David Drake - The Forlorn Hope

There was a pause in the shuffling of boots behind Waldstejn, a restive silence like that of a cat tensing to spring. The Cecach lieutenant turned."Stand easy\" he shouted. He managed not to add the curse that would have brought another blow- and what he was praying he could avoid. Wald-stejn's cheek burned. His body trembled with the lightness he had never thought to feel after they reached safety, reached Praha. "Standeasy, I say!"

The mercenaries' weapons were closer to use than the crisply-uniformed chain-dogs realized. None of the hands Waldstejn glanced across were thumbing guns to safe again, but there was a slight relaxation. The line began to move again.

The Colonel blinked. He had been startled by the incident, but he did not understand it. He glanced back at his print-out-names and ranks, Waldstejn could see now, and enough of them to be the entire complement of the 522nd Garrison Battalion. "All right," the Colonel said, "all members of the Cecach garrison of Smiricky #4, front and center! Cecach Armed Forces only!"

Pavel Hodicky was just crossing the catwalk between Troopers Hoybrin and Dwyer. Like his lieutenant, Hodicky had been issued a uniform from the Company stores aboard theKatynForest. Before the Private could speak, Churchie Dwyer's palm swung across his mouth. Albrecht Waldstejn was saying loudly, "Sir, I was the only member of the battalion not to turn traitor. The rest of these troops are off-planet volunteers, under contract to the government."

The Morale Section officer looked from Waldstejn to the soldiers who had broken out of Smiricky #4 with him. More of the men than not had shaved when they got theopportunity, and all the troopers wore fresh uniforms. They were still a savage, alien presence eying the Colonel and the crisplooking platoon with him. "Right," the Colonel said. He found he had to clear his throat before he could add, "Who's in charge of you lot, then?"

There was a pause too brief to be called hesitation. Hussein ben Mehdi strolled forward. His left thumb was hooked in his equipment belt. It seemed natural enough that his right palm would rest on the grip of his holstered grenade launcher. "I am," he said in a drawl which emphasized disdain instead of volume. "Since the native battalion we were supposed to be supporting decided to turn coat and murder our Colonel. What seems to be the problem?"

The chain-dog commander blinked again. Ben Mehdi's moustache was its precise line again despite the thin welt of pink scar tissue angling across his face. His tone of suave superiority, coupled with the implications of the words themselves, shook an officer who was used to deference from even generals with line commands. "Ah," he said, "your men will accompany Captain Kolovrat here to the Transit Barracks for reassignment. Stack your weapons. They'll be returned to you when required."

Someone in the Company rank cursed audibly. Lieutenant ben Mehdi gave a chuckle which sounded more natural to others than it seemed to be to him. His mind was quivering with memories of the tank that howled and shuddered as he fired down its intake duct. "I'm afraid that won't be possible-" he gestured as if he could not recall Federal rank insignia and saw no reason that he should- "Captain. We'll continue to billet ourselves on the starship here. I'll be obliged if you'll make arrangements for our commissary-" he paused-"and for proper bedding, yes."

"Who in thehell do you think you are, soldier?" the Colonel roared.

"I think we're-" and ben Mehdi's peremptory gesture brought the three sergeants forward. Jensen's face-shield down even in the dimness of the dock-"the people whose contracts you broke, Mr. Government!"

"We didn't-" the Colonel began. Around him guns pointed at the mercenary sergeants, then wavered as Morale Section soldiers met eyes as flat as the reflective face-shield.

"Captain, you put us in a position of danger in which we were attacked by Federal troops," the Lieutenant said flatly."By Cecach Armed Forces. That's a breach of contract, pure and simple. All deals are off until we've made a composition of damages with the hiring authority."

It was a flawless performance, thought Albrecht Waldstejn. He supposed that it would usually have been acted out in a conference room, with Colonel Fasolini there to provide the bulk and bluster. Individually the three sergeants were the faces of Death. Together, they were the Furies, and their silence had lowered over the Cecach platoon as surely as Colonel Fasolini must have done in dozens of meetings with dress uniforms.

"There are three bulk carriers in port that seem to have been converted to carry troops," said Sergeant Jensen. His lips, cracked and gummy behind the shield, caused him to enunciate with great care.

"Yeah, just how many other contract soldiers are there right here in Praha?" rasped Sergeant Hummel. She pointed a finger at the Morale Section officer. Her slung weapon waggled also, its barrel parallel to the line of her forearm.

"And don't think the units at the Front haven't heard how Federal troops turned on us," added Sergeant Mboko somberly. "Praha wasn't the only place we talked to when we sailed through the lines."

The Cecach Colonel was opening his mouth to speak. Before he could do so, Lieutenantben Mehdi applied the counter-stroke to the whip-saw. "Of course," he said, "we don't hold youpersonally responsible, Captain… but until legal responsibility is determined, I think you'll agree that matters had best be left to your superiors."

The Colonel turned abruptly. "Take that one away!" he snarled to the pair of soldiers holding Albrecht Waldstejn. As sharply, he whipped back around to ben Mehdi, but he did not meet the mercenary's eyes. "For the time being, you can remain aboard," he muttered. "Someone will see about rations and bedding."

"Some problem about Captain Waldstejn, I see?" said Hussein ben Mehdi. He thumbed idly toward the sound of boots echoing out the rear of the enclosed dock.

"LieutenantWaldstejn," snapped the Morale Section officer. He was out of the quicksand and his arrogance had returned in full force. "And there's no problem, no. An internal matter which even hired killers can understand, I suppose."

Ben Mehdi raised his lip and an eyebrow instead of asking the question out loud.

"The 522nd had orders to defend its positions to the last man," said the Cecach colonel in a rising voice. "Lieutenant Waldstejn instead chose to retreat."

"Evenyour sort shoot soldiers who desert in the face of the enemy, don't you?"

"You understand, Mr. Mehdi, that the, ah-" Benoit paused to look around the bridge of theKatyn Forest, even though he knew that he, Captain Ortschugin, and the mercenary lieutenant were alone there. The plump man was factor for a dozen off-planet space lines besides Pyaneta Lines; but he was legally a Cecach citizen and thus subject to local law if the wrong person heard him imply that there were two governments on the planet- "the Republicans had no right to seize theKatynForest. That, of course, affects your claim for salvage for rescuing her."

"The Rubes poked guns in my face and told me the ship belongs to the Lord's Host," said Vladimir Ortschugin."You were going to come from Praha and tell them they were wrong?" The spacer spat ringingly into the cuspidor.

"Yes, I believe the Captain has noted the salient point," ben Mehdi took up smoothly. He had stripped off his holster and bandoliers for this interview. Now he luxuriated in an absence of weight which to him was by no means primarily a physical thing. "It isn't significant for purposes of the present discussion whether the loss was due to piracy or to the act of a duly-constituted government. The fact is, the lossdid occur-"

"The vessel was still under the control of her crew when you, ah, boarded her," the Factor interrupted.