“He is,” Michael said, “and worth every FedMark of your hard-earned money.”
Michael’s mother winced. “Do not remind us. Nothing but the best, your father said, even though it cost me a year’s salary.”
“You exaggerate, Mom. I know how much commodores were paid in your day.”
“Yeah, well,” his mother conceded, “but it was worth it. Mitesh got you a big win over that nasty piece of work at World News … what was his name?”
“Pantini, Giorgio Pantini. Yeah, Mitesh and the lawyers did one hell of a job on him. I don’t think he’ll be getting his bonus this year. Or next. He’s just cost World News a fortune, and it’s made the rest of them ease up a bit.”
“Have they paid the damages?”
“No, not yet. It’s in escrow while they appeal, but Mitesh and the legal AI say they have no chance.”
“What will you do with the money?”
“Me?” Michael said fiercely. “Nothing. I don’t want their filthy money. I’ve told Mitesh it’s to go straight to the Spacers’ and Marines’ Welfare Fund, every last grubby Fed-Mark of it. Hell, the fund needs all the help it can get after Comdur. Come, let’s go inside. I need caffeine.”
A welcome coffee in hand, Michael checked out the rest of the gathering. Bearing down on them was a tall, silver-haired marine colonel. “Incoming,” Michael said. “The president’s aide-de-camp is heading this way, so I’m guessing the president herself is not far behind.”
She was. “Commodore Helfort,” President Diouf said, shaking Michael’s mother’s hand and then his father’s. “Captain Helfort. Glad you were able to make it.”
“Would not have missed it, ma’am,” Andrew Helfort said. “I keep telling the boy to take it easy, but I don’t think he listens to me anymore. Thankless task, fatherhood.”
“Children! I know what you mean,” the president said with a theatrical roll of her eyes. “You both know Colonel Kashvili?”
“Certainly do, ma’am,” Kerri Helfort said, shaking the marine’s hand. “Let me see … yes, you were in
“I was, Commodore Helfort,” Kashvili said, “a long time ago. Andrew, how are you? Last bumped into you when we were cleaning out pirates around Damnation’s Gate.”
“That’s right. The early?70s, I think.”
“Excuse me for a moment,” the president said, taking Michael’s arm. “I want to talk to the junior member of the Helfort military dynasty.”
“Be our guest, ma’am,” Kerri Helfort said. “Please try and persuade him to be more careful.”
“I will,” the president said, taking Michael to one side. “So, Michael. I wanted to ask about Anna Cheung.”
Michael’s face must have betrayed his shock. “Come on, Michael,” Diouf said, “I am the president, you know, and that means I am well informed.”
“Er, yes, ma’am,” Michael said, embarrassed that the head of the Federated Worlds and its billions of citizens saw fit to talk to him about his girlfriend. “You are. Very.”
“Well, how is she?”
“So far as I know, pretty good, ma’am. Received a few vidmails from her so far. She’s tough, so she’ll be fine. I just wish … ” Michael’s voice trailed off.
“I know,” Diouf said. “I hate the idea of our people rotting in the Hammers’ hands. You know better than most what they can be like.”
“I do, though to be fair, Hammer spacers are basically okay. They tend to follow the rules of war. It’s DocSec you have to worry about. They don’t follow any rules at all. I’d be much more worried if she was in their hands.”
“I’ve met the Hammer’s new defense force chief, Admiral Belasz,” Diouf said. “Apparently they’ve just shot his predecessor, something they like to do when things go wrong. Jorge, I think his name was. Sorry, Michael, I digress. Anyway, I met Belasz, a few years ago at some function or other, but I remember him quite well. For a Hammer, he’s a decent man. When you are talking about Hammers, I realize that’s not saying much, but we understand he is very firm when it comes to treating prisoners of war properly.”
“Unlike his boss.”
“Chief Councillor Polk. There’s a truly evil man,” Diouf said with a grimace of distaste. “Listen, Michael. Colonel Kashvili’s nagging me to go to my next engagement, so I’ll be quick. What I’m about to tell you is sensitive, and I’m pretty sure I should not be telling you, so I’m going to block it, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Michael said, utterly mystified while he enabled Diouf’s neuronics block.
“Good … right, that’s done. I just wanted you to know that we’re not sitting around waiting for the Hammers to hand back our people. I’m leaning hard on the government to work with the Red Cross to arrange a prisoner exchange with the Hammers.”
Michael’s face must have betrayed his elation. Diouf placed her hand on his arm. “Michael, a word of caution. It’s early days, and the Hammers are the most unreasonable people in humanspace. You know that. So it may well not come to anything.”
“I understand, ma’am. It’s just good to know that we’re trying.”
“We are, and I’m hopeful the Red Cross can organize it. There’ll be an announcement if we make any progress, so be patient. Very patient; it’s going to take a long time if it ever happens at all. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. And thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. It’s a million miles from a done deal, and knowing the Hammers, there is a good chance it may never happen. I just wanted you to know we’re trying.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Right. Yes, yes, Colonel,” Diouf said to her aide-to-camp. “I’m coming, Good luck, Michael.” And with that she left, leaving Michael to wonder how so much charisma ended up packed into so small a frame. It was no wonder she had been reelected so many times. He would be voting for her every time she cared to run.
“What was that all about?” Andrew Helfort said.
“Can’t say, sorry.”
Michael’s father stared at him, eyes narrowed, a look of shrewd appraisal on his face. “You look happier, so I think I can guess. No, no, I won’t,” he said in response to Michael’s look of alarm. “We want to meet your executive officer. She sounds like a real gem and a brave one to boot.”
“Jayla? She’s a star.” Michael glanced across the crowd to where Ferreira stood. “I think she’s over there with the Fleet’s largest coxswain.”
Andrew Helfort laughed. “Let me guess … Chief Petty Officer Bienefelt?”
“The same,” Michael said.
“I remember her dad, though I only met him once. He was a hard man to miss. Like a small mountain on legs.”
Michael rolled his eyes, wondering if there was anyone in Fleet his parents did not know. “Come on, follow me,” he said wearily.
Sunday, June 17, 2401, UD
Beer in hand, feet up, Michael sat in the warmth of the late-afternoon sun, the only sound the comforting buzz of one of the security drones that watched over him day and night. The last thing he had wanted was leave, but Fleet had been emphatic, so here he sat, alone, slowly getting drunk and trying not to think about all the promises he had made, promises that a posting as captain in command of
Dispirited, Michael tossed the empty beer bottle into the bin and commed the drinkbot for another.
For the umpteenth time, he went through it all. After the Hammers staged their big push in May, the war
