problems. The Hammers outgun the NRA by a huge margin, but that only works for them if the NRA stands and fights the way it fought at Bretonville. The NRA has to avoid conventional battles and stick to what they do best: hit and run. That way, they embarrass the Hammers, making them look weak and in effective just when the Hammers most need to look strong and in control. Even so, the more hardware they can get, the better.'
'Talking of hardware,' Ferreira said, 'I see from the latest intelligence summary that there are reports the NRA has established a manufacturing complex, a large one, so maybe they're not having to steal everything they need.'
'Which brings me to my next point,' Michael said. 'If they have a secure manufacturing base, they'll have access to raw materials and power. If we supplied them with microfabs…'
Ferreira whistled softly. 'Now you're talking, sir. What a difference that would make. The NRA will have proper gear, not that obsolete Hammer shit.'
'And,' Chief Fodor said, throwing an evil grin at Chief Chua, 'it just so happens we know where to lay our hands on a few spare microfabs.'
'Wouldn't happen to be down in the engineering workshops, would they, Chief?' Michael asked.
'They just might be, sir,' Fodor said, 'but getting them out won't be easy. Microfabs, my ass! Micro they might be, but small they are not.'
'No, I know that, Chief, but we've talked long and hard about doing this because we can make a difference, and giving the NRA access to microfabs is the biggest difference we'll ever make. Those damn things can make anything, given enough time. So the question is, can we get them out?'
'Don't know how, but we will, sir,' Fodor said. 'I guarantee it.'
'Glad to hear it. But what about the knowledge bases to drive them? A microfab is no good unless it knows what to produce.'
'I might be able to help there,' Chief Chua said. 'One of my propulsion techs in the old Cordwainer married a woman from the Rogue Worlds. He set himself up as a knowledge broker. He'd know where to lay his hands on a library of microfab knowledge bases. Not as good as ours, but they'll be a damn sight better than anything the Hammers have.'
Michael winced. 'A Rogue Worlds knowledge broker? That won't be cheap, even if he is an old buddy of yours.'
'He'll be fair, so let me see what he can do.'
'Okay, good. The rest of the intelligence summary is unchanged, so I won't waste time repeating it all. Suffice it to say that things are not looking good for our man Polk. Next item. Jayla.'
'Yes, sir?'
'The ops plan to achieve all this. Where are we up to?'
'We finished the latest draft of the plan last night. Operation Gladiator, I'm calling it, by the way. Now, the next step is to…'
'Right, folks. I think that just about does it. Anything else we need to talk about?'
'Yes, sir. One thing.'
'Go ahead, Kat.'
'As you know, Fleet's approved our request for a second Block 6 heavy lander,' Sedova said. 'Don't know how Admiral Jaruzelska swung it, but she's made it happen. The amended master equipment list came through this morning.'
'Saw that,' Michael said. 'Even better, I received a personal comm from the admiral telling me we should have the lander within the week.'
'Didn't think the string pulling would stop with the master equipment list, sir,' Sedova said with a smile, 'but that gives us a bit of a problem. The lander will have a command pilot, a recent graduate of combat flight school like me, plus a petty officer loadmaster and crew.'
'Damn,' Michael said. 'The crew's no problem. We know how to handle them, when to bring them in on what we're doing, but the command pilot and loadmaster… um… they're a problem. Not sure what we do with them. Any thoughts?'
'Kat, may I?' Ferreira asked.
'Sure, go ahead.'
'I know it'll be difficult,' Ferreira said, 'but we have to keep the command pilot and loadmaster in the dark until we brief the troops. It won't be easy, but I don't think we have any other option. We're all in this because we know you. More to the point, we know we can trust you. They won't, they can't; they're brand new. If we ask them the hard question, they'll say yes and two seconds later run off to the brass screaming 'mutiny, mutiny.' I know I would.'
'I agree, sir,' Sedova said. 'The XO's right. It will be hard, but they have to stay ignorant until the last minute. Gives us time to work on them, though we have to be realistic. The chances of them committing to the craziest scheme in all of human history aren't good.'
'I think that's right, Kat,' Michael said. 'So keep them in the dark, agreed?'-heads nodded in confirmation-'And plan for what happens if they do say no. Kat, what do you think?'
'I plan to spend a lot of time on the Nyleth assault lander training ranges with the new guys. That'll keep them off the ship. If they refuse to go along when the time comes, that might be an issue, but leave that to me. The command pilot will be the problem. Apart from me, you're the only one with a lander qualification.'
'True,' Michael said, 'though mine is only a basic lander ticket. I never went through combat flight school, even if'-a bitter edge crept into Michael's voice; a combat flight qualification had been his one and only ambition once-'that's what I intended when I joined the Fleet. Still, I can fly, so that's a start.'
'Like I say, sir. Leave it to me.'
'Deal. Anything else… No? Okay, we're finished here. Let me see. What's next?'
'Running the latest version of the Gladiator ops plan through the simulator,' Ferreira said, and the mood of the meeting changed, the cheerful optimism blown away in an instant.
'Good,' Michael replied. 'Let's hope we get a better result than last time.'
'Couldn't be much worse.' Ferreira's face betrayed her concern. 'We have to find a way.'
'If we can,' Bienefelt said softly.
'We have to,' Michael said. 'Otherwise this whole business is a bust.'
Heads nodded, but nobody said any more, and the meeting broke up. With a heavy heart Michael watched his officers leave. All the early enthusiasm had evaporated, boiled off by the brutal truth that dropping into a defended system-especially a well-protected one like the Hammer of Kraa's home planet, Commitment-and surviving long enough to get dirtside was at best close to impossible, at worst an exercise in suicide. Michael had no idea how much longer he could keep them on the rack. Their commitment to him, a commitment to join the most egregious crime in the history of the Federated Worlds, was not open-ended; he knew that. Either they found a way forward, preferably one that saved them from being incinerated by Hammer missiles while they fought their way dirtside, or he would have to call the whole business off. He hated to remind himself of the consequences of failure, but those consequences were his and his alone to deal with.
Struggling to shake off a growing certainty that the brutal realities of space warfare might in the end be too much to overcome, Michael followed his officers out of the meeting room. Screw it, he decided in a sudden burst of optimism, pushing all doubt aside. There had to be a way, and they would find it. It might not be easy, it might not be safe, it might not be guaranteed of success, but he was sure there would be a way. And when they found it, Anna would have a chance to escape Hartspring's vengeful brutality; for the first time since the colonel's awful message had ripped his life apart, he allowed himself to think that the nightmare would end, that he would see Anna again, that they might one day live their lives together. And if fate determined otherwise, at least he would die knowing that he had not simply thrown his hands up in despair, that he had done everything he could do to save Anna.
'End of simulation.'
Nobody said a word, the awful hush dragging on for a long time. Sedova broke the silence. 'I don't think it can be done, folks,' she said.
'You might be right, Kat,' Ferreira said. 'If we follow Fleet standard operating procedures and drop spaceward of the Hammer's defenses to fight our way in, we're toast. There's no way in hell we can get across tens of thousands of kilometers of hostile space without having our asses kicked.'
