Galen stood. “Re-take that building, liberate those prisoners and kill every one of those Mosh!”
Tad said, “Take it easy, you’re still weak. We have a plan.”
“Last I checked I’m in command here.” Galen felt dizzy again and sat down.
“As your second in command I declare you unfit for duty. Really, I got this. All you need is a couple hours rest. You’ve done more than enough already.”
“What do you mean? I’ve done nothing but pass out.”
“You fainted like an old lady, but that’s not the point. Stop being so modest. It took more guts than I’ll ever have to pull off a coup like that. And if you hadn’t, we would be the ones getting converted into mindless drinky girls right now.”
Galen leaned back in his chair. “Okay, you can command things for a while but I get to watch.”
The view shifted back to the Mosh fleet. Only the battle cruiser and the troop transport ships remained. Galen realized the plasma cannon strikes had stopped. He looked closely at the battle cruiser. Its forward turret was blackened and distorted, aimed slightly to the right.
“What happened to their fleet?”
Tad smiled. “The fleet commander coordinated an attack. He brought his battle cruiser and the command ship in with the interceptors. To support them, we dropped our shield and hit them with the lasers. That was done at the same time as the Mosh troop landing. Their commander was caught off guard with too much to think about all at once. If you give your enemy too many options at the same time they will always pick the worst one.”
“Well how about this? How about you go ahead and finish off their battle cruiser, kill those Mosh before they get off the beaches, and use their drop boats to carry boarding parties up to capture their troop ships so they don’t have anything left to block our jump point.”
Tad’s face lit up. “That’s what I like about you, you’re decisive. Okay. The hard part is getting enough firepower onto the beach to kill them. The ground mobile rail guns are too slow and don’t have enough armor.”
“Do we still have that tank?”
Tad smacked himself in the forehead with the palm of his left hand. “I forgot all about that. Okay, here’s the deal. I get things started with your battle plan. You go lay down and when it comes time to send the tank to beach I’ll get you up and you can command it.”
Galen looked at Tad. “You’d really do that, instead of leaving me asleep and taking the tank out yourself?”
“Normally I would but you’re my commander now. I can’t pull pranks on you any more because it would violate my contract.”
Galen stood and went through the office to the Major’s bed—his bed now—and let himself fall asleep. It seemed like only moments had passed when Tad shook his shoulder.
“Your chariot awaits.”
“Quit kissing my ass, that’s an order.” Galen sat up and rubbed his eyes. In a moment of clarity he realized something, expressing itself in the back of mind. Mission first, people always. “Where’s Sevin?”
Tad tilted his head to the left. “Why?”
“He’s the best tank commander we have. This mission is too important to use it as an excuse to satisfy my ego. Where is he?”
“He’s sitting in the command drop ship, supporting his four Interceptors, guarding our jump point so our battle cruiser can block the Mosh jump point. Now get dressed, get out there, and command your tank.”
Galen walked through the office and the conference room, up the steps and out the door with only one thought on his mind. He was about to realize his dream of commanding a Hercules heavy tank in combat, about to personally deliver the final blow to end the battle. He climbed up over the glacis plate, the gun mantle, onto the turret and lowered his body into the cupola with a hand on either side of the open hatch, careful to not let his boots touch the seat. The cushion was not soft, but rugged, meant to prevent injury more than provide comfort. He slipped on the commo helmet and adjusted the chin strap. The smell of its previous owner’s scalp filled Galen’s nostrils. No time for that, he’d get a brand new helmet for himself after this contract was over. He connected the tightly coiled spaghetti cord, connected the thick, heavy clothing clip to the opposite end of the connector cable to ensure it wouldn’t come apart by accident.
Galen blew into his mike then said, “You got me, driver?”
“Yessir.”
“Gunner, you up?”
“Yessir.”
Galen wanted to repeat the old NCO saying of ‘don’t call me sir because I work for a living,’ but held back. He wanted his crew focused on the job at hand, acting on long-practiced training that had become instinct. Forcing them to use some part of their brains to worry about calling him the wrong thing would just throw a monkey wrench into their minds.
“Move out, driver. We’re going to the beach.”
The tank moved down the narrow street lined with tin shacks. Then it took a right and moved toward the Mosh-infested beach with the large concrete warehouses alongside the air strip blocking them from the enemy’s fire. Galen could see the very tops of some of the drop boat tail section rudders above the buildings. He closed his hatch and said, “Gunner, be ready for targets to the right and then the front. Driver, full speed to the beach and then power slide to face right down the beach and halt.”
The acceleration shoved Galen back in his seat and then he was jerked sideways by the sudden turn and halt. The main gun sent a bolt of heavy laser right down the beach, burning holes through countless warriors. And again, and again. Galen fired his cupola rail gun and then looked for targets for it, walked the rounds into various groups of crouched and prone warriors. Some fired back, some fled for the relative safety of the drop boats and others chose to take their chances with charging into the nearest buildings. The gunner opened his breach and removed the laser module, put in a chemically-propelled high-explosive round and used it to destroy a drop boat. Then another and a third one. The Mosh in the remaining boats fled from their death traps, ran across the beach and into the buildings.
Galen mowed down many of the Mosh who tried to run across the beach but most of them made it into one building or another. There they were met with defenders inside who made short work of them before retreating to other good defensive positions. Galen keyed his transmitter, “Hey Tad, what’s the status?”
“That was ugly. There can’t be more than a hundred of them left. But be careful going down that beach, don’t outrun your dismounts.”
The gunner let fly a ten second burst from his coaxial rail gun, an automatic, practiced response to hearing the word “dismount.”
“Okay driver, ahead slow. Gunner, watch your lane.”
The gunner put the laser module back into the breach of the main gun. The tank crept along, a squad of Panzer Grenadiers falling in behind as it passed their defensive position. The Mosh tried to fight back but the tank’s rail gun fire was quick and deadly. After clearing the beach, Galen rode the tank over to the civilian administrative building. The Mandarin office workers came out to greet him, so he opened the hatch and stood tall. They were back to wearing men’s clothes and very grateful to the mercenaries for rescuing them. As the tank rolled around the corner of the building, Galen saw half a dozen captured Mosh sitting on the ground cross-legged, hands bound behind them. Two mercenaries stood guard. He recognized the Mosh leader who had been in charge of trying to transform the Mandarin men into drinky girls.
“Halt, driver.”
The tank stopped. Galen saw the cattle prod lying on the ground and picked it up and turned it on. Then he went up to the Mosh leader and poked him with it.
“Guard, untie this one.”
The guard helped the prisoner to his feet and then used his bayonet to cut the disposable handcuffs from his wrists.
Galen poked him again. Black spandex clothing littered the ground along with several pairs of high-heeled shoes. “Pick that trash up and bring it here.”
The Mosh didn’t move
so Galen shocked him again. The Mosh slowly picked up all the items and dropped them at Galen’s feet. Galen shocked him again then told the guard, “Bind him.”
The guard put a new set of disposable handcuffs on the Mosh and forced him back into a sitting position. Galen squatted down in front of the Mosh leader, locked eyes and said, “You are the most disgusting man I have ever met.” Galen stood, shocked the Mosh one more time and laid the cattle prod on the ground right in front of the tank’s track. “Here is what I’d like to do to you.” He signaled for the driver to pull forward a half meter. The cattle prod was crushed. Galen climbed back up into the cupola and called Tad.
“We clear yet?”
“Roger. Come on back.”
The driver turned and drove toward the TOC.
Galen sank deep into his seat, relaxed. “What about the boarding parties, to capture the transports?”
“The slave crews already rebelled and surrendered the transport ships. Fleet wants to buy them and the drop boats. Oh, and Mandarin’s defense minister sent a message asking if there is anything we need from them.”
Galen thought for a moment. “Tell them to send more Mosh.”
***
Galen sat in the command chair of the TOC and the key leaders sat around the conference table. He looked at the fleet Commander and asked, “Now what?”
“Well, this is unusual. Right now your unit is the only one with no commissioned officers. First order of business is you need to be laterally promoted to Command Sergeant Major and your new job title is Commandant. An enlisted commander.”
“Okay, can you help me with that?”
“Sure. I’ll run it up through the bonding commission to make it official.”
Command Sergeant Major Galen Raper then said, “Civil Affairs, what’s the deal with you?”
“Well, Commandant, we have eighteen Mosh prisoners to deal with, and Mr. Theil.”
“And what is your plan?”
“The prisoners can’t go home because they’re disgraced from being defeated in battle. I suppose we could drop them off on Hobart with the little ex-pat Mosh enclave there. As for the Mosh commander, we need to take him to Ostreich along with Mr. Theil, as a witness for the trial.”
“That’s fine. Make it happen. Master Sergeant Sevin, anything from you?”
Sevin leaned back in his chair. “Well, I can hold down the fort here while you’re gone to take care of business but I’d like to get relieved in six months or less. Also, we need two battle cruisers here to control both jump points.”
“All right, I’ll see what I can do. Foreman?” Galen addressed the senior builder of the Mandarin construction company.
“Yes. We’ll repair the damage and finish the construction in about three months. That is a firm estimate so I’ve already signaled for Myung Jin to begin operations from their end; it will take them about four months to get everything here, up and running.”
“Very well. Anything else?”
Tad said, “The jump ship is done downloading. We can leave as early as tomorrow.”
“Good. We’ll go to Ostreich for the trial of Mr. Theil and then I’ll get back to Mandarin and settle in as the commander of this Brigade. Anything else? Anyone?”
Silence. Galen stood and the key leaders stood and Galen went into the TOC’s office and sat at his desk.
Epilogue
Six months later, Galen sat at his desk in his office at the welcoming center on Mandarin and went over the numbers again. He was able to re-structure all of the unit’s short-term, high interest debts into low-interest long-term debt by selling thirty year corporate bonds. With all seventeen of the commissioned officers across the Brigade buying back their contracts, plus their resignations, it meant not only revenue from the buy-back but the termination of financial obligations as well. The Brigade no longer had to pay them salary, and no longer had to factor in the long-term obligation of their pensions because they forfeited that when they resigned. Mandarin renewed the contract for the defense of Alamo for another year. Galen negotiated a higher rate and bargained with Fleet to base two battle cruisers there to keep the space around it clear.
Mr. Theil was found guilty of treachery by the bonding commission, which stripped him of his rank and banned him from any form of military service. However, he was free to walk away, although disgraced, with the Mosh gold. No doubt, some of that gold found its way into the pockets of the bonding commission members who adjudicated his case.
The combat loss of fifty-four enlisted personnel was a double-edged sword. Short term, it saved money. An outside agency paid the death benefits of their life insurance, but life insurance costs for the Brigade would go up. Plus the costs of having to recruit and train replacements…the human cost, the death of comrades. No amount of money could make up for that, but enough money could help the Brigade live on and honor their service.
Galen then started sorting through a list of possible unit contracts.
Lord Master Governor General: War for Profit Part Two
by
Gideon Fleisher
Copyright 2012 Gideon Fleisher
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved.
The Jasmine Panzer Brigade: “When you care enough to send the very best…”
Chapter One
Command Sergeant Major Galen Raper, Commandant of the Jasmine Panzer Brigade, wore suede dress shoes, a light brown suit, and a silk tie over a plain white shirt as he sat on the couch outside the board room and thought about the events which had brought him to this place. The previous Brigade commander had actually been doing a very good job of taking the Brigade from being a mediocre collection of gunslingers and transforming it into a fairly respectable unit.
During the past five years, the program of in-house officer selection, training and commissioning was well on its way to replacing the Brigade’s self-absorbed socialite officers with real military professionals. That stage was set by recruiting academy graduates who would have to serve as enlisted personnel for an entire year before being considered for officer rank. Also the unit had made capital improvements in equipment as well as training, developing a high degree of combat skill amongst the soldiers of the Brigade. And the pay, the enlisted pay, was the same for everyone regardless of rank. The idea being, soldiers bearing less responsibility faced greater personal risk. Higher rank became primarily a matter of greater responsibility, not higher pay or privilege. This meant those soldiers better suited for leadership were leading, those better at fighting were doing most of the fighting, not the least bit concerned about having less rank; the pay was the same. Fair enough.
Then there came the breaking point for the Colonel. His reforms cost money, but the unit was not yet realizing greater revenue. That would only come after the unit’s reputation for battlefield excellence was realized. The unit was on its way to bankruptcy. At the very end, looking out for his own best interest, the Colonel accepted bribes from the enemy, Mosh invaders, who wanted to take the soldiers of the Brigade as slaves. But Galen got wind of the plot and relieved the Colonel of command. The officers of the Brigade, due to the nature of their commissions, had to buy back their contracts and resign en-masse. That left Galen as the commandant, taking command in the midst of a battle. And as luck would have it, the Brigade, although outnumbered more than ten to one, defeated the invading Mosh. Most likely the success was due to the fact the Mosh were expecting no resistance, because they had pre-arranged easy victory with the Colonel ahead of time. Regardless, that victory against an overwhelming force put a big gold star on the Brigade’s reputation.
Today Galen would face the Brigade’s board of directors. He checked his wrist chronometer and realized he had been kept waiting for nearly two hours. A junior executive, a slender woman in a dark blue business suit, opened the sturdy double doors of the board room and said, “The Board will see you now.”
Galen stood to his full two point one meter height and looked inside. The heavy wood table of
the board room was flanked by four comfortable chairs down each side, an investor seated in each. A flimsy metal folding chair was empty, at the end nearest Galen. At the head of the table the chairman of the board sat in a taller chair, his palms down on the table, leaning forward, grimacing, his gaze fixed on Galen. His dark blue pinstripe suit, his heavy features in an aged face, the fake black hair, the white teeth. The upper canine teeth were a bit longer than they should have been.
Galen said, “I’ll be right back.” He executed an about face and strode away, turned a corner and checked his wrist chronometer. They liked making him wait, so he’d return the favor.
The junior executive caught up to him. Her straight platinum hair, cut Cleopatra style, contrasted sharply with her dark complexion, her black eyelashes and eyebrows, her coal-black eyes. “They are ready for you now. This is very unusual.”
“Really. And is that hair your idea?”
She raised her left hand and tugged at her hair for a moment, then looked back at Galen. “Please, just come back to the board room. Their time is valuable.”
“So is mine.” Galen’s wrist chronometer vibrated for a moment, then showed a text message from his agent, Mr. Burwell. Just get in there.
“Okay. Lead the way, neat hair lady.”
The junior executive gave a crooked, closed-mouth smile and turned and walked back to the board room. Galen followed five steps behind.
After Galen entered the board room, the junior executive closed the doors behind him and took a seat at a small school-type desk in the corner to the left, and turned her attention to the noteputer laying on it.
The chairman said, “Have a seat, relax.”
Galen picked up the folding chair and set it to the side, then took another step forward to lean against the table, palms down on its surface, and locked eyes with the chairman. “It this some kind of joke?”
The War for Profit Series Omnibus Page 25