Graham Paul: The Battle of the Hammer Worlds

To his dying day, Michael did not know why he did what he did next. Even as he stepped forward, he knew it was stupid, something Lenski pointed out to him in extremely colorful and un-Fleet-like language later. But stupid or not, he did it. While the Eridani ’s executive officer checked and signed the clipboard presented to him by the DocSec corporal to confirm that the Eridani s had all the Ishaq s they were entitled to, Michael slipped unnoticed across to stand alongside the black jumpsuited sergeant.

He stuck his face right up close to the man’s. “Sergeant,” he whispered, “I have a message I would like you to pass on.”

The DocSec sergeant stared at him. “Eh? What?” he mumbled, confused.

“It’s for Colonel Erwin Hartspring of Doctrinal Security. Know him?”

“No.” The sergeant shook his head. “No, don’t think I do.”

“Well, not to worry. Colonel Erwin Hartspring. He’s a big cheese. Section 22, I think, based in McNair. Now, this is important. Tell him Michael sends his regards and looks forward to seeing him again one day. Got that?”

The sergeant nodded uncertainly. “Michael sends his regards and looks forward to seeing him one day. Yes. Got it,” he muttered.

“But,” Michael continued, looking around theatrically, “for Kraa’s sake, don’t say anything to anybody until we’ve jumped. Otherwise. .” He drew a finger across his throat, nodding his head back toward the Eridani.

“Er, right.” By then the sergeant looked completely baffled. “Got all that? And for Kraa’s sake, say nothing until we’ve jumped. Okay?”

The DocSec sergeant nodded. Bewildered, he watched Michael walk back on board Eridani, the air lock doors thudding shut behind him.

Five minutes later, the three heavy scouts and their precious cargo made a high-g departure. Main engines pushed to emergency power punched pillars of white-hot flame planetward, with the Hammers’ increasingly strident demands to reduce thrust completely ignored.

Korndapp Mountain Resort, Scobie’s World

Chief Councillor Polk walked out onto the sprawling deck that fronted his suite. It was going to be a beautiful day, and in more ways than one, he promised himself.

He took a deep breath. The mountain air was pure and cool, the early morning sun cutting long slanting bars of light and dark through the mist eddying up from the valley far below him. In the distance, the Korndapp Range dominated the horizon, its rock faces thousands of meters high. Long tendrils of meltwater dropped down walls slashed by vertical fissures and ravines, unraveling into thin white skeins that twisted and danced in the early morning breeze. Above them, snowfields dusted a soft pink by the morning light crowned impossibly sharp peaks climbing high into the sky, a few stars still bright against the fading blue-black of night.

It was stunning, and in more ways than one.

Polk had to laugh out loud; he could not help himself. The sheer joy of presiding over the final humiliation of the Federated Worlds was as good as any drug. No, it was better, much better, because today was the start of something that would cement his position as chief councillor until the day he died. There was a wonderful twist to it all, though it was a minor detail, a mere bagatelle. Even so, it greatly amused him every time he thought of it. The Polk clan owned the Korndapp Mountain Resort, home to the negotiations with the Feds. Not that anyone knew that, of course. The endless layers of nominee companies and blind trusts were completely opaque; his many enemies had never found out, and if they could not, the damned Feds never would, either.

Polk laughed out loud. Even he had trouble keeping up with the Byzantine complexities of the Polk clan’s business affairs.

Ah, the wonderful, delicious irony of it all, he thought. The Feds were paying the Polk clan for using the Korndapp Mountain Resort, the place where he would make their defeat final and absolute, where the foundations of future Hammer greatness would be laid.

FWSS Eridani, in orbit around Comdur Fleet Base

“Come in, Michael. With you in a tick.” Lenski waved him into a seat.

“Thank you, sir.” Michael sat down. What on earth was going on?

Lenski finished what she was doing and, pushing her chair away from her desk, turned to look right at him. “Well, Michael. All good things come to an end.”

“Sir?” Michael said, puzzled.

“Yeah, apologies, Michael. Teasing my officers. Bad habit of mine. Anyway, I have orders for you, a new posting, I’m sorry to say. We’re going to miss you.”

“A new posting?” Michael looked shocked. This he had not expected. “Where to? Why so soon? I’ve only been in the Eridani for what, two months?”

“Not even that. Anyway, you’re posted to leave immediately, and then it seems the Fleet Advanced Projects Unit has need of you, reporting to one Commander Baker care of the Transit Officers Quarters, Comdur base, by no later than 0900, July 3. And before you ask, no, I haven’t the faintest idea what the Fleet Advanced Projects Unit actually does, so don’t bother asking me. All I know is that they run out of Comdur.”

“Baker,” Michael said thoughtfully, dredging through his neuronics until he found the recording he had made. “Yes, Commander Baker. I know him. I met him during the Hammer attack on Comdur. Seemed like a smart man.”

“That’s as may be, Michael. Far more important is your farewell dining out. Don’t care what you’re doing tomorrow night. Clear your diary and make sure you have your drinking boots on. You’re going to need them.”

As the dirtside shuttle pulled away from the Eridani, Michael had mixed feelings about leaving.

He had enjoyed his short time in Eridani. She was a great ship, and he was sorry to be leaving so early. Lenski was one of the better captains around, and leaving Bienefelt behind was a blow. Michael was not superstitious, but he could not shake a deep and growing conviction that the huge woman brought him luck.

However, the Advanced Projects Unit sounded intriguing, and if Commander Baker was anything to go by, it might prove to be an interesting place, though he wondered why they wanted a junior lieutenant. He prayed it was not for some bullshit administrative post.

Anyway, the Advanced Projects Unit was a problem for another day. Damishqui was in one of the orbiting shipyards around Paradise for planned maintenance, and after a heart-stoppingly long delay, Anna had agreed to meet up.

Quite where things went from there, Michael could not be sure, but he had put his foot on a nice beachside shack dirtside on Paradise, and if all went well. .

The only sounds were the soft rustle of palm trees and the gentle intermittent hiss of the surf as it ran up a beach invisible in the darkness beyond the light thrown by a single, guttering candle.

Michael was drowning in Anna Cheung’s eyes, the outside world slipping effortlessly away as he drifted down, hopelessly, utterly lost. He could not help himself; he never could. The first time he had met her, a lifetime ago as a brand-new cadet, her eyes had been the first thing he had noticed. Every time they met, they had the same hypnotic effect on him, an effect that made the rest of the world fade away into irrelevance.

“Michael!” Anna said sharply. “For heaven’s sake, pay attention!”

Michael came back to earth with a bump. “Oh, sorry, Anna. Honestly, you really should wear glasses. Dark glasses.”

Anna laughed softly. Michael’s addiction to her eyes was the longest of long-running private jokes, even if it did drive her to distraction at times.