The War for Profit Series Omnibus (53 page)

“Yeah, but… it’s bad out there. I mean, unburied corpses that have decomposed into skeletons, shell-shocked nut cases left out there, not sent back. I saw this one guy who just kept digging. He’d finish one fighting position and then go dig another one. Just kept digging. His shovel was worn down to a nub so I gave him the one from my skimmer tool kit and he smiled like it was a bar of gold. There are trauma cases that could have survived and returned to duty… but just left out there to die of their wounds. Nobody comes back. Fresh troops go out right after an attack, but that’s it. No casualty evac, no after action logpac. I saw new arrivals getting mugged just for their ammo.”

Galen said, “Now I feel a whole lot better about taking this contract.”

General Mills entered the dining area. A server stood erect and yelled, “Attention!”

Galen and Koa stood, but not at attention. The General came over and took his seat at the head of the table. Galen and Koa sat. The General wore a gray athletic suit and used the white towel draped around his neck to wipe sweat from his face. “Good morning, gentlemen. Panzer Brigade, I assume.”

The server came and took their orders. Koa and Galen asked for scrambled eggs, bacon and coffee. The General ordered some stuff Galen had never heard of, something that sounded real fancy. The General said, “Why are you wearing those helmets indoors?”

Galen said, “We’re under arms in an official capacity.”

The server brought the food. Galen and Koa removed their helmets. The General said, “Now you take them off?”

Koa said, “We remove them to eat chow. The chin strap interferes with chewing and the suction of the earpieces can cause damage to the ear drum when swallowing food.”

“I see.” The General smiled. “Fitness is the most important thing in the military. It provides a solid foundation for everything else we have to do. I’ve risen straight to the top with this philosophy; that is why I’m a twenty eight year old General. This morning I ran ten kilometers and did one hundred pushups. I’ve been known to do as many as two hundred.”

Galen said, “I disagree.”

General Mills frowned, “It’s okay, Colonel, you may address me as Sir.”

Galen finished chewing his bacon and sipped his coffee. “I’m older than you, and your rank was not certified by the Bonding Commission or any other authority with a reciprocal agreement.”

The General stuck out his chin and looked down his nose. “I’ll have you know, I was promoted by the Chief of Staff, Tuha Army himself.”

Galen said, “I was hired by the Tuha Planetary Supreme Council. Your Supreme Leader’s signature is on my contract. The scope and scale of my duties and responsibilities far exceed yours. Please, don’t confuse your rank with my authority.”

The General said, “I see. You’ll keep me apprised of your status, of course.”

Galen and Koa were done eating. They put their helmets back on. “General, my reports go directly to Theater Command. If they choose to share them with you, that’s their business.”

The General stared, mouth closed mid-chew, eyes locked with Galen’s. His face was turning red.

Koa stood and Galen broke the stare to stand as well.

“I’m still eating!” Food fell from the General’s mouth.

“Thanks for the chow, General.”

Koa and Galen walked briskly for the door, bounded down the steps and kept walking toward the skimmer. The skimmer met them in the street, they jumped in, and the skimmer headed for the gate. The gate guards raised the barricade to let them pass through, but then the guards started blowing their whistles and waving for the skimmer to come back before the barricade had come back down. The general was sprinting down the street toward the gate.

Koa told the driver, “Get us out of here.”

The driver brought the lifting fans of the skimmer to top speed, blowing up a cloud of dust from the MSR’s pulverized gravel surface, a billow of white dust more than twenty meters high that engulfed the gate. The skimmer took off right down the middle of the road, leaving an impressive trail of dust.

Galen stood in front of the presentation screen of the dome of the TOC and looked at his staff and the senior commanders seated before him. “All right, ladies and gentlemen we’ve been here two weeks. You tell me what’s going on. We’ll start in the front, your right to your left and then back across the next tow rows.”

Galen reached to his side and moved the fold-up chair in front of him and stepped in front of it and sat down. The first to speak was the mechanized infantry battalion commander. His combat coverall sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and his big, hairy forearms crossed his chest. He stood and said, “We’ve established security around the Brigade TOC and extended the perimeter to enclose the ALOC area as well, to reduce the workload on the logistics people. I have my gun battery ready for counter fire if the Mosh try to shoot at us, but we’re well protected from their flat trajectory by that hill beside us. But if necessary, our guns can back up, return fire and pull forward without any significant risk to themselves, so all of you, please, don’t hesitate to call for fire. We have some mortars too, if you need them attached. I’m getting tired of those mortar maggots hanging around in my perimeter with nothing to do.”

Galen said, “Thank you,
Eugene. Next?”

Eugene
sat. The next commander stood. “The light tank battalion is in position and ready to fight. I have a company of light tanks positioned at each of the likely enemy egress points, ready to hit retreating Mosh armor in the flank as well as cut off their retreat. That is, if there is anything left of it. We have also established rapport with the final Tuha checkpoints nearest the indig FLOT. We put a tank in defilade, camouflaged in a supporting position, and we’ve established landline comms between each of those three checkpoints and the supporting tank, so that we can use our sensors to give the checkpoints a five minute warning of an approaching vehicle, allowing the indig checkpoint crews—”

Galen stood and cut him off. “I get it, we know what you mean. Next?”

Major Polar stood. “Support battalion appreciates all the help we’re getting. We are running triple trains, all the way from the space port to here, where we have to transload from the trucks to tactical vehicles to provide deliveries all along the Front Line of Troops to support the indigs. So far so good, but I’d like to get this little war over with so my people can catch up on their sleep.” Subdued laughter came from the group as Major Polar took her seat.

The Brigade surgeon stood and faced the group. “My biggest headache has been the Tuha soldiers brought to my hospital. I don’t mind providing care for my fellow man, but some of these men need care I can’t provide, particularly the psychological cases. They aren’t getting worse, but they are driving me crazy. So I agree with Major Polar; at the first available opportunity, get this war over with.” A murmured laugh from the group. The surgeon sat.

Major Sevin stood. “As many of you are already aware, my tiger teams have endeared themselves to the Tuha infantry, who have willingly and enthusiastically welcomed our leadership. Beyond all other reasons was also the fact there was not one soldier above the rank of Sergeant anywhere along that line. And we’re talking about seven thousand soldiers comprising eighty one line companies. In the Tuha army at least, rank does indeed have its privileges. But with our expert leadership and support, those are some pretty good units on the line now.” Sevin sat.

Captain Grey stood. She was short, blonde hair in a high pony tail, green-eyed, pink-faced, slight of build and youthful in appearance. When she first enlisted in the Brigade three years before, Galen had to settle a dispute about her nickname. Her fellow troops wanted to call her ‘Bait’ because she looked very much like a youthful actress featured on a reality show where law enforcement sought to entrap child sex predators. She’d enlisted in the Brigade right after graduating from the
Hobart military academy with a degree in journalism. She took a commission after she served as an infantry troop for a year. A happily married mother of a healthy baby girl, she was now the Brigade’s twenty six year old Public Affairs Officer. But still, she looked like a twelve year old.

She said, “I’ve put together something you can all enjoy, something I call the ‘Awareness Channel.’ I’ll have access to all the battle reports and my team will dig through and edit and put together daily shows and continuous commentary about the events of the day. There will be very little live reporting, and most of the stories will be delayed a few minutes to an hour, but it will provide a greater awareness among all units of what is happening across the battlefield. And of course the channel will be encrypted secure and classified as ‘official use only’ so you can’t record it. My team will put together a version of this news suitable for public release when we get back to Mandarin, and you can show that to your friends. We’ll be on channel twenty four, and thank you for watching.” Captain Grey sat.

Major Koa stood. He motioned for Galen to move to the side and turned on the presentation screen. It displayed a map of the battle area with a tactical overlay. The seated commanders looked at it and some confused grunts and groans came from them. Koa said, “What you see here is what the Tuha brass sees. All their commanders, from battalion on up, get this picture right here because that’s what they want to see. It is none of their business to know we’re taking good care of the soldiers they just throw away.”

Koa changed the picture. “This is what’s really going on. You can see that the Tuha infantry has been moved at various points along the line to take better advantage of more defensible terrain. Also you see the Cav battalion and the recon troop attached to them prepared to make a push along the left flank into Mosh territory. Amongst them are six Hercules heavy tanks and two self-propelled plasma cannons mounted on modified Hercules tank chassis. The remainder of the heavy tank battalion is deployed farther back, prepared to meet a Mosh breach of the lines head on if they try to make a run to the spaceport. Which seems stupid at first, but makes sense if you realize their attempts to retreat back into their own territory will be blocked by our medium tank company, which is equipped with 55 brand new Stallion medium tanks.” Koa shook his head. “I’m tired, I need to sit down.” Koa sat.

The medium tank battalion commander stood. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have three tank companies deployed separately.” He pointed at the display. “Here, here and here. After the Mosh do their initial breakthroughs, I’ll meet them head-on so that they will be unable to complete their little thunder runs through our rear areas. They will then do one of two things. They will either retreat the same way they came in, or they will choose to make a run toward the space port. Either way, it will be the last thing they ever do.” He sat down.

Galen stood. “It ain’t no secret, the Mosh will attack us some time during the next three days. If they don’t, you can all have next Friday off. Any questions for me?” Silence. Galen said, “Success.”

The group stood. “Success.”

Tad buttonholed Galen before he could make his escape from the TOC. “Boss, you didn’t let me brief the overall battle plan.”

A couple of the field commanders had left already, and the rest stood in groups of three or four and discussed details and shared opinions. Galen told Tad, “I’ve seen it, it’s a work of art, but these commanders have enough on their minds right now; their heads would explode if we tried to stuff in more information. In other words, your briefing would blow their minds.”

Tad smiled. “All right, you win this time.”

Galen said, “Don’t forget, since me and Spike are out playing cowboy on this one, operational control passes to you.”

Tad nodded and shook Galen’s right hand. “Good luck.”

Galen made haste for the exit. He wanted to get back to his tank. Being almost twenty two klicks away from it made him nervous. He climbed into the S-2 skimmer and waited for Koa, who came out right away and got in.

Koa tapped his driver on her the shoulder. “Back to Jasmine Six, she misses her commander.”

The driver looked over her shoulder at Galen. “I can see why.”

The skimmer left the Brigade HQ perimeter and turned left on the gravel road. They passed the final Tuha checkpoint and the guard gave a big smile and an enthusiastic wave, which Galen returned. Closer to the line the road became little more than vehicle tracks and scratch marks on large flat stones. At several places it was obvious the rocks were blasted away by tank main guns to make way. The laser gunner of the skimmer kept his weapon to the right, watching the ridges of the bare stone hills and low mountains on that side for potential targets. He kept glancing down at the tactical display mounted to the dash board to the left of the vehicle commander, noting the symbols for friendly units. Occasionally there were friendly units visible, crouched in fighting positions. Some clutched the few short-range anti-armor missiles and laser rifles the Brigade was able to provide them. One soldier stood on the right side of the road wearing a clean new uniform the Brigade had provided, along with new boots, a composite lightweight helmet, a combat vest and a rapid-fire 10mm submachine gun. The Tuha troop waved with a huge smile on his face. Galen gave a proper hand salute, and the soldier gave and held a salute as the skimmer passed by.

Soon the trip was over and Galen jumped out of the skimmer and said, “I really like what Sevin and Polar did for those grunts.”

Koa said, “Yes. This whole line looks a lot better.”

Koa’s skimmer turned and headed back to the Brigade HQ. Galen climbed up on his tank and sank down in the seat of the cupola. He checked the status screen and dug through all the information. Everything was set. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the Mosh attack.