Michael made his way down to the hangar deck. The process was a painful one; his overused muscles protested every step of the way, his leg, as always, protesting more than all the rest of his body put together. 'Goddamn thing,' he muttered as he negotiated a ladder steeper than his leg liked. When was it ever going to be right? With one more deck to go, he had to stop, the pain from his leg forcing him to wait. Leaning against the bulkhead, he eased the weight off his bad leg, the relief immediate, the pain abating to a dull, nagging ache, leaving his mind free to roam after the hours of relentless activity prepping Redwood and her sister ships for the jump to Commitment.
What a life, he thought, looking down the empty, echoing passageway, riding the best warship ever built on its last voyage, a one-way trip into flaming oblivion, from which he and the rest of the Redwoods would escape at the last minute to snatch Anna and the rest of the prisoners of war incarcerated in Camp J-5209, whether they liked it or not, before flying off into the arms of a grateful NRA, dodging missiles and vengeful Hammer fliers. He shook his head and smiled wryly. It was comicvid stuff, it really was.
He checked to see what time it was with Anna: just past midnight, according to his neuronics. He smiled again as he remembered what nights were like in a Hammer POW camp: a long shed filled with serried ranks of bunks, each filled with the huddled shapes of sleeping spacers, the air full of the small noises people made: coughs, moans, soft cries, the occasional half-heard word blurted out from the depths of a dream.
Michael thought of Anna. Was she sleeping like all the rest? If she was, what was she dreaming about? And if she was awake, maybe she was thinking of him, wondering how long it would be before they saw each other again. Michael shook his head. More likely, she was wondering what the hell she was going to do with another long, empty day behind Hammer razor wire, a day like every other day, one day closer to freedom for sure, but how much closer?
As long as things went to plan, sooner than you think, Anna, he thought, thankful she had no idea what the consequences of his failure might be. He found them hard enough to bear; imagining how Anna would react when- no, if-Hartspring's thugs came calling was almost too much; his stomach turned over as he pictured the terror on her face as the colonel spelled out what the last week of her life had in store for her in excruciating detail. And he would, Michael knew he would, rage washing through him in an incandescent wave. If Anna died, he would hunt Hartspring down to the very ends of humanspace if need be, and then the man would die a death even more terrible than Anna's.
'Jesus, Michael,' he muttered out loud, 'get a grip. Come on, you've got work to do.' Forcing himself upright, he gingerly eased his weight back onto his bad leg, relieved to find that the bloody thing had decided to behave for once. Stepping onto the ladder, he started down again.
When he got to the hangar deck, Michael looked around. He spotted a handful of marines securing the last of the untidy piles of scrap cut out of the ship by the repairbots while Kallewi and Sergeant Tchiang busied themselves running cables to the small mounds of sandbagged explosive charges that would blast the scrap out into space as Redwood approached reentry. Michael hung back to let them finish.
Finally, Kallewi pronounced himself satisfied with the last of the charges. He stood up, stretching hard. 'Hello, sir,' he said when he spotted Michael. 'Come to see what real work looks like?'
'I was about to commend you for your diligence and devotion to duty, Lieutenant Kallewi,' Michael said, stern- faced. 'But since you've just done that for yourself, I won't bother.'
Kallewi laughed. 'Ouch,' he said. 'Anyway, we're done here.'
'Just hope it all works.'
'Oh, it will,' Kallewi said. 'When these babies go off'-he kicked one of the sandbags-'all that scrap has only one way to go, and that's out the door. The Hammers won't know what the hell is happening.'
'You're right. Everything we know about them tells us that they are anyone's equal as long as they face a problem they understand. Their Achilles' heel is that they are worse, much worse, than most when facing the unexpected. The Hammer military does not reward initiative.'
'Well, tell you what, sir. This will be unexpected.'
Michael laughed; Kallewi's confidence was infectious. 'I think so. How are the troops?'
'Dog-tired and asleep. Busy day tomorrow, so I want them fresh.'
'Anyone having second thoughts?'
'Yes, a couple. Tedeschi and Gavaskar.'
'They a problem?'
'No,' Kallewi said after a moment. 'Sergeant Tchiang talked to them. Turned out it was just nerves, and I can't say I blame them. I can't remember so much tension before an operation.'
'Ditto. I'm not concerned about the assault on the camp. We'll have momentum, and if we play our cards right, the Hammers will be so damn confused, they won't even know what we're doing until it's too late. It's what happens after that bothers me. We'll have hundreds of Fed spacers and marines on our hands. I wonder how they'll react when they find out they've been rescued by mutineers.'
'Like we decided, sir, I think the later we leave telling them, the better. When we do, provided the senior Fed officer in charge of the camp accepts what's happened, we should be okay. I don't think it'll be a problem.'
Michael nodded. 'I think that's right.' He paused for a moment. 'That leaves us with the Nationalists. Who knows what they'll think. We assume they'll treat us like manna from heaven, but we need to remember they were born Hammers. They've been raised from birth to hate us and everything we stand for.'
'They treated you well last time around?'
'Yeah, they did, but it was only me, and I was moved on quickly. If Vaas decides that we're a problem…'
'You know what, sir?'
'No, what?'
'You worry too much. If the Nationalists turn us down, they're fuckwits. Three landers with crews, microfabs, trained marines, weapons, and more. If that's not manna from heaven, I've misjudged the situation… badly. Everything we know about them tells us they are a smart, determined bunch of people, fighting to overthrow one of the ugliest regimes in human history. So I don't think they'll turn down our offer of help. Doesn't mean we can go barging in. We'll need to take care, but in the end they won't say no.'
'I think you're right. Anyway, enough talk. Time to turn in. I'll see you tomorrow.'
Kallewi rolled his eyes. 'Moving more stuff! Can't wait.'
'Night, Janos.'
'Night, sir.' Friday, September 14, 2401, UD FWSS Redwood, in deepspace
The compartment fell silent when Michael rapped a knife on his glass and stood up.
'Sorry, folks,' he said, 'but you know how it is. You can't have a formal dinner without the captain making a speech. Them's the rules, you all know it, and no amount of complaining will change things.'
Michael lifted his hands while a chorus of cheerful cheers and boos along with shouts of 'Sit down,' 'Does your mother know what you're up to, sonny?' 'More beer,' 'That's enough talk,' and other time-honored and insubordinate witticisms-all sanctioned by long-standing naval tradition to the point of being compulsory on occasions like this- broke out.
'Yes, yes, yes,' he said over the row. 'I'll keep it short, don't worry.' He waited until order returned, his eyes scanning the faces around the single large table filling what had been the senior spacers' bar when Redwood was a cruiser.
'It's been a long day, so I'll keep it short'-more cheers sprinkled liberally with calls of 'liar'-'but there are a few things that need to be said. First, I want to thank you all. To those of you who know and trust me, I cannot begin to express how I feel. I promise you that I will not betray that trust. To those of you who are here because it is our best chance to hit the Hammers and hit them hard-'
Michael was forced to wait as the room filled with roars overlaid with shouts raw with hate and anger.
'-that is the best reason for doing what we are doing. I promise you that by the time we are finished, the Hammers will hate us for the death and destruction we will bring down on their heads.'
The compartment erupted in an explosion of energy. The spacers and marines of Redwood's crew leaped to their feet, fists pumping the air, mouths open, bellowing hate-fueled litanies of revenge. Finally order was restored.
'And finally, to those of you,' he said, 'who are just along because they've got nothing better to do, thanks anyway. We need you.'
Again Michael waited patiently when laughter filled the room.
