The War for Profit Series Omnibus (89 page)

Against the Odds: War for Profit Part Six

by

Gideon Fleisher

Copyright © 2013 Gideon Fleisher

Kindle Edition

All rights reserved.

“They’re here.”

“What?” Galen sat up.

Karen pointed at the screen opposite the foot of the bed and said, “I’ll replay it.” A space fleet emerged from a jump point. A battle ship, three full battle cruisers, nine destroyers and a dozen light cruisers, more than a dozen fully-laden transports. More than enough; too much. Behind, the jump point winked again and a second fleet emerged. A carrier was at its center.

Galen stared. “We need to get out of here.”

Karen stood by the bed and said, “Time stamp says it happened about an hour ago, plus the four hours it took for the image to reach our sensors.”

Galen rolled out of bed and went to the closet and dug out his combat coveralls, dressed, put on his full war gear. He then pressed the power button of the screen, turned it off. “We’ll get better info in the TOC.”

Karen said, “I agree. I’ll stay with the boys. You call me, okay?”

“Sure,” said Galen, “as soon as I can.” He kissed Karen and left the lake house and jumped in his skimmer and drove three kilometers to the Jasmine Panzer Brigade compound. The guards had the gates wide open and waved a four-vehicle-wide lane of traffic through the entrance, the exit lanes made into entrance lanes as well. The guards glanced at the troops in the vehicles as they went by. One saluted as Galen drove past.

He drove up the road and turned into the street that led to the parking lot of his HQ, saw that it was filling up fast. He bumped over the curb and skimmed across the lush lawn of the quadrangle and parked by the door of his commander’s entrance.

He dismounted and looked back across the parade field at the Brigade’s museum building and saw three cargo trucks and a moving crew loading out relics and displays. The Chairman of the Board was there supervising, accompanied by a couple of board members and the museum curator as well. Galen turned away and entered his office.

The coffee table between the couches had a sheen of dust; the desk top as well. The office had gone disused for nearly a year. The unit had been rebuilding and was back up to full strength. Unit collective training for the battalions had been underway all quarter and next quarter was set aside for Brigade maneuvers. There would be maneuvers at Brigade level certainly, but not for training.

Galen exited his office through the hallway door and walked past the vacant conference room, kept walking down the hall to the operations center. The Brigade XO, Lieutenant Colonel Marion Spike, met him at the door, “Sir, we’re at N+5. Really moving along.”

Galen said, “That’s quick, it’s only been two hours since the alert was called.”

Lieutenant Colonel Tad Miller, the Brigade S-3, looked up from the battle table. It had a hologram of the compound and the surrounding terrain projected on it. “Sir, we scratched some of the deployment events from the timeline since we’re not leaving Mandarin.”

“We’ll stay and fight,” Galen nodded, “in accordance with our charter and our obligations to our host planet.”

Tad frowned. “We might get our asses kicked this time.”

“I know, but we’ll make damn sure they knew they were in a fight. Anything urgent right now?”

“Nope.” Tad looked back at the battle table.

Spike said, “N+6 brief will lay it all out. We should give Tad some space and not make him repeat himself.”

“I agree. You eat yet?”

“No. Chow hall?”

Galen said, “Why not. Let the troops see me, build some confidence.”

“Sure.” They left the HQ building and walked across the quadrangle past the museum. The cargo trucks were gone and the museum was locked up.

Galen said, “Not taking any chances. Where’d you send them?”

“Juventud.”

Galen nodded. “Good. NEO too?”

“Yessir. Noncombatant Evacuation Operations is taking it all to Juventud.”

They entered the chow hall. The Mess Chief saw them and yelled, “At Ease!”

Galen said, “Carry on!” and took a tray and flatware and joined the end of the serving line. Spike followed him. Eggs and bacon and French toast.

They sat near the exit. Galen had milk in a coffee mug. Didn’t want coffee souring his stomach but did want to look like a coffee drinker. He gave nods and smiles and an occasional thumb up to troops that walked by on their way out of the chow hall, was pleased with their confident responses.

Spike’s communicator buzzed. He looked up at Galen and said, “N+6 brief in five minutes.”

Galen said, “Wouldn’t want to miss that.” He crammed a spoonful of eggs into his mouth and stood, took his tray to the return and paused outside for Spike to catch up. They walked together to the HQ building and strode down the hallway to the conference room and took their seats, Galen at the head of the table and Spike in the seat to his left. Eight battalion commanders sat around the table and the Brigade staff section heads and three key leaders from specialized support sections sat in chairs along the walls either side of the table.

Lieutenant Colonel Tad Miller stood near the foot of the table and pointed at the display screen. “Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to direct your attention to our presentation.”

Major Koa, the Brigade S-2, was seated at the display controller table and pressed a key. The Brigade logo filled the screen, then a view of starry space. A jump point flickered and a scout ship emerged.

Tad said, “About six hours ago, an invasion fleet emerged from a distant jump point into Mandarin space and we have positively identified it as Mosh.”

A fleet emerged, and then a second fleet, followed by a third. The leaders in the room took deep breaths or groaned, then became stony-faced and sat up straight.

Tad said, “It’s big. The first group has a battleship with it, the second a carrier and the third group has no capital ship but does have twenty four troop transports. But we’re not alone. Mandarin’s space force will challenge them and additional ships from the Capellan Confederation are expected to arrive later. Much later, most likely after the initial space battle has been decided.”

The Cav squadron commander asked, “How long?”

“Not long. They could be here in less than four days if they travel unopposed. I have no idea what Mandarin’s fleet will do but I suspect they’ll try to slow them down and then coordinate their best efforts with this planet’s ground-based defensive fires. I’d like to think they would target the landing forces as their highest priority but we have no way of knowing that. Major Koa?”

Major Koa stood and said, “I won’t try to polish this turd. Mandarin’s space force is no match for the invasion fleet, not even close. The recalled Capellan fleet, even if it were here already, combined with the Mandarin space force, would still be a joke. So don’t expect a whole lot out of them.”

The Light tank battalion commander said, “Any good news?”

Koa sat back down.

Tad said, “Mandarin has excellent space defenses protecting our primary areas of operations. The space shield of Mandarin City extends out far enough to cover our compound and we have a smaller space shield of our own along with our own four-gun battery of particle cannons.” Tad pointed at the screen which now showed a globe, the planet Mandarin. “Because of the relative weakness of Mandarin’s space defenses in the general area of the Western Ocean, I expect a landing far to our west and then a large-scale land offensive of strategic proportions.”

“Wow.” The Hercules battalion commander blinked.

Tad said, “We’ve received a warning order from the Mandarin High Command that indicates we will be held in strategic reserve, likely used for a counterattack or to reinforce a successful defense if the Mandarins can hold their line. Otherwise, our primary concern for the next two days is NEO and prep for tactical movement. You want good news, here it is. The Mosh made their own jump point but it is very far away. I’ve recalled the interceptor wing from Juventud and the governor of Juventud has sent his Hellcat medium tank battalion to help us, along with his best wishes.”

The Stallion tank battalion commander smiled.

Tad said, “They will be here tomorrow morning early. We’ll have NEO load up on the same drop boats that brought the Hellcat tanks, so have all your evacuees standing by the airstrip no later than 0400 hours. Any later than that and they stand the risk of being attacked by Mosh scout ships or fighters. And that’s all I have.”

Galen stood. “Thank you. Good brief. Gentlemen, Ladies, you’re dismissed.”

The commanders and staff stood and made their way out of the conference room. Galen sank into his chair, looked around. He was alone. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, head in his hands. He stared at the blank display screen and said, “Crap.”

Galen wore his full field gear and stood just inside the gate of the marshalling yard and watched as the drop boats from Juventud landed. He ran to the front of their line and observed as the first boat dropped its cargo ramp and the Hellcat battalion command tank rolled out. Three command post carriers came out as well, with a cargo truck laden with ammo. Galen walked up the ramp and made his way to the cockpit and sat behind the pilot and co-pilot. They turned to look at him.

Galen smiled and said, “Good morning, gentlemen.”

The pilot said, “Sir, you really should not be here because we’re leaving soon.”

Galen said, “I’m staying right here until all my NEO is loaded.”

The pilot said, “NEO? First I’ve heard of it.”

Galen folded his arms. “You are contracted to return to Juventud, correct?”

“Yessir.”

“With empty boats? I don’t think so.”

The co-pilot faced forward and slowly moved his right hand off his lap.

Galen moved his right hand to his side arm and undid the snap of the holster. Loud, so that they could hear it. “Won’t take long. My S-2 assures me the space corridor will remain clear for another two days at least. You have plenty enough time to get my noncombatants out of here.”

The pilot said, “Certainly. We’ll wait.” He then keyed comms, “Eighth flight, this is flight one. Stand by and load passengers.”

He saw affirmative responses on his status screen, gave Galen a thumb up.

The co-pilot put his hand back in his lap. “Those Mosh invaders, that’s the biggest fleet I’ve ever seen.”

The pilot said, “It is. Five full battle groups came through the point, so far.”

Galen said, “You’ll get out of here safely, don’t worry.”

The co-pilot said, “Your people are moving up the tarmac now.”

“Good.” Galen sat and waited. Less than forty minutes later, sooner than he expected, the noncombatants were on board the drop boats. Galen stood and said, “I’ll be leaving now. You gentlemen have a nice flight.”

“Certainly.” The co-pilot followed Galen to the cargo ramp and checked the load, the civilians seated all around the cargo area of the drop boat. The load master had already brought the passenger seats up and strapped the people into them. Galen looked back from the tarmac as the cargo ramp rose into the overhead. Then he took a knee and leaned into the high wind caused by the drop boat’s atmospheric thrusters as it turned and taxied away.

He waited until all the drops boats took off, crossed his chest and prayed they have a safe trip. Then he made his way over to the cargo ramp of his command drop ship. Much of its cargo area was taken up by the jump point generator. It was essentially a drop boat that had been modified to serve as a jump ship. Master Sergeant Pescador was there, sitting on a row of reinforced cargo pods. He stood and saluted Galen.

“Good morning, sir.”

Galen returned the salute, “Yes it is. Are all the lifters here?”

“Yessir. I pulled them out of the
Ajax tanks last night. Hard work.”

Galen said, “I thank you.”

Pescador said, “Removing the lifters has significantly degraded the capabilities of the Ajax. They now suffer all the drawbacks of every other super tank design in history. Very heavy, limited mobility, incapable of cross-country maneuver or travel up more than a twenty percent slope. I really don’t recommend this.”

Galen said, “You don’t have to like my orders, you just have to follow them.”

“Yessir, my orders: send these lifters to Sevin on Fairgotten.”

“Do you have selective hearing, Master Sergeant?”

Pescador smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I want the lifters delivered to General Sevin personally. He will need considerable assistance with the installation of these lifter devices, and considerable assistance with designing super tanks that can make the best use of the lifter technology. You will travel with the lifters and report to General Sevin, and you will stay there until he no longer needs your assistance.”

Pescador sighed. “Yessir.”

“That means you work for him until you have fielded the tanks and trained the crews to a high degree of expertise. That should keep you busy right up to your retirement date.”

“I’d much rather stay here and fight it out with the Mosh.”

Galen stood close and looked directly into Pescador’s eyes. “This lifter technology will not fall into Mosh hands.”

After a moment Pescador looked away. “Yessir.”

Galen stepped back and turned toward the cargo ramp. He saw Karen approaching, their five year old twin boys following closely. They wore backpacks and carried suit cases. Karen had two more bags, one for each boy. Galen stepped back inside and opened the door to the crew cabin. The boys noticed him and rushed toward him. “Daddy!”

“Boys, put your bags in here.” He took the suitcases from Karen and handed them into the cabin. The boys shrugged off their packs and set to the task of putting their gear in the compartments under the bunks.

Karen said, “They really don’t understand, but I think they’ll be fine.”

Galen said, “No bag for you?”

She said, “I decided to stay. I’ll need a commission from the Brigade; otherwise I might be recalled by the Mandarin military. I am a graduate of their academy.”

Galen looked into the compartment. “You boys settling in okay?”

One looked up and grinned, the other said, “Yes.”

Galen turned back to Karen. “I have something to give you.” He stepped into the next crew compartment and Karen followed and shut the door. Galen pulled her close and hugged her and gave her a kiss full on the lips. She kissed him back and ran her hands up to the sides of his face. He kissed again, held his left hand behind her neck. His right hand reached his combat vest. He pulled out an auto injector and thumbed the cap away. Karen sensed it, heard the cap hit the floor, pushed against his chest with both hands. Galen said, “Hold still,” and pressed the injector against her left buttock. A needle popped into her flesh and dispensed a powerful sedative that would knock her out for a couple of hours. He withdrew the needle.

Karen stepped back and Galen guided her to sit on the bunk. She said, “Why?”

He said, “The boys need their mother.”

Karen slumped onto her side. “Why?”

“When you cashed out of the Brigade to be a full-time mother, you meant it. You’re not in the military any more.”

She said, “Mandarin is my home. I can’t…”

She was unconscious. Galen laid her out flat on the bunk and stretched elastic cords across her to hold her in place for the flight. If Galen survived this war, he’d have a lot of apologizing to do. But not today. He stepped out of the cabin and saw Major Polar with her civilian husband ushering their six children into the cargo area of the jump ship.

“Morning, sir.”

“Marge,” said Galen, “You don’t have to stay.”

She said, “My husband can take care of the kids.”

Her husband said, “True. But I do wish you’d come with me.”

Major Polar said, “I’m three years from retirement. I’d be a fool to cash out now.”

Galen said nothing. Mr. Polar stepped toward Major Polar and gave her a hug. Galen stepped off the drop ship and walked slowly toward the marshalling yard gate. Then he turned and went back onto the drop ship and climbed up the ladder and made his way over the top of the jump point generator and entered the cockpit. The pilot turned and said, “Morning, sir.”

“Morning to you. I have some special instructions.”

“Yessir, prepared to copy.”

“Whatever you do, don’t you dare bring Karen back here.”

The pilot nodded. “You got it.”

Galen patted the pilot on the shoulder and left the command drop ship and walked through the marshaling yard and across the quadrangle to his office. Almost 0500 local time. He was about to open the door of the commander’s entrance when he heard a large number of landing boats approaching the space port. He looked back, turned and stood watching. The unmistakable silhouettes of Capellan Space Force Marine assault landing boats came in hot, a long line of them with barely fifty meters between them nose to tail. They touched down on the tarmac and slid in to park, turned noses to the center of the tarmac and backed up onto the grass, dropped their assault ramps.

Capellan Marines debarked, many on foot with armored vehicles as well. Galen watched and guestimated it was possibly two brigades plus mechanized and armor attachments. Hard to tell with Force Marines, their tables of organization could be ubiquitous. A platoon could be two hundred dismounts commanded by a Corporal while a tank company could be a couple of heavy tanks led by a Major. A command skimmer made its way from the air strip and through the Jasmine Panzer Brigade marshalling yard and approached, drove directly across the parade field of the quadrangle and parked ten meters away, right in front of Galen.

A Capellan Space Force Marine Colonel outfitted in medium powered body armor dismounted and stood in front of Galen and raised his visor and held his hand in a salute and said, “Sir, Colonel Baek reporting as ordered.”

Galen returned the salute and said, “Step into my office.” He held the door for Colonel Baek and followed him in. “Have a seat.” Baek sat on the couch to the left, Galen sat across from him. Baek removed his helmet. A square face, flat eyebrows, high forehead, short black hair, thick neck, dark brown eyes in narrow slits.

Galen said, “Just you?”

Baek looked confused. “I was ordered to report to you. I’m in command of all the Capellan Space Force Marines on or around Mandarin. Five more groups will be landing here shortly.”

Galen took a deep breath, stuck out his hand. “Welcome to my team. How many of you are there?”

Beak shook Galen’s hand, leaned back. “Thirteen thousand. Is that a problem?”

Galen thought for a moment, shook his head. “We have…I can, I can get you settled in. The Corporate HQ building, you can have that for your HQ and command billeting, starting day after tomorrow. In the field, we have downrange training complexes, spacecraft hangars and an air strip. I think so.”

Baek said, “I understand it will take some time. We can live out of our vehicles for now.”

“Sure. Get your logistics people paired up with my logistics people, they’ll work something out. How’s fourteen hundred sound?”

“Sure. Where?” Baek smiled.

Galen said, “My conference room, right here in this building. If I may ask, why are you attached to my brigade?”

“Well,” Baek looked to his right, “Force was withdrawing the troop carriers back to Capella. I didn’t want to leave; I wanted to get on the ground here and fight. Most of the Marines felt the same way. The Capellan Space Force First Admiral decided to drop us before her flight group left and had no time to bicker about it with High Command, so she ordered me to report to you.”

“So…what does that mean?”

“The Capellan Space Force First Admiral outranks everyone on Mandarin and I’m acting on her authority. I’m at your disposal until she says otherwise.”

“I get the feeling it’s your choice to serve with me. Why?”

Colonel Baek said, “Your status as a professional mercenary unit, obligated to defend this planet certainly, but not under the direct authority of the High Command of Mandarin’s military. By placing my Marines under you, we can avoid being the playthings of their arm-chair generals.”

Galen stood. “It’ll take me a little while to adjust. Until then, the marshalling yard and its facilities are yours.”

Baek stood, saluted. “Thank you, sir, you won’t regret it.”

Galen returned the salute. “Dismissed.”

Colonel Baek put his helmet back on and left the office.