The War for Profit Series Omnibus (90 page)

Galen sat behind his desk and stabbed at the command console power button with his left-hand middle finger. The display winked and blinked and a progress bar showed it would be a few minutes before the system would be up fully and secure.

A pounding came at the hallway door. Galen said, “Come in.”

It was Spike. He leaned in and said, “Strat brief at High Command. If we leave now we can still make it on time in a skimmer.”

Galen said, “We? You’re my XO. You stay here. Tell Tad to come with me.”

Tad shoved past Spike and said, “Told you so.”

Spike shrugged and stepped back into the hallway. “Have fun.”

Galen led Tad out the commander’s entrance to his civilian skimmer. Tad got in the passenger seat. Galen brought the blowers up to speed and drove to the compound’s main non-tactical vehicle gate and stopped long enough for the guards to identify him and raise the barricade and log him as leaving the area.

Tad saw the empty streets and said, “Surprisingly calm.”

Galen said, “Locked down, I’ll bet. Mandarin’s government don’t play around.”

An hour later they arrived at the entrance of the High Command’s compound. The high reinforced stone walls were a sandy brown but solid enough to stop a missile. The guard checked their credentials and had them park the skimmer just inside the gate in a visitor parking lot. A shuttle bus came and picked them up and took them toward the center of the compound and into a tunnel that descended gradually for half a kilometer. They got off the shuttle and passed through a security checkpoint and then were escorted through a blast door that stood open just wide enough for one person to step through at a time. Down the hallway seventy five meters and then to the left through double-doors held open by guards in Planetary Defense uniforms.

An alert Regular Army Lance Corporal ushered them to seats in the back row of the theater-like briefing room. Galen looked around and saw about forty Mandarin officers, Generals for the most part. Some Mandarin Space Force uniforms too. Subtle differences in deportment and physical condition indicated that many were reservist, retirees or just plain amateurs. Galen then saw uniform distinctions that confirmed his suspicions. Home guard, municipal defense, civil reserve…but a few full-time professionals. A dozen, maybe, to include a couple of national police commanders.

Tad said, “We’re here with minutes to spare.”

Galen picked up the glass on the table in front of him, set it back down on its coaster. “Yep.”

A soldier came by with a pitcher of water and filled the glass, filled Tad’s glass, continued along the row pouring water into glasses.

Tad said, “You think it’s okay?”

Galen said, “If these people want us dead, this might be the easiest way out.” Galen drained his glass and looked around, motioned for the soldier to bring more. Tad sipped his water.

The Corporal by the door said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the Minster of Defense!”

Galen and Tad stood along with the rest of the assembled leaders. An elderly Mandarin woman entered. Her dark green uniform draped over her thick frame. Her silver hair was up in a bun and a dainty hat was perched on the top of her head. Her skirt hung just below her knees, dark black stockings holding her calves above her shiny black military style flat-soled shoes. She walked across the stage and stood behind the lectern and laid a folder on it and said, “Hello. My name is General Kahn. Many of you know me as the minister of defense, but an hour ago my reserve commission was activated and I am now the Supreme Commander of all of Mandarin’s military, police and emergency service units.”

She looked around the room, sweeping her gaze across every face. She looked at Galen last, held eye contact for a moment. She looked down at her folder and opened it. “Take your seats.” The assembled leaders sat. “I’ll start off by saying that things are not as hopeless as many of you may believe. We do have resources and a strategic plan that makes sense. Certainly I won’t try to bullshit anyone in this room, you above all others know the threat we face and what resources we have to defeat that threat.”

She removed her hat and let her hair down. “Honestly, I’m sure each of you feels overwhelmed. But we have the privilege of being the defenders, which gives us the home field advantage. Once they expend a resource, it’s gone for good. We can replace our losses, although at a slow rate. When they make a mistake, it costs them. When we make a mistake, we learn from it and do better next time. Do you all understand what I’m telling you?”

Nods, a subdued “yes ma’am” here and there.

She said, “With no more ado, I present Admiral Crowe, our Space Force Commander.” She stepped back and took a seat in one of the chairs behind the lectern.

Admiral Crowe stood from the front row of seats and stepped up on the stage behind the lectern. The display wall behind him showed Mandarin in space with a field of stars behind. Crowe’s black double-breasted uniform jacket had a patch of awards and decorations above his heart. His white slacks had sharp creases down the front of the legs. He cleared his throat and said, “Enemy disposition is arrayed in five main battle groups, any one of which is more than a match for out entire fleet, on its own.” The display showed the enemy fleet formations, five groups arrayed in intervals. The image, taken from a great distance, would look like a blurry string of pearls to an untrained eye. The image zoomed in. Although still a bit blurry, it was possible to distinguish Mosh war ships arrayed in formations.

“We will coordinate with planetary defenses in order to maximize impact on the attacking fleets. Certainly, we will give them more than a bloody nose. Once committed here, their fleet will have a long line of communication to protect, all the way back to their pirate jump point.” He looked to his left, back to the front again. “That’s what we call distant, uncharted, unofficial jump points, because they are commonly used by pirates. But that is neither here on there. We have stealth attack boats. We’ve positioned them at various points out beyond the system where they can take advantage of Mosh logistical weaknesses at some time in the future. It’s dangerous work, in those stealth boats. They remain undetected, using cloaks rather than conventional shields, and they await my orders to strike at and destroy cargo vessels. That will be after the Mosh commit their forces beyond the point of recall, after they have landed more than half of their ground forces. Then we will cut their support.”

Admiral Crowe stepped down. A very fat, short Mandarin General wearing Regular Army fatigues stood behind the lectern. His red face was round and puffy and shiny. His neck seemed too short and his head was stuck at an angle where he seemed to always be looking up.

He said, “Hello. I’m General Kwon and I’m the operations officer of our High Command. I have participated in projections meetings and worked with our plans section and I can give you surprisingly good news.” He pulled a green handkerchief from his left pants pocket and wiped his face, put the handkerchief away. “The only way they’ll be able to make a landing that is not suicidal, is by staging near our planet from above the southern magnetic pole. The southern magnetic field gives them some limited protection from our ground-based weapons, while the northern magnetic pole would enhance our capabilities. Thus we can predict their first move.”

He wiped his face again. The display behind him showed the magnetic fields around Mandarin. “As you can see, the magnetic poles rotate because they are not in line with the rotational axis of the planet itself. Right now the poles are off the axis by nearly two hundred and forty five mils. The Mosh will have a difficult time staying above the southern magnetic pole, having to match the rotation of Mandarin. This will no doubt make them anxious to start their landings as soon as possible. And where, you may be wondering, will they land?”

He smiled and looked around the room. “I do believe I have the answer.” The magnetic fields left the display and the view zoomed in on the planet to show a desert, two thousand kilometers long and fifty to a hundred kilometers wide, the sea to its west for the most part, a high mountain range to its east. “They will land in this desert. This mountain range provides a shadow area for them, blocking the firing arc of our heaviest anti-spacecraft guns from hitting that desert, and the sea to the west offers no stable firing platforms for our space guns, which is why this area presents the weakest part of our planetary defense space-gun network.” General Kwon stepped down and a Home Guard general stood up behind the lectern.

“Hello, my name is General Kim and I’ve been given the task of defending the mountain range against the Mosh landings as well as holding the line against their initial attempts to break out. I do understand that my task is to inflict maximum casualties against them as they land and delay their breakout for as long as possible. I’m realistic enough to know I will not stop them, and that my units will suffer heavy losses. But I accept this task willingly and I assure you all, you will not be disappointed. I only ask that you make the most of the time I give you to prepare to defeat these Mosh in the ensuing maneuver battle. Thank you.” General Kim stepped down.

Galen stared at a large town that was east of the northern end of the mountain range, a small city with a space port. He knew the Mosh would want to capture it and silence its space guns and seize its space port facilities. Galen said nothing, not wanting to point out the obvious to a room full of Generals. Certainly, someone in the High Command would figure out that holding that town would be important.

The Supreme Commander stood again and said, “That’s all we have for now. Good luck and God bless you all. You are dismissed.”

Tad and Galen sat and waited for the room to clear out, meandered out and waited for the shuttle to take them back to Galen’s skimmer. They left the compound and encountered light traffic on the way back to the Jasmine Panzer Brigade compound. Tad said, “The situation’s not as bad as I thought.”

Galen said, “Sure. Not that bad.”

The Mosh High Chief stared out the view port of his ready room, stared at the point of light that was still small but larger and brighter than any other object out there. The shiny black chain mail he wore over his dark gray wool shirt had a ten centimeter wide sash of leather over it, across his right shoulder to his left hip, where an Ulfberht sword hung in its sheath. He also wore dark brown leather pants tucked into his high black warrior boots. His two hundred and thirty centimeter height was imposing, topped off with long gray hair pulled back in a low pony tail. As he squinted his blue eyes, his ruddy face wrinkled a bit around his full gray beard and mustache. He could see the tiny orb to the left of its star, the planet Mandarin. A familiar warning tone sounded, not too loud but high-pitched and sustained. He gripped the edge of the viewport and held on firmly. Gravity became zero as the ship stopped accelerating and then the ship flipped end over end and gravity went back to one G as the ship decelerated. The warning tone stopped. The planet he would conquer was now to the right of its sun.

A pale gray gas giant was creeping into view. Once past it, they could begin maneuvering into position to attack their new world. He stepped back from the view port and turned. He stepped around his desk and toward the door of his quarters. The door slid aside and he stepped onto the bridge of his flag ship. Three warriors looked up. The Mosh High Chief bellowed, “Carry on!” and left the bridge and strode down the hallway behind and entered the briefing room. Five Clan Chiefs were there with their seconds-in-command, seated. They stood when he entered. “Sit down.” They sat. Two were his sons. The other three were his nephews.

The Mosh High Chief said, “We were looking for a habitual planet, and as luck would have it, it also happens to be inhabited already.”

The Mosh Warrior Chiefs laughed.

The High Chief said, “Men, if I may use the term so loosely, many of our warriors will have their chance to ascend to Valhalla before this is over. But have no doubt, we will be victorious.”

Nods and assenting grunts. One Clan Chief stood and said, “This is not our traditional way. We are raiders, meant to land and conquer certainly, but then return home with our ships full of plunder and servants. I do not know if this strategy will persevere, if remaining here to make this our new home won’t invite retaliation. I think one day we will find ourselves defending this planet, fighting for our very survival, not unlike the fools we will conquer now.”

The High Chief pointed. “Sit down!” He paced for a moment, stood facing the group with his fists balled on his hips. “Your point is valid. When that day comes, we will face it with courage. Until then, we need a home. Nearly a third of our cargo ships are filled with the women and children and livestock and servants we brought with us. Need I remind you that we were on a journey to settle a new world but when we arrived, we found that the terraforming had not been effective? I do not want to sit on this ship waiting for a day that will never come during my lifetime, waiting another hundred years at least for the terraforming to reach a level where it will support human life. We sent out exploratory jump ships. We lost all but one of them to the depths of unknown space. The one that did return had found this habitable planet and now we know it is already inhabited. We will conquer and settle here; it is our destiny. We have nowhere else to go.”

Another Clan Chief stood. “The natural order of things will not apply here. We will have to be mindful of wonton destruction; will have to observe some conventions of formal warfare, to make the conquered people more receptive to our rule. Everything we destroy, we are simply denying ourselves later, as this will be our home. Certainly this deserves more planning than we have done.”

The High Chief said, “Certainly. I will post our fleet behind the sixth planet of this system, a gas giant which can prevent them from observing us while we learn more about them and probe their defenses. This will give you time to instill discipline in your warriors, time to train them in a less barbaric way of conducting warfare. But make no mistake, we will be the masters of that land. In every society, there is a small ruling elite, and it makes little difference to the masses who that ruling elite is. Their little lives will be no less fulfilling with us as their masters. I do believe they will be better off under our rule. From what I’ve learned of civilized societies, the ruling elite burden the masses with excessive consumption of resources, and manipulate their people with lies and hidden agendas. We do not. We live simple lives, and we rule honestly. We need only to convince them of that fact to prevent insurrection in the future. But when we land, we must convince them with raw brutality that resistance is futile, that to submit is to live.”

The Clan Chief said, “Yes. And only after we have conquered them will they learn that it is good, to serve the Mosh.” He sat.

The Clan Chief behind him stood and said, “Land. How much will each Clan take?”

The High Chief said, “At first the land will all be mine. Over time, as we learn more about the resources of the planet, I will divide the land evenly among your clans and retain only a single farm for myself. A big farm indeed, with a lodge large enough to accommodate my duties as the High Chief of the planet. And I swear before you now, I will take no longer than one year from the time we are victorious to divide the lands. Harald, you have been silent. Surely there is something on your mind.”

Clan Chief Harald stood. “They seem an industrious people. I would like to embark on a program to have them design and build more advanced war fighting equipment. The day will come when we choose to strike out from here to conduct raids on nearby worlds. My sons, and their sons yet unborn, they will want to do this in the future.”

“Certainly. This means not destroying the industrial base of our new home. All this I understand. Because we are making this our home, we must do things a little differently from tradition. What is the old saying? Do not defecate in your own bed? But make no mistake, this is war and we will kill and destroy. As much as necessary, and probably more than necessary, to win. When in doubt, destroy. Any questions for me at this time?”

The Clan Chiefs sat, silent. The High Chief left the briefing room and returned to his office. A man no taller than a hundred and seventy centimeters tall dressed in dark gray technicians’ coveralls stood waiting. The High Chief sat at his desk and said, “Have a seat, tell me what you know.”

The shorter man sat on the couch to the left and propped his feet on the coffee table. “Chief, the data from our probes shows that our enemy is mobilizing for a long, drawn-out defense. I’d suggest attacking in less than two weeks. That is how long I’ll need to work out the details for the landings. For now, a limited bombing campaign should be undertaken to disrupt their mobilization efforts and wreck key elements of their military infrastructure. I also believe a successful bombing campaign will reduce the confidence of the populous in the ability of their rulers to protect them. Perhaps the masses will revolt, believing that their rulers sacrifice them only to protect their own lives.”

The High Chief said, “As you wish. You are the best operations specialist I’ve ever had the pleasure to serve with. Just keep in mind that this is our new home. Destroy only what we don’t want, and certainly don’t destroy anything we’ll need. Be selective.”

“Yes, Chief.” The shorter man stood.

“Dismissed,” said the High Chief.