The War for Profit Series Omnibus (23 page)

The Major said, “I didn’t know you had it in you, but I like this plan you sent me. Tell the Master Chief to go ahead and get it done.”

Galen got up and went back out to the command chair to enter command approval for the attack and gave the fleet Master Chief a thumbs-up gesture. Then he went back into the Major’s office and sat back down.

The Major cleared his throat. “We have another problem. Colonel Theil is coming to visit and will be here in two days, which happens to be the same day the second Mosh battle group will arrive.”

Sevin’s seat squeaked as he leaned forward slowly. “We need to get rid of that first group before then.”

Galen said, “Why? I’d assume Colonel Theil will come with some reinforcement.”

Sevin and Major Ross looked at one another and laughed. Finally the Major looked at Galen and said, “He’s coming in a single drop ship, and other than his command tank and its crew, he’ll have no reinforcement for us. I think he plans to pay off the Mosh to leave us alone.”

Galen stared at the Major and then at Master Sergeant Sevin. “What?”

Sevin spoke, “The Colonel’s getting ready to fold up shop and retire. This was his last big contract and he hasn’t been getting very high bids for this unit. An under-funded pension plan, long-term contractual obligations to the Mandarins, short-term debt he can’t roll over into long-term debt because of his age, a mediocre unit reputation…”

The Major interrupted, “It would take five years and an ambitious young commander to turn this unit around, a real aggressive risk-taker who doesn’t mind getting blood on his hands. The Colonel is done. He poured his very soul into this unit and now he’s all used up.”

Galen stood. “I see. Kind of jerks a knot in my career plans. Okay, we definitely need to get rid of that first group before he arrives.”

Sevin cracked his knuckles as he stood. “Let’s see how things go with those scout ships before we plan too far ahead.”

Major Ross stood. “Okay. That should be happening in about four hours. Until then, I’m off to get some chow.”

Galen left the office and sat in the command chair in the conference room. Sevin sat at the Aerospace command terminal and dismissed the technician who had been there. The main screen on the opposite wall showed the derelict Mosh destroyer. It had drifted slightly and the light of the planet’s rings no longer showed through the hundreds of holes burned through it’s hull by the laser cannons. The fleet commander entered and sat at his command terminal and Galen noticed that the Public Affairs and the Infantry Captains were also at their posts.

“Did I miss something?”

The fleet commander swiveled his chair. “The Major wants here. Us, and our seconds in command, to rotate on twelve hour shifts.”

Galen looked at Sevin. “Why?”

“Because,” said Sevin, “The Colonel is coming.”

Galen kept quiet. He knew that if he were in command things would be different. He’d keep the commanders out with their units and give them leeway to make decisions.

“How’s that plan for the enemy scout ships coming?”

The Commander in fleet uniform stood to his full height of two meters and ran his left hand across his scalp from front to back, brushing the thick grey hair that stood back up in a bristly flattop haircut. Placing his hands behind his back he said, “Well, it’s coming along nicely. A boat has launched to place two fully charged rail guns on a larger clump of ring material and the Interceptor pilot is rehearsing in the simulator and should be taking off within the hour.”

Galen nodded. He recognized the Fleet Commander’s greater rank and experience but also knew his own role as direct representative of Major Ross, the Supreme Commander on Alamo. All Galen wanted to do at that moment was make an intelligent comment so the fleet guy would feel more comfortable about being Galen’s subordinate. “So, the interceptor has to lure the two Mosh scout ships within range of the rail guns, which are hidden from them on the back side of a planetoid.”

The Fleet Commander smiled. “We’re on a planet and the rings around it are the debris from a moon that broke into pieces a long time ago. If anything, the rail guns are deployed on a moonetiod. Or is it a moonoid?”

The other commanders laughed and Galen laughed along with them. “Okay, I get it.”

“Just so we’re clear,” said the fleet Commander, “I don’t have a problem taking your orders. Just don’t get offended if I offer feedback when I think you need it.”

“Good,” said Galen. “That goes for all of you, don’t hesitate to offer feedback.”

The infantry Captain said, “Well then, why don’t you go outside and fu--”

Galen stood and cut him off. “I said feedback, not insubordination. There’s a difference!”

The commanders laughed again. They knew the infantry Captain was just playing. Galen noticed a wink from Sevin, so he laughed too and sat back down. The commanders turned back to their terminals and busied themselves with their keyboards and screens. Galen flipped up the small screen in the armrest of the command chair and checked his personal account for messages. There was only one and it was from Mr. Burwell, his agent. All it said was, “Beware. Do not get taken alive.” Then it deleted itself.

Galen pondered the message. It was dated six days ago which meant it arrived very quickly. It was sent as high priority, passed from Ostreich to a communications network that sent signals to piggyback along established jump points with jump ships in motion in a series to make it possible for the message to travel that far, that fast. Important, because sending such a message outside the Panzer Brigade network was expensive. Mr. Burwell had paid for it himself.

The Major came out of his office and laid his hand on Galen’s shoulder. “Hey, I got this. Take a break.”

Galen went outside for some fresh air. He climbed on top of the TOC and looked toward the air strip and noticed an Interceptor as it taxied out of its bunker and moved to the far end of the runway. It was a ground-based aircraft designed for atmospheric flight as well as maneuver in space. A dull flat black, the cigar-shaped fuselage was a full seventeen meters long and had retractable delta wings that would fold in during space flight. The nose had a 25mm Gauss rifle built into its center along with two lasers on either side of it. The aerospacecraft also had three weapons bays recessed in the bottom of the fuselage, covered with bomb bay doors that would open to deploy a variety of missiles. Towards the back were two more bays that held ionic propulsion modules that would pop out to either side for maneuver in space. Power came from a cold fusion bottle located directly behind the pilot’s seat. At the very end was the atmospheric thruster, a jet engine fueled by liquid oxygen and hydrogen. Its weakness was the lack of an energy-absorbing shield but its electrically-polarized air frame was thick and rugged and could absorb a great deal of damage before losing integrity. Expensive hardware for a unit the size of the Panzer Brigade, but a real boost to its combat power.

Galen studied the unit during what had been long, boring shifts in the TOC before the Mosh showed up. The Brigade improved its force quality substantially during the past year. It hired academy graduates as enlisted personnel. It also improved retention pay and bonuses for its combat veterans and developed a better in-house training program on Mandarin. The recent purchase of better armored vehicles, drop boats and now the addition of an aerospace wing boosted its combat capability. But there was no corresponding increase in revenue. Monetizing the improvements meant actually getting favorable combat contracts and successful combat operations were what would bring in the higher-paying contracts; an egg coming before the chicken conundrum.

Last on the list of items to improve the unit’s capability was the contract with a large mercenary fleet unit, retaining two jump ships and a battle cruiser for support. Galen knew it would be possible to call for more support from them but nothing could get here in time to make a difference. The battle cruiser was posted at the jump point for security. The two jump ships took turns bringing in troops and supplies but left when Alamo’s warehouses and barracks filled up. For the next week at least, the Colonel’s drop ship, capable of landing on the surface and jump travel as well, would be the only asset able to leave Alamo through the jump point and it had very little passenger or cargo capability. It had barely enough cargo space to carry the command tank and its crew. That tank would be the only armored fighting vehicle on the planet when it arrived.

The Interceptor darted down the airstrip, its jet engine roaring, a white flame fifty meters long shooting out its back. With only ten meters of tarmac to spare, it lifted from the ground and turned straight up at a 00 mil angle and blasted into the sky. In moments it was gone from view. Galen climbed down from the roof and went back inside the TOC.

“Welcome back,” said the Major. Galen sat in the seat to the left of the command chair. The main screen showed the Interceptor as it passed through the narrow midpoint gap in the rings, an occasional spark on its surface as it hit tiny particles of ring material. Although not a sold mass, the rings presented a problem for fast moving spacecraft. Over 200 km thick at the edge closest to the planet, the particles of the rings were made of heavier iron and other minerals toward the inside. There was a gap between that and the lighter ammonia and water ice that made up most of the outer ring. Still, the outer ring was substantial enough to cause problems. Trying to maneuver through it would be like trying to avoid raindrops by running around them. The old battle cruiser stuck in the outer ring was abandoned decades ago by the terraforming company because was caught between the centrifugal force of the rings that pushed it along and the planet’s gravity.

Spike was the Interceptor’s pilot and he dropped a sensor probe and aimed it at the Mosh fleet. Then he moved past the rings and angled a little to the right before firing a missile, the largest missile the Interceptor could carry. As it made its way toward the Mosh fleet, Spike moved around to their flank and fired his lasers. The missile nearly made it to their second light cruiser before it exploded, setting itself off before the enemy’s counter-fire could hit it. The missile did little more than annoy the Mosh but that was all Spike wanted it to do. The Mosh scout ships broke from their position in the fleet formation and headed for Spike.

Spike turned away and fled and then slowed down enough to allow his pursuers to keep up. Next he turned toward the midpoint of the outer ring and slowed a little more, to put himself just barely inside the estimated maximum effective range of the Mosh scout ship weapons. The lead Mosh scout ship fired a laser that missed by mere centimeters. Then Spike accelerated and then retracted his propulsion nacelles and tilted his Interceptor to splash belly-first into the ring material. The ablative coating on the bottom of his aerospace craft would absorb most of the damage and he had enough inertia to splash through to the other side. In a shower of sparks, his Interceptor went into the ring material.

Major Ross switched the video feed of the main screen to a probe on the other side of the rings. Explosions of white and amber flashed in the ring. After a tense moment, Spike emerged. He deployed his propulsion nacelles and rotated to face the ring and maneuvered backward to engage the Mosh scout ships at standoff range. Making a lucky guess, Spike let fly a burst of rail gun rounds that impacted the ring material right at the point where the first Mosh scout emerged. The rail gun fire caused bright, sparking explosions that briefly blinded the Mosh pilot and his sensors. The second Mosh ship emerged with both its propulsion nacelles blowing sparks. Spike gave it a face-full of laser fire, not enough to defeat its shields, but enough energy to push it back. It sank into the ring, obscured from view. Stuck.

Spike took that moment to turn and run. The first Mosh scout ship fired a laser that hit the Interceptor square in the aft and burned into the jet engine and ignited its fuel. The back section of the Interceptor blew off in a gaseous cloud that blocked the Mosh pilot’s view of Spike as he sped away, pushed faster by the explosion. Spike moved well into the firing arc of the prepositioned rail guns and stopped and pretended to be disabled.

“Aw crap!” said the fleet commander.

“What is it?” asked Major Ross.

“The Mosh fleet. A cruiser and two destroyers are moving toward our Interceptor.”

“We’ll deal with that when the time comes. Tell the boat to start moving in to pick up the rail guns so it can get out of there before the Mosh ships show up.”

“Roger.”

All attention went back to the main screen. Galen was nervous, knowing that the video feed was delayed by at least two minutes because of the distance the signal had to travel. Any commands to change the view and the zoom from the TOC took at least that long to respond, so Chief Spike and the rail gun crews had to manage the video transmissions as well as the battle.

The scout ship moved toward Spike and the Mosh pilot used a clear channel to say, “You have fought with honor. Now prepare to receive terms. You will be treated well.”

Spike remained silent. The grounded rail guns fired, each slicing a propulsion nacelle off the Mosh scout. The projectiles continued in three round bursts, carefully destroying the sensors and the weapons of the Mosh scout to leave it like a fly with its wings pulled off and eyes poked out. Galen grinned because he knew Corporal Tushar was in charge of the rail gun detachment. He was just the right sort of person to do that to an enemy because he had just the right mix of sadistic humor and consummate skill to pull it off. At the mercy of a kinder or less skilled troop, the Mosh pilot would have been killed. Instead, the Scout ship was disabled and helpless.

Spike moved his interceptor in close to the Mosh scout ship and then gave it a gentle nudge. “I’m going to give you a hard shove that will put you on a trajectory to hit the planet. If you choose to eject in the atmosphere, there is a good chance you’ll survive.” Spike gunned his engine and then halted. The crippled Mosh ship was sent on a course to hit the planet about 10 kilometers away from the base. “Have a nice day.”

The boat came in and picked up the ground-mobile rail guns and Spike’s interceptor. With its tail shot off, the Interceptor would be very difficult to land so Spike chose the safer option of riding inside the drop boat. The view switched to the Mosh side of the rings. A light cruiser and two destroyers approached the area where the other Scout ship had disappeared into the outer ring, shrouded deep in its frozen ice-fog material.

The first destroyer entered the ring, the material revealing the egg shape of the ship’s energy shield. The destroyer moved in cautiously, its shield gradually shrinking as it moved forward. Much of the ring material passed through it but lost kinetic energy as it did so. Soon the destroyer was no longer visible. After half an hour, the second destroyer entered the ring and also sank out of view. Then the light cruiser nudged as close as it dared. Over the next few minutes, three dozen escape pods came out of the ring and attached themselves to the cruiser. Then the cruiser pulled back and fired. Several secondary explosions blinked brilliantly but briefly inside the material of the rings.

The Fleet Commander said, “That’s it, scratch two destroyers.”

Major Ross smiled. “Not a bad day’s work, two scout ships and two destroyers down.”

“And a prisoner,” said the Public Affairs commander. “The Mosh pilot ejected and is drifting on a raft in the sea. He is less than eight kilometers from here.”

“Good, bring him in. I want to talk to him.”

Tad entered the TOC five minutes early for shift change.

Galen got up and met him at the door. “Wow, you missed everything.”

Tad looked around the room. “Figures. So what’s the story?”

“The Colonel is coming soon, that’s why all the commanders are here now. And the Mosh lost some serious firepower. But you’ll hear all about it on shift. These guys will be talking about it for a while. Later.” Galen turned to leave.

“Later.” Tad waved at Galen as he left.

Outside the TOC, Galen suddenly felt drained of energy. He skipped chow and went straight to bed and slept soundly until a series of explosions woke him. He emerging from the shack and looked toward the air field and saw half a dozen columns of black smoke rising, yellow flames at their base.

Galen saw Tad standing outside the TOC. “What happened?”

“They bombed the airstrip with 36 ground attack bombers, sent in low and slow. We stopped most of them but three got through and took out eight of our Interceptors on the ground. But they’re all gone now.”

The sirens sounded the all clear. With less than an hour before his shift, Galen quickly showered, changed and ate breakfast. After relieving Tad in the TOC he sat next to Major Ross. “Guess I missed the raid.”

The Major took a deep breath. “The bombers had to come from a carrier in the second group, meaning they came in from maximum flight range and couldn’t possibly have made it back to the carrier. The bombers could have made it back on autopilot but the crews would have died for lack of life support. Then we realized the bombers were unmanned, sent in on a one-way mission. That would account not only for their heavy losses but the greater impact of the raid as well. Bombers without crews can carry more explosives; three bombers actually lasted long enough to attack and did considerable damage. We lost eight interceptors, 23 air wing personnel and ten Mandarin civilians.”

Galen let that information sink in. “So they don’t have enough pilots. They need them for something else.”

“Very good, my little apprentice. I might have to promote you to protégé. I’ll add that they wanted to get rid of obsolete bombers. Piloting one of those things against our air defenses would be suicidal. The Mosh learned from previous combat operations elsewhere that those things were complete junk, best used as a missile. The second part of their fleet is coming around to join the first group and form up to launch a ground invasion, so I think they saved their pilots to fly the landing boats. They thought they would get rid of all our interceptors but we still have four left.”

Galen looked at the main screen. It showed the air field. The flames were out and repair crews were already patching the tarmac. “They really know what they’re doing.”

“Yes. They need to get that air field repaired before the Colonel gets here, in about five hours.”

“Ahead of schedule.” Galen looked back at the main screen. The view changed to the approaching Mosh fleet, all the ships linked up as a single formation and moving outward.

The Major said, “So are the Mosh. Almost as if they coordinated it on purpose. The Colonel will be here about two hours before them.”

“Any new information from the prisoner, that Mosh scout pilot?”

Major Ross shook his head. “He’s a complete ass. He keeps insisting we surrender. He also claims to be their commander and demands we bring him food and drink and entertainment, which will guarantee us humane treatment after their inevitable victory. You want to talk to him?”

“Sure, why not.”

The Major jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s in my office.”