The Final Battle

“Now, you’ll have to forgive me,” Balaghi said, “but I have to go see Brigade.”

“I have to get back too,” Michael said, standing up, “and I need to catch up with some of the Feds before I go.” They shook hands. “Good to meet you, Joe.”

“Likewise. And let me know how you do with the Calverson problem.”

“I will.”

“Bye, Anna,” Michael said, kissing her long and hard.

“Look after yourself, Michael,” Anna said, holding him tight. “And no heroics, okay?’

“You’re one to talk,” he said, breaking the embrace with reluctance, “but no heroics. I’d better go.”

“Yeah.”

“You ready, sergeant?” Michael said to Shinoda, who was standing a discreet distance away.

Shinoda nodded. “Always, sir,” she said, shouldering her rifle and pack.

They climbed into the buggy; with a jerk, it moved off. Michael’s eyes stayed locked on the solitary figure of Anna until she was lost to view.

Michael slumped back, drained of all emotion. It wasn’t just the intensity of Anna’s farewell. No, even a good two hours later, it was the impact the 3rd Battalion had made on him that still resonated through every fiber of his being.

Nothing had prepared him for the brutal power of the Federal Battalion’s battle cry, the air filling with the thunderous roars of ‘Remember Comdur, remember Comdur, remember Comdur,’ on and on until Michael’s ears rang.

When the parade was over, the men and woman of the battalion were no less impressive in person. Even though he’d spent barely more than a few seconds with each one, he had been left in no doubt that their commitment to finishing the job at hand was real.

Then there was Anna. She might have been overtopped and outmassed by all but a handful of her troopers, but there was no doubting who was in command, a remarkable thing considering how many in her battalion had once been senior to her. Michael had been forced to suppress a smile at the incongruous sight of Fleet Captain, now NRA Trooper, Adrissa standing motionless in the ranks as Anna’s second in command-a marine major-had reported the battalion all present and correct to her.

And Adrissa was only one of more than twenty former warship captains in the battalion.

It had been an astonishing display, one that had frightened Michael almost as much as it had impressed him. Trying not to think about how much time Anna and the Federal Battalion would spend in harm’s way over the coming months, he slipped off to sleep.

Sunday, July 18, 2404, UD

ENCOMM, Branxton base

Much of the journey back to the Branxtons had been courtesy of an obliging Hammer marine warrant officer commanding a resupply convoy. Michael still found it hard to believe. He made his way to the security post outside ENCOMM.

“General Vaas wants to see you, Colonel. His office, 15:00,” the trooper said once he’d checked Michael’s identity.

“Thanks. I’ll be there.”

Michael walked down the rock-cut tunnel to the ENCOMM canteen, not that he wanted a bowl of its piss-poor gruel, but a coffee would be nice. Mug in hand, he searched for somewhere to sit and came to an abrupt stop, halted by the familiar sight of Admiral Jaruzelska.

“I don’t believe it, sir,” he said making his way over. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Well you may ask, Take a seat, and to answer your question, I had the poor old Iron Fist shot out from under me. We were lucky; the crew had time to get to the landers, so here we all are.”

“This is the last place I expected to see you. The last I heard, you’d been arrested.”

“I was,” Jaruzelska said, “but it was all bullshit. They had to drop the charges, and since Juggernaut was my baby, there was only one place I could be.”

“Speaking of Juggernaut, have you heard about Recognizant? I was outside of Gwalia; we found some of the wreckage and a body.”

“I did hear. Hell of a shame. Admiral Moussawi was one of our best. I’ll miss him.”

“I’m a bit out of touch, sir,” Michael said after a pause. “How did Juggernaut go?”

“Better than we expected, though I hate thinking about the ships and spacers we lost. We got almost all of the landers dirtside, and although they took a bit of punishment early on, we were able to keep those bloody orbital kinetics at bay once we got our laser batteries deployed.” Jaruzelska frowned. “Those orbital kinetics are nasty, and don’t the Hammers just love them.”

“Tell me about it, sir.”

“The Hammers don’t seem to care what they do to this planet of theirs. One of the ENCOMM guys told me they use tacnuke bunker busters.”

“Not often. They’re not very effective; the Branxtons are so huge and the limestone is hundreds of meters thick. The locals hate them, of course, and it’s one thing they aren’t afraid to object to. Even Polk and his thugs can’t ignore such an emotional issue.”

“Using nuclear weapons on your own home planet.” Jaruzelska shook her head. “That is unbelievable.”

“Does anyone have a feel for how the Hammers see things now?” Michael asked.

“Now, that is an interesting question,” Jaruzelska replied, “and yes, the NRA does. You’ve got to give it to them. Their intelligence networks are superb.” She paused. “There’s a report you should see. What’s your security clearance?” she said.

“Top Secret Gold,” Michael said, pushing his NRA identity card over for Jaruzelska to check.

“That will do,” the admiral said. “Come with me.”

Michael sat back from the holovid screen. “That’s impressive, admiral,” he said, “and this man Ngaro is right when he says UNMILCOMM’s assessment of Operation Juggernaut was, let me see … yes, ‘overly optimistic.’”

“He’s not Chief Councillor Polk’s chief of staff because he’s an idiot; that’s for sure.”

“Look here,” Michael said, his finger stabbing out at the screen, “where he says ‘Operation Juggernaut has given the NRA a mobile missile and laser defense capability, a capability that will allow them to sustain offensive operations outside their Branxton and Velmar bases for the first time.’ That must mean they know the NRA will attack McNair.”

“Of course they do, and that’s the problem with the NRA’s strategy. It’s all so obvious.”

“What choice do they have, sir? The NRA has to take McNair if they want to get rid of Polk and his crew.”

“This is now a war of attrition, Michael. The next time the NRA breaks out, all the Hammers have to do is throw everything at them, then grind them down and go on doing that until there is nothing left of the NRA but blood and dust.”

Doubt clouded Michael’s face. I’ve never looked past Juggernaut, he realized. I’ve always assumed that taking McNair was just a matter of time.

“And all the Hammers have to do is keep it together,” Jaruzelska went on. “Don’t forget that they have the resources of three industrialized worlds to draw on. That gives them more men, more armor, more missiles, more ordnance, more of everything. If they can outlast the NRA, then they win. Simple as that.”

Michael shook his head. “Ngaro’s not at all confident they can do that,’ he said. “He says morale in the military is at an all-time low and civil unrest is becoming a serious problem.”

“He can thank the Revival for that. Their agents are doing a good job of destabilizing things. Mindless vandalism, flash mobs hurling bricks and Molotov cocktails, sabotage shutting down factories, crippling transport, and disrupting power supplies, and no matter how brutally DocSec cracks down, it’s not showing any signs of stopping. If the Hammers are to lose this war, then that’s why.”

“So we’ve got a chance?” Michael asked.

“Oh, yes; just not as good a chance as I would have liked.”