The War for Profit Series Omnibus

by Gideon Fleisher

  “Thank you. You may go.”

  Spike stood and left. Galen sat and thought, stood and paced the floor, then sat back down. A knock came at the door. “Enter.”

  Karen came in and closed the door behind her. She stood across the table in front of Galen at attention and gave a proper hand salute. “Master Sergeant Mitchell reports.”

  “Relax, take a seat. Can I call you Karen?”

  She sat. “Can I call you Galen?”

  “Sure. On the advice of my staff, I’m not going to cash you out. That is, if you wish to remain a member of this Brigade.”

  “I like my job.” She flexed her fingers.

  “Good. I have been told, you are one hell of an outstanding logistician, by someone who knows. I felt that way before, but as you well know, my judgment was clouded by our relationship.”

  She looked up, her eyes bright for a moment, then narrow. “Our relationship…”

  “It’s over. I can’t pay full price for leftovers.”

  Karen slammed her fists onto the table. “That’s all I am to you? That’s what you think of me now?”

  “You…” Galen couldn’t speak, a lump in his throat. Then he found his voice, weak, a bit of a tremble to it. “It can’t go on, not here. I’m—”

  “Okay.” Karen nodded.

  Galen’s voice was back to normal. “I’m the commander here, for this whole Brigade. I can’t do anything to break the confidence the troops have in me. Morale, you know.”

  “Okay. What’s your plan?”

  “Until this contract ends, this relationship is on hold. It’s over, really. If you want to pursue Mike, go right ahead. If you want to cash yourself out and go home, that’s acceptable too.”

  Karen said, “That’s not going to happen. I’m not the same girl who made those vids. It seems like it was a million years ago. During the jump I had time to really think and sort things out. I really do love you.”

  Galen looked into her eyes. She meant it.

  She stood and said, “We’ll put things on hold until this contract ends, I understand that. But I need to know. Did you—”

  Galen cut her off. “Yes I did, and I do. But in light of these circumstances, I need time to think.”

  Karen thrust out her hand and said, “Friends, then?”

  Galen stood and walked toward her and gripped her hand and shook it. “We’re friends now.”

  He opened the door of the conference room for her and she left. A moment later, Galen realized her hand felt like that of a co-worker, that he hadn’t bothered to look at her backside as she walked away. He realized she was now just another member of his staff, a professional serving under his command. He sighed with relief.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sergeant Major Stone caught up with Galen and walked on his left as he went from breakfast at the chow hall to staff call at his hooch. “Hey, Smaj.”

  Galen looked to his left and said, “That’s Command Smaj to you, Smaj.”

  “Whatever. I’m just glad all those indigs are done going through my manual gunnery training, now I can get into a routine more befitting a battalion commander.” Being barely a hundred and sixty centimeters tall, Stone was a good fit for the cramped interior space of the Hellcat tanks. His uniform had a few lingering oil and grease stains the laundry couldn’t get out and his amber face had a couple of darker patches on the jowls from a decade spent crewing the organically-fueled vehicles. The scent of vegetable-oil exhaust was faint but noticeable, something that could take years to work its way out of a Hellcat crewmember’s system.

  “Manual gunnery is important.” Galen valued the Hellcats more for their indirect fire capability more than anything else, capable of lobbing shells out of this crater and onto the open ground beyond. But in a pinch they could be decent tanks. If nothing else were available, they could add some serious direct fire support to some infantry, if the infantry were already dominating their fight and wanted to use the Hellcats as a way to reduce their own casualties. But as a stand-alone weapons system, even in unit formations, the Hellcat was… was venerable, slow, a tinderbox full of flammable fuel and explosive ammunition.

  Stone said, “Well I’m glad we’re leaving them here for the indigs. They’re a hard tank to fight, and the amount of maintenance, it’s a hell of a lot of work keeping those things going. But I must admit I’ve gotten used to it. I might even miss the damned things.”

  Galen said, “I’m not sure why they’re on the books, but we’re taking care of that now. EugeneX is paying us top dollar for them, so I’m not complaining. Next week we’ll run your people through training on the Hornet and the Hercules tanks. I’m planning to expand the heavy tank company to a battalion, and the Brigade HHC will convert over to a light tank company.”

  Stone said, “I was going to retire, but if you’re giving me Hercules tanks, I might just stick around for another five years.”

  Galen reached forward and opened the door for Stone, who strode in and sat on the right side of the conference room table. Tad, Spike, Sevin, Karen, Koa and Mr. Pedimore were there, already seated. Galen sat at the head of the table and said, “Okay, today should be a boring day. At least, I hope so.”

  “Well, if I may,” said Pedimore. “We’ve received complaints from GasAir Corporation. The town around Air Factory Eight is being harassed by the mercenaries hired by the Seventh City rebellion.”

  Galen said, “I don’t mean to sound cruel and heartless, John, but the terms of the Brigade’s contract are pretty clear. We are here to defend this crater, train your security and combat units, and oversee the construction of fixed defenses.”

  John said, “Isn’t it standard practice to have a clause in unit contracts that includes any other actions as deemed necessary by the employer, in the spirit of the original agreement?”

  Galen leaned back in his chair. “Oh, it’s standard practice to put that in the first draft of a contract before negotiations. But I’d never sign anything like that because it would be kind of stupid. But I guarantee you this, that Twelfth Legion of Doom commander was stupid enough to agree to something like that. That’s probably why his employer was able to send him to mess with Factory Eight.”

  “How much do you know?” said John.

  “Plenty,” said Koa, “because it’s my job to know.”

  “I see. I only have the message from the chief executive of GasAir to go on. Maybe you could share some of your information with me.”

  Koa looked toward Galen who said, “Okay, throw him a bone. We’ll call this the first step in a contract negotiation.”

  John said, “I thought we were friends.”

  Galen smiled. “There’s nothing in the contract about providing EugeneX with intelligence support. But as a good faith gesture we’ll tell you what we know, and if you want us to contain or put down the Seventh City Rebellion, that’s a matter for separate negotiation.”

  John rubbed the top of his head with his left hand for a moment, and then sat with his hands clasped together on the table. He pulled his personal communicator out of his jacket pocket, considered, and then put it back. “Okay. I’m listening.”

  Koa said, “As best I can tell from signal intercepts, both secure and non-secure, the Seventh City rebellion has sent elements of the Twelfth Legion of Doom to threaten and extort payment from the town around Factory Eight. The initial excursion was a single squad-sized detachment that went into Eight and smashed up a large grocery store.”

  Galen said, “Anyone hurt?”

  “No. They ordered the people out first, then smashed the building to the ground.”

  John said, “A squad. Isn’t that a small group?”

  Koa said, “Normally, yes. But the Legion uses powered armored battle suits. They have the strength of twenty men, and the armor is three times as protective as our tank crew’s combat suits. The squad rode there in an armored air car, which is equipped with a laser that is equal to the one on our light tanks, but the targeting system is inferior.
Anyway, a dozen Legion troops went to this grocery store and ripped it apart by hand. Then demanded that protection payments be sent to Seventh City, or else.”

  Galen laughed, his left hand up, palm forward. “Sorry, folks. It just seems that the rebellion doesn’t have enough money to pay the Legion, so they’re sending the Legion out to extort the money with which to pay them. I just thought that was funny, that’s all.”

  Koa said, “Continuing on, based on research from publically available sources, the Legion consists of twelve hundred soldiers, four hundred of them lightly armed, not armored, serving in support roles. The others serve in eight companies, or centuries as they call them, each company with eight armored air cars carrying a squad. They have no tracked vehicles, although they do have two wheeled vehicles with light, rapid-fire rail guns mounted and three more trucks with 85mm mortars on the back. And of course about twenty five basic cargo haulers, also wheeled.”

  Tad said, “With those battle suits, our tanks wouldn’t stand a chance against them in the city. They’d tear us apart. And if we send our infantry against them, we’d lose troops at a rate of five to one, since we don’t have that kind of battle armor. We could take them, but casualties would be high and it would wreck out unit’s reputation.”

  Galen said, “Well I’m not interested in a high-risk operation that involves casualty estimates above five percent. That’s no way to run a business. So first of all, I need a clearly defined goal or mission, then we can plan around that and see if it’s feasible. John, what is it you want us to accomplish?”

  “I…I think, just protecting Eight from attacks would be sufficient. If you’re right about Seventh City not having enough money to pay the Legion, preventing Seventh City from getting any more money should go a long way solving the bigger problem of the rebellion itself.”

  Galen said, “So, the mission is to prevent any more attacks on Eight. Koa, how’s the terrain outside Eight?”

  Koa fiddled with his communicator and projected a map on the wall. “There, mostly wide open ground on three sides, the side facing Seventh City. Four hundred kilometers of open ground. The mountains at its back offer difficult terrain for the Legion’s air cars, but it’s ideal for their dismounts. It’s—”

  Galen raised his right hand. “I just want the terrain. Sorry, but tactical analysis is not your lane today. After Sevin gives his assessment, if you have anything to add, I’ll be glad to hear it at that time. Sevin?”

  Master Sergeant Sevin rubbed his beard and stared at the map projection. He scratched his head, he waved off the map so that Koa could turn it off and put away the communicator, and he stood and paced the length of the room. Then he sat back down and said, “We got this. We can do it.”

  “Okay.” Galen looked right into John’s eyes. “What’s it worth to you?”

  John said, “I’ll have to discuss this with the Director, of course. Would you care to come with me?”

  “Sure. Sevin, you’re the Battle Captain for this operation. The rest of you, get busy and get prepared as though we got this contract, I’ll join you as soon as we got something in writing.” Galen stood, the rest of the staff stood. “Prepare to be challenged.”

  “Check!” the staff, in unison.

  ***

  It was a clear, bright morning. Galen stood high in the loader’s hatch of Sergeant Major Stone’s command tank, the lead tank in a long column. The crude vehicle had no electronic devices at all; even the radio had been removed for this operation. Galen yelled into the diaphragm of the Hellcat’s voice comms system, a connected set of elastic tubing that allowed sound to pass, although weakly, between the crew members. The crew wore the pneumatic headsets under their ground troop helmets. “Hey Smaj, how much longer?”

  His voice boomed into his own ears, being closest to the source of the sound. The next voice was audible but not loud, and very flat.

  “Not long, Command Smaj.”

  The column consisted of fifty seven Hellcat tanks, seventeen tanks in three companies, and six tanks for the battalion headquarters. They were lined up outside the crater facing right after exiting the tunnel, an interval of fifty meters between each tank. A squad of riflemen rode on each tank, and they, too, were stripped of any and all electronic hardware. Karen was leading the Logpac convoy which had left two hours before, to set up Refuel-On-the-Move stations along the route.

  Galen did a function check on the unloaded 20mm machine gun in front of his hatch, and then looked behind to the rear of the column, its tanks lost from view in the distance. After a few minutes, a green signal flare shot up from the rear, and then Stone used his own flare gun to fire a green flare into the air. The driver pulled forward and gradually increased speed up to sixty kilometers per hour. Stone looked back to ensure the column followed.

  The tank’s gas turbine engine drove a hydraulic motor than ran everything on the tank, its low-pitched whine rising and lowering in accordance with the resistance placed upon it by the hydraulic system. Even the main gun ran off hydraulics, where the gunner used a four-way joystick-style valve to elevate and lower the gun and swing the turret left and right while peering into a parallel optical sight.

  Galen said, “These are truly cave man tanks.”

  Stone said, “Yes, but they build character. All the indigs we put through the four weeks of training gained about five kilos of pure muscle, on average. And I think their brains got bigger too. There’s a lot to learn.”

  “Yes. And I’m too tall for this thing. I can’t get comfortable down in there but I’ll fit.”

  “Normally you’d have to be shorter than 180cm to get assigned to a Hellcat, but since you want to be on this mission, you get to be my loader. You’ll be all right.”

  Galen said, “It’s a long march. The driver’s going to get smoked.”

  “Hooah!” the driver’s voice.

  “The gunner and driver will swap out at each refuel point.” Stone held up his binoculars and looked ahead, then to the rear, and kept looking for half a minute. “Okay, the trail vehicle is moving now.”

  “Six hours,” said Galen.

  “That’s right, six hours.” Stone let his binoculars hang from their strap. “Then ten hours, then six more hours, then crew rest for two hours, then we deploy.”

  “Sounds exciting.” Galen looked at the grunts on the tank. They were curled up on the rear deck of the tank for the most part, trying to get comfortable, but two of them kept vigilant watch, one on each side of the glacis plate. He didn’t bother to ask if they’d rotate that duty, he already knew they would. Galen looked down inside the turret. The gunner was slumped over, fast asleep, his ground troop helmet cocked way back on his head, a foam pad taken from a packing crate placed between his forehead and the gun sight.

  Stone said, “This long march is necessary to avoid detection by the Twelfth. We’ll stay well beyond the range of their sensor’s visual range, and we’re not giving them any electronic signals to detect.”

  Galen nodded. He knew. He slumped down into the loader’s seat and dozed off.

  ***

  Stone shoved Galen’s shoulder. “Wake up, Command Smaj. We’re almost there.”

  Galen stood and looked out ahead of the tank. There was a ROM site set up, the four fuelers parked facing in like spokes of a wheel, their fuel delivery hoses pulled out to connect to a longer hose that made a circle over five hundred meters across, or about 1800 meters around, a line attached with a fuel dispensing nozzle every thirty meters, so that all 57 tanks could refuel at once. Galen watched as the lead tank drove completely around the circle until it was signaled to stop near the same spot it had started, by Karen herself. A troop from her company stood at each fuel point.

  Stone yelled, “Dismount!”

  All the infantry and the tank crew members climbed off the vehicle and went fifty meters away from the circle, and took turns pulling security and relieving themselves and stretching their legs. Galen looked back and saw Karen dispensing fuel into the
tank. Then she climbed down and rolled a metal 150 liter drum behind the tank. Galen and Stone and the gunner helped her lift it up onto the rear deck of the tank. The gunner attached hold down straps and Stone spun the wing nuts down tight. Karen inserted the fuel feed line adapter into where the regular fuel cap had been, checked the seal and opened the vent relief valve at the top edge of the drum.

  She handed the fuel cap to Galen. “Don’t lose that.”

  Galen put the cap in his left cargo pocket. “Damn you’re good.”

  As she climbed off the tank she said, “I know. Now get out of my ROM site.”

  The crew and the troops mounted back up. Galen stood in the cupola. The trail vehicle was right in front of him now, the battalion parked in a circle. The trail vehicle commander gave Galen a thumbs up, so Galen told his driver, “Let’s go.”

  They drove past the trail vehicle and the rest of the column followed. Stone was down in the loader’s position, fast asleep, and the troop who had been driving was at the gunner’s station, looking very comfortable. One more rotation at the final refuel point would rotate the crews back to their primary duty positions. After a couple of hours, right before sunset, Galen pulled to the right of the dirt road and drove along the shoulder for half a kilometer before coming to a stop. Karen’s fueler convoy passed the tanks, zipping out ahead to set up the next ROM. Galen climbed out of the cupola and onto the glacis plate and looked at the targeting lamp attached to the gun mantle. He opened the fuel inlet valve, then spun the igniter knob to light it. A nozzle sprayed a fine mist of organic fuel into the lamp, where the light it made was reflected by the mirror in back, then focused through the thick transparent armor lens. The other tanks in the convoy wouldn’t turn on their night-targeting lamps, they could follow the glow of the hot exhaust of the tanks before them. But Galen, in the lead tank, needed the light to see where he was going. Because the route of march would not come within four hundred kilometers of Seventh City, it was highly unlikely they would be spotted. And if they were, it was unlikely the 12th Legion would even know what they had spotted, and then, it would take them time to react, and then formulate a plan of attack…Galen shook those thoughts out of his head and focused on watching the road ahead, ensuring they didn’t miss a turn, making sure the column didn’t get lost in the dark. It was easy, following the marks left on the road by Karen’s vehicles. Her trail vehicle was a tracked APC which made dark, easy-to-see marks whenever it turned.