Oh, damn, Michael thought as he followed the man to where Vaas waited. Davoodi motioned for him to stand alongside the general. “Don’t move,” Vaas said with a smile.
Michael stood there, baffled.
Vaas turned to look at the assembled officers. “In a moment,” he said, “we will start the briefing for what I sincerely hope will be the final battle sim for the NRA’s operations in support of Juggernaut. But before we do, I have a presentation to make. All of you here know this man-” To Michael’s acute embarrassment, Vaas put his arm around his shoulders. “-if only by reputation. Now, the lieutenant will be pleased to know that I will not prolong his agony much longer, but I do have to say that the Revivalist movement and its military arm, the New Revolutionary Army, owe him an enormous debt of gratitude, a debt we will never be able to repay. But what we can do is make some small recognition of the contribution he has made to our cause, a contribution made in the face of great risk and suffering.” Vaas nodded to Davoodi, who stepped forward and handed the general a small box.
Please, no, Michael thought. I don’t want a damn medal; it wouldn’t be right.
“Michael Wallace Helfort,” Vaas went on, lifting his voice to fill the room. “By order of the Resistance Council, you are hereby promoted to the rank of colonel in the New Revolutionary Army, effective immediately.”
Michael’s mouth sagged open as Vaas pinned the eagles to the lapels of his shipsuit and shook his hand. “Congratulations,” he said; he leaned forward, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Call me a misogynistic old Hammer, but we can’t have a man outranked by his wife, can we?”
“Er, no,” Michael mumbled, more embarrassed than he had ever been, “and thank you, sir.”
“Nothing to thank me for,” Vaas said. “You earned those eagles.” He turned to the crowd. “Colonel Helfort, NRA,” he declared, and the room erupted in a storm of applause and cheers that rapidly settled into a rhythmic chant of “N-R-A, N-R-A, N-R-A …”
Vaas let things run for a minute, then lifted his arms to call a halt. “Now, go back to your seat,” he said to Michael. “I want you to say nothing and do less. Just listen and watch. I’ll hear what you think once the sim is over, okay?”
“Sir.”
Vaas turned to address the room. “Time to get down to business,” he continued, “but before I do, let me just say one thing. Operation Juggernaut is our last and best chance to take the fight to McNair City, and it is up to each one of you to do whatever it takes to make the operation the success it has to be even if that means sacrificing your life, because we cannot live under the Hammer of Kraa any longer.”
A murmur ran through the room; angry or excited, Michael could not say. Whatever it was, he knew Vaas would get what he was asking for.
“Now,” Vaas went on, “General Pedersen will run us through the latest intelligence. Once she’s done, we’ll start.”
The disembodied voice of one of the umpires triggered a flood of noise as the ENCOMM staff in command of the NRA forces for the exercise stood down. “End of exercise,” he said.
Michael stretched to try to ease the kinks out of his back. He was exhausted. And he had to go talk with Vaas once the hot wash-up was over; that could take hours. He knew Vaas. The man could be up half the night. He sighed. Vaas might be able to get by on four hours of sleep a night, but he couldn’t.
“… all of which are relatively minor issues, General, and therefore easily fixed. The only significant weakness I can see is your ability to talk to the task force commander as the operation progresses. As things stand, you will have to rely on the brevity codes I brought in, and even though they are pretty comprehensive, Murphy’s Law says one of you will want to say something that’s not in the code book.”
Vaas nodded. “Anything more we can we do?” he asked.
“No, sir,” Michael said. “Not as long as the Hammers dominate nearspace. As fast as you put microsats up, they will hack them down. They’re soft targets, and there’ll be no shortage of Hammer ships to deal with them.”
Vaas sighed. “You’re right, of course. We’ve looked at the problem every which way, and we’ve end up chasing our tails. We’ll have to live with it, I’m afraid.”
“I think so, General … though I do have an idea.”
“Oh?”
“It’ll be chaos out there-”
“That is the general idea,” Vaas said with a smile.
“-so can we exploit that to get close to the Hammer brass? We know from experience that they are very top-down, even more so now after all the heads Polk has chopped off. The guys responsible for nearspace defense won’t break wind unless some fat-assed flag officer says it’s okay.”
“That’s true.”
“So why not add to the chaos by taking out some-hell, make that all-of the key Hammer commanders. Then nobody will know who to ask for orders. They’ll be paralyzed. Not forever, of course, but every minute counts.”
Vaas shook his head. “Nice idea and we did look at it, but it’s a nonstarter, I’m afraid. The minute the shit hits the fan, those bastards will be locked up in their bunkers underneath 10 meters of ceramcrete.”
“Not necessarily,” Michael said. “Do we know who the commanders are?”
Vaas leaned forward. The fatigue had gone. His eyes sparkled. “You’ve spotted something, haven’t you?”
“Not sure yet, sir.”
“We’ll see. Now, Hammer commanders. Let me see … yes, we know everyone in the Hammer chain of command, from Polk right down to the commanders of every unit and ship, provided they haven’t been shot since we last checked, of course,” he added.
“Do you know where they live, where they work, what their routines are?”
“Wait!” Vaas snapped. He jumped to his feet and made for the door. “Major Davoodi!” he shouted. “I want to see General Pedersen. And see if you can find Colonel Tekin. I want him too. Yes, now!”
Vaas dropped back in to his seat. “I think I see what you’re driving at, and this is why I promoted you. Ah, good,” he said when Pedersen and Tekin appeared. “That was fast.”
“Here to serve, General Vaas,” Pedersen replied, rubbing a hand across her stubble-cut hair, a faint smile crinkling the skin around her piercing blue eyes.
Vaas chuckled. “Colonel Helfort, this Colonel Tekin,” he said, “head of our Hammer personnel intelligence division.”
“Michael Helfort. Good to meet you,” Michael said, shaking hands with Tekin, a thin, cadaverous man. Like most of the staffers who worked in ENCOMM, the yellowing skin of his face was drawn tight by overwork, stress, and fatigue. Michael wondered when the man had last had a day off.
“So what’s up?” Pedersen asked.
“We’ll come to that, but first Colonel Helfort has some questions.”
“Thank you, sir,” Michael said. “How much do we know about the Hammer’s senior commanders?”
“What specifically?” Pedersen asked.
“Who they are, what their routines are, where they live, where they work, what watches they stand if they do.”
Pedersen turned to Tekin. “I think you’d better take this one, Colonel.”
“Wait one … Okay, this org chart,” Tekin said when the holovid screen came to life, “shows the entire chain of command: Polk and the Defense Council at the top obviously, the commander in chief, Admiral Kerouac, and then something new, the Commitment Unified Military Command-UNMILCOMM for short; it’s the equivalent of our ENCOMM-and on down through the various force elements assigned to the defense of Commitment. And we know pretty much all there is to know about most of them. Not all, of course. We don’t have unlimited resources, and given how often Polk purges these people, it can be hard to keep up sometimes.”
“So,” Michael said, “if I nominated, say, thirty officers in key positions, you would have good up-to-date information on them?”
“Pick one.”
“Hmmm, let me see … Let’s try Colonel Cerutti, commander of the 455th Antiballistic Missile Regiment.”