The War for Profit Series Omnibus

by Gideon Fleisher

  “I like this bridge,” said the Director.

  “Well, it wasn’t here two weeks ago, Director.”

  “Please, call me Tom,” said Tom. “And the facility?”

  “Well, Tom,” said Karen, “As soon as the tunnel was finished, we started cutting the top off the iron mountain. We saved time by burning trenches in the surface and building inside them. There was construction material left over that we haven’t used, but it’s still up there if you get any ideas later on. The space shield and the command center are in place, and most of your technicians and engineers and scientists are settled in to their quarters and work stations.”

  “Good. Any problems at all?” said Tom.

  Karen said, “No. I took the liberty of scheduling a lunch conference. All your people will be seated in the restaurant at noon so you can give a brief and then do a meet and greet afterward.”

  “Excellent.” Tom looked out the window. The sedan wound its way clockwise up the mountain road that spiraled a full three times around its bulk on its way to reach the top. Tom said, “It’s an impressive view on the way up. I knew what was supposed to be here, but seeing it for myself, it’s very impressive.”

  Karen said nothing; Galen followed her lead. She was an expert, after all, at handling corporate types. When the car stopped in front of the facility administrative building, Galen got out and opened the door for Tom.

  “Do you need any help from here?” said Galen.

  “No, that’s fine. I’m back in my element, I got this,” said Tom. He got out of the car and rounded up his group from the other two cars and went into the office building.

  Galen got back in the sedan, in the back seat with Karen, and said, “Take us to the command center, driver.”

  She drove past two steel buildings and turned right until she came up to a garage entrance that led into the living rock foundation of the command center. She parked the car and waited for Karen and Galen to get out. She said, “You need me to stay with the vehicle?”

  Galen said, “No, we won’t need you until about fifteen hundred hours. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

  “Okay.” She got out and locked up the car and left the parking garage.

  Galen led Karen to the stairwell up to the plateau of ground left ten meters higher than the rest of the compound. The surface was more than two hundred meters across, more or less in a circular shape. The command center and the space shield and its battery reserves and two space lasers were there, along with a four-gun 240mm battery. Galen and Karen entered the low concrete structure of the command center, descending its twelve steps to enter the main conference room.

  Tad greeted them, “So how’s that director?”

  “He’s all right,” said Galen. “Big dumb ex-jock.”

  Tad said, “Well they can’t have a scientist running the place, that would be like letting the lunatics run an asylum.”

  Sevin said, “Hey Smaj, what’s up?”

  Galen looked around. Technicians sat at terminals, four on each side wall. The large table in the middle of the room had a dozen comfortable chairs. The full-D screen was on the same wall as the entrance, a big screen that went from half a meter off the floor to within ten centimeters of the ceiling three meters high. The polished stone floor reflected like a dark mirror, the iron ore allowing a nice sheen. The back wall had two doors, one leading to Tad’s office and quarters, the other into a smaller, more private office for the EugeneX liaison officer.

  Galen sat at the table, taking the chair next to Sevin. Karen sat next to Galen. Tad sat in the op center control chair at the head of the table, and Spike in the chair to his left.

  Karen said, “You’re all invited to the Director’s welcoming luncheon.”

  Sevin said, “I’ll be there.”

  Galen said, “As much as I know it pains you, I’m glad to hear that. So Tad, how’re operations going?”

  “During the past two months we have cycled through two classes of police cadets and they have relieved our troops of their duties as they came on line. By the end of next month, all the police duties will be handled completely by them. As for crater defense, this process will take longer. First comes twelve weeks of basic military training, then as much as twelve more weeks of additional specialized training. After they are all trained and certified, we’ll hand the entire defense mission off to them on the same day. At that time, we’ll step back into an advisory role. The only unit inside the crater that will remain under our control is the heavy tank company.”

  Galen said, “Okay. That’s good stuff. Some of out troops are already getting bored, so I’m thinking about making arrangements to ship some of them out as their duties are taken over by the police.”

  Sevin said, “No. We all leave together, at the end of the contract. If they need something to do, I’ll work them into the rotation up top.”

  Galen said, “And what about after the units up top are relived by EugeneX troops?”

  “We’ll stay, and patrol up top as dismounts. Or whatever. We all stay until the end of the contract, and we all leave together.”

  Galen leaned forward. “Master Sergeant Sevin, please let me know why you feel so strongly about this.”

  “Two reasons, Smaj. Tradition and the advantage of the troops who leave early, it’s not fair and that unfairness will eat away at unit cohesion. That won’t seem bad now, but I’m thinking of the next contract, and the one after that.”

  “I still don’t read you.”

  Sevin said, “The troops who leave here first will get first crack at the best training slots on Mandarin. They’ll get a career boost ahead of the troops left here, and that will cause resentment within the ranks. We all have to stay together. Anything else is unacceptable in a professional unit.”

  Galen looked around the room. “Okay, Sevin. You win this one. We’ll all stay here until the contract is complete.”

  Sevin winked and said, “Choose your battles wisely and you’ll never lose.”

  Galen said, “Tad, anything else?”

  “Sure. Direct your attention to the full-D screen. Nine days ago we detected a ship heading this way from a distant jump point, burning in at half light speed. I expect them to be here in about three or four days, depending on how strongly they intend to decelerate. We sent a message asking who they were and this is the response we received.”

  The screen showed a man in full body armor, grey, with a row of short spikes spaced about two centimeters apart running from one elbow to the next across the upper arms and shoulders. The man’s face had a tattoo that looked like some sort of predatory arthropod, his left eye the eye of the tattooed creature. From the outer corner of his right eye were three black teardrop tattoos. He peeled back his lips before he spoke to reveal his teeth, which had been sharpened into points, top and bottom, to look like opposed rows of fangs.

  He spoke, “People of the Panzy Brigade, know this: the people of Seventh City are now under the protection of the Twelfth Legion of Doom. Any farther action by you against them will be met with retribution by me and the soldiers I command. Take heed, lest you lose everything through defeat at my hands. And make no mistake, dare to interfere with Seventh City again and I will relieve you of the burden of your failed and useless lives.” The screen went dark.

  “That’s it,” said Tad.

  Galen said, “Have we sent a response yet?”

  “No, I thought you’d like to have some input.”

  Galen said, “My initial gut response is to scorch Seventh City off the map before they get here, and knock the Legion ship out of space as soon as it’s in range. But there’s nothing in our unit contract about killing fools just because they insult us.”

  “Well,” said Spike, “When Seventh City was trying to get a bid on the contract, the terms were to protect their city from incursion and attack. It seems to me like as long as we stay more than ten klicks away from them, they won’t bother us.”

  Tad said, “As long as they
stay the hell away from my crater, I’m good with that.”

  Galen said, “How long does it take for a message to reach them?”

  Tad said, “Almost a day, roughly. Less as they get closer.”

  “Okay, let me think about it and we’ll put together a response.”

  Sevin said, “Whatever it is, make sure you say something about his teeth.”

  Karen said, “And make fun of his unit name, a legion of dummies or something.”

  Galen stood and walked toward the exit. “All right, we’ll have some fun with that later. Now it’s time to go to the luncheon. Follow me out.”

  The senior staff members followed Galen down the steps and around the buildings and into the office building of EugeneX, straight back to the restaurant. They were seated together at a round dining table and served chicken cordon bleu and iced tea. At the far end of the dining room, Mr. Pedimore turned on the comms, checked the podium and brought the full-D screen out of standby mode, then began to speak.

  “Welcome all to EugeneX’s newest research facility. We’ll get started with a presentation from our senior researcher, Dr. Forestall Wythecombs.”

  Pedimore stepped aside and Dr. Wythecombs took his place. He wore his lab coat, the white material draped over his thin shoulders. His narrow face made his eyes look too big, and his bald head looked a little too pink on top. “I’m very excited about our latest project. It provides great hope for all humankind. I can truly say, if it works the way I expect it will, what we accomplish here will literally be remembered, for ever. I’m talking about, of course, our work on immortality and eternal youth.” Dr. Wythecombs sat in a chair behind the podium and the lights dimmed and the full-D screen showed the EugeneX corporate logo approaching from a great distance, closer and closer, until it filled the screen.

  Spike said, in a low voice, “Bunch of nerds.”

  Sevin said, “This is bad. That crap never works.”

  Galen said, “Hey, watch the table talk. I don’t care what they do as long as we get paid.”

  The presentation showed people working in a lab. There were lab rats and monkeys and views of things squiggling under a microscope. Galen understood most of it and understood that they intended to not only halt the aging process by preventing the ends of DNA molecules from becoming frayed over time, but to also repair the damage and reverse the process. In the scenes of animals, the old animals of various sorts were returned to early adulthood, and retained the ability to still perform whatever tricks they had been taught. Rats made record time running through mazes, monkeys communicated faster with sign language, faster than a group of deaf humans. There were also amazing regenerative effects; a dog was stabbed in the side and then was completely healed in just three days. Finally there was a field of sheep and the viewers were challenge to tell the difference between the ones that were three years old and the ones that were fifteen years old. They all looked the same to Galen, but of course, he knew nothing about sheep anyway.

  The presentation ended with the corporate logo and some upbeat music. When the full-D screen faded to black the lights came back up. Mike the Director stood behind the podium. “A big round of applause for Dr. Wythecombs and all the researchers here on Juventud. You deserve it.”

  Applause rose and fell. Mike continued, “Okay, now let’s talk about work. The time for settling in is over; the time for work is now. It is my goal to have a batch of test serum large enough to inoculate thirty thousand people ready by the end of next week. I’ve seen the reports and I know we can do this.”

  He smiled a big white-toothed smile. Galen noticed that maybe his upper lip was a little short for his face and wondered if it was done cosmetically or if Mike were born that way. The luncheon attendees continued eating. Mike worked his way around the room, stopping at each table to pat backs and shake hands and laugh at remarks or make a joke or two of his own. He came to Galen’s table last and sat right down at the one empty chair.

  “Hello Mike,” said Galen.

  Mike gave Sevin a hard stare. “Lighten up, Master Sergeant. I’m doing my job.”

  Sevin cracked a smile. “You’re all right. I’m just not too sure about this research.”

  Mike said, “Well I know your history. I read up on your experience on Dagstadt. You were the sole survivor.”

  “That’s right. And it started out a lot like this. That planet is still quarantined.”

  Mike leaned toward Sevin and said, “I’ll keep an eye on these egg heads, and you keep an eye out, and we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen here.”

  Mike stood and put on a grin and stood by the dining room door and shook the hands of people as they left.

  Galen said, “Sevin, what was that all about?”

  “Sorry, Smaj. Non-disclosure agreement. So far I’ve been able to keep my mouth shut by staying out here in the military, where the subject never comes up. But trust me this much, as soon as I think you all need to know, I’ll let you know.”

  “Can you give us a hint?”

  “No.” Sevin took another bite of his lunch, “but you might want to brush up on your close-quarter battle head shots.”

  Mr. Pedimore came over and sat at the table. “Hello Commandant, mercenaries. I’m Mr. Pedimore, your liaison officer.”

  Tad said, “No offense, mister, but you are the EugeneX liaison. I am the Jasmine Panzer Brigade liaison officer. We have an office set up for you in my operations center.”

  “Well allow me to take lunch here and I’ll follow you there and you can show me around.”

  “All right,” said Galen. A server brought lunch for Mr. Pedimore and refilled the glasses of the rest of the staff. Galen and Tad ordered second servings. Sevin, Karen and Spike left, shaking hands with Mike on the way out. Mike took a quick glance around the room and noticed everyone else had gone. He sat at Galen’s table and the server brought him lunch as well.

  “So,” said Mike, “how was the food?”

  “Excellent,” said Tad.

  “Very good, sir,” said Mr. Pedimore.

  “Please, call me Mike.”

  “Very good, Mike,” said Galen. Then he said to Mr. Pedimore, “John, it’s important that you call the director Mike. You’re the liaison, my line to him. So dealing with you has to be on the same level as dealing with him. You two have to relate on the same level or it hampers our relationship.”

  Mr. Pedimore said, “Very well, but it will take some getting used to. And calling me John is a good start. Just give me some time to get familiar, please. I’m not used to this sort of thing.”

  Tad cut into his second serving of cordon bleu. “Call me Tad, and call him Galen and we’ll all be one big happy family.”

  Mike spoke as he ate. “I love this place already. They weren’t kidding, I feel twenty years younger.”

  “It’s refreshing,” said Galen.

  “So what do you guys do for fun around here?”

  Tad said, “We have a little downtown area set up. Not as sordid as a usual party vill, but I’m sure you can find something you’d like to do down there.”

  “I’ll be sure to check it out. John, you want to head down there this evening?”

  “Yes sir, I mean, Mike. And Tad and Galen?”

  “No, we have shifts to maintain. It would be bad for discipline anyway. In our military organization, senior staffers and commanders can’t be out in the same environment with off-duty troops. It would spoil their fun.”

  “I see,” said Mike, “but they won’t mind my people hanging around?”

  Galen said, “It would be a boost to their egos, partying on the same level as corporate big shots. But do me a favor and don’t actually interact with them too much. A couple of words or phrases from you, taken out of context, could really fire up the rumor mills. Have fun but keep the troops at arm’s length.”

  “I understand.”

  Tad said, “Well there is your high-end cocktail lounge and this restaurant, and a couple more clubs up here on the mount
ain. I can put them off-limits to my people.”

  Mike smiled. “Okay. But don’t put this restaurant off limits. Since you have some troops working up here in the command center and the gun positions, your people can eat here for free, no questions asked.”

  “I’ve got a question,” said Tad, “we need a midnight meal for night shift.”

  John said, “I’ll make that happen.”

  “Good.” Finished with his meal, Mike stood and left the dining room.

  Tad, Galen and John went to the command center, opened the door on the right side of the back wall and stepped inside the liaison office.

  Galen told John, “This is your office.”

  John looked around and then sat at the chair behind the desk. In front of him were two couches backed up to the walls, a coffee table between them. On the wall opposite the desk was a meter-square flat screen. Tad showed him how the center portion of the desktop flipped up to become a control terminal, and how to make the flat screen the second monitor.

  “This will do nicely, gentlemen,” said John.

  “There’s a door behind you,” said Galen.

  “Where does it go?”

  “It’s a sleeping room. A cot, a sink, a toilet, a closet. It’s certainly not meant as a primary billet, but it’s good for short periods.”

  John opened the door and looked in. “It’s a nice touch, a great place for power naps, and a great place to change clothes. Thank you.”

  Galen and Tad sat on opposite couches, John sat at his desk.

  Galen said, “So John, could you help us come up with a response to the challenge from the Twelfth Legion of Doom?”

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

  Tad said, “Fire up your terminal and I’ll show you how to watch it on your flat screen.”