Free Helfort's War Book 4: The Battle for Commitment Planet by Graham Sharp Paul Page A

muttered.
    “There’s worse.”
    “Jeezus!” Michael said. “What could be worse?”
    “Fleet. Never mind the Hammers; they have their own problems,” Bienefelt said. “You heard the latest rumor?”
    Michael shook his head. “Rumor? What rumor?”
    “More than a rumor.
Palmyra
’s crew mutinied.”
    Michael’s eyes opened wide with shock. “Shit! I didn’t know that.”
    “That’s because nobody’s supposed to. Fleet’s trying to keep it real tight.” She sniffed, a sharp sound of utter disdain. “As if they could keep a lid on something that big. Anyway, it seems half the spacers refused to let the ship deploy on combat operations.
Palmyra
’s marines managed to keep a lid on it until reinforcements arrived, but things turned ugly.”
    “Casualties?”
    “Don’t know for sure,” Bienefelt said, shaking her head. “You know the rumor mill, but word is there were some.”
    Michael sat, stunned into silence. There had not been a fullblown mutiny on a Federated Worlds warship in living memory; the last one was on the old
Fortress
back in ’32, and that was a very minor affair involving only a handful of spacers.
    “There’s more, sir.”
    Michael flinched. “More?” he said.
    “Afraid so. There was a riot in the Comdur Fleet canteen, a bad one. Big bunch of spacers trashed the joint, barricaded themselves in. Needed the marines backed up by naval police to retake the joint. Lot of spacers hurt, some badly—”
    “Holy shit!”
    “And there’s been an increase in unexplained defects according to a friend of mine in one of the heavy maintenance units. Fleet canceled an operation last week because so manyships went unserviceable at the last minute. Too much of a coincidence to be anything but sabotage.”
    “Bloody hell, why am I the last one to find out?” Michael said, voice taut with anger; Fleet’s summary of operation had said only that
Palmyra
was being pulled out of the line because of main engine problems. “So what’s it all mean, Matti?”
    “What it means is this. Fleet spacers are pissed: pissed at the Hammers, pissed at the politicians, pissed at the admirals, pissed at the way Fleet’s conducting this war, pissed because there’s no way out of the mess we’ve landed ourselves in.”
    “And you can’t fight a war if the troops are pissed,” Michael said.
    “No, you can’t. And don’t be surprised if there’s more of the same.
Palmyra
might not be the last. I’d lay good money down that it’s just the first.”
    Michael half smiled. “Given what we just talked about, I think we can be sure of that, Matti.”
    Bienefelt smiled back. “You know what I mean, sir. What we’re planning is different. More to the point, it’s what we should do. Sure as hell better than doing nothing, hoping things get better.”
    “Maybe. Doesn’t matter. Decision’s made. Anyway, thanks for your faith in me, Matti. Let’s hope it’s not misplaced.”
    “I don’t think it is. Permission to carry on, sir?”
    “Please.”
    Michael watched with mixed feelings as Matti’s hulking mass squeezed through the door. Even though she had told him a lot he had not known—the
Palmyra
mutiny was a huge shock—none of it changed what he already knew: Fleet was in trouble, and if Fleet was in trouble, then so were the Federated Worlds.
    So what the hell are you doing, Michael Wallace Helfort? What are you doing making Fleet’s job of holding back the Hammers harder by taking
Redwood
, and maybe
Red River
and
Redress
as well, out of the line of battle? It was crazy, diverting three operational dreadnoughts to solve the personal problems of one lovesick captain. No, it was beyond crazy; it was the stuff of the worst trashvids ever made. He shook his head, cringing as he imagined how the rest of humanspacewould react when they were told that the Federated Worlds, fighting for its very existence against a rampaging Hammer of Kraa, had been deserted by one of its heroes to save one woman’s