The War for Profit Series Omnibus (42 page)

At 0600, Galen held staff call over his comms. “All right, who’s confused?”

“Nobody,” said the mechanized infantry battalion commander.

Galen said, “All right, go get ‘em.”

Two material handler vehicles from the engineer platoon used their extended fork lift attachments with workstation safety cages installed to lift squads onto the roofs of buildings up to five stories high. The squads cleared the buildings from top to bottom, and then called medical forward to bring out the survivors. Galen watched on his screen, getting direct vid feed from one squad leader’s personal communicator. The squad first encountered two dozen people on the roof, and sent them down in two groups, using the material handler’s lift. Then they breeched the roof’s door with a pry bar and immediately smoked a mob of zombies that came out onto the roof. A count showed seventy four of them, put down with head shots. The team entered and checked each room on the top floor, pulling out a couple of people. The third floor, then the second floor, and finally the ground level, putting down zombies that hid in the corners, zombies that stood in the hallway, a zombie that scratched at an apartment door where there were survivors inside. In the basement were three more zombies and two victims who had been bitten, gnawed on, dead, but not yet changed. The squad leader restrained the bodies hand and foot, put duck tape over their mouths and brought them out of the building for medical to deal with.

And then on to the next building.

Galen kept the heavy tank company moving forward, close up to the forward line, ready to cover whatever might happen, whatever might go wrong. Then day three’s phase line was met and the Brigade came to a halt. The line was long enough, enough of the city was cleared, that the forward line now formed a perimeter that encircled the heart of the city. Not so much a circle as a square, three kilometers long on each side. The area inside, the area not yet cleared, had tall office buildings, a stadium, underground parking garages, hardened city government buildings, a factory and housing units up to ten stories tall. At 2107 hours, Galen stretched out for another short sleep. It was noisy that night, soldiers holding their line, taking shots occasionally at distant targets in the dark, some zombies visible in the street, some zombies visible through windows facing the street. Sniper teams occupied the roofs of most of the cleared buildings along the line. Using thermal and motion detection overlays on their sights, they were able to distinguish warm, live humans from cooler, undead zombies. And the motion, the body language, helped make the call of whether or not to put a round in the head of the target. Throughout the night, some human survivors made their way to the Brigade’s line and were brought out by the support battalion’s teams.

The public service broadcast had been updated several times and included vid from the current operation, as well as graphics showing what parts of the city had been cleared up to that point. That information was also given as narrative, for any survivors who only had voice reception for the broadcast. Feedback from the survivors was also taken, their suggestions on how to improve the broadcast taken into account. It had evolved from a repeating three-minute clip into a twenty five minute show. It had also become popular around the planet, stations rebroadcasting the announcement as part of their regular news. The GasAir satellite network also dedicated one of its channels to rebroadcasting it continuously from a feed straight out of the Brigades’ public affairs network.

Morning came too soon for Galen. He took his place in his cupola and skimmed reports without really reading them. He opened staff call with the question, “Can we end this today?”

“No.” Sevin was firm. Tad, Spike, Karen and Koa all acknowledge they were tired, and the battalion commanders reported that they and their troops were tired, but they all agreed that the operation had to stay on its original schedule.

After staff call Tad called back, “Hey Smaj, I’ll throw you a bone to break up your monotony. I’ll send your heavy tanks in to support breaching.”

“Roger. Thanks.” Galen noticed the move-to grids on his overlay, orders for the Hercules tanks. They pulled past the line of tanks and IFVs, dismounts out front, snug up against tall buildings across the street. Galen faced a first-floor doorway, locked, a mass of zombies pressing against the doors from the inside. An infantry squad leader walked up to the door and spray-painted an X on it, then stepped back to rejoin his squad hunkered down on the sidewalk twenty meters away. Galen said, “Target to the front.” Galen’s gunner removed the laser module from the breach and inserted a high explosive round. Then he fired. The door blew apart, zombies dismembered by the explosion, bits and pieces of them strewn about the street in an eighty mil arc from the doorway. A chunk of zombie flesh landed on the turret next to Galen’s cupola.

“Rounds complete.” Galen signaled the squad leader, who led his squad into the lobby of the office building. They had to breach and clear from the bottom floor; the building was just too tall for the crane lifts, and the Brigade hadn’t brought air lift assets for this contract. With the first floor clear, the rest of the platoon moved into the building. Half an hour later, survivors were brought out and passed behind to support battalion teams for evacuation. Zombie remains were then brought out and stacked on a palate and banded to it with plastic straps. A rough terrain lift hauler came forward and took them away to be cremated outside town. Galen looked back and saw a dark column of smoke about twenty five hundred meters away, just outside the edge of town.

Sniper teams moved forward to occupy the buildings that had just been cleared. Galen called up Tad, “Hey ops, this operation is moving along fast, faster than normal operations.”

Tad said, “Yes. That’s because the enemy doesn’t shoot back and the civilians are very cooperative. Sevin was right, it makes things go a lot smoother.”

Galen’s tank moved up to the next objective, the same compound where he first met with and had a shootout with Queen Zora. He had the driver smash the gate on the way in, and then had the gunner blast the front door. A platoon of dismounts came in from behind the tank and went forward and cleared the building. No zombies, no people. The building was completely abandoned, most likely before the outbreak.

The day four phase line was reached at 1716 hours. The battalion of mechanized infantry was released from the operation to oversee the growing refugee camps, and their duties were taken over by the former crews of the Hellcat tank battalion. Day five ended with the clearing of the building where the Legion troops made their last stand. The Legion commander was found inside his one remaining battle armor suit, all its ammo expended, its battery depleted, the man inside dead from dehydration. Over three hundred zombie corpses surrounded the bodies of six headless Legion troops. Galen found their Legion standard, smeared with human and zombie blood, and climbed on top of the building. He told Corporal Slaughter to stand on the roof of the next building over and record him using his communicator’s vid sensor. Galen climbed the lattice frame of the antenna on top of the building and lashed the Legion standard’s staff to its topmost antenna element. The Legion flag flapped lightly in the breeze. Galen climbed down off the antenna, stepped back six paces and gave the standard a proper hand salute and then executed an about face before climbing down from the roof. It made a good final scene for the Brigade’s public service broadcast.

Galen led the heavy tank company back to their places in the defensive berms at the top of the tunnel, dismounted, walked the six hundred meters to the shower house, took a cold shower because the hot water had already been used up, skipped supper and then announced that staff call would be in the TOC at 1600 the following day. Then he crawled into the sleeping structure behind his tank and slept until noon.

Three days later, Galen rode in Karen’s skimmer, Karen driving, Tad and Spike in the back and Sevin standing behind the laser. They traveled to City Six to meet with Jake, the GasAir president, and the mayors of each of the twenty two factory cities. Karen parked in the parking garage below the GasAir corporate headquarters building and led the Brigade’s delegation to the conference room on the top floor. They were met by Jake, who seated them to the left of the podium. The seats arrayed before them were filled with the mayors and their assistants, and a few politically important individuals, about fifty people in all.

Jake took the stand and said, “Thank you all for coming, I do appreciate the effort required for many of you to tear yourselves away from you duties to travel all this way but I assure you all, it is well worth the effort. I present to you Command Sergeant Major Galen Raper, the commander of the Jasmine Panzer Brigade, and the Governor General of Fuente de la Juventud.”

Muted applause, weak, some mumbling and whispering came from the group. Galen stood and scanned the crowd. Rich, powerful, influential people sat, looking bored. Galen waited until the fidgeting, fiddling with electronic gadgets and whispering stopped and then waited a little longer until most of the people actually had their eyes on him. “Ladies and gentlemen, due to circumstances beyond my control, my unit now owns this planet. As far as I can tell, the closest thing to a planetary government you have is GasAir Corporation. Although they have been doing a fine job, their interests are not necessarily the interest of government. What we have here in this room today are the people with the greatest influence over, and the greatest interest in, the good of the citizens of this planet.”

Galen paused and looked around, letting the concept of planetary citizenship, of planetary government, soak in. Nudging and mumbling rose and fell. Galen waited for silence then said. “You all know what I can contribute, and that is security. The facility in the crater is already built and can, with your consent, serve as the planet’s capitol city. All agreed, I don’t care who you are, raise your hand.”

Galen counted forty six hands. “Opposed?”

No hands went up. Galen exhaled heavily. “Listen up, people. If you’re seated before me right now, you are a delegate of this convention. I don’t care if it’s your job to shine your mayor’s shoes or if you wandered in here by accident and actually were supposed to be at some other meeting right now. You have an equal vote today and you are delegates appointed by me, equal to all others, for as long as this convention lasts, which is until you finish creating your constitution. Now, who’s in favor of the crater being the capitol?”

Fifty six hands went up, a unanimous vote.

“Next order of business, taxes. I want a piece of the action. Taxation will come in two forms. Each district will surrender an equal amount for the first part, and then an additional amount based on population. A larger population means a larger amount.”

Groans came from the group. Karen stood and distributed an information sheet that included tables to show the amount of tax to be collected. It also included a basic framework of the planetary government’s constitution, the basic laws and the basic rights the citizens would enjoy.

Galen waited for the room to quiet down. “What you have in your hands is a basic sketch of my vision for this planet. I seek a loose confederacy, each district acting as a separate state for the most part. You can see that the tax rate is ridiculously low already so don’t try to negotiate about that. The rest of it, the constitution, that is up for debate. The first paragraph is set in stone. The rest is a guideline for now, food for thought for your debate. The task I set before you is to come up with your own final version of your planetary constitution. I will meet with you again in two weeks to sign the constitution you have ratified. Are there any questions?”

A young man in the back stood up. “What is ‘conscription’ and why do we need it?”

Galen smiled and said, “I’m so glad you asked. We are forming a new government. We need a planetary defense force. To create one, I want to conscript young men into mandatory service for two years. Now really, the purpose of the conscription is planetary defense but there are many positive side effects that go along with it. Young men are taken out of the public arena during the age at which they are most likely to cause trouble, or get in trouble, the age during which many young men ruin their futures by making bad choices. Conscription will take them away from that. Also they will receive basic medical screening and treatment if necessary, and education, as well as physical fitness, discipline, a sense of honor and duty, a sense of pride in their planet, and that will lay the foundation for them to go on and live fuller, more productive lives. I mean, seriously, folks. Half the people on this planet can’t speak or understand Standard beyond a grade three level, or read and write at all. I’d also wager that most of the people of this planet have never set foot in a classroom, haven’t been more than fifty kilometers from home, and couldn’t point out their houses on a map on a bet. It’s time to fix all that and conscription is the first step.”

“But--”

Galen raised his hand. “I know, I know. Not all the young men will be taken for military service. Many will be put into police or medical duties, and some will even be split off to assist teachers or build public infrastructure, things like that. The military is not for everyone, and those young men who are drafted will have the choice to refuse military service. But they will serve in some way.”

“Will they serve off-planet?”

“No. Not just no, but hell no. Next question.”

“This conscription, just how do we get it started? We need facilities, training cadre, it will take an enormous effort to get it started.”

“We’ll start small. It will be five years before conscription is in full swing. Until then, volunteers will be given the first available opportunity to serve, with the rest of the slots filled by a random lottery based on date of birth. Everything is in a formulation stage. Realize that even your constitution won’t go into effect until next year. This will take time, and that is on purpose. I want the transition to be slow and deliberate, with time for debate along the way.”

“One last question,” said an older woman in the front row, “will women be able to serve?”

Galen said, “They won’t be conscripted, but they will be able to volunteer. Make no mistake, military service provides a solid foundation for a young person’s future. We will not deny young women that opportunity. Now I bid you all farewell. Formulate a constitution, form a government, and I’ll sign it into law. Until then, it’s business as usual.”

Galen left the room, his staff following. As he waited for the elevator he could hear the discussion in the conference room getting louder and louder. As the elevator took the command group down Galen asked, “How’d I do?”

“You’ll be all right,” said Sevin. They got in the skimmer. The ride back to Tad’s TOC took just under two hours.

With the staff seated around the table inside the TOC, Galen said, “Okay. How goes it in the crater?”

“Well,” said Tad, “Better than expected. Half the people from the inoculations in the crater haven’t turned yet, and it seems like they won’t.”

Galen said, “Dr. Wythecombs needs to start explaining.”

“He won’t,” said Karen. “He’s demanding to be released, and wants to leave immediately and take all his research off the planet with him.”

“Cold day in hell!” Galen stood. “Has Mike changed yet?”

Tad looked at a noteputer. “He’s unconscious and restrained right now, not dead yet.”

“Good. Karen, take me down there.”

She drove the skimmer. Tad and Sevin came along.

Galen moved Mike’s unconscious body into a secure room of the research facility’s main lab and took off the restraints. Then he had Tad and Karen bring Dr. Wythecombs to him.

Galen poked his finger in the chest of the chief researcher. “Doctor, you are responsible for the deaths of over ninety thousand people.”

“It’s scientific research. The value to mankind is immeasurable. I must be allowed to continue.”

Galen stood close, his nose touching Dr. Wythecombs’ forehead. “Tell me why you had to inject such a large group, and tell me why only half of the crater’s group is changing.”

“No.”

Galen said, “You need to do some hands-on research, Doc.” He spun Dr. Wythecombs around and put disposable handcuffs on him, bound his ankles, then shoved him in the room with Mike and shut the door and locked it. Then he went and got a chair and sat down and waited.

Karen said, “That’s cold.”

Galen smiled. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tad and Karen shrugged and left the area.

Galen sat and waited. He listened to Dr. Wythecombs’ begging, pleading, then his explanation. “We needed to start with a large group to accelerate approval. It needs thirty thousand documented test subjects to be evaluated and approved by the Galactic Eugenics Authority for distribution. Starting with one, then three, then ten…you can see how long that would take. Time is money, after all.”

Galen said, “And the delayed reaction now?”

“That was to establish a control group. They received only distilled water.”

“Good. And how is Mike doing?” Galen kicked the door. “You made sure Mike was injected with your youth serum. You wanted to turn him into a giddy teenager, or worse, so you could take over as Director. Am I right?”

“Yes, yes!”

Galen heard a zombie sort of groaning, then a scream of terror from Dr. Wythecombs, then some scuffling and a final scream. Galen waited until the sounds of gnawing and slurping stopped, and then drew his side arm and opened the door and shot Mike in the forehead. Dr. Wythecombs’ body was face down, still bound hand and foot, the top and back of his head bitten away, brain slurped out. Galen felt it was the least he could do for Mike, to give him revenge, to let his last meal be the biggest, juiciest brain available. In the background, outside the research facility, from the direction of the crematorium and mausoleum, Galen heard gunshots and knew other zombies were being put down.

He looked in a couple of adjacent rooms and found a gurney and put Mike’s and Dr. Wythecombs’ bodies on it and wheeled them out to the crematorium. He cut to the front of the line and shoved them in and told the troop waiting there it was the Director’s and Dr. Wythecombs’ bodies. The troop checked the names on the list on the electronic clipboard with a nod, then a question. “Dr. Wythecombs wasn’t on the inoculated list.”

Galen said, “He was bitten.”

The troop made a note next to Wythecombs’ name. “Roger, Sergeant Major. No problem.”

Galen took the gurney back and then sat in the main research office and looked around and thought. Then he called Chief Koa.

“Koa, I have a mission for you.”

“Send it.”

“I need you to wipe out the data from the research computers.”

Koa said, “Which ones?”

“The ones in the crater, any computer we don’t need to run anything else. Just take them out, just destroy it all. Get rid of that damned research.”

Koa said, “I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you.”

Galen went back outside and helped the burial detail shoot the restrained zombies as they reanimated, and helped shove corpses into the crematorium, and helped with putting ashes in urns and helped affix the brass placards with the engraved names on them and helped mount the urns in the cubby holes of the mausoleum and stood by and observed the memorial ceremony. He thought about all the trouble they were going through, waiting for the inoculated to go into a coma, and then restraining them, and then waiting not only for them to become clinically dead, but for them to become actual zombies before putting them down.

He remembered the Memorandum of Instruction he had written himself, the part of it labeled Justification. The part that said the Brigade does not conduct summary executions, does not commit murder, or perform euthanasia, does not mutilate human bodies, and therefore would not put people down but would destroy and dispose of zombies. Ceremony complete, he faced the mausoleum and gave a proper hand salute and held it for a slow ten-count and thought about what he’d just done to Dr. Wythecombs. The burdens of command weighed heavy that day.

After dinner, Galen stood in front of the theater and addressed the EugeneX people, the ones that hadn’t changed, the ones that apparently hadn’t been injected with the youth serum after all. “Ladies and gentlemen, congratulations. Your lives are now longer than you thought. However, there is a problem. You were prepared to meet death in your own way, and you just lost many of your friends today. This puts you in a dangerous psychological state, and for that reason I’m running you all through a counseling program and I’m also putting you under guard to ensure your own safety against self-destruction. Two weeks from now you’ll be offered the choice of going home or staying here as paid workers of the newly formed planetary government. I now yield the floor to our chief medical technician, Chief Frasier.”

Galen jumped down off the stage and walked through the center aisle of the theater to the exit. Tad and Karen joined him outside and he got in the skimmer with them and went back up top. They stopped at the tunnel exit and went inside the security office area to talk to John Pedimore, who was being held there on the off chance he was infected.