The Battle of the Hammer Worlds

Monday, April 10, 2400, UD

FWSS Eridani, berth Bravo-10, Comdur Fleet Base Repair Facility

The first few hours after they berthed had been frantic.

Michael had kept well clear. Despite the shock loading Eridani’s precious sensors had endured when the Hammer rail-gun slugs had smashed home, they were all fully operational. So, he decided, he would tidy up a few loose ends, and unless he was grabbed for some shitty little job or other-he was only a junior lieutenant, after all-he would go ashore to check up on Bienefelt’s progress. Needless to say, what she had assured all and sundry was only a minor scratch turned out to be a deep laceration to her left arm. When Eridani’s exasperated medic had found out, he had sent her straight to the base hospital on the grounds that the medics there were bigger and uglier than he was and might have more luck getting Bienefelt to cooperate.

Pleased to discover that Bienefelt had actually allowed the medics to fix her injured arm with a minimum of coercion and that she would be back on board later that day, Michael left the base hospital. His next stop was the venerable Arcturus, one of only four Regulus class heavy cruisers still operational, berthed across from the Eridani in berth Charlie-6.

After being handled roughly by a pair of Hammer heavy cruisers during an abortive attempt to take out one of Commitment’s space battle stations, the Arcturus was not going anywhere soon, and that meant he would be able to catch up with Charles Mbeki. He had not seen Charles since graduation day, and it would be good to chat with him.

Michael could not get over how much the man in front of him had changed.

The Charles Mbeki he remembered from Space Fleet College had been an easygoing man, always cheerful, never taking life too seriously. This was not that man. Mbeki’s face, normally a rich mahogany, had a waxy gray sheen to it, and he had not smiled once since they had sat down in a quiet corner of Arcturus’s wardroom.

Michael listened in tight-lipped silence as Mbeki unloaded. Things had been bad for the ship right from the word go, with Arcturus living up to her reputation as an unlucky ship. It all sounded horribly familiar to Michael as Mbeki told of a ship cursed with a weak captain, a divided wardroom, an unhappy ship’s company, and unreliable systems that were the legacy of eighteen long years of hard service, systems that had failed when Arcturus had needed them most.

Finally he was finished. “So there you have it, Michael.” He sat back and rubbed a tired face with hands the size of dinner plates. “We were fucked. Completely. The Hammers hit us on the port quarter. Two Eaglehawks, one after the other. Weaps Power Echo. Pow!” He shook his head in despair. “That was that. I suppose we were lucky to get away at all. If the Seiche and Refulgent had not been there to cover our ass, the Hammers would have finished us off.”

Mbeki looked away for a moment, his eyes focused on something a long way away. He looked back at Michael. “Ninety-seven dead, Michael. Ninety-seven! Jesus! I was in the damn power control room only two minutes earlier. None of them made it. Not one. I didn’t even get scratched. I knew them all. Every single one.”

Michael struggled to work out what to say. What could he say?

“Charles?”

“Yeah?”

“Charles, my friend. Listen to me-”

Michael was cut off by the insistent wail of Arcturus’s klaxon. For a second, he and Mbeki looked at each other, their confusion total. The Arcturus was berthed, for God’s sake, so why would the ship go to general quarters?

“What the hell?” Michael blurted, looking around as he came to his feet.

“Don’t ask me,” Mbeki said helplessly, a tremor in his voice.

Then the penny dropped. “Shit!” Michael said. “Has to be a Hammer attack on Comdur; has to be. I’m off. See you.”

Michael ran hard for the gangway, dodging and weaving through the Arcturus’s crew as they rushed to their stations. He barely made it off the ship before Arcturus’s massive air lock doors thudded shut behind him. Pausing only to grab a skinsuit from an emergency locker, he pounded down the rock-cut passageway until, after rounding a corner, he finally made it to Eridani.

Damn, damn, damn, he told himself. He was too late. The Eridani was closed up tighter than a duck’s ass, and she would stay that way until the immediate drama was over.

He commed Eridani.

Eridani’s exec took the comm. “Wait one, Michael,” a harried Malik Aasha said brusquely.

Michael did as he was told, trying without any luck to find out what the hell was going on. His security clearance was not good enough to get him into Comdur’s BattleNet, so in the end all he could do was stand there and wait. Finally, Aasha’s avatar reappeared in his neuronics. The exec did not waste any time. “Michael! Hammer attack is all we know. Go to the system command center. They may be able to use you. There’s nothing we need you for on board. We’re not going anywhere. Come back when it’s all over.”

With that, Aasha was gone. Michael wasted no time, spinning on his heel and setting off at a sprint for the nearest drop tube.

Five minutes later, he skidded to a halt at the marine security post controlling access to Comdur’s huge system command center. His heart sank. Behind outer plasglass security doors, the center’s plasteel blast doors were closed.

“Shit,” he cursed aloud. The doors would stay shut until the attack was over. He did not bother asking the marine security detail if he could get in. He would have to be the president herself to have any chance.

Oh, well, he thought, at least he had tried. Disconsolately, he turned away, only to run right into a small but rather chunky commander, the man barreling around the corner right into him, dropping them both to the ground.

“Shit! Oh, sorry, sir,” Michael apologized as the two picked themselves up.

“No harm done, son,” the man replied. “We locked out?”

“Afraid so, sir.” Michael waved at the doors. “Looks like it’ll stay that way. I haven’t asked the marines, but-”The commander put his hand up. “No, don’t waste your time. If the command center’s buttoned up, then I can’t get in, so you definitely won’t.” He looked at Michael for a moment, frowning. Then light dawned. “Aha,” he announced, obviously pleased with himself. “I know you. You’re the famous Helfort, aren’t you?”

Michael shrugged his shoulders. “Sir.”

The man bobbed up and down in delight. “Excellent, excellent. Good to meet you.” He took Michael’s hand and shook it vigorously.

Michael sighed to himself. Dollars to doughnuts, he knew what was coming next. He was right.

“Knew your parents. Say hello from me when you see them next. John Baker. They’ll remember.”

“Will do, sir,” he replied resignedly. Was there anyone above the rank of lieutenant commander who did not know his parents?

Baker frowned. “Now, we need to know what’s going on out there.” He pursed his lips and whistled softy. “Ummm. . let me see. Yes, that should do it. Good, I’m patched in.”

Michael’s pleading look did not go unnoticed. Baker held up a hand. “Yes, hang on. Okay, right. I’ve authorized you to access BattleNet as well.”

Michael patched in his neuronics. What he saw made his heart stand still. Coming in from galactic north was the largest force of ships he had ever seen. The Hammer must have scraped the bottom of the barrel to get so