The War for Profit Series Omnibus (57 page)

Galen jogged along the five-K track and saw the Stallion battalion commander out ahead, walking. He caught up and walked beside him, looking down and to the left, at the top of the head of the one point six meter tall man.

“Morning, Colonel.” He ran his left hand through the black bristly flattop that was his haircut.

“What’s your status, Stallion six?”

“Hundred and ten percent, sir! Just have to take it easy on these legs for a couple of months.” He looked up at Galen, his dark brown eyes smiling.

Galen said, “Well I’m doing a lot better. Side still itches, but I’ll be okay.”

“I know what you mean. My lower legs itch like crazy some times, from deep inside. But I let it alone, scratching is bad for it.”

“You like those new knees?”

Stallion six said, “You bet, sir. Solid. Still need to get the skin dyed. I look like freak with pink lower legs and bronze everywhere else.”

Galen said, “The cosmetic people do good work, but only after you’re done healing.”

Two soldiers approached, jogging on the trail. They raised their left fists and said, “Stallions!”

Galen and Stallion six returned the gesture, raising their left fists. Stallion six said, “Hundred per cent!”

Galen smiled, “So that’s where that comes from.”

“Well, you know.” Stallion six shrugged.

“I never did get the whole story on how you lost your legs.”

“It’s a long story, sir. You get reports, right?”

Galen said, “Reports are boring. I’d rather hear it from you.”

“All right. So there I was, up in my hatch when you called and told me to exterminate the entire Mosh race…”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“That’s my style. Anyway, there I was.” He stopped walking and reached down like he was going to scratch his calves but then resisted the urge and straightened back up and resumed walking. “You want the whole story?”

Galen said, “From when you got the word to pursue the second Mosh attack.”

“Oh. Well after rallying my battalion in the old TOC location, I started slow pursuit since the Mosh force was eight times my size. I wanted to wait until they were engaged with their attack against our ALOC, Hercules companies, mechanized battalion and the Interceptors before I made contact.”

“A wise choice, and in accordance with your orders and the overall battle plan.”

“Yes sir. So as I moved up the trail I noticed that each checkpoint had been smoked. The Tuha First Division headquarters compound too, the Mosh ran all over that place and tore it up. Columns of smoke rose all across it, from every building that was still standing, and some that weren’t. And the bodies, strewn everywhere. It was bad. We moved on past it, trailing the Mosh by thirty klicks, not wanting to get their attention.

“Then I heard some interesting traffic on comms. The mechanized battalion commander and the Hercules battalion commander were discussing who was in charge, not fighting mind you, jut trying to get it right, and then Major Polar came on there and said they didn’t have time for that. Then the Lieutenant Colonels said that yes, in fact they did have time for that because they were set and didn’t expect contact for another thirty minutes. So then Polar said she’d be in charge because she was in command of a Brigade asset and had the necessary comms gear to command the whole nut roll, and they would be too busy running their battalions anyway, and they agreed with her. So she took charge, and I had to give her my reports after that.”

Galen said, “Of course you told her you were a hundred percent.”

“You know it. Major Polar is an interesting woman.”

“I’ll say. She married her academy sweetheart, had five kids and then enlisted.”

Stallion six said, “Why isn’t she a Lieutenant Colonel?”

“Time in service. She’ll be promoted when she has five years in. About five more months, I think.”

“Hate to bring it up, sir, but you barely have seven years in and you’re a full Colonel.”

“Don’t matter. Colonel is an appointed position. The board of directors could hang that rank on a newborn if they wanted. Now tell me about how you got your legs shot off.”

“Oh. I was working my way up behind the Mosh and they left a blocking force about twenty clicks out, just up the road from the division compound, at the site of the first corps check point, a company of infantry and two tanks. A high stone mountain on the right came down to the edge of the road, and wide open ground on the right for about half a klick. Their tanks were on the other side of the mountain, so if I used the open ground they’d get first shot at us, in the flank. If I tried to go around the mountain to the left, it would take forever. So I stopped about fifteen hundred meters out, got on line and started creeping forward, taking shots as I got closer. But I had Charlie Company’s third platoon hook wide to the right and cut back in past a low hill, so they could face the Mosh tanks head-on at stand off range. Numbers made the difference, got both their tanks and lost one of mine. That put Charlie’s third platoon down to four tanks, which kept the battalion at—”

“At a hundred per cent,” said Galen.

“Roger. Then we swept their infantry and moved up the road to get within five kilometers of the Mosh and waited for the bigger fight to start. Polar sent me target priorities. The Mosh had a battery of self-propelled anti-air lasers, eight of them, and that was my priority. Get rid of them to clear the air corridor for our artillery shells and the Interceptors. It wasn’t long before the Mosh started their assault. The got on line three klicks out from our defensive line, dismounted their infantry to walk along with their tanks, and then they moved up slowly. They did maneuver to try to take advantage of the cover of the stone hills, but they had to go slow so their dismounts could keep up. Another thing was, there were cleared lanes of fire all through those hills, so the Mosh really didn’t have any good cover for their attack, but they thought they did.

“The Hercules opened up first, and their heavy lasers shot right through the Mosh tanks, from front to rear like a red hot knife through melting butter. It was something to see. That’s when I charged forward and closed on the Mosh air defense battery, and took out their dismount’s mortars and about two dozen trucks as well. Made quite a mess, and my battalion ran through the wreckage a couple of time before pulling back. We held back as a blocking force to prevent Mosh retreat, and I wasn’t in any hurry to get in front of those Hercules tanks. They could easily mistake a Stallion medium tank for a Mosh MS-85 medium tank, in that kind of fight. Lots of dust and smoke and fire, you know.”

“I know,” said Galen. “When do we get to the part where you tell me about your legs?”

“I was getting to that. We were up against dismounts back when we swept that rear detachment at that corps checkpoint, so that’s when I turned on the laser strip that runs around the perimeter of the hull, it fires a light laser sweep around and down at a four hundred mil angle, to stop dismounts from climbing on the tank. And then I left it on when we closed on the Mosh air defense, because there were dismounts around the mortars. Then when the fight was over, I stood down my battalion and called for a senior leader meeting. When I climbed down off my tank and walked away I was good. I guess the sensors weren’t too concerned with a person climbing down and away from the tank. But then when I walked back to climb up on my tank, the sensors caught me, saw me walking towards the tank and trying to climb up on it, and the defensive laser strip went off and cut me off at the knees.”

Galen said, “Thank you for your honesty. In your professional opinion, is that defensive laser strip a good thing?”

“Well the only change that system needs is a button instead of a switch to engage it on command only. I left it switched on, and that mistake cost me. For most troops it’s no problem most of the time, but for field commanders, I just had too much buzzing around in my head too fast to be thinking about that. My common sense is the first thing to go when I’m leading troops in battle. Having a button to push to engage it only when needed, I think that would work better. Operating it would then be just like using the explosive strips we already have on all our other armored vehicles. In my professional opinion.”

“Yes. There’s always a learning curve with new equipment. I’m thinking about adding a Stallion tank company to the Cavalry battalion. Good idea?”

Stallion six thought for a moment. “That’s too far out of my area of expertise. Cavalry is more about attitude and tactics than equipment. You’ll have to ask Cav six about that. The Stallion tank has a top speed fast enough for Cavalry work, but I can’t be sure if the rate of acceleration or cyclic rate of fire for the main gun, or traverse speed of the turret or gross vehicle weight would be something they’d want over there in Cav.”

They walked past the 5K marker at the end of the jogging the trail and stopped. “It’s been fun talking to you, Stallion six.”

Stallion six saluted, Galen returned the gesture and then walked away toward his apartment.

Tad knocked at the frame of Galen’s open office door. “Morning, boss.”

Galen wore his garrison uniform and sat behind his desk reviewing reports, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Come on in and take the weight off your feet.”

Tad removed his garrison uniform jacket and hung it on the coat rack and sat on the couch on the left, loosened his tie and put his feet up on the coffee table. “This guy called and wants to meet with you.”

“Who is it?”

“He said he knew Karen at the Mandarin military academy. He’s a civilian, a lawyer.”

Galen said, “Shoot him.”

“We could get in trouble for that.”

“Where is he?”

“I told him to wait at the compound gate. He’s in the guard shack.”

“Crap.” Galen closed his terminal and cleared papers off his desk and put them in the top center drawer. “Have him brought here with an escort. On foot, make him walk.”

Tad used his communicator. “Front gate? Yes. Walk him over here to the Colonel’s office. I’ll take charge of him from there.” Tad put his communicator in his pocket. “He’s on his way.”

“Have you seen him yet?”

Tad said, “I saw him on video from the guard shack sensors. A Mandarin man. Not too tall but taller than most, kind of skinny, a cheap suit. He looked about twenty five or thirty.”

Galen opened his desk terminal and searched and brought up vid from the guard shack. He wound it back and found the guy. He set the flat screen as the second monitor and pointed. “That the guy?”

Tad looked. “Yes.”

Galen ran facial recognition on the image and scored a match and read the bio. “Look at this guy. What a turd.”

Tad read. “He attended the Mandarin academy and took an academic degree but couldn’t make the cut for military service, and then he went to law school and graduated but couldn’t pass the test to get his lawyer license, now he works as a paralegal at a low-end retail law firm. And he’s not doing well financially. Yep, he’s a turd. Wonder what he wants?”

Galen said, “It’s obvious. He wants money.”

Tad nodded. “Sucks to be him.”

Galen turned off the monitors and closed down the terminal and closed its lid into the top of the desk. “This should be fun.”

A knock came at the frame of the door. A gate guard said, “A Mr. Bun here to see you, sir.”

“Send him in,” said Galen.

The guard left. Mr. Bun entered and extended his hand toward Galen. “Colonel Raper, my name is Tae Bun. Thank you for receiving me on such short notice.”

Galen stood and reached across the desk to shake his hand. “Have a seat.”

Tae Bun looked around for a moment and then sat on the couch opposite Tad. He put his small noteputer on the coffee table. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

Galen smiled. “Maybe you want to enlist. If that’s the case, I’ll have to refer you to my hiring agents.”

Mr. Bun’s face held its plastic expression. “No, that’s not it I assure you.”

“Okay. Why are you here?” said Tad.

Mr. Bun looked at Galen. “It’s about Karen. You can’t marry her.”

Galen leaned back in his chair. “I’ll marry whomever I like, Mr. Bun.”

Mr. Bun stood. “You can’t marry Karen because she is my wife.”

Galen stood and said, “Why do I find that very hard to believe?”

Galen stood staring right into Mr. Bun’s eyes, and Mr. Bun stood stock still, staring back.

Tad said, “May I interject?”

“Please do,” said Galen.

“Mr. Bun, you better prove what you said, and pretty damned quick.”

Galen sat. Mr. Bun sat and reached for his noteputer. “Upon graduation from the Mandarin Military Academy I was accepted to An Yang School of Law. Karen lived with me for the better part of two years while she attended business school, pursuing a Masters of Business Administration degree. Cohabitation in excess of six months constitutes a common law marriage. I have here my lease agreement for that apartment, on which her name is included. I also have the entry and departure logs from the security system; clearly, she lived with me and it was the primary residence for us both.”

Galen said, “And then what happened?”

Bun frowned. “I…”

Galen stood and pointed. “You found out your ex-girlfriend has a couple of dollars now so here you come trying to get some of it for yourself.”

Bun stood and pointed, “On the advice of my attorney I came to confront you first, to see if this delicate matter could be handled quietly.”

Galen put his hands on his hips. “So what do you have in mind?”

“I could annul my claim to marriage, and Karen could agree. Otherwise, I’d have to sue for divorce.”

Galen stared. “You can’t be serious.”

“I assure you, Colonel, I am quite serious. Grant me fair compensation comparable to what I would win as a property settlement in a divorce and I’ll agree to an annulment. Otherwise, I file divorce and this entire incident becomes a matter of public record.”

Galen said, “Your claim is ridiculous. You will not get one damn credit.”

Mr. Bun said, “It is your intention to marry my lawfully wedded wife. I demand satisfaction!”

Galen placed both his hands on his belt buckle. “Then turn around and bend over and I’ll satisfy you!”

Bun said, “Don’t be facetious! I have in my possession vids of Karen and I consummating our marriage. Would you have that entered into the public record?”

Galen stepped around his desk and stood half a meter in front of Bun. “And all those other adult vids, are you the scumbag who made and distributed those?”

Bun’s face went pale and he stepped back.

Galen stepped forward. “I thought so. Was that your next scam? To come here after my marriage and threaten to tell everyone about those too? Well? I’m waiting for an answer.”

Mr. Bun stood his ground, jutted out his chin and folded his arms. “I am completely within my rights. I have made you a fair offer. Your bullying won’t work on me.”

Galen smacked Mr. Bun across the face with the back of his right hand. “I challenge you to a duel!”

Mr. Bun reached up slowly and felt the side of his face. It was starting to turn red, a big red splotch where Galen had slapped him just hard enough to issue the challenge. “I didn’t expect this.”

“You are a military academy graduate. You know the law and you know I am completely within my rights to demand a duel. Name the time and place.”

“You can’t be serious. Think of the implications, think of the publicity.”

“I like the implications. I like the idea that anyone who says my woman is a trash bag whore will get shot and killed. By me.”

Mr. Bun looked down. “I’m sorry, I miscalculated your reaction. I withdraw my request.”

“Too late, turd face. The challenge has been issued. Name the time and place.”

“Very well. This Sunday, at high noon, on Hobart.”

Galen laughed, “Nice try. Because of the idiosyncrasies of the local times and calendars, by the time we reach
Hobart, the time will have passed. In case you have forgotten, mister, it has to be within a day and it has to be within ten kilometers of where the challenge was issued.”

Mr. Bun smiled. “Very well, tomorrow morning at dawn, right out there on the grass of your quadrangle. The publicity will do wonders for your unit’s reputation. This is your last chance to call off this duel.”

Galen said, “Tomorrow at dawn.” Galen waved his hand dismissively toward the Commander’s Entrance door. “Tad, escort this…this… thing to the gate.”

***

It was first light on the quadrangle, the yellow glow of the street lights and walkway lights competing with the pink glow of the eastern sky. Along the wide sidewalk along the south side of the quadrangle stood a group of spectators, watchers, interested third parties who wished to see the duel. Karen was there, of course, along with the Brigade staff, and most every field grade officer of the Brigade, and some senior NCOs, and some troops. And some other early-risers who had no idea there would be a duel, but just stopped by to see why the crowd had gathered. For the sake of safety, they were kept seventy five meters away, well beyond the maximum effective range of the dueling pistols.

Tad held the case containing the weapons while Spike set up the folding table. Tad then placed the case on the table and opened it, then walked away to join the crowd on the sidewalk. Inside the case was a matched pair of flintlock smoothbore .69 caliber dueling pistols, reproductions manufactured to match the specifications of pistols from the earliest recorded days of dueling with firearms. There was also a black powder flask, two lead balls and a single ramrod and a wooden mallet.

Galen stood at one end of the table, Mr. Bun at the other. Spike remained, serving as Galen’s Second. Mr. Bun’s attorney stood at his side, his Second. Bun’s attorney whispered in his ear.

Mr. Bun said, “On the advice of my attorney, I offer you this chance to withdraw your challenge.”

Galen balled his left fist, raised it so the back of his hand faced Bun, and then extended his middle finger. Spike looked at his wrist chronometer. “If you would please, Mr. Bun, choose your weapon.”

Bun picked up the pistol closest him. Galen picked up the other.

Bun’s attorney said, “Gentlemen, charge your weapons.”

Bun cocked his hammer half way, opened the primer tray, put some powder in the priming tray, closed the primer tray, stood the pistol on end with the muzzle straight up, put a measure of powder down the barrel, inserted the lead ball, pushed it down with the ram rod, then tapped the ram rod with the wooden mallet to seat the ball. Galen repeated the process with his own pistol, tapping the ramrod a couple more times, and a little harder.

The attorney, Bun’s Second, spoke, “This is a good time to call this off. This is not the best way to settle your differences, gentlemen.”

Galen said, “You don’t collect much of a fee this way, do you Counselor.”

Spike pointed at a spot on the ground and said, “Stand back to back right over here, gentlemen. I will drop my handkerchief. When it touches the ground, you will both take fives paces, face about and fire. Any questions?”

Galen and Mr. Bun shook their heads and cocked their pistols all the way.

Spike pulled a plain white silk handkerchief from his pocket, shook the folds out of it, held it straight out to his front, and then dropped it.

Galen stepped forward. On his fourth step he heard Bun’s pistol fire. Galen ignored the sound, focused on performing the task at hand. As soon as his foot touched the ground for the fifth step he executed a ‘rear march’ maneuver and extended the pistol to fire, found that he faced Bun and had both hands on the grip of the pistol and raised it just a bit to aim at the center of Bun’s chest. Bun stood still, both hands down at his sides, pistol dangling from his right hand. A cloud of smoke was to his left. Certain of his aim, half a breath in his lungs, Galen squeezed the trigger. The flint held in the hammer struck the frizzen, making a ball of white sparks, opening the primer pan as it came down. A yellow flame shot out from the primer pan eight centimeters, then after a moment the pistol fired. Galen saw the bright yellow flash from the muzzle, the red sparks after that, his view of Bun completely obscured by the smoke.

Galen held his pistol at his side and realized that Bun must have fired his pistol early, before he had turned. Reflex bred from practice had made Galen focus, had made him follow through all the way regardless. And he was glad. The smoke cleared and Galen saw Bun lying on the ground, propped up to a sitting position by his Second, clutching the right side of his chest, both hands over the wound unable to stop the flow of blood. Galen walked over to him and knelt.

Galen raised his left hand. “Medic!”

Bun smiled. “Thank you.”

Bun’s attorney said, “Don’t thank this monster, he tried to kill you.”

The medic arrived and began work on the wound, a sucking chest wound. When the medic prepared an injector to sedate Bun he said, “Just a moment, I have something to say. Colonel, this is a new day for me.”

Galen said, “I know what you’re trying to say. All your life you played it safe and never took a chance. You’ve never taken a risk, never risked it all to achieve something, and as a result you’ve not achieved a damn thing.”

Bun nodded and coughed.

Galen said, “Congratulations, you are now a man.”

The medic offered the injector again. Bun waved it off and said, “How did you know you’d win?”

Galen said, “Simple logic. When you came here, you had no honor. You were here to win some money, but if you killed me you’d get nothing. I, on the other hand, was here to defend my honor. Now that you’ve learned to fight for what you want, have learned to stand up for yourself even when the risk is great, you have planted the first seeds of having your own honor. And believe me, mister, when you have honor you’ll gladly risk your life to keep it.”

The medic stabbed the injector into Bun’s shoulder.

As he drifted off Bun said, “My honor is my life.”

“Damn right.” Galen collected up the pistols and put them back in their case.