“Thanks for the advice.”
“It’s nothing. Good luck to you. All of you.”
A short while later, a buzz of hushed voices carried something of interest down the line of troopers.
One of the mercs with Holden caught the word and leaned in close to the veteran soldier saying, “Want to know who the new commander of the Red Light is?”
Holden nodded without saying a word.
“Hawkwood,” he said excitedly. “He took the command job when they floated it by him.”
“Jack finally bit,” Holden said. He paused in thought before smiling. “Dumb bastard. If true, what say we help him out?”
“I’m game. If Hawkwood saw something in the Red Light worth taking the plunge, well, I’ll go along if you are.”
Holden led his group to speak with the soldier they knew as Bastrop.
Vincent elbowed Sam. “You heard what they said, right?”
Sam nodded in reply.
“Some say that Hawkwood is the best around. You think we should still try with them? I’m thinking, yes. Sergeant Verro mentioned how rough some veteran soldiers can be on greeners. That Holden and the guys with him were willing help us out.”
Sam nodded. “If they were straight with us and I’m thinking they were, maybe those are the kind we want to show us the ropes. I’d say you’re right. The Red Light Company might be looking for nine greeners.”
“Seven,” one of Sam’s group said as he and another greener stepped away from the rest. “We’ve been mulling it over. Bad luck, that’s what they had. Bad luck follows bad luck. Hawkwood’s known as a go-for-the-throat type of trooper. That means he’s looking for a fight. We’re not walking into that. Big name commander or not, sorry. I know you guys are close and I appreciate you letting me and Bob here tag along, but… you go ahead if you want. We’re going to look for a gig with better prospects, less bloodthirstiness, and less bad luck. See you down the line.” The two headed down the row of recruiting booths.
“Anyone else?” Sam asked looking at his companions.
The others looked back and forth at one another and the young men going off on their own. Vincent nodded and said, “I’m sticking with Sam.”
Within seconds, the others voiced their agreement with Vincent.
“Well, that leaves seven of you,” Hank Bastrop called as he leaned over the counter toward the recruits while Holden and his group of veteran troopers spoke with Winger. “That’s a lucky number by any estimation. Lucky for you, lucky for us.” He smiled broadly.
“You’re looking for troopers fresh out of service school?” Sam asked as he approached the counter.
“We are. These days you can’t afford to deploy with nothing but experienced quality soldiers even if there were enough to go around… which there’s not. Let me scan your chip. Name’s Bastrop, Hank Bastrop. Corporal in the Red Light.”
“I’m Healey, Sam Healey.” he replied as he presented the underside of his right wrist. “Private, Third Class in limbo.”
The corporal laughed. A swipe of a scanner brought a display of information on Bastrop’s handheld screen.
__________
Samson Healey: achieved majority, approximately 171000 standard hours of age. Service school graduate(rank 156 of 1098), Carthage Infantry Institute class 727-2A. Primary skill: Infantry, light foot
Additional training: Infantry, mechanized; Squad and support automatic weapons; Precision rifle; Drop-ship/Combat Vertibird rapid deployment
Permanent Rank: Private, 3rd Class
Current Unit: Unassigned
Last Unit: None
Previous Service: None
Previous Posted Rank: None
Major Campaigns: None
Previous Units: None
COMPLETE RECORDS LOGGED TO CENTRAL DATABASE, NOVAR
List Ends
__________
“Mech infantry and foot… good because we do both in this outfit. Gunner training… even better,” Hank said as he looked up from the data reader. “Grenade launchers in their various forms have their uses, but the machine gun… now that’s the beast on the battlefield. The best soldiers have gunner training. It’s a known fact.”
“I’m thinking you’re a machine gunner?” Sam said with a smile.
“Of course. I said the best,” Bastrop replied with a wink. “You’re serious about joining or just inquiring?”
“If you’ll take us, we’re serious.”
Hank smiled. “A package deal? Assuming your pals check out, sold!”
“What kind of enlistment are we looking at?”
“Nothing hinky. Standard one year with opt out after a major campaign if it concludes prior to release date. You may also opt out after two minor deployments. Unit extension kicks in if your year comes up while deployed.”
“I’m in.”
“Outstanding!” Hank said with a wide smile and a gesture to his left. “See Sergeant Winger. He has the final say. Next victim!”
Sam stepped aside and waited a distance away as the sergeant finished speaking with the last of Holden’s group, a dark-haired woman with a dozen stint-marks and a nametape that read YONKE. While waiting, he watched Bastrop scan chips and talk to the other recruits. Once the trooper left to join Holden and the others, Sam moved to stand before Senior Sergeant Winger.
The sergeant gave Sam a hard-eyed look before shifting his eyes to his display screen. “You’re Healey?”
“Yes, senior sergeant,” Sam responded as he was trained, quickly and clearly.
“All of you from CII?” he said with a glance at Sam’s six comrades.
“Yes, sergeant.”
“Same class?”
“Yes, sergeant.”
“We have Davout, Briggs, Rivers, Brennan, and Smith?”
“Paulino also,” Sam said.
Looking at his screen Winger nodded as a slight smile crooked his mouth. “There he is. Bastrop’s a little slow.” Shifting his eyes back to Sam he said, “Will Verro was your primary?”
“Yes, sergeant.”
“Terry Holden mentioned it. Verro was a top-notch trooper and a good man to boot. Good school, good trainer, and a nod from Holden? We’ll accept you based on that. I’ll tell you up front our next deployment will be a hot one. The Red Light is a no slack fighting unit and doesn’t go anywhere but battle. I’ll guarantee you one thing: you won’t be the same after your first deployment. Despite all the screening and mental conditioning the service schools provide, your first exposure to combat and all that follow it will have an effect. I will also tell you a significant percentage of green troops fulfill their initial contract and no more. The fact is most quit, become inoperative for further merc work, or end up dead in their first year. We don’t view any trooper as expendable, but battle tends to feast on greeners. No shame if you seek something tamer for your first gig. I will think no less of you if you do and if that’s your choice I’ll tag your file as a desirable candidate. Last chance. Hand-chip scan or get walking.”
“Standard pay scale, sergeant?”
“Affirmative. You’ll get paid at PV-three grade initially and bucked up to second class once you demonstrate you’re squared away. We don’t short greeners but we do expect you to be competent. The company supplies basic gear. We also give a muster allotment to green troops so you can fully kit up before deployment, withdrawn from your pay of course. If you can’t shoot or soldier for spit, we’ll drop you, but you’ll be paid for time served.”
Sam nodded and placed his right hand on the scanner panel. “We can shoot, sergeant.” With a flash of light, the young man officially became a mercenary.
“Welcome to the Red Light Company,” Winger said. Gesturing over his shoulder, he continued. “Head through the door back there or you can wait until the rest of your group is signed on. See Corporal Hicks, he’ll have more for you.”
“Thank you, sergeant.”
“You can thank me by becoming able troopers as soon as possible.”
/> The other six with Sam soon followed after similar exchanges with Sergeant Winger.
Going through the door together, they were greeted by a man not much older than them.
“I’m Matt Hicks, corporal and welcoming committee. You’re all greeners?”
“We are, corporal,” Sam said.
“We were concerned we might strike out on green privates and here we have seven already. You can’t do much with just NCOs and officers,” he said with a smile. “Any questions, just ask.”
“What is the makeup of the Red Light Company exactly?”
Hicks chuckled in amusement with the new soldiers. “You signed on without knowing the answer to that question?”
“We’re not completely in the dark, but yes. Some troopers said good things about the Red Light and we followed along when they signed on.”
“Sergeant Holden?” he said with a gesture over his shoulder at the others who had signed on.
“That’s right.”
“Well, you got lucky there. Holden’s as good as they come. You likely saw the stint-marks. That’s only the big gigs. The man’s a rompin’ stompin’ super trooper and that’s a fact. Those with him are no slouches either. They wouldn’t be with him if they weren’t. The Red Light’s a rapidly deployed and highly mobile combined arms force that follows the low-tech philosophy… even on our high-tech gear. Light infantry with light armor backing. Get in quick and once down move fast and hit hard, that’s our style. We’re a light infantry outfit first with some potent support backing it all up. The company employs a lot of tracked vehicles— high ground clearance, low profile armored transports that also serve as attack and support vehicles, ‘tracks’ is what we call them. We have a small light vehicle section for recon. The company has eight platoons, five straight infantry, plus one each of support weapons; specialist; plus HQ and logistics. We have a tech and mech section that maintains the vehicles and operates two light walkers. We also run a dedicated mortar section and have other supporting functions backing all that. Part of those supporting sections includes an intel component plus robust local supply and logistics. Most of anything outside that is supplied by other specialized units, things like vertibirds or medical, though the latter may change. Did we ever need them on the last one.”
“How badly was the company hit?”
“Eighty percent casualties and we lost most of our gear. By the time we were ready to start recruiting again we’d made it back to fifty-five percent. Mostly wounded returning. The rest were living but rendered inoperable, dead, or were fed up and left for other units. A hit like we took would’ve killed most merc forces especially when losing the commander, but we’re not most units.”
Vincent opened his mouth to speak, but thought the better of it and said nothing.
Hicks laughed. “I know what you’re looking for. You want to know about Boomoon. It was a lucrative contract, that’s why we went. Boomoon has a wealth of rare minerals and little else going for it. No heavy population, gravity half again higher than here, a sour atmosphere that barely sustains life, and not much else save for a squabble over who controls all those rare minerals. Not the ideal place for light infantry, but sometimes you go where the work is. The side we contracted for ended up the odd corporation out when three other parties banded together to force their hand. Commander Kent advised our employers to settle, but they had spent big money hiring a legion, four free companies, plus support units and somehow thought they could win outnumbered.”
“Five-to-one they said,” Vincent offered.
“Two-to-one initially,” Hicks said grimacing at the memories of the operation. “We held our ground while all but the Tyrol Rifle Company fled at the first sight of our opponents. That’s when it became five-to-one. The vertibird and medical support we needed? They bailed. That cost a lot of troopers their lives. The Tyrol Rifles got it as bad as we did. Between the two companies we managed to keep them from overrunning us. In the end everyone was a casualty or a grunt. I can’t say we gave better than we got, but we hurt them bad enough that Sergeant Winger was able to negotiate terms of surrender. He was the senior member still operable and thank all that’s sacred he was. The Red Light and Tyrol got paid, the others are hung up in court right now and face penalties, recompense due, and maybe even disbandment.”
Hicks held up a single finger. “Rule One: a unit must display professionalism on the field. Rule Two: no slack, everyone contributes. Rule Three: make sure the contract terms are clear. Rule Four: live up to the contract terms. We did and the Red Light will survive to fight again as soon as we reequip and train up. Sticking to the terms makes that possible.”
“It enhances the company’s reputation as well, right?” Sam asked.
“A greener who gets it. That’s right, pal. The Red Light has long had the rep, we just need to keep it. Troopers that get it done and do it long enough can end up with some big contracts. We’ve been lucky so far and pulled in some strac troopers and if you guys are the standard for recruits, we might have a solid group of greeners. Our old CO was a fighter but saw to it that greeners had a chance to learn and survive instead of being bullet fodder. They say Hawkwood will do the same. That’s why I stayed on. I’ve been here for less than two standard years, but based on what I’ve heard from pals of mine, a lot of units use young troopers as meat shields. We’ll need to score a contract quickly, so do us all a favor and get up to speed as soon as possible.”
“Trust me, we don’t want to run afoul of anyone in our first unit,” Vincent said.
Sam nodded in agreement. “Is there any etiquette in gatherings like this,” he said with a gesture at the small group of soldiers in the room.
“Not really,” Matt said. “Some of the OCTs don’t care much—”
“OCTs?” Fran Smith asked.
“Old, crusty, troopers. Soldiers with better than a decade under their belt and stint-marks that say they’ve been through hell and survived. They don’t much care for young and dumb ones like us, but it’s mostly bark. Shut your mouth and walk away if it happens and don’t sweat it. One thing I will suggest, listen far more than you talk. All you have are tales from childhood and service school stories. I have two campaigns and one shorter deployment on my record which isn’t much even considering Boomoon. A lot of the mercs in the unit have been soldiering since before any of us were born. I’ll tell you from personal experience, they won’t be impressed if you were once trainee of the week back in service school or ran the five-K faster than anyone in your cycle, trust me.”
The seven greeners laughed.
“I think we’ll pick a secluded spot and stay out of the way,” Sam said.
Hicks nodded. “A greener island in a sea of mercs,” he said with a smile. “I’ll send any new troopers your way.”
A steady stream of soldiers followed once word spread of Hawkwood and Holden’s presence in the Red Light’s ranks. Some who joined were individuals while others were small groups of comrades, but all were experienced mercs. The seven greeners soon found themselves a small minority, seven young soldiers with bare service panels in a growing crowd of battle-proven troopers.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, a trio of soldiers approached them with clean service panels and the same worried air as Sam and his group.
“I can’t tell you how glad we are to see some fellow greeners,” one of them said as they offered their hands in greeting. “We were worried we might be the only ones. Those in front and behind us in line had half a dozen stint marks or more. I thought that Hicks might be joshing us,” he said.
“We’re still outnumbered,” Sam joked, “but we haven’t suffered any casualties yet.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way. There’s some real sleazy characters out there in the hall. Had some grizzled old vet and his cronies try to force us into signing with an outfit. We slipped’em. Went to two other units before we got here.” He shook his head as his companions smiled uncomfortably and shook their heads as well. “They look
ed as us like we had offered them a bucket of dung beetles. Turned out they were recruiting for corporate outfits. We were looking for the exits when that Corporal Bastrop called out to us. We signed on the spot because this was the first place that seemed to have sane people manning the booth. Bastrop made it sound like this was the place to be, but after hearing Hicks tell us what happened their last time out we’re not so sure now.”
“It’s too late to back out now,” one of the other newcomers said. “I just hope that Bastrop guy was straight with us and wasn’t a used vehicle salesman.”
“Did you see some of the veteran troopers they signed?” Sam said.
“Heard they have Hawkwood and Holden and picked up some other big names, but a chest littered with stint-marks don’t mean much. All they mean is they’ve survived… likely at the cost of greeners like us.”
“Maybe so, but some of them seem squared away.”
“You’ve met some of’em?”
“A few. Senior Sergeant Holden told us this is a good outfit.”
“Well, I hope he was right.”
“Best we greeners watch out for each other,” Vincent said.
“Damn straight. We might be the only ones who will.”
In due time more recruits joined them and eventually the Hicks-named Greener Island took up a respectable amount of real estate.
The more experienced troops ignored the greeners and most of the young troopers began to feel they needn’t worry about harassment. That soon changed.
A quartet of soldiers no older than the greeners approached with sneering derision on their faces. Wearing the emblems of their previous unit, all four held the rank of Private, 2nd Class, the second lowest rank used by mercenary units.
“What do we have here?” the apparent leader of the bunch said. Nearly as tall as Sam and solidly built, his sneer and mean eyes spelled bully to Healey.
Free Company- Red Zone Page 2