The War for Profit Series Omnibus (43 page)

Galen said, “John, have they been treating you well?”

“It’s a gilded cage. When do I get out?”

“Right after we finish this conversation. Do you want a job?”

John said, “Maybe. What is it?”

Karen said, “We own a seat on the board of GasAir. Do you want to fill it?”

John said, “Depends on compensation and living arrangements, the benefits, you know.”

Galen said, “You’d be living in City Six, and your compensation would be the same as the other board members. It’s a straight shot to the top of the corporate ladder.”

“Tentatively, I accept. Let me do a trial run of two weeks, and if it’s a good fit for me, I’ll stay on.”

Galen shook his hand. “Good enough. Pack your bags. We’ll deliver you to GasAir tomorrow morning.” Galen then addressed the two EugeneX security guards who were being held. “You are also free to go. Call down to operations in the crater and they’ll send someone to come pick you up. You’ll be working with them in the command center on the island.”

Galen, Tad and Karen then went to the ops center in the secondary landing strip’s terminal and sat at the conference table. Koa and Sevin were already there, and Spike came in and took the seat opposite Galen and leaned forward to stare into his eyes.

Spike said, “Are you okay? I can run things if you need a couple of days off.”

Galen’s eyes brightened. “I… I thank you. I believe I will. I’ll be in one of those corporate suites on the mountain.”

“Good. Now get out of here. I’ll see you in three days.” Spike kept silent as Galen left the TOC.

***

Galen woke the next morning to the sounds of construction work in the distance. A military academy was being built, to educate and train the core of what would become the planetary defense force. Galen looked around the suite. It was nice, the nicest one, Mike’s old suite; a penthouse that took up half the top floor, with four meter high ceilings. Galen decided to take it because, after all, he was the Jasmine Panzer Brigade Commandant, and the planet was owned by the Brigade. That made him Governor, so it was time to start living like one. He moved through the main bedroom, the two spare bedrooms, the walk-in closets, the three regular bathrooms and the main bath and the foyer and the kitchen and the den and the living room and collected up all of Mike’s personal belongings and put them in the line of cubic-meter shipping containers by the door. He then hand-wrote a letter to Mike’s mother, stating how great a Director he was, how great a loss his passing had been, and a brief explanation of how he died. Of course, Galen left out what happened after Mike had officially died, that zombie stuff wasn’t important. Not the sort of thing you tell someone’s mother.

He put Mike’s things out in the hallway where a porter would come get them. Another box was there, all of Galen’s things. He’d called for his possessions last night before going to bed. What was delivered that night was just a half-full container holding an eBook reader, a spare set of combat coveralls, and a second pair of boots and a change of civilian clothes. Everything else he owned, Galen had been wearing: his combat vest, ground troop helmet, rifle, side arm, a double load of ammo, night vision goggles and assorted field gear gadgets like the multi-tool and electronic razor and two extra first aid kits, things like that.

Today he wore civilian clothes. Athletic shoes, loose-fitting hemp trousers, a non-military black t-shirt with the
Ostwind Military Academy logo on the chest, a light grey windbreaker jacket and a dark blue civilian-style field cap. He ordered breakfast up to his room and sat out on the balcony to eat. The balcony was twenty meters wide and five meters deep, with a magnificent view of the bridge across the lake, the road running through downtown and the spaceport, the road as it continued on, lost in the distance. With binoculars, Galen could see the cliff face of the crater’s outer rim. He decided it was time to lie on the living room couch and watch vids on the full-d screen, a big one, a little larger than the one in the TOC.

He watched an action vid with the sound off. He dozed off a couple of times but he noticed that the people rode horses and swung swords and used long sticks to impale people. Others fired arrows. Towards the end of the story, they used big logs to bash in the wooden doors of a large stone structure, a wall around a village, and then they killed everyone inside and took all the valuables and went back where they came from. He called for dinner to be brought up, a maidbot came and cleaned his suite, and he sat out on the balcony to eat. After dinner he drank six ales and slept on the balcony’s couch until sunrise woke him, its bright light shining right in his eyes.

He had a bowl of cereal for breakfast and spent the morning re-coding the flat screen and terminal in the den so that all of Mike’s connections were erased and then Galen tied in all his connections, including his command connections. He checked the unit’s accounts and saw that there was plenty of money. Lots of money, enough to pay a special dividend to the shareholders, and cover all expenses and costs and contract shares, and anything else he could imagine, and still, there was a lot of money. He thought about that.

From things in the refrigerator he made a sandwich for lunch and then took a nap on the couch. He took apart his war gear and sent it out to be cleaned, and then sat on the balcony and cleaned his weapons. Then he put his weapons away and looked out at the view from the balcony and watched the shadow of the mountain as it grew longer and longer until the darkness of sunset absorbed it. The lights of downtown, the lights of the troop billet area, and the blinking lights of the spaceport and its tarmac dazzled him. He then went into the maser bedroom and snuggled up in the plush quilt and soft mattress and fluffy pillows and slept very well.

Next day he called the tailor shop and sent them his measurements from the shower’s sensors and the specifications from the Brigade’s uniform manual and ordered a full-dress ceremonial uniform, complete with all authorized awards and decorations. After lunch, a porter brought the uniform to his suite and he tried it on. Sky blue riding pants with a three centimeter gold stripe over the outside seam tucked into black synthetic boots that shined like polished glass. The shirt was a snug long sleeve crewneck shirt, tight at the wrist bone and a little snug at the neck. The jacket was dark blue with padding in the shoulders, tight at the waist, its bottom edge even with the fingertips of the hands when standing at attention. Above his left breast pocket was a double row of three medals each, five centimeter wide ribbons suspending medallions of equal width. The Commandant’s Cord was looped over his left shoulder, its gold tip hanging directly over the three blocked unit citations pinned above the right breast pocket. On the epaulets on each shoulder was pinned a gold four centimeter long miniature of a knight in armor mounted on a boarded horse, as viewed from the side and lance presented forward, the symbol for the armor branch of the military. Galen looked at himself in the mirror and then had the sensor in the den take his picture. He then used his personal communicator to send the picture to his staff, with an invitation to join him for dinner in the restaurant on the ground floor of the corporate suites building.

Tad called back first. “Galen, looks like you’ve lost your damned mind!”

Galen said, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, dressing up like that when we still have people in the field.”

“I’ve given it some thought. I want my staff, and all battalion commanders and above, to take up residence in the corporate suites. I also want the Brigade to move back into the crater and go into garrison mode. There’s plenty of room down here now.”

“But what about the tunnel?”

“We’ll rotate one Tank Company and one Infantry Company through the defenses up top, one week at a time. That’s plenty. There is no credible threat right now.”

“All right, I’ll see you at dinner but I won’t be dressed up like a Prussian monarch posing for an oil painting.”

“Dinner is at eight.”

Tad said, “You mean twenty hundred. I’ll tell the others. Roger out.”

Galen hung up his dress uniform and put on his combat coveralls and clipped his pistol belt on. He paced in front of the full-d screen, a vid about some kid who loved his dog playing, the sound muted. Galen sat and changed the vid a few dozen times, then turned it off and left the suite. He took the elevator down to the first floor and went in the dining room of the restaurant and sat at the first table on the left. He checked his wrist chronometer: 1955 hours.

Tad and Karen arrived together and sat.

“Loved your picture,” said Karen.

Galen smiled. “I just wanted to feel civilized, if only for a few minutes.”

Tad said, “Sevin and Spike are bringing Koa. They were out of hot water up top so they came down here to shower and change. They should be here soon.”

“Good,” said Galen. “Beautiful weather today, I thought.”

Karen said, “The weather here is stable. It’s partly controlled, engineered over the centuries by GasAir. Not too bad.”

Koa, Spike and Sevin entered and took seats at the table.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” said Galen.

Sevin said, “What’s this about moving back into the crater?”

Galen smiled. “I’m glad you brought that up. There is no longer a credible threat out there. Half the EugeneX people are no longer with us, and most of those who are here will likely choose to leave and go back home. They no longer have an employer. EugeneX is bankrupt, out of business.”

The server brought their meals.

Spike said, “Well we got our money. I think we should count our blessings and run out of here and back to Mandarin like scalded dogs.”

Galen said, “Have you really thought about it, the possibilities? We own this planet, and it’s not some pile of rocks. It’s in the final stage of terra forming. The air is sweet, the gravity is reduced. We’re living the dream.”

Sevin said, “You haven’t heard from the board of directors yet, have you?”

“Not yet.”

“I suspect,” said Sevin, “They will sell this place for all the cash they can get.”

Galen frowned, then blinked and smiled. “I’ll invite them here, let them look around and see if they want to move the unit’s home base here.”

Karen laughed. “Not likely. This place is better in many ways, but they are settled in there. My grandfather would never move, he’s too tired and old to start over in a new place. Their lives are on Mandarin.”

Tad said, “We could base our operational units here, and leave the corporate HQ and the training base on Mandarin. They might go for that. After all, we already have a permanent detachment on
Alamo.”

Galen said, “Well I’m thinking about expansion. Making the unit bigger, standing up three more combat Brigades and making it a division.”

The staff members stopped eating and looked at Galen. Sevin said, “Well I’ll be damned.”

Spike said, “The board just might go for that.”

Galen looked at Sevin. “I’d consider a full wing of interceptors and a Brigade of Helos as well.”

Sevin said nothing and went back to eating, enthusiastically, trying to hide a smile. Spike’s eyes sparkled for a moment then he looked down at his plate and sawed a slice off his stake and stuffed it in his mouth and chewed vigorously.

Tad said, “We could have a full Brigade of Hercules tanks; that would be magnificent.”

“Vainglorious,” said Galen. He drank from his glass of iced tea. “Vainglorious.”

They ate. The busboy took away the dishes and the server brought desert. Galen chose pumpkin pie and the staff followed and ordered the same.

Karen said, “Enough dreaming, as much as I like the idea. Let me tell you what’s really going to happen. First, the corporate HQ will stay on Mandarin. I’ll convince my grandfather to not sell this planet. The board will then appoint a civilian governor; the law is very clear about not setting up planetary military dictatorships. Second, the detachment on
Alamo will be withdrawn as soon as that contract expires. The board doesn’t want the Brigade spread all over the place. Most likely, those units will be sent here to guard this spaceport. Third, the unit will not be expanded, at least not by much. The best we can hope for is a reinforced Brigade. Reason being, the board doesn’t want to deal with the immense ego of a general officer. Besides, contracts for division-sized units are often bloody and costly. Conflicts of that size can take years to settle, and generally attract unwanted attention.”

Galen said, “Well now that we know what won’t happen, let’s discuss what we can accomplish.”

Karen said, “Prepare your selves for a surprise.”

Galen and the staff members set their glasses and silverware down and waited.

“I have been sending regular reports and recommendations to the board. Recommendations for the selection of field grade officers.”

Galen said, “And what did you recommend?”

She said, “I, of course, will be a Lieutenant Colonel and continue my work as Brigade S-4. Tad and Spike will be Light Colonels as well, assigned as the S-3 and the XO, respectively. Ross, who is on Mandarin right now, will be commissioned as a Colonel and will assume command of the Brigade. Koa, you’ll continue to be the Brigade S-2, a billet that warrants the rank of Major. And Sevin, as much as you hate the idea, you will either accept a commission as Major, or take a hike. Don’t answer right now, gentlemen, take a week to think about it. It takes some getting used to.”