that and snatched the sheaf of papers from the other's hand. "Not this crap," he muttered as he slid aside the supply print-outs. His staff was tense. "Here we are, Marylove us," the Major went on in a caressing voice. He ripped open the envelope from Signals.

Major Wolfgang Lichtenstein was much of an age and build with Colonel Fasolini, his mercenary counterpart. Liquor had broken the veins of his face and brought him to the command of the 522nd. He had been drinking this night as well, but it was tension and not alcohol which had kept the Major in a state of nearly comatose silence during most of the staff meeting. His fingers trembled. He had to lay the sheet of message paper on the table to unfold it after he had teased it from the envelope.

"ForGod's sake, what is it?" blurted the artillery lieutenant.

"Mary and the blessed saints!" the Major wheezed. He slumped back in his chair as if relief had severed his spine. "They've made an offer we can live with. Mary, Mother of God!"

The Intelligence Officer snatched up the document before Captain Brionca could reach it from the other side. "Why," he said, "they'll accept the battalion as a unit and integrate it into their own forces! We've won! Officers may be reassigned, but no prison or executions!"

"Don't know that I want to be Rube cannon fodder either," someone muttered. He was answered at once by a waspish, "Have you looked at the choice?"

"But what's the catch?" Captain Tetour objected. "They know they've got our balls in a vise!"

"No catch," insisted Captain Khlesl, holding up the message form." 'No quarrel with fellow citizens of Cecach, only with the government of idolators in Praha.'" He slapped the paper down. "All we have to do is to turn over the Complex unharmed. And to disarm the mercenaries and turn them over too."

There was abrupt silence around the table. "What do youmean, no catch?" Strojnowski said sourly. "Fasolini may have ideas of his own about turning in his guns."

"Wait a minute," someone said in amazement. When the others turned, they saw the speaker was Albrecht Waldstejn. The Supply Officer had not left the room. "Why are we concerned about the terms the Rubes might offer? There's twenty-three ore haulers empty in the compound right now. They'll hold all the troops and most of the civilians- and if we move fast, we can be clear before they cut the pylon line."

"Get him the hell out of here," Captain Tetour said.

Lieutenant Dyk commanded the Second Company since the regular CO had been invalided out with bull-head clap. Dyk had not spoken during the meeting proper. Now, faced with a chance to score off Waldstejn, he said, "Because we've got orders from Praha to hold to the last man! If we retreat, Morale Section will have every one of us shot. Every officer for sure."

"Frantisak's right, though," Brionca said. "We can't just waltz over to the meres and say, 'AH right hand over-' "

"Goddamn it!" Waldstejn shouted. His hands were clenched. "Ifwe can't go, we can putthem on a truck before we surrender. That'smurder!"

"You damned fool!" Dyk shouted back. "Those foreigners are the only thing between you and me and a firing squad!"

"Another word from him," said the Major as he lurched to his feet, "and they won't have to shoot him." A flush and the shadows of the overhead i light hid the patterning of Lichtenstein's face. His right hand was fumbling at the flap of his pistol holster. The motion seemed almost undirected and the fingers never did touch the gun butt. "You're out of uniform, Lieutenant," he muttered. His hand fell away from the holster. Taking a deep breath, the Major shouted, "Guard! Guard!"