The War for Profit Series Omnibus

by Gideon Fleisher

  Sevin stood in front of the screen and faced the viewers and said, “Okay, here’s the deal. That EugeneX youth serum has turned people into zombies.”

  Galen stood. “Damn it!”

  Tad drew his right index finger across his throat and his troop turned off the screen.

  “Okay, I need to think,” said Galen. “I really need time to think. I’ll be back. Get this shop set up, call in all the Chiefs and above, I’ll be back in an hour. And do some research on zombies and put together an emergency public service announcement for those people in Seventh City, their news people are a joke. But don’t broadcast it until I have a chance to review it first.” Galen looked down, hands on his hips. Then he shook his head and looked up. “Sevin, come with me, we need to talk.”

  Galen and Sevin left the terminal and walked together, away, out into open land around the tarmac. They walked slowly, going nowhere in particular.

  “Sevin,” said Galen, “can we do this or should we contact fleet right now and get the hell off this planet?”

  Sevin said, “Yes, and no.”

  “What kind of answer is that?”

  “Yes to the first part, we can do this, and no, we should not flee. Never run from a fight you can win.”

  Galen looked down as he walked. “Besides that, is there any other reason to clean up this EugeneX mess?”

  “For the good of the troops, and let me explain that. They will grow older and wiser and they will look back on this day. Over time the truth will come out about the zombie breakout here, and our troops will look back and realize they had an opportunity to do something about it but instead were ordered to run away. That will lay heavy on their consciences, haunt them all the way to their deaths.”

  Galen said, “So we’re going to wipe out the zombies regardless, that’s the deal. I got that. Now it’s my responsibility to figure out how we can make some money from this.”

  Sevin smiled. “Yes. Shake down GasAir for a few credits. EugeneX will be bankrupt soon, their shareholders wiped out, the bond holders will fight over the remaining assets and your claim against them for the remaining payment due for this contract will be at the back of the line, buried in court for years. Then you’ll get nothing.”

  “Well they paid half up front, and they’ve made three of the four additional quarterly payments. And they paid in full already for Operation Short Circuit. We’re not losing much.”

  Sevin said, “But you can’t expect our troops to fight zombies just for the hell of it. You have to pay them something.”

  Galen said, “Oh, I’ll get something. EugeneX holds clear title to this planet. Maybe I can get it before too much news gets out about the zombies.”

  “We need to train for three days to get ready. Seems like dawdling, but it’s necessary. The troops need to fully understand what they are up against and how to deal with it. Anything else would be irresponsible.”

  “You are correct, sir.”

  Sevin said, “Please, don’t call me ‘sir.’”

  They turned and walked back to the landing strip terminal. Neither spoke on the way back, certain they understood each other.

  When they entered the terminal, the foyer had been transformed into a full-blown operations center. The full-D screen had been moved so that it was between the ramp of the TOC track and the main entrance door. Four command terminals with their own flat screens were on desks along the wall to the left. In the center of the room was a large table with a dozen chairs around it, the command chair at the head, facing across the table to the full-D screen. The chairs around the table were already filled with Sergeant Majors and Master Sergeants. Some more Master Sergeants and Chiefs milled around, talking quietly and trying to stay out of the way for the most part. Cables running along the floor were now hidden under rubbery floor mats that locked together at the edges, making a relatively smooth floor.

  Tad sat in the command chair. Galen walked over to his side and placed his hand on his shoulder. “You did one hell of a job here.”

  Tad pointed at a Sergeant seated at a command terminal who was typing furiously, absorbed in a complex task. “He did it. The way he was barking orders, you’d think he was the Ops NCO.”

  Galen said, “Well since you’re actually the ops O, then he is the Ops NCO.”

  Tad said, “So what’s the deal?”

  “We’re going to train for three days and then we’re going to wipe out the zombies.”

  “You got a contract already?”

  “Not yet. I’m going to use this time to shake down some payment from GasAir, and get as much as I can from EugeneX.”

  “Well good luck and God bless. What’s the program for training?”

  Galen waved Sevin over. “Sevin will tell you. I leave you in his capable hands.”

  Sevin stood to Tad’s left and began his briefing for the crowd of key leaders. “Okay, listen up; it’s time to get his party started. We’ve already got a head start on the most important training, taking head shots at close range. The next phase of training involves target identification and conservation of forces, which can be one hundred percent if we do it right…”

  Galen left the building and walked over to the domed track extension of Karen’s ALOC track to use its comms gear. He stepped through the vestibule and was met by a Sergeant.

  “Hey Smaj.” She sat at the comms control panel, coverall top tied around her waist, a non-standard sleeveless brown t-shirt over a sports bra, watching a vid; a situation comedy about some guy living with his wife, his mother, her mother, and his ex-wife as the governess taking care of the second wife’s four kids that weren’t actually hers, but were her husband’s kids from a previous marriage before he died, the oldest one a man as old as his ex-wife, something like that.

  “Hello yourself, Sergeant. I need the comms.”

  She turned off the show and went into the command post carrier. “Help yourself.”

  Galen sat and punched the code to raise the President of GasAir. The line opened and showed a portly grey-haired man in a business smock seated behind a large desk carved out of a single block of obsidian. “Karen, is that you?”

  Galen turned on his own sensor feed. “Sorry, she’s at a planning meeting right now. We haven’t met. I’m the Commandant for the Jasmine Panzer Brigade, Sergeant Major Galen Raper.”

  “Ah, she told me about you. Is there something I can help you with?”

  Galen said, “Well, I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  He slouched. “I’m good.”

  Galen recognized his tactic of pretending to be unconcerned and unaware. “What do you know about current events in Seventh City?”

  “Not much. Did you just call to chat or is there something important you’d like to discuss?”

  Galen said, “I called you as a courtesy, before contacting your Factory Seven administrator to get information from him about the situation in Seventh City.”

  The GasAir President’s eyes lit up for a moment then went back to their half-open bored gaze. “Oh, that. Yes. Mobs have taken to the streets in protest of the recent police crackdown, I’ve heard. But it’s nothing to worry about.”

  Galen wanted to persist but saw that this guy would have to be met with in person. “I’ll come see you. How is tomorrow morning?”

  “I’ll pencil you in. And bring Karen; she knows where my office is.”

  The screen went black. Galen got up and told the Sergeant, “I’m leaving now.”

  The Sergeant obviously didn’t care but came out of the track anyway and said, “See you later, Smaj.”

  Galen walked back over to the ops center and waited at the entrance for a moment, not wanting to interrupt. The meeting was winding down, Sevin and Tad answering questions. Finally Tad was done and ended the discussion when he pointed at Galen and said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the Brigade Commandant.”

  The group stood at attention.

  Galen said, “You got what you came for. Dismissed!”

 
The crowd left the room. Galen stopped Karen and said, “We need to meet with the GasAir president tomorrow morning.”

  She said, “No problem, we’ll take my skimmer. I’ll swing by your tent and pick you up at 0700. By the way, what’s it about?”

  “I called him and tried to shake him down to pay us for getting rid of the zombies. He’s either too stupid to understand the problem or too shrewd to acknowledge it.”

  Karen winked, “I’ll stick it to him good, and he’ll wish he cut a deal with you by the time I’m through with him.”

  “Really. Now I suppose you’d like to handle negotiations with Mike the Director too.”

  Karen grinned, the corners of her mouth flat instead of up, her top row of teeth exposed. Not her usual grin. “You bet, and I can do that over the comms. Walk with me to my ALOC and we’ll take care of that right now.”

  “Just a minute, I need to review a public message.”

  Galen stood next to Tad, who still sat in the command chair. “Is that public service announcement ready?”

  “Yes,” said Tad. He put it on the full-D screen. “Here it is.”

  The view showed various scenes from fictional zombie vids, linked together, chosen for realism as determined by Sevin. Added in were clips from the local news broadcasts. The scenes played in the background of the narration, done by a female troop from the public affairs detachment. She had a husky contralto voice.

  “It is important to seek shelter from the zombies. For many of you the time for preparation has past but there are still some things you can do. In single family structures, barricade yourself in. If there is a second floor, go upstairs and destroy the stairs as you go up, and if possible, take a ladder with you so that you can get back down later. Store enough water and food to last three weeks; that is how long our rescue and relief efforts are expected to take.

  “In larger structures such as high-rise buildings, move to the higher floors and get control of the rooftops. Barricade the stairwells as you retreat upward. Again, ensure you have at least three weeks of food and water, as it will take us that long to provide relief. Even after the zombie threat has been neutralized, it may still be another week before we can provide enough relief supplies of food and water for all the survivors.

  “Zombies are people who died, then came back to life. They want to bite you, and if possible, eat your brain. They are attracted to motion and noise and can detect living humans through body heat and smell. Make no mistake; their primary motivation is to get a big, juicy bite of your flesh. The best protection is avoidance. However, if you are forced to stop them, the way to do that is by destroying their brain stem. A blow to the skull sufficient to crush it can put them down. Firearms also do the trick, if you shoot them in the head with a powerful enough weapon. Laser rifles and other energy weapons have limited effect, as they just burn through the head without necessarily destroying the brain stem, although when fired at the base of the zombie’s skull from behind they work quite well.

  “Most of the time, a person bitten by a zombie will turn into a zombie themselves. Generally the process takes twelve hours. They get sick, run a fever, go into a coma, die, and then arise as a zombie. But this is not always the case. If you know someone who was bitten by a zombie, clean and bandage their wound, tie them up in a safe area where they are no threat to you, and wait at least twelve hours to see if they have become a zombie. If they have become a zombie, put them down by smashing their head, sufficient to destroy the brain stem.

  “Finally a warning from us: After 0600 hours on Monday, do not be outside. Do not be out in the streets. That is when we will begin our sweep of your city to kill off the zombies, and we will engage all targets. Do not present yourself as a target that could easily be confused with a zombie. Stay off the streets, stay indoors and with God’s blessing you will survive this disaster.”

  Galen said, “Okay, that will do. Run it continuously. If you want to keep tweaking it and making minor improvements and edits as the situation evolves and we learn more about these particular zombies, that’s okay. Just get the word out.”

  Tad said, “Roger.”

  Galen walked with Karen to her dome and sat beside her as she sat at her flat screen and punched in the code for Mike. The call was answered by his administrative assistant, who put it through to Mike right away.

  “Hello Karen, Galen. What can I do for you?”

  Mike had a full head of hair and his face and his neck were not as thick as Galen had remembered. But, Galen hadn’t seen him for almost two months. “Good evening, Mike. Karen and I just want to discuss your problem with civil unrest in Seventh City.”

  Mike said, “Well I was thinking about calling you but I wasn’t sure what to say.”

  Karen said, “Mike, let’s call it like it is. Your youth serum has turned people into zombies. It is a complete disaster and EugeneX is going down hard.”

  Mike said, “I can’t disagree.”

  Karen said, “Did you take that serum?”

  Mike grinned. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. The first test subjects responded well after two weeks, so we expanded distribution. I got mine along with everyone else in the crater about four weeks ago, and I already feel younger and healthier.”

  Galen said, “Spill the beans.”

  Mike said, “It’s like this: about six weeks after the injection, give or take a couple of days, the test subject goes into a coma, dies, and comes back to life as a zombie. But if someone is bitten by a zombie, they go into a coma that same day, die, and come back as a zombie, all within twelve hours or less.”

  Karen gently nudged Galen away, out of the view of the sensor, then said, “Mike, how long have you got?”

  “Two weeks at best.”

  Karen said, “Now here is my problem. We want to put this thing down, but right now you still owe us the balance on this contract and we need to pay our troops for the job of taking out the zombies.”

  “Well I’m all out of money. Wish I could do more.”

  Karen said, “There is something you still have to offer.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “This planet.”

  Mike rubbed the top of his head then folded his arms. “That would…my superiors, they would…I just can’t do that.”

  Karen gave a nice, warm smile. “Mike, think about what you’re saying. Those egg heads aren’t going to come up with a cure, they never do. Your career is over, and it’s not even your fault. Whose wealth are you trying to protect? Some big shots who already own interstellar luxury yachts? Do the right thing, deed this planet over to the Jasmine Panzer Brigade and we’ll make sure this zombie outbreak gets eradicated. It’s the right decision. History will exonerate you.”

  “I…I just don’t know.”

  Karen gave an evil grimace. “Deed over this planet right now or I’ll tell your mother about that thing. I would send her a copy.”

  Mike’s jaw fell and his face went white. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Send a courier up to the top of the tunnel with the hard copy of the deed.”

  Mike said, “Very well.”

  Galen stepped back in front of the sensor. “Mike, one last thing: how many people in the crater took the youth serum?”

  “All of us, about four weeks ago.”

  Galen clenched his teeth and said, “If anything tries to fly out, drive out or climb out, it will get destroyed. You understand me?”

  “Yes, I understand. Uh, wait. The liaison, John Pedimore. He didn’t take it. He’s clean.”

  “Anyone else?” said Galen.

  Mike looked at a list. “Two security guards and the chief researcher.”

  Galen said, “Send the two guards and Pedimore with the title deed. We’ll keep them up here.”

  Mike said, “What about the chief researcher?”

  “Bite him first,” said Galen.

  “I understand.” The screen went black.

  “Karen, what was that about his mother?�
��

  Karen said, “He’s gay. Like every gay man, he’s deathly afraid his mother will find out. And I have a vid of him with two young men.”

  “After Sevin, you are the second most impressive person I know.”

  “You might promote me to most impressive after you see me deal with that fat slob over at GasAir.”

  Galen jerked his thumb toward the vestibule. “Let’s go to the top of the tunnel and get that title deed.”

  ***

  Next morning, Galen rode with Karen in her skimmer. The laser was secured in travel lock, the two of them riding alone for the four hundred kilometer ride to City Six to meet with the President, Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of GasAir Corporation. She followed the gravel road that ran alongside the organic fuel tap line and was able to keep the skimmer’s speed above 200 Ks most of the way. Galen hunched down in his seat to avoid the wind, going over notes and messages and reports on his personal communicator, taking advantage of the imminent departure of a jumpship to send a data burst of the current situation back to the Brigade’s board of directors, and a personal note for his mother. Mostly, he wanted to re-assure her that the Brigade and the entertainers and the managers she had sent from Ostreich were fine, in no real danger at all, and would return home as scheduled.

  City Six was neat, clean, organized and pleasant. It had the same basic layout and architecture as Seventh City, but was well-maintained. The median strip of the main boulevard had manicured landscaping, decorative flowers and trees planted in it. Other vehicles kept their distance from one another and their drivers seemed to be in no big hurry. Well-dressed citizens strolled along the sidewalks, small groups waiting at the crosswalks for the signal to change. The corporate headquarters for GasAir had a spacious parking garage under it, and Karen’s skill went unchallenged as she easily slid the skimmer into a wide parking spot.

  “We’re here,” she said.

  “Good. I think I like this town.”