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

no idea where Vaas’s people found them; seemingly the NRA had enough of them to replace the ones the Hammers kept shooting down—the people of Commitment could see that there might be an alternative to the ruthless totalitarian regime that had held the people of the Hammer of Kraa Worlds subjugated for centuries.
    All of which was good, but one last problem had thwarted all Michael’s efforts to find a solution. With only a month to go, time was running out, and today’s meeting to finalize the Nyleth squadron’s operations for the upcoming month was his last chance to secure an operation that would allow
Redwood
and her sister dreadnoughts to get clear of Nyleth unimpeded. With a new operations officer, a woman focused on using the dreadnoughts to keep Nyleth safe, that task was harder than it should have been.
    Still, Michael stayed optimistic. He had lobbied the system commander to allow the squadron to take out yet another Hammer signal intelligence station uncovered by reconsats inSzent-Gyogyi deepspace, the sort of operation at which his dreadnoughts had proved to be devastatingly effective. The last time he spoke to Commodore Anjula, she did not say no, so there was still hope.
       Three long hours later, the meeting wrapped up. Michael commed Ferreira.
    “Tell me it’s good news, sir. Please,” she said.
    “Let me see now, Jayla,” Michael said, deadpan. “That depends”—Ferreira’s face fell—“but I can tell you that our new operations officer has tasked the squadron to system nearspace defense”—Ferreira’s face fell even farther—“but only until September 5, when the squadron will be departing Nyleth to blow the crap out of the Hammer SIGINT station on Maaslicht-43.”
    “About time.” Ferreira’s relief was obvious. “I was beginning to think we might end up stuck here.”
    “Me, too. Get everyone together. Now that we have a date, we need a final planning meeting for Gladiator. We also need to get a plan for the Maaslicht operation together even if we have no intention of going anywhere near the place.”
    “I’m on it, sir.”
    “See you in twenty.”
    Michael started to make his way back to the shuttle portal, and his neuronics pinged to announce a priority comm. “Bugger,” he said softly when he saw who was calling; he could not help himself. What was the system commander after?
    “Yes, sir?” he said when Commodore Anjula’s face appeared.
    “Thought you should know that Vice Admiral Jaruzelska will be here end of next week.”
    Michael’s heart skipped a beat. “Noted, sir, thank you. Anything specific?” he asked.
    “Have a look at the dreadnoughts, of course. Apart from that, just a look around before she takes up her new post.”
    “New post, sir? I haven’t heard.”
    “The announcement has just come through. She’s the new director of Fleet planning, effective October 1.”
    “Oh, right,” Michael said. “So who’s taking over the dreadnought force?”
    “Nobody.”
    “Nobody, sir?”
    “That’s what I said,” Anjula replied, a touch testily, “nobody. The job’s been abolished. With only your three operational and no chance of any more entering service, Fleet’s decided to manage dreadnoughts as part of the heavy cruiser force. Administrative efficiency, the announcement said. She’ll be happy to debate the merits of that decision with you, I’m sure, so I won’t. My staff will get a draft program out for her visit in the next day or so.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    “Anjula, out.”
    Michael swore under his breath. While Jaruzelska still held the job, Michael had hoped she might persuade Fleet to see sense and restart the program. Now that hope had gone; without Jaruzelska, the dreadnoughts were finished. The ships had single-handedly destroyed the greatest threat ever faced by the Federated Worlds; now they would fade away into history, unmourned by the vast majority of Fleet’s senior officers. Their demise would be a triumph of