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Authors: Graham Sharp Paul
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Sedova.
“Yes, Kat.”
“Like Chief Bienefelt, there’s more to it for me. I want to do this because I think we can make a difference. Sounds arrogant, I know, and it is, but I’ve read the intelligence summaries. Those poor NRA bastards are doing the job all on their own, and their political wing is struggling to get traction. What they achieve, they achieve without any outside help. Our own government has done nothing to lend a hand, and all because of some misplaced desire not to interfere even though ablind man can see the Hammers will destroy us all. So if we play our cards right, I’m sure we can make a difference, but I need to hear you say it … that chucking it all in to join the NRA is the right thing, the best thing not only for you but for us, all of us … and the rest of the Federation, too. Because much as I respect you, sir, I’m not Chief Bienefelt. I won’t do this simply to rescue Lieutenant Cheung. That’s not reason enough. So tell me. Can we make a difference?”
Michael sat back in his seat. Sedova had taken the heart of the problem and skewered it to the bulkhead. He would not, could not ask these people to risk their lives and careers just to help him rescue Anna, no matter what Bienefelt said. They might like the idea of taking the fight back to the Hammers, but that was not reason enough. It needed to be the right thing to do. It needed to be something that helped end the war.
He shook his head in despair at the arrogance of it all. Only one word described it: hubris. Hubris on a breathtaking scale.
“That is the million-FedMark question,” Michael said, measuring his every word. “So let’s be clear. Nothing we do can end the war, and I know none of us are so stupid as to think that. So what we are talking about is helping shorten it, and none of you should have anything to do with this business unless it helps do that. If you don’t believe what we do will shorten the war—and believe it body, brain, heart, and soul—you should, you must, walk away. Kat is right: Helping me is not reason enough. My problems are my problems; they are not your concern.”
“Yes, sir. We know that,” Kallewi said, a finger stabbing out to reinforce the point. “So what’s the answer? Can we help shorten this war or not?”
Michael had to smile; the big marine was not known for his finesse.
“Okay, here’s my view,” he said, picking his words carefully. He knew this was not the time to oversell; if Ferreira’s plan ever went ahead, that would come back to haunt him when the going got hard, and it would. “I believe we can help. I’ve met Mutti Vaas, the man in charge of the NRA. I’ve met their people. I’ve seen the NRA in action. I know what they’re fighting for, and it’s the same thing we’re fighting for: an endto the Hammer of Kraa. I also know that the Hammer government is not the solid, monolithic structure it presents itself to be. Infighting, backstabbing, deceit, lies, treachery, betrayal, kidnapping, murder, torture … that’s what makes the Hammer’s wheels go around. Put another way, the whole edifice is rotten to the core, and the more people try to push it over …”
Michael needed a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. “I think we have it all wrong. We’ve tried to win this war the old-fashioned way. Our ships fighting their ships using missiles, rail guns, lasers, all the things we’re good at, relying on technology and good people to get the result we want. Problem is, it isn’t working … it won’t work. It’s the wrong strategy. This war can only be won from the inside, and that means backing the NRA and the Nationalists. I think history will show that our politicians screwed it up when they refused to provide direct assistance to the NRA back in ’93, and even now they won’t in case they are accused of being regime changers. Who knows why? But I can tell you something: This war only ends when the regime changes. So the
“Yes, Kat.”
“Like Chief Bienefelt, there’s more to it for me. I want to do this because I think we can make a difference. Sounds arrogant, I know, and it is, but I’ve read the intelligence summaries. Those poor NRA bastards are doing the job all on their own, and their political wing is struggling to get traction. What they achieve, they achieve without any outside help. Our own government has done nothing to lend a hand, and all because of some misplaced desire not to interfere even though ablind man can see the Hammers will destroy us all. So if we play our cards right, I’m sure we can make a difference, but I need to hear you say it … that chucking it all in to join the NRA is the right thing, the best thing not only for you but for us, all of us … and the rest of the Federation, too. Because much as I respect you, sir, I’m not Chief Bienefelt. I won’t do this simply to rescue Lieutenant Cheung. That’s not reason enough. So tell me. Can we make a difference?”
Michael sat back in his seat. Sedova had taken the heart of the problem and skewered it to the bulkhead. He would not, could not ask these people to risk their lives and careers just to help him rescue Anna, no matter what Bienefelt said. They might like the idea of taking the fight back to the Hammers, but that was not reason enough. It needed to be the right thing to do. It needed to be something that helped end the war.
He shook his head in despair at the arrogance of it all. Only one word described it: hubris. Hubris on a breathtaking scale.
“That is the million-FedMark question,” Michael said, measuring his every word. “So let’s be clear. Nothing we do can end the war, and I know none of us are so stupid as to think that. So what we are talking about is helping shorten it, and none of you should have anything to do with this business unless it helps do that. If you don’t believe what we do will shorten the war—and believe it body, brain, heart, and soul—you should, you must, walk away. Kat is right: Helping me is not reason enough. My problems are my problems; they are not your concern.”
“Yes, sir. We know that,” Kallewi said, a finger stabbing out to reinforce the point. “So what’s the answer? Can we help shorten this war or not?”
Michael had to smile; the big marine was not known for his finesse.
“Okay, here’s my view,” he said, picking his words carefully. He knew this was not the time to oversell; if Ferreira’s plan ever went ahead, that would come back to haunt him when the going got hard, and it would. “I believe we can help. I’ve met Mutti Vaas, the man in charge of the NRA. I’ve met their people. I’ve seen the NRA in action. I know what they’re fighting for, and it’s the same thing we’re fighting for: an endto the Hammer of Kraa. I also know that the Hammer government is not the solid, monolithic structure it presents itself to be. Infighting, backstabbing, deceit, lies, treachery, betrayal, kidnapping, murder, torture … that’s what makes the Hammer’s wheels go around. Put another way, the whole edifice is rotten to the core, and the more people try to push it over …”
Michael needed a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. “I think we have it all wrong. We’ve tried to win this war the old-fashioned way. Our ships fighting their ships using missiles, rail guns, lasers, all the things we’re good at, relying on technology and good people to get the result we want. Problem is, it isn’t working … it won’t work. It’s the wrong strategy. This war can only be won from the inside, and that means backing the NRA and the Nationalists. I think history will show that our politicians screwed it up when they refused to provide direct assistance to the NRA back in ’93, and even now they won’t in case they are accused of being regime changers. Who knows why? But I can tell you something: This war only ends when the regime changes. So the
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