The War for Profit Series Omnibus (86 page)

It was near sunset when the Ajax tanks and their escorts pulled up to the perimeter of the Brigade TOC. Ground guides led them to park inside the perimeter in a tight formation, the way they might have parked in a garrison motor pool. The crews were told to dismount and stand to the rear of Pescador’s tank.

Colonel Raper stood in front of the group and said, “Gather round, ladies and gentlemen, bring it in.” He took off his helmet and the troops followed his example. “Front row, take a knee. You all just did an outstanding job. I love you guys, I mean that. The chuck wagon and the shower trailer are right behind me and they’re yours exclusively for the next hour. When I fall you out, get to it. Chief Pescador, I need to see you for a few minutes. Fall out!”

The troops wandered toward the chuck wagon and Chief Pescador followed the Colonel into the extension of the S-3 track. Tad was inside and pointed at a fold-up chair and said, “Have a seat, Chief.”

Pescador sat. Tad sat to his right front and Galen sat to his front left. Galen said, “Chief, I can’t thank you enough for the fire support you have provided all during this campaign.”

“You’re welcome, sir. What’s this about?”

Galen glanced at Tad. Tad said to Galen, “I said you can’t butter this guy up. He’s all business, all the time.”

Pescador said, “Is there a problem?”

Galen smiled and said, “Chief, I’ll just come right out and say it. I want to stand up in one of your tanks for the victory parade.”

Pescador said, “No problem. You’re the commander.”

Tad laughed. “Told you so.”

Galen shot him a quick glance, a scowl.

Tad said, “Sir.”

Galen spoke to Pescador. “The final obstacle to our occupation of Batista City is the Blender Fortress. It overlooks the main gate of the city. It’s a sturdy reinforced concrete structure eight stories high, surrounded by a wall that contains parade and athletic fields and some smaller buildings. It’s their military academy.”

Pescador said, “I saw it on the map, studied its structure and layout. I can reduce it to rubble in thirty minutes or less.”

Galen shook his head. “It’s symbolic, historic. The Legion will storm it with six Centuries tonight. Once that is accomplished, operational control passes from the Legion back to me. I’ll send the Stallion battalion to breach the gate with follow-on support from the Mechanized Infantry battalion. Then I ride right into the middle of the city to their capitol building to accept the official surrender of their government.”

Pescador said, “Counting our chickens before they hatch, sir?”

“Yes I am. I want to use your platoon of Ajax tanks when I ride in. I want to stand up in the lead tank and you can stand up in the one right behind me. And the other three, we’ll let their assigned commanders stand up in them.”

Pescador said, “Like I said before, sir, no problem. But I want the assigned commander of the lead tank to be there, down in the turret at the loader’s station. And if anything goes wrong, you drop down and let him run the cupola, and I take command of that fight, if anything goes wrong, sir.”

Galen said, “Absolutely. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The three stood and Galen shook Pescador’s hand. Pescador left the track extension and joined his troops in the chow line.

***

Tribunus Tribula stood high in his command skimmer and peered over the wind screen at the outer wall of Blender Fortress, four hundred meters away. The soldiers of six Centuries were up against that wall, dismounted, using it for cover. Soon they would climb over that wall and charge the fortress on foot.
Battle cars would just get in the way; they were behind Tribula’s skimmer in six rows of ten, parked.

The heavy weapons sections went over first, climbing up the backs of the regular squads who stood as human ladders for the heavy weapons soldiers to climb up. They dropped inside and set up their machine guns and mortars and antitank guns and began firing at their assigned sectors of the fortress. There was some return fire from the windows and balconies but the Legion’s heavy weapons sections overwhelmed it. The regular squads climbed the wall and ran up to the foundation of the fortress.

It was a gradual uphill run of four hundred meters. Some squads breached and cleared buildings along the way, a full three squads clearing the gymnasium. They waited for the heavy weapons sections to make their way forward in turn, each occupying an available structure. The antitank gun crews got up on the roof of the gym and were high enough to fire directly into the first and second floor windows of the fortresses.

The soldiers that made it all the way to the base of the fortress had to deal with occasional grenades dropped from above, tossed blindly out the windows by defenders who would not dare show them selves in the windows. Occasionally a mortar round was tossed out, not fired from a mortar but simply armed and tossed out a window in the general direction of the Legion soldiers.

Legion mortar teams came forward and set up their 85 mm mortars and dropped in specialized rounds that sent grappling hooks to the roof of the fortress, a rope trailing behind. They tugged the ropes to ensure a solid hook and the regular squads began climbing, the task of hauling themselves up hand-over-hand made possible by the light powered armor they wore. But still, it took a certain amount of mental toughness.

Defenders leaned out the windows to shoot at the climbers; some Legion soldiers fell. Heavy weapon section machine gunners shot back, killed defenders who dared lean out the windows. Regardless, one defender did manage to cut a climbing rope near the fourth floor. The Legion soldiers gained the roof and punched a hole in it and swarmed inside, took over the entire attic floor. Structurally it was an attic but had been outfitted as a grand ballroom, a dance floor in its center and a stage at one end. Legion troops occupied the several balconies and the stairwell at its entrance.

Soldiers on the ground tied cases of explosives and heavier tools to the climbing ropes and the soldiers on the roof hauled them up. The troops in the ballroom opened cases and distributed the equipment. A soldier used a jackhammer to drill a hole in the floor, another soldier inserted a stick of explosive and they stood back. The charge went off and made a meter-wide hole in the floor. A platoon leader looked down, jumped down and his platoon followed him. They cleared the floor below and then traded gunfire at all four stairwells leading down. Another platoon dropped in and went to the common area day room of that floor and blasted a hole and dropped in to clear that next lower floor.

The fortress commander gathered the two dozen soldiers he had left and sent them down into the basement, followed them, ordered them down into the storm drain system. They moved through the drainage tunnel and emerged in a causeway and dropped their weapons and body armor and hot-footed it for half a kilometer. They stopped and climbed out of the causeway and ran like scalded dogs to the main gate of
Batista City and were let in through a pedestrian gate beside the main gate.

Tribula brought his support Century forward and occupied the parade ground of the fortress. Hundreds of injured soldiers were brought out for medical care, and some dead. And the defenders, their bodies were tagged and bagged and lined up, three rows of a hundred each, and another sixteen in a fourth row. The Legion had thirty three dead; Tribula had expected more but was grateful for the lighter-than-expected losses.

Tribula’s driver pointed up at the roof of the fortress and said, “Sir, there’s someone up there.”

Tribula looked up. A Batistian military academy cadet was at the highest point of the roof, unarmed and bare-headed. He took down the flag of Batista, wrapped it around himself and jumped off the roof. He hit the ground near the lines of dead Batistian soldiers. Tribula walked over and looked. It was a young man, an older boy really, who looked about fourteen years old. Two Legion soldiers removed the flag, lifted the body into a body bag and wrote “317” on it and carried it to the end of the fourth row of bodies.

Tribula took the flag and draped it flat over the body bag. Phase two of the operation was complete. It was almost midnight, local time. Tribula called up to higher, “Jasmine Six, this is Legion Six. We’re secure. I’m passing operational control back to you at this time.”

“Roger. Jasmine Six out.”

Spike, Tad and Galen stood in the extension of the S-2 track and listened while Koa pointed at his main status screen and spoke, “Gentlemen, the Batistian army has a division on the march toward
Hillsboro. My best guess is they will be in range to launch an attack some time near sunrise, day after tomorrow.”

Galen pointed toward the northern edge of the screen. “What’s that?”

“That, sir, is the suspected location of the forces that fled the battle at the canyon. It amounts to a reinforced armored battalion, a little light on infantry but still packs a respectable punch. Two medium and two light tank companies and a mechanized infantry company as well. Those are approximate estimates based on drone flyovers, about 80% accurate.”

“Close enough.” Galen clasped his hands behind his back and studied the map on the screen.

Tad said, “What about Hillsboro? Sevin can’t hold against that.”

Spike said, “I can lead the Hercules tanks there in time to set up a defense.”

Galen said, “Go. Go now. Report to Sevin. And take the battery of assault guns.”

Spike left.

Tad said, “We need to attack the flank of that division as it closes on Hillsboro. That’s when we’ll be able to inflict the most losses on them.”

Galen stepped back and folded his arms across his chest and said, “Have you read out unit contract?”

“Yes.”

Galen looked down. “It clearly states that we are here to capture
Batista City and hold it for three weeks or until the Northern Republic comes to terms with Batista, whichever comes first.”

Tad pointed at the map. “Those are our people.”

Galen looked up. “They’ll be fine. Karen will be fine. The heaviest Batistian tank is just barely heavy enough to be classified as a heavy tank; they are no match for our Hercules tanks. And there are units there in Hillsboro besides the ALOC. The light infantry battalion, they are there along with all the vehicles that have been repaired and troops who have healed up. There’s even a platoon’s worth of Legion soldiers who have healed enough to fight. The best the Batistian armored division can hope to accomplish is putting Hillsboro under siege.”

Koa said, “The Northern Republic forces have begun a general push southward in the three provinces to the north. The movement of the Batistian armored division toward
Hillsboro has emboldened them.”

Galen said, “I think that the Bastian armored division is the last of their reserves. This war is nearly over. We only have to wait for their government to negotiate terms with the Republic and our job is complete. And then there is Sevin, in charge of
Hillsboro. I pity any fool who picks a fight with Sevin.”

They heard the sound of Hercules tanks leaving the area. Tad said, “I hope we’re doing the right thing.”

Galen said, “Major Koa, thank you for this timely information. Tad, let’s go over to your track and get this final attack on Batista City started.”

They left, walked about fifty meters and entered the S-3 track extension.

Tad called up the Stallion tank battalion commander, “Stallion Six, this is Jasmine Three. At your discretion.”

“Roger, Jasmine three. Moving into position, will breach within the hour.”

“Jasmine Three out.”

***

The entire Stallion tank battalion, all fifty six tanks, lined up hub to hub and faced the main gate from two hundred meters away. They fired their laser cannons on charge eight and blasted away the span above the gate and continued to blast away at the gate itself, knocking off a meter of gate material with each volley. After a couple of minutes, all that remained was a meter-high layer of smoldering rubble between the gate’s left and right support columns.

The five tanks in the center moved up to the gate and eased forward through it to the other side of the wall. Two tanks moved to face to the right and two faced left and the Battalion Commander’s tank pulled forward fifty meters and parked on the right side of the thirty meter wide boulevard facing ahead. The remaining tanks pulled forward in a column of twos spaced twenty meters apart, an interval of one hundred meters between them. Infantry carriers from the Mech battalion joined the columns, two carriers behind each tank. The Cavalry squadron followed. Jasmine Panzer Brigade vehicles lined the street on both sides.

A thin line of civilians, ashen-faced and somber, stood on the sidewalks and watched the armored vehicles drive past. The column moved forward until its lead element reached the Senate, a domed building at the end of the wide boulevard.

Galen put on his peaked commander’s cap and combat vest and strapped on his gun belt and climbed up on the lead
Ajax tank. The five Ajax tanks moved past the gate and slowed to a walking pace. Galen raised the seat all the way and looked left and right. The somber eyes of the civilians looked up, defeat on their faces. But curiosity made them look, made them see the biggest tanks to ever travel along that boulevard. More people slowly made their way to the sidewalks to see the conquering army for themselves. At the end of the three kilometer long boulevard stood the capitol building. The street then came to a ‘T’ with another wide street that led to the Judiciary building a kilometer to the left, the Presidential Palace a kilometer to the right.

The five
Ajax tanks parked on line facing the thirty meter wide steps of the capitol building, fifty steps up to the entrance doors at its front. They parked and waited. Galen turned on the external loud speakers of the Ajax and said, “Somebody come out and talk to me.”

A silver-haired old man wearing an expensive but conservative suit came out and descended the steps, moving with a bit of a gimp. He stopped at the base of the stairs and waited. Galen climbed down and stood in front of him. He was taller than Galen by five centimeters at least. His pallid face was blank, but for a slight frown. He said, “What do you want?”

Galen said, “Your unconditional surrender.”

The old man said, “I’m not sure I have that authority.”

“You are from the Senate, correct?”

“I am Senator
Milton Frederick Rothschild. But matters such as these rest with the Presidency.”

Galen cleared his throat. “By the authority vested in me as the commander of the forces that conquered your capitol city, I declare that the sovereignty of Batista rests with the Senate and I appoint you as the Prime Minister. Now go convene a quorum, form a government and be prepared to negotiate a lasting peace with the
Northern Republic’s ambassador. He or she will be here no later than tomorrow morning.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Galen pulled a folder from inside his combat vest, opened it to reveal a document. “Here it is, in writing.”

The old man took the folder and read the document.

Galen handed him an ink stick. “Fill in your name where it says ‘Prime Minster’ and sign it at the bottom and hand it back to me.”

He did. Galen signed as well and then pulled off the back copy of the document and handed it to the Prime Minster. The newly-appointed Prime Minster turned and ascended the stairs and went back inside the capitol building.

Galen’s command tank, a Hercules, came forward. Galen climbed up into his cupola and sat down, lowered the seat and checked the auxiliary status screen. The Batistian armored division was approaching Hillsboro, split into three groups. One moved to close the National Road to the East of Hillsboro, one to the West and one moved to straddle the road heading south out of Hillsboro. A siege. Galen was glad; no combat yet. He also noticed the approach of a Northern Republic Marine brigade toward Hillsboro, already passing through the canyon.

The Hercules looked puny compared to
Ajax tanks. Galen told his driver, “Pivot around and take me back to the S-3 track.”

The Hercules carried Galen out of the city, drove twenty kilometers to the TOC location and parked next to Tad’s track. Galen climbed down and went inside the extension.

Tad said, “You look awful.”

Galen sat in a metal chair and stared at the main status screen. “I need a drink.”

Tad handed him an ice-cold bottle of ale.

Galen stared at the screen and drank.