The War for Profit Series Omnibus

by Gideon Fleisher

  “Keeping those types of soldiers around is cheap and they lack the combat power to overthrow a government. But they’re strong enough to maintain civil order and they generate a healthy batch of patriotic retired veterans and citizen-soldiers. They contribute to a large segment of loyal citizens mixed in amongst the populace.”

  “A weenie army, but what good is it really?”

  “Aha! Now you understand the need for mercenary regiments. They hire maneuver brigades to do any real combat, usually against an off-plant government, but sometimes to bring a world under a single government.”

  “But what good are the regulars then?” Tad listened, but didn’t really care.

  Galen said, “They provide the mercenary units with combat service and support. They drive trucks, provide ammunition depots for us to draw from, satellite pictures of enemy territory. They provide us with support and act as coordinators of combat operations on the corps level.”

  “So how do Mandarin’s regulars rate?” Tad didn’t care but he knew Galen would keep talking until his idea was fully explained and decided to keep him focused by asking questions.

  “Supposedly they’re prepared to hire and support nine mercenary regiments.”

  “Three divisions?” Tad’s eyes widened.

  “A whole corps.”

  “That’s a big can of whoop-ass.”

  “I thought you were from Terra.”

  “I am.”

  “Terra has the capability of fielding three army groups. That’s nine corps, or twenty-seven divisions. Eighty one mercenary regiments.”

  “There aren’t that many mercenary regiments. I only know of about dozen. That’s how many showed up on our prospectus sheet.”

  “Tad, our prospectus sheet only included units that might be interested in us. Some hire exclusively from their own academies, some were too sorry for us to consider, and I hate to admit it, but some regiments won’t take us because we aren’t good enough. There must be over two hundred mercenary units out there. Most are regiments, but some are specialized companies or battalions and some are entire divisions.”

  Tad was already standing to leave. “You don’t have to tell me the whole history of warfare.”

  “Sorry. Let’s go pester Spike.”

  Chapter Twelve

  That evening the three of them walked ten minutes to the Outlander Bar. It was located just off the main street, its front recessed from the curb of the side street. Galen followed Tad and Spike inside. The building was a converted hotel and the bar used to be the hotel lobby. It had a white marble floor and the walls were draped with golden silk curtains. The sturdy round tables were made of grey cement and so were the curved benches around them. The dance floor was a clear spot about ten meters square surrounded by the tables. There were about fifty customers there, the place about half full. A live band consisting of a male Mandarin musician playing a synthesizer and a half-occidental female vocalist performed “Bonnie Prince Charlie.”

  Tad said, “They’re playing my favorite song! Have a seat. I got to use the bathroom.” Galen and Spike sat down at the table furthest from the band. They didn’t like “Bonnie Prince Charlie.”

  “So where’s Tad’s awesome waitress?”

  “It could be her night off. Hey, I got to go see Mimi. Don’t go anywhere, Tad will be back soon.”

  Spike left and went to the back of the bar and ascended a staircase Galen hadn’t noticed before. The stairs were painted the same color as the drapes and blended in to the background. Spike seemed to walk on air.

  “What would you like to drink?”

  Galen swung his gaze to the waitress. She was tall, even by Galen’s standards. He stood. She was maybe five centimeters shorter than him. Perfect. Her straight black hair was tied in a pony tail that hung past her shoulders. Her almond eyes and small nose made Galen like her. The slight overbite and somewhat recessed chin made her seem cute to Galen. Her neck was longer than most women’s and her shoulders looked sturdy but not muscular. Her gold mid-sized pendant earrings and dark red dress had an erotic allure.

  “I’ll take ale.”

  The thin material of her dress had a modestly high neckline, but her breasts jiggled as she wrote down Galen’s order. The breasts poked forward against the silky material of her dress. If Galen hadn’t seen them jiggle, he’d haves sworn they were fake. Mandarin women, Asian women, never had tits that big.

  “Anything else?”

  “Your name?”

  “Sandy.”

  “Sandy, my name’s Galen.” He offered his hand.

  She took his hand and shook it softly. Galen stared into her eyes and thought, “Maybe she is just a waitress, but my mother’s a barmaid. She must be only half Mandarin. Maybe her father’s a mercenary like me.” Galen looked away and Sandy let go of his hand.

  “My friend went to the bathroom. He’ll want ale too.”

  “Okay. Two ales for this table.” She wrote down the order and left.

  Tad returned a minute later and sat at Galen’s table.

  “Order yet?”

  “I got you ale. Sandy should be back soon.”

  “Who?”

  “Sandy, the waitress. She’ll be back with our drinks soon. By the way, where’s your awesome woman?”

  “Haven’t seen her yet, maybe it’s her night off.”

  “Spike went to see Mimi.”

  “That figures. He said he’d wait until I showed you around the place.”

  Sandy came across the empty dance floor carrying two bottles of ale and two glasses on a tray. She stopped behind Tad, reaching around him to place the tray on the table in front of him. Before he could turn to look she covered his eyes with her hands.

  “Guess who?” she winked at Galen.

  “I’d know that voice anywhere! Baby, how you been?” Tad pushed her hands away and turned to look at her. She smiled at Tad and then picked up the tray. She placed cardboard coasters on the table, put the glasses on them and poured the ale into the glasses. She sat the half-full bottles next to the glasses. “Enjoy.”

  Galen’s heart sank. “So you two already met?”

  “Yeah, Galen, meet my woman.”

  Sandy looked nervous. “We aren’t exactly married.”

  “Give me time, lovely,” said Tad.

  Galen gave her two hundred czan. “Keep the change.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled at Galen and then scurried off to wait on another table.

  “You’re right, Tad. She’s awesome. I like her.”

  “I didn’t bring you here to gawk at my woman.”

  “Your woman? She looks unattached to me.”

  “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

  “Better to be pissed off than pissed on,” Galen reached for his ale bottle and drank from it, an excuse to have the object in his hand.

  Tad glared at Galen as he gulped his glass of ale. Then he poured the rest of the ale from his bottle into his glass. He kept the bottle in his left hand while sipping from his glass. Galen used his left hand to drink from his glass, keeping his ale bottle gripped in his right hand. The two men glared at each other while sipping their ale. Finally, Galen released his bottle and pushed it and his empty glass to the center of the table. Tad finished his ale and pushed his glass and bottle to clink against Galen’s.

  “No way. Not in a minute,” said Tad.

  “That’s right. We have better things to do than fight over a woman.”

  Tad looked confused. “What’s there to fight about? She’s my woman. We could fight all day, but she’ll still like me better.”

  “She doesn’t like you. She kept you on the couch watching vids. That isn’t a sign of affection. She was just being polite.” Galen stood before he realized what he was doing.

  Tad stood and faced Galen, poked him in the chest with his index finger as he spoke. “I don’t know much but I know what I know. You apologize and sit the hell down!”

  Galen balled his left hand into a fist and
brought it up under Tad’s chin. Tad staggered back two steps but didn’t fall. Galen moved toward him and prepared to punch with his right fist. Tad spun and used a backward kick to knock Galen’s left foot from under him. Galen fell and rolled onto the dance floor. Tad charged him before he could stand.

  Galen rolled toward Tad and grabbed a foot, causing him to fall flat on his stomach. They both got to their feet at the same time, facing off with a meter between them. Tad attempted a roundhouse kick. Galen ducked and then kicked Tad square in the stomach. Tad fell flat on his ass, sat up with his hands behind him. Galen stepped closer and planned to kick Tad in the chest. Suddenly Galen’s arms were pinned behind him. Two Mandarin police handcuffed him and dragged him outside. Tad was also arrested and brought outside. Five Mandarin police force-marched Galen and Tad to the front gate of the Panzer Brigade compound.

  “Back so soon?” asked the gate guard.

  “They were fighting,” said the senior Mandarin police officer.

  “With each other? No locals involved?”

  “No locals. They only hurt themselves.”

  “Thanks, officer. I’ll take them now.”

  Two police removed the handcuffs and then shoved Galen and Tad through the pedestrian gate. The senior police officer said, “Keep them out of my town until they learn some manners.” The five Mandarin cops left.

  “Give me your ID cards,” said the gate guard. He scanned them into his computer terminal then handed them back. “Now you can’t leave this compound for at least two weeks.”

  “What? Just like that?” said Galen.

  “Yes, just like that. You want a fair trial? Start a fight here on this compound; you’ll get one hell of a punishment for that.”

  “Like what?” asked Tad.

  “Like forfeiture of all pay and allowances, reduction in rank to Troop, and confinement for sixty days.”

  Tad stomped off. Galen glared after him until he was out of sight and then walked to the barracks, showered, and went to bed.

  ***

  “Wake up, you jackasses!” Spike was back. It was zero eight hundred hours in the morning. Spike shoved Galen out of his bunk and tipped Tad’s bunk to dump him on the cold wooden floor.

  Galen sat up on the floor and blinked, still half asleep. Tad stood, rubbed his eyes.

  “You idiots!” Spike swayed a little. The odor of booze, drank hours before, wafted around him “You young pups don’t know a damned thing about nothing!”

  Galen stood and became fully awake.

  “You two, fighting over a woman you don’t even know. What do you know about women?”

  Galen said nothing and knew it was best to let Spike say his piece. The penalty for fighting on post was too severe. Besides, he didn’t want to start trouble with Spike, his remaining friend in the unit.

  “I’ll tell you something. I was married before I went to the academy. That’s right, I’m divorced. I know about women. The last thing you do is fight over them.”

  Tad and Galen stood and listened.

  “Looks like I have to go to the ‘ville all by myself now. Great. You two damned idiots could mess up anything! You lost your pass privilege. If you looked at the bulletin board, you’d know.”

  “Know what?” asked Tad.

  “Go downstairs and look! You got your assignments. You two idiots are being given the Accelerated Qualification Course.”

  “What?” said Galen.

  “Twelve days of hell. They pick your brain and abuse your body and test your spirit. Pass and you’re promoted to Chief and sent straight out to the fleet as casualty replacements for a contract already in progress.”

  “Are you going with us?”

  Spike mocked Galen’s question in a falsetto voice, “Are you going with us?” Spike punched his right fist into his left palm. “I ain’t going with you because I didn’t do anything stupid to get the attention of the assignment Chief. I didn’t get in a stupid ass fight last night.”

  Spike turned his back on them. Then he spun around, pointing his finger at Tad. “So how do you think the military works? Did they select the best and brightest for the dubious honor of testing out of the Platoon Leader Course? No! They said to themselves, ‘Which suckers from the Cav Troop should lose their free vacation, get abused up to Chief standards, and sent to a bloody meat grinder of a contract in progress?’ You idiots, that’s who!”

  “So where will you go?” said Tad.

  “Aviation, close air support.” Spiked stumbled out of the bay.

  “Well Sergeant Raper, I guess we’re lucky in a way. We get promotion sooner. The course can’t be that bad. Not for us, we’re academy graduates, fully qualified for officer rank.”

  “We’ll pass, no problem.”

  A man dressed in field uniform stomped into the bay. He pointed and shouted, “Take that civilian crap off! Take that crap off, Sergeants. You have no pass privilege. Get into full war gear! Now!”

  Galen and Tad stripped and put on their field uniforms. The loudmouth bully took their weapons and cleared them, then confiscated the ammo. He wore Captain rank on his combat coveralls and a blocked black ranger cap. Around his waist was a stripped black pistol belt. A troop entered wearing full combat gear. He carried a submachine gun at the ready and aimed it just over the heads of Tad and Galen.

  The Captain stood in front of Galen. “Your equipment is filthy! No excuse for this crap!” He grabbed Galen’s rifle and shoved it into his chest, “Port arms for you from now on.”

  “But--”

  “But what? Shut the hell up! Shut the hell up, Sergeant!” The Captain punched Galen in the stomach. Galen dropped his rifle and grabbed the Captain, putting him into a headlock. The troop fired a round into Galen’s foot locker. The bullet ricocheted around inside the steel foot locker. Galen released the Captain.

  “Good! Good, we understand each other now!” The Captain kicked Galen on the shin. “That’s right, you ass belongs to me for the next twelve days! Don’t make me void your contract, Sergeant. Don’t make me void your contract!”

  The Captain directed his attention to Tad. “So you’re a funny man, got yourself a submachine gun.” He shoved the butt of the weapon into Tad’s gut. “Here, carry it by the slip ring in your left hand. That’s right.”

  The Captain stared at them and watched them stand at attention for ten minutes.

  “So, you want to be a Chief? Well I’m here to help you; I’m here to help you become Chiefs. I’m your tactical officer, I’m your tac officer. You can call me ‘sir’ or you can have your contract voided. You can do what I say, or you can have your contract voided. Don’t touch me again. Trooper Jenkins will kill you if you do.”

  The tac officer paced for a minute and then closed on Galen and yelled into his face from a centimeter away. “You should be kissing Jenkins’ ass. It was a judgment call. It’s his call to blow your guts out! He can blow your guts out!” Stray spit flecked Galen’s face.

  “Don’t just stand there! Go clean your gear! Go clean your gear! Go to the latrine and clean your war gear! Don’t make me void your contract!”

  Tad and Galen washed their field gear in the bathroom sinks. The tac watched their every move. The troop kept his weapon at the ready, not wavering from his duty for an instant.

  “Get your trunks, carry them on your left shoulder. Get your trunks and carry them on your left shoulder!”

  “Sir?”

  “Shut the hell up!” the tac smacked Tad across the face.

  They patrol-slung their weapons and heaved their foot lockers onto their shoulders.

  “Move it! Double time! Outside, damn it, outside! Move!”

  They ran past the jogging trail to the opposite side of the compound. The tac and the troop ran after them every step of the way, the tac shouting abuse and orders. The troop kept his weapon trained on Galen and Tad. They ran to a tin shack in a wooded area in a remote part of the compound. It was a twelve by twelve meter square building with a sloping roof and thr
ee walls and an open front.

  “Inside, Sergeants. Inside and sit on your foot lockers.”

  The tac stared at the communicator on his wrist and let them rest for exactly one minute. “Do some pushups! Do some pushups with your feet elevated on your trunk!”

  Galen and Tad laid face down, their feet on the edge of their foot lockers and the palms of their hands on the ground below their shoulders. Then they pushed, raising their bodies until their elbows locked, then lowered their chests to touch the ground.

  “Faster! You can go faster than that! Knock ‘em out, do some pushups! Don’t make me void your contract, don’t piss me the hell off, Sergeants!”

  After two minutes Tad slowed down. His body quaked and then he collapsed on his face, unable to push himself back up. The tac knelt and whispered to him. Tad rose up halfway and then collapsed again.

  “Stand up, you!” Tad stood. Galen slowed his pace, tried to conserve some strength. The tac took Tad’s weapon and laid it on Tad’s foot locker, “Lay down there, you! Lay there on your back! On top of your weapon! Put your feet straight up in the air. Put your hands straight up in the air! That’s the dying cockroach! That’s the dying cockroach, Sergeant! When I tell you to do the dying cockroach, that’s what you do!”

  The tac turned his attention to Galen. He knelt and whispered to Galen, “The longer you hang in there the longer your buddy does the dying cockroach. Keep doing pushups.”

  Galen was finally getting tired. His body quaked as he pushed up, quaked as he lowered back down. Searing, burning pain surged through his triceps. His chest muscles burned too. His back hurt. He managed to push up again.

  “Come on, you can do more than that. Are you a pussy? You can’t do just one more pushup?”

  Galen collapsed.

  “Dying cockroach, Sergeant! You, the ugly one, your turn! Sit ups, knock ‘em out!” The tac had them alternate like that for thirty minutes, each doing an exercise to the point of collapse while the other held the dying cockroach position.

  “Let’s see. Both of you get at parade rest. That’s right, at order arms parade rest. Okay, Dinner time. Why is it called dinner time?”