The War for Profit Series Omnibus (48 page)

“Hello.”

Galen turned and saw a portly old man, tall, with a full head of gray hair and a gray beard twenty centimeters long. He wore a conservative black business smock, with a modest row of three miniature medals worn over his heart.

“I enjoyed your speech, couldn’t have written a better one.” The old man winked. “Follow me.”

He turned and Galen followed him to the end of the hall through the doors at the end and into a sitting room. Two dozen old men sat in comfortable chairs. Galen’s host said, “Gentlemen, I present Colonel Raper of the Jasmine Panzer Brigade.” Then the host leaned in close to Galen and whispered, “Just stand here, smile and shake hands.”

The men in the room stood. Galen now noticed half a dozen were actually old women, but with good military posture. They filed past Galen and shook his hand, each saying something like, “congratulations” or “good job” or “welcome” or some such thing. One of the women looked him over, head to toe, before shaking his hand, and then winked at him but said nothing.

The old folks sat back down and the host said, “With no more ado, I now proceed with the induction ceremony. Colonel Galen Raper, take a knee.”

Galen knelt on his left knee. The right one sill hurt where he banged it on the cupola of his tank the month before. An assistant brought out a two-handed sword a meter and a half long. The host held its handle in both hands and tapped it flat on Galen’s right shoulder, then his left, then tapped him on the top of his head, the held the sword up straight and handed it back to the assistant. “Arise, a member of the Distinguished Mercenary Colonel’s Association.”

Galen stood and the group clapped softly for a few moments.

The host said, “Anything to say?”

Galen cleared his throat, “Thank you, thank you all for this great honor. I look around the room and wonder if I really deserve this, but far be it from me to doubt your wisdom. I will make you proud and bring honor to this organization. I--”

The host interrupted him with a slap on the back and said, “Hey, Colonel Raper, all right, have a drink on me,” and handed him a glass of ale.

A waiter made his way around the room passing out drinks. The host led Galen over to a comfortable chair. Galen sat and his host sat next to him and said, “Take a drink, they’re waiting on you.”

Galen took a gulp from his glass and the rest of the group started drinking. Conversations started up, the sound in the room rising to a low murmur.

The host stuck out his hand, “I’m General Baxter, retired. I’m the chairman of this little club.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Galen shook his hand.

The waiter returned, “Dinner is served.”

Baxter led Galen into the dining room and seated Galen at the head of the table. Baxter sat at the opposite end, and since the table was wide, it was difficult for Galen to start a conversation with the person to his right or left. He simply ate. Chicken cordon bleu, baked potatoes, sour kraut, and then cheese cake for desert. After dinner, Galen stood and endured another round of handshakes before leaving the building. The other guests remained inside; to get drunk was Galen’s best guess. Robert’s car pulled up to the curb and Galen got in.

“How was it?” said Nan.

“All right.”

Karen said, “Tell us about the ceremony.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Robert winked. “I understand. It’s a secret.”

Galen shrugged. “The chow was good.”

Galen enjoyed visiting his family and his home planet, but he was very happy to be back on Mandarin. He stood alongside the tarmac of the spaceport’s runway eight, the one that adjoined the Panzer Brigade marshalling yard, and peered intently to its far end. A tiny dark spec grew to become the command jump ship, the craft bringing back the Brigade’s survey team. The spacecraft landed and taxied past Galen, then turned and backed up to the gate of the marshalling yard and dropped its cargo ramp. Two skimmers drove out and through the yard, on toward the motor pools on the other side of the Panzer Brigade compound.

Major Koa came down the ramp, the combat coveralls doing nothing to flatter his stocky frame. He stopped in front of Galen and gave a proper hand salute. Galen looked into his tired brown eyes and returned the gesture. Then Galen began walking into the marshalling yard and Koa fell in on his left side.

“So how was it, Koa?”

Koa said, “It’s bad, sir, really bad. Those guys are getting their asses handed to them.”

Galen didn’t expect such a pessimistic statement. He knew from experience that Koa’s Polynesian personality meant it was best to assume he was optimistic and adjust from there. “How soon can you de-brief?”

“I need a bath. Then I can analyze the data and prepare a formal report. Maybe tomorrow afternoon I’ll be ready?”

They left the marshalling yard through the walk-in gate and strolled slowly across the lush grass of the quadrangle, their route angled toward the Commander’s Entrance of Galen’s office. Galen walked slowly because he knew Koa was tired.

“Major, just give me your first impression. You can do the report morning after next; I’ll have the whole staff there to receive it.”

“Okay, sir. Thanks. The problem is, the indigs bit off more than they can chew. But they won’t quit, they just keep feeding their soldiers into the meat grinder. All they are doing is annoying the Mosh.”

“Thanks, Koa. I’ll see you at the briefing.”

“Thanks, sir.” Koa split off to the left to head towards his barracks.

Galen went into his office and sent the message to his staff that the survey team was back and the contract briefing would be in the brigade conference room, morning after next. Monday, 0900 hours.

***

At 0855 Monday morning, Galen entered the conference room. Koa was already there, going over his presentation one last time. He’d moved the chairs of the round conference table so they all faced the big screen that was the upper two thirds of the far wall. Galen’s command chair was rooted to the floor, facing directly at the screen from across the table.

“Good morning.”

Koa looked up from his terminal and stood. “Good morning, sir. You’re early.”

“I had nothing better to do. You want to go first?”

“I think I’d better. Your contract brief won’t make any sense if you go first.”

Galen said, “I’ll split it with you. I’ll start with introductions, then your brief, and then I’ll go over the contract options.”

“That’ll work.” Koa sat back down.

Galen sat in the command chair and fiddled with the controls. “Koa, you need to use this chair for the brief?”

“No sir, I’ll be standing up front. Just engage the remote.”

Galen did that. The screen then showed the same image as Koa’s terminal, the Panzer Brigade unit logo. A stylized Hercules tank, gold in color, as viewed from the front, superimposed on a black shield, three Jasmine blossoms, one below and one on either side of the tank. The shield was shape like a ‘U’ but with a point at the bottom and three points across the top. Below that, separate from the logo, the word “Welcome.”

Major Sevin came in wearing rumpled combat coveralls and took the seat on Galen’s far right, the first seat nearest the door. His graying black hair looked ratty, despite being pulled back in a pony tail. His mustache hung over his top lip and his goatee beard was in danger of becoming a full beard. He rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward over them, head drooped to the point his forehead nearly touched the table. He grunted and scooted his chair a couple of centimeters closer to the table.

Lieutenant Colonel Tad Miller entered with Lieutenant Colonel Marion Spike and took the two seats on Galen’s left, Spike on Galen’s immediate left. Lieutenant Colonel Karen Mitchell and Major Marjorie Polar entered and took the two chairs between Galen and Sevin, Karen seated next to Galen.

Koa said, “Ready when you are, sir.”

Galen stood and went to the front of the room. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s go around and tell each other about ourselves. Let’s start with Major Sevin.”

Sevin stood, a little wobbly. A slight discoloration surrounded his left eye, perhaps a black eye in the final stages of healing. “You all know me as well as you should. I’m twice the age of any one of you and twice as tough. The only reason I’m an officer, it was take a commission or retire, and you all know how I feel about retirement. My job title is a little sketchy, so I think of myself as the Brigade’s trouble shooter.” He sat down hard and leaned back in his chair, arms folded.

Major Polar stood. Her combat coveralls were clean and pressed, her light brown hair pulled back in a low pony tail that just barely hung below the edge of her coverall’s collar. She wasn’t tall but her build was sturdy, with large breasts to match. Were she taller, she could pass for Galen’s aunt. “I’m the Brigade logistics officer, your S-4. It’s a step up for me but it’s a job I’ve been watching closely for years from my former position as the Brigade Support Battalion commander. You might run short of things you want, but you won’t run short of things you need.” She sat and looked to her left.

Karen stood, her coveralls clean and pressed. “I’m Lieutenant Colonel Karen Mitchell and I’m now the Brigade’s personnel officer, your S-1. I took the job primarily to replace both Mr. Burwell, our former hiring agent, so that he could pursue his retirement dream, and Master Sergeant Ross as well, who took an appointment as planetary governor of Juventud in lieu of promotion to Colonel and subsequent Brigade command. Another reason I’m the S-1 is because I can’t go on contract for a while. I’m pregnant and the father is my fiancé, your commander, Colonel Raper. I’ll be here on Mandarin handling personnel matters and overseeing training operations, but I am sending a platoon-sized personnel detachment along with Captain Anderson on the next contract.” Karen sat.

Spike stood. His coveralls were clean but a little rumpled, and his black leather knee-high boots were non-standard. His black hair was trimmed so neatly and styled so well, it looked as though it were a molded plastic hat. He twisted the ends of his dark black handlebar mustache and said, “I’m Lieutenant Colonel Marion Spike, your executive officer, or extra officer, if you will. I serve at the convenience of the Colonel, of course, but I do not hesitate to make decisions on his behalf and I keep a close eye on him for any opportunity to relive him of command.” Spike smiled as he sat.

Tad stood. His red hair, although trimmed short, was longer than usual and resembled a wire brush left outside to rust. Today he wore a complete standard uniform along with civilian sunglasses with mirrored lenses held in a thick, rubbery camouflage pattern frame. “I’m Lieutenant Colonel Tad Miller. I’m
your S-3, running this whole Brigade. Me and the Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel Spike go way back, we were academy classmates and have been working closely together for as long as we have been in the Brigade, more than six years, when we enlisted on the same day.” Tad sat.

Koa moved to stand in the front of the room. “I’m Major Koa, and I’m your Brigade intelligence buddy, your S-2. Today I’ll be briefing you on what I learned about the next contract we are taking under consideration, hopefully providing you enough information to make a good decision.”

Galen said, “I, as you all well know, am Colonel Galen Raper, commander of this Brigade. I don’t know what happened. One minute I’m going to cash out and spend the rest of my life growing turnips, the next minute somebody’s pinning Colonel on me. But who ever believed life is fair? Major Koa, the floor is yours.” Galen stepped aside and then moved around the table to sit in the command chair.

Koa thumbed his remote and the lights dimmed a little. Then the slide on the screen changed to a galaxy map, a red arrow pointing at a spot about halfway from the center to the left edge. “That is the star system of Tuha, and there,” Koa changed the slide; it showed a star system with a big red arrow pointing at the second planet, “is the planet Tuha, and the planet is now under a single government, the
Tuha Republic.” He advanced to the next slide, showing a planet slowly rotating on an axis tilted about three hundred mils. There were about ten or eleven continents or large islands, and lots of little islands dotting the shallow green seas, with a few dark green places. The land masses were green and brown for the most part, with a grayish-blue mass at the southern pole and a greenish-blue sea at the northern pole.

Koa said, “This is the home world of the employer, the
Tuha Republic. The population is about four and a half billion. Their problems started about ten years ago when they decided to find their own jump points. They found one that opened up on the other side of the galaxy.” The screen showed the galaxy map again, a red arrow pointing to a spot just outside the rim, two thirds the way up from the bottom. “They found a Mosh industrial complex that manufactures war material and trains newly-formed Mosh military units. First thing they did was place a couple of cruisers there to block the jump point, to keep the Mosh away from their world. Later, as the planet moved around its orbit, the Mosh space defense cannons located on the planet were able to fire on and destroy one of the cruisers, and the other was badly damaged.”

Koa showed a picture of the Mosh planet. It was gray and blue, with bits of green. The main city had a ring of atmospheric brown around it, pollution from dozens of factories. Near there, a Mosh air factory pumped out air that left a noticeable clear blue streak that diffused into the atmosphere’s gray clouds. The name ‘Kreinbaur’ was printed across the bottom of the slide. “Kreinbaur, ladies and gentlemen, is the Mosh equivalent of our own Ostreich. Mosh warriors come there, fall in on new military equipment, train collectively as units up to brigade size, and then deploy to seek plunder and conquest across the galaxy.”

“Grinder,” said Sevin. “Cool name.”

“Kreinbaur,” said Koa.

“Never mind, I like Grinder better,” said Galen.

“All right, Grinder it is.” Koa thumbed his remote to change the name. Sevin gave Galen a thumb up.

Koa continued, “Anyway, Tuha viewed this as a significant threat to their planet, and quickly took action to bring their world under a single government and mobilized its population to support its war effort. The supreme council rules the planet under a supreme leader who has emergency war authority.”

“So,” said Galen, “we know they have plenty of money to pay us with.”

Koa said, “That is correct. The government of Tuha is flushed with cash. Ordinary citizens, however, live hand-to-mouth. But that’s another story for another day. Six years ago the Tuha sent a full army group, that is, three corps of three divisions each, plus an army support group and a fleet big enough to support it. They jumped in and started their bombardment of Grinder, but the Mosh defenders knocked out most of their fleet with ground-based weapons. The Tuha managed to land a force the size of a corps, and those units managed to get a toe hold on the planet and managed to take out some of the ground-based space guns as well. This has left a gap in the Mosh space defenses where units can now insert safely.”

Koa changed the slide. It showed a portion of Grinder’s surface, a land mass that resembled a creature walking on all fours, like a bear but with the hind legs a little too long. A large red arrow pointed at the stubby tail of the creature, the words ‘insert here’ printed on the arrow. Sevin guffawed, then leaned over to Polar and whispered something and then Polar laughed out loud. After a second look at the picture, Tad and Spike also laughed. Galen finally got the joke. “Next slide, please.”

Koa stared at the picture, and then advanced to the next slide, his face red. The next slide showed a map with tactical overlay. “Here we have the disposition of Tuha forces and known and suspected Mosh forces.”

The peninsula that was the stubby tail in the previous slide took up most of the lower left corner of the map. In its approximate center was a mass of military map symbols for a space shield, space laser cannon artillery, fixed tube artillery, rail guns, an interceptor air wing, a space port and an army group headquarters. Farther out were markers for ground units, three Infantry Division HQs and several brigade and battalion markers beyond that. At the limit of the Tuha perimeter were the markers for infantry companies, stitched together to form a line that curved outward toward the Mosh line. The Mosh were deployed in smaller groups, about ten kilometers back from the Tuha line. Many Mosh units were mechanized and armored units of company size, their battalion markers attached to one or another company, depending on terrain. Galen studied the hilly region and realized the Mosh had their units hiding behind the hills the way individual soldiers might hide behind sand bags; low, protected but able to quickly pop up and fire and then get back behind protective cover. Many of the Tuha troops, however, were partly exposed on hilltops, set on low ground with their back to a hill, or cut off from battle because they were in a static defense behind a hill, depending on which part of the line they held. It showed that the Mosh had about one third the number of troops committed to the lines as the Tuha.