The War for Profit Series Omnibus (27 page)

Galen leaned back and rolled his shoulders. “I have retained the services of one Mister Ross, whom you all know as a former officer of this Brigade.”

Sevin put his feet back on the coffee table. “He’s all right.”

Mr. Burwell said, “I signed him as a Master Sergeant. I hope that’s okay?”

Galen nodded. “He’ll do well, and I trust him. Where is he?”

Master Sergeant Ross stepped into the office, wearing his class B garrison uniform. “Right here.”

Galen stood. “Your timing is good, too good. Where have you been?”

“I just got back from the bathroom, and then stood outside the door and listened when I realized you were talking about me.”

Galen gestured at the overstuffed chair to the left of his desk. “Have a seat; we’ll talk about the Juventud contract.”

Ross sat. Galen picked the remote control off the desk and said, “All right. Let me direct your attention to the flat screen at the end of the room.”

“Okay,” Galen hit the power button and the red light at the bottom of the frame around the screen pulsed, then changed to orange and finally became a solid green indicator light. The screen illuminated, a field of sky blue, and then text of menu options appeared. Galen selected ‘Fuente de Juventud Presentation’ and waited as its cover slide appeared.

Mr. Burwell commented, “Your first contract. You must be proud.”

Galen said, “I’ve been on contracts before, you know that.”

“This is the first one you negotiated and signed. This is, for you, your first unit contract. Sort of changes the meaning, the context. Officially, you own it. Your name and your reputation are tied to it.”

“All right, my first contract. Let me explain it to you then.” Galen advanced to the next slide, a map of the Milky Way galaxy as viewed from directly above its center, laid out like a pancake. A big red arrow pointed to a spot about seven tenths of the way from the outer edge to the center. Next slide, zoomed all the way in to a star system, a red arrow pointing to the fourth planet. Next slide, a globe. A coppery green planet with a few small grey and blue splotches, blue great lakes draining eventually into small grey seas, the seas not interconnected. Mostly, dry land with tints of green throughout. The polar regions were capped with bright white. A red arrow pointed to a tiny dark splotch near the equator. Next slide, half a dozen overhead photographs pieced together to show an impact crater. Seventy five kilometers across from rim to rim, a peak in the middle of the crater, a landform just large enough to qualify as a mountain, ringed by a lake, making it an island. Most of the terrain in the bowl of the crater was dry, about thirty kilometers from the rim to the lakes’ shores.

Galen stood. “What we have here is an impact crater. The water got there later, after terraforming caused rain. The lake is large enough to serve as an energy dump for a space shield, which we will place on top of the mountain, along with the command center.”

Sevin spoke, “Well, that crater is too large for our Brigade to protect, and the rim of the crater will be outside the space shield’s protection.”

“Well that depends on who you’re fighting. Anyway, our job is to design and oversee the construction of the defenses, as well as train military and police forces to take over our job when the contract ends. As for the space shield, it’s a standard model but will be more effective on Juventud because of the planet’s strong magnetic fields.” Galen sat down.

The next slide showed the mountain and the lake around it, as viewed from a
high point along the rim of the crater. Rounded like a scoop of chocolate ice cream in the middle of a blue lake with brown land laced with green, vegetation taking hold in the beds of intermittent streams draining into the lake.

“Lovely,” said Spike. “Good spot for a spaceport.”

Tad said, “Why do they call it Fuente de Juventud?”

“Ah, the Fountain of Youth.” Galen leaned back in his chair. “The gravity is only point eight G, and the air, although thinner than standard, has a higher oxygen level. People stepping off there feel a lot younger. The early terraforming crews came up with the name.”

“But there was no oxygen when they started,” said Sevin.

Galen nodded. “Right. But it’s been going on for about twelve hundred years. There are more than twenty sky factories, or air machines, or whatever you want to call them, still operating. Another interesting point, the machines also deflect new air in such a way as to slow the rotation of the planet. Not much, they only added a couple of minutes to a twenty three hour day. But the core is still turning faster than the crust, so the magnetic field is strong. Three times stronger than standard, therefore, the space shield is more effective.”

Sevin said, “Okay professor. Any of those sky machine people still there?”

“Yes. The descendants of the original factory crews, plus refugees from all around the galaxy, and squatters, add up to about eighty million people scattered all around the planet. But they are no concern of ours except to keep them away from the EugeneX facilities. Specifically, we keep them out of the crater.”

A knock came from the exterior door, the commander’s entrance. Galen got up and walked across the office to open the door. The junior executive from the board room was there. She said, “Hello.”

“Come on in,” said Galen.

She strode in and looked for an open seat, saw none, and waited.

“What can we do for you, Miss?”

“Well--”

Mr. Burwell cut her off, “She is slotted to be our logistics NCOIC. Non-commissioned officer in charge of logistics.”

“But, uh?” Galen stared.

“She’s a graduate of the
Mandarin Military Academy’s Logistics Officer School. I signed her on as a Master Sergeant.” Mr. Burwell handed his electronic clipboard to Galen. “With your approval, of course.”

Galen looked at the clipboard, looked at her and said, “You know, I don’t have to approve this. No one can make me.” Then he signed, extended his right hand and said, “Welcome to the team. Introduce yourself.”

She shook his hand. “My name is Karen. Karen Mitchell. And I intend to accompany you on this contact.”

Galen ignored Sevin’s smirk. “Was that the board’s idea?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Chief Polar has been in charge of logistics and will continue the work along side you, and can answer all your questions and get you settled in to your new job.” Galen stepped back and addressed the entire room. “Everyone, be in uniform starting tomorrow morning. We blast out of here in three days, no excuses. Dismissed.”

Galen stood in the auxiliary control tower of the operations center of the Mandarin spaceport, there to supervise the shift change of the logistics and operations team. He looked out the window at the marshalling yard of the spaceport, its back gate adjacent to the tarmac. Chief Polar stood next to him, studying an electronic clipboard. She turned to Galen and said, “Well Smaj, that’s about it. Loading will begin in about nine hours.”

Galen looked at her, a full twenty centimeters shorter than him. She was dressed in combat coveralls, the top down and tied around her waist. Her bob of light brown hair and straight bangs framed her round face, her ears poking out slightly, although covered for the most part. Her dark green t-shirt strained to hold back her ample chest.

“Don’t stare,” she said.

Galen had played this game before. He was so tall that looking at most women’s faces as they stood next to him meant their chests would be included in the range of his gaze. Embarrassment or apology was not an option, not for a leader. Not on the first day of a combat contract. Time to stamp this out. To fire back he said, “Well, those are the biggest breasts I’ve ever been in the same room with.”

“I thought about getting them reduced, but my husband seems to like them.”

“Well if you ever leave him, I love small breasts.”

Master Sergeant Karen Mitchell stood, moved next to Polar and stretched her arms over her head, facing Galen. She was a full head taller than Polar, but lean. And olive-skinned. She had dyed her hair back to its natural dark brown, pulled back in a high pony tail. Her coveralls were all the way on, but when she stretched, Galen could see that she had small breasts indeed. Lowering her arms to her sides, she turned to face out the window and said, “I’m still new at this. What am I looking at?”

Galen deliberately tilted his head down to look at her bottom, long enough to ensure Chief Polar noticed. “The marshalling yard. The Brigade’s vehicles are lined up by units, ready to load onto the drop boats.”

“We good?” said Polar.

“Sure. See you in twelve hours.”

“Eleven and a half,” she said as she left the control room.

Galen picked up the electronic clipboard she had left on the desk and handed it to Karen. “This might help. It’s the manifest.”

Tad entered, sweating, out of breath. “Where’s Sevin? Can’t relieve him if I can’t find him.”

Galen said, “I let him go about ten minutes ago. Anyway, you’re half a minute late.”

“It’s not like there’s a battle going on right now.” Tad took a seat at the desk and turned on the flat screen. “Besides, the lift was out so I ran up the stairs.”

Galen now realized that when Sevin left he probably sent the lift back up and then turned it off, just to annoy Tad. He also knew that Polar knew how to turn the lift back on. The sound of the lift was barely audible, and by concentrating, Galen could hear it run and then stop at the bottom of the tower. Sevin could be a real pain in the ass when he wanted. And a real asset, when it mattered.

Karen looked out the window as she held the electronic clipboard. “So who loads first?”

Galen stood on her right side and pointed toward the marshalling yard. “The Brigade headquarters company. That’s the Hercules heavy tank company, your Administration and Logistics command post carrier, and the
Tactical Operations Center command post carrier.”

“I’m familiar with the ALOC and TOC tracks. What are Hercules tanks like?”

Tad spoke, “They are the badest tanks ever made. Fifty six metric tons of pure combat muscle, fusion-powered battle-winning machines.”

“Well,” said Galen, “the Hercules has reached the limit of crew protection, meaning it can withstand a blow stronger than the crew inside can survive. And its oversized fusion power pack provides an excess amount of electrical power for the vehicle’s engines, weapons systems, communications and crew sustainment. The sealed crew areas can sustain the crew in anything from a complete vacuum to a crushing depth below a thousand meters of water pressure at standard G. The coaxial and cupola Gauss machine guns are twenty millimeter, capable of riddling the armor of lighter vehicles and some medium tanks, as well as all but the most rigid combat suits. And its armor, it’s the best. Right now we have heat-absorbing ceramic tiles bolted on over composite inertia-absorbing alloys, with the basic armored core under that, a lead and steel alloy designed to block radiation, and it can also be polarized to enhance its ability to block other types of energy, such as the plasma of particle cannons. But the main gun, that’s the best part. It carries a heavy laser, fired from a laser module in the breach. But the laser can be easily removed, even in a combat environment, and the 150mm smooth bore cannon can then accept a variety of conventional, chemically propelled rounds. Comparatively slower than other tanks, its cross-country top speed of 120KPH is still impressive.”

Karen smiled. “Wonderful. Only fifty six tons.”

“Combat loaded, yes. There are fourteen of them. My command tank and Spike’s, for the HQ. Then three platoons of four tanks each to round out the company.”

Tad swiveled his chair to face Karen. “Each platoon fits on a single drop boat, and my tank goes on a drop boat with the ALOC and TOC tracks, and Galen’s tank goes on the command drop ship, with Galen.”

Karen looked back out the window. “Tell me about those other tanks.”

Tad stood next to her. “That’s a battalion of Hellcat medium tanks. Seventeen tanks in each of its three companies, with five more tanks in the battalion headquarters. Designed for use on habitable worlds, the Hellcat uses organic fuel, preferably vegetable oil, to power the turbine engine. They use conventional cased ammunition for their 20mm coaxial and cupola machine guns, and their rifled 90mm main gun uses liquid propellant to fire kinetic rounds. And the liquid propellant comes right out of the same fuel cell that feeds fuel to the engine. But the rounds themselves are composites, which mean they are constructed as armor-piercing sabot. Once the round is in the chamber the gunner can choose to compress the round to cause the projectile to fuse into a solid mass, then relax the chamber to allow the projectile to fire as a single high-explosive/antitank slug. Also, the main gun can be used to fire artillery shells over distances up to forty kilometers. The armor can withstand a direct hit from any handheld weapon. But most importantly, the Hellcat has redundant mechanical control systems for everything but commo, so that it’s still functional after being hit by an electro-magnetic pulse. Although manual gunnery ain’t easy, it’s better than nothing.”

“Yeah, cave-man tanks. They’ll need a lot of logistical support,” said Karen.

Galen said, “Our support battalion is bringing enough organic fuel to sustain up to six days of combat operations. Which is enough to sustain training operations for the whole year we’ll be there, if we don’t have to fight anybody. Otherwise we’ll figure something out when we get there; the terraforming sky factories have to be producing some sort of byproduct we can use.”

Karen straightened. “Well I’ve already looked into it. The locals use organic fuel. There’s plenty, and it’s cheap. Not a problem. Now what are all those other vehicles in the yard?”

Galen said, “Oh. Those are the light tanks of the light tank battalion, and more light tanks and infantry fighting vehicles for the cavalry squadron and scout troop. They all use fusion engines, to give them the ability to stay in the field with minimal support for extended periods of time. Also, we have a battery of ground-mobile quad 40mm rail guns for air defense and direct support. They can go a month between logpacs, with a special logpac for Gauss and small arms ammo right after they get in a fight. And prisoner and casualty evacuation…”

Karen said, “I understand all that. And I know my cargo vehicles and Armored Personnel Carriers depend on organic fuel. But like I said, that won’t be a problem.”

“Uh, don’t get too attached to that support battalion. Chief Polar thinks it’s hers, and I do too. You need to focus on Brigade logistics, let her run that unit.”

“I see.” Karen scrolled down the page of the clipboard, went back a few pages. “These drop boats. They seem non-standard, able to take on slightly larger loads than normal.”

Galen smiled. “We captured them from the Mosh when their invasion of Alamo failed. We also own two of their transport ships. But we still depend on fleet contracts for jump ship support.”

“Okay, I’ll study up. You’ve made it clear that this is more my level of responsibility. Now, how are you getting to Juventud?”

“I’ll ride in the command drop ship, the one parked right out there.” Galen pointed out the window, downward, to the base of the tower.

Karen leaned forward to see it. “It looks like a drop boat.”

“It’s a drop ship. The size of the jump engine takes up most of space inside but there is enough room left for the command tank, its crew, the flight crew, me, and maybe you, if you want to ride it.”

Karen looked straight at Galen. Her face was blank.

Galen said, “I’m pretty sure the board of directors wants you to keep an eye on me and give regular reports back to them. I don’t care. You have free and unfettered access to me and anything else that might be your business. As long as your actions don’t interfere with the unit’s mission, we’ll get along just fine.”

“We won’t have a problem; it’s not what you think.” Karen turned to stare out the window.

Galen turned toward the door and said over his shoulder, “See you at shift change.”

“Wait! What are all those vehicles parked in the back?”

Galen faced her, and then looked to where he finger pointed. “Oh, that’s the mechanized infantry battalion. Fusion powered infantry fighting vehicles, self-propelled 120mm mortars, towed guns, an engineer platoon, and a battery of infantry support assault guns. Plus a few other things. Six hundred and sixty mercenaries, highly skilled infantry, every last one of them. They load here last because they’ll be the first ones in to secure the landing area for the rest of us.”

“Oh.” Karen looked at the electronic clipboard, scrolled to the last page.

“Anything else?” Galen paused a moment.

Karen shook her head side to side. Galen left.

Polar had left the lift at the bottom of the tower, so he’d have to wait a couple of minutes for it to come up, which meant Karen or Tad would have a chance to ask him something before he could get away. Galen decided to take the stairs down to the bottom of the forty meter high tower, grateful for the exercise. Once outside he looked both ways, checked the clearance lamps, removed his garrison cap and then strode across the tarmac and entered the marshalling yard.

As he walked past the line of Hercules tanks he heard a familiar voice.

“Hey Sergeant Major!” Master Sergeant Ross.

Galen slowed his pace so Ross could catch up and walk along side. “So how’s it going, garrison ops daddy?”

Ross smiled. “Not too bad. Recruiting is up, our school slots are filled. Even the officer courses, the Mandarin regulars and other mercenary units are sending their people here. I’m starting to turn some away, and put others on waiting lists.”

“Guess that battle on
Alamo impressed a lot of people.” Galen put his garrison cap back on.

“Yes. Anyway, have you made your mind up about those transports and drop boats? I need to know if I should set up ship’s crew and boat pilot training.”

“We’ll sell the boats and ships. The crews are on loan from fleet anyway. Besides, the board wants their dividends. If we keep those assets we’ll be paying to keep them idle most of the time. Better to let fleet deal with that. As soon as we debark on Juventud, the drop boats and the transport ships become fleet property. But we’re keeping the command drop ship, of course.”

“Of course. We’re getting a lot of academy graduates as enlistees, but we’re also getting plenty of raw recruits. I’m going to emphasize skill training over leadership training, for the next two years. That does a better job of filling our projected vacancies.”

They walked past the mechanized infantry battalion’s vehicles. Galen admired the new Infantry Fighting Vehicles, built on the same chassis as the Brigade’s Hornet light tanks. The IFV had a smaller turret that mounted twin 20mm rail guns, and had an assault ramp on the back of a troop compartment that could hold six combat-laden soldiers.

“The officer slots have to be filled too, in about sixteen months.”

Ross chuckled then said, “Well I suspect we’ll promote from within. Although this Brigade has become a real magnet for enlisted personnel, officers are a little shy about taking a commission here. They’re afraid they’ll end up like me.”

Galen stopped at the back gate of the marshalling yard, turned to Ross and said, “Well I hope you get your rank back, or even, I’d think you’d be a good Colonel. But…”

“But what?”

“After this I’m done. All I wanted was one enlistment, and now I’m serving sixteen months past that.”

Ross stood with his hands on his hips. “You really need to give this some thought. It’s not as easy to quit as you think. I’ve met all my life goals and here I am, still serving. Something to think about.”

“I’ll give it some thought.” Galen stepped through the gate and walked toward his office, still four hundred meters away. Ross stayed inside the marshalling yard.