The War for Profit Series Omnibus

by Gideon Fleisher

  They took the elevator to the top floor. A receptionist was right in front of the elevator’s exit and the entire floor was one big office. Surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows, the office was set on top of the building, the outside area of rooftop planted as a garden. One side was planted with small fruit and flowering trees, another side was decorative flowers and shrubs, another side was a vegetable and fruit garden, and the wall at the opposite end from the elevator was seeded as a lush grass lawn with four round umbrella tables on it.

  Karen said, “Hello, Mandy. He’s expecting us.”

  “Yes. He’s outside, behind his desk. Go right out.” She pointed toward the umbrella tables, where one large man sat alone, sipping from a ceramic cup.

  Galen led the way and opened the glass door for her, and then she sat right down in front of the GasAir President. Galen sat to her left. “Jake, this is Galen, my Commandant.”

  Jake stuck out his hand and Galen shook it. “I remember you from yesterday.”

  Galen said, “Well I’m glad to have this opportunity to visit. This is a very nice city you have here.”

  Jake said, “Well I do what I can. So Karen, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  “The terms of your lease; I’d like to make some changes.”

  “I thought we had a very compatible arrangement already.”

  Karen leaned forward and whispered, “Zombies.”

  “Oh, that. It is a nuisance that has to be dealt with. Civil authorities can contain it, I think.”

  “Or you wish,” said Karen. “They have a very poor record with this sort of thing.”

  “Yes.” Jake finished his drink. “And you can do better?”

  “Absolutely. But one more thing you need to know.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Karen handed him a copy of the title-deed for the planet. “We own it now.”

  Jake studied the document carefully. “If they gave you this, things must be worse than I thought.”

  “Yes. Now I know we don’t have time for a complicated, detailed agreement right now, and I know you want your best interest to coincide with our best interest, so let me make this as simple as possible.”

  “Simplicity is a wonderful thing.”

  Karen said, “We get twenty percent ownership of GasAir.”

  Jake laughed. “That’s absurd. Ten percent.”

  Karen said, “Twenty percent and a seat on your board.”

  Jake shook his head. “No.”

  “I can do this all day,” said Karen. “I want twenty percent plus a seat on the board, and five percent of the total float of your preferred stock.”

  Jake held up his right hand, palm forward, to signal Karen to stop. “I need time to think about this. Please.” He rested his chin in his palm, elbow on the table. “Okay, twenty percent ownership and that’s it.”

  Karen said, “You really don’t understand how this works. Now pay attention. We now get twenty percent ownership, a seat on the board and ten percent of the total float of preferred stock. Do you see where this is going?”

  Galen spoke, “I’d take it while it’s still cheap.”

  Karen shot Galen a dirty look.

  The GasAir President said, “Okay, you got me. Twenty percent ownership, a seat on the board, and ten percent of the total float of the preferred stock. Now what, may I ask, do I get in return?”

  Karen looked at Galen who said, “We get rid of the zombies, and you no longer have to make lease payments. That’s simple enough, I think.”

  Jake stood. “Let’s go inside and get the paperwork done. It won’t be but a couple of pages I’m sure.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sevin, Karen, Spike and Koa sat at the ops center table. Galen entered the ops center and took the command chair from Tad, who moved to take the seat to his immediate left. Galen said, “Okay, it has been three days and now we’re ready. Brief me one last time and we’ll get this thing done.”

  Koa said, “We have the area contained. The recon troop and cavalry squadron has been using satellite sensors to round up people leaving the city, and they have the civilians contained in a refugee camp fifty kilometers outside the objective are. They will be held for three weeks, to ensure they are not infected. So far, seven zombies have turned up in that group and have been put down and cremated, with as much dignity and respect as the situation allows. Overall, discipline in the camp has been maintained and I see no real problems. In the city, the zombie population has reached an estimated thirty percent, or sixty thousand zombies. As of an hour ago, there were still seventy four Legion troops trapped inside, hold up in the city’s court house. Their commander is wearing their one remaining battle armor suit, one they had tagged for repair when we kicked their asses.”

  Karen said, “Relief and medical supplies for eighty thousand people are on hand, and cities Eight and Six are prepared to provide for another forty thousand people, standing by for word from us that the threat has been eliminated before they move in.”

  Spike said, “During the battle I’ll be in my tank alongside Galen’s. Our initial concerns about the zombies in the crater are now under control. The engineer platoon is in there and has set up a crematorium, and they have the people organized by inoculation date so they can restrain them before they change, then put them down after they become zombies. They have also built a mausoleum so that the remains can be interred. Otherwise, the EugeneX people are under light guard and are being allowed to enjoy their last few days however they see fit. The downtown area has been very popular lately.”

  Tad said, “Our troops are in position to begin the initial assault. They are in a sleep plan cycle right now and will observe stand-to at 0530 hours. Basic load restrictions have been suspended and troops are carrying as much as three day’s ammo depending on their assigned duties.”

  Sevin said, “I’ll be leading a company of light tanks, a mobile reserve to support units that get in trouble. Stick to the plan and we’ll be fine. The biggest threat to our troops is their own humanity because they may stray from their duties for the sake of saving civilians, and although that is understandable, it can’t be allowed. The threat is real, zombies are dangerous. But compared to normal combat operations, this is definitely low-risk. Combat is a lot easier when the enemy doesn’t shoot back.”

  Galen said, “I’ll be in my tank monitoring the progress of the battle and along with the heavy tank company I’ll be centered behind the front line of troops, moving forward as a big chunk of insurance to guard against the unforeseeable. Don’t hesitate to ask me for help if you think you need it.” Galen stood, the staff stood. “Prepare to be challenged.”

  “Check!”

  Galen stepped away and Tad sat in the ops center command chair. Koa moved to sit at the Intelligence workstation. The other members of the staff left, and Galen walked over to his tank and climbed up on it and took his place in the cupola and checked his wrist chronometer: 0522 hours.

  He lowered his seat and closed the hatch and took the primary and auxiliary status screens off standby. He then put on his commo helmet and connected its spaghetti cord and listened in to radio checks throughout the Brigade as various teams, crews, squads, platoons and companies performed comms checks and reported their status to higher. Galen engaged his command filter, which he’d pre-programmed to give him comms with the TOC, the ALOC, Sevin, Spike and the three Battalion commanders. Spike had comms with the three subordinate platoons of the heavy tank company and would provide them with guidance during the battle.

  Galen heard the light tank battalion commander, “Targets to the front.”

  Galen switched his video feed. In the distance Seventh City stood to the West, dark, the tops of mountains behind it lit by the first rays of the rising sun. A closer look at the city showed four fires burning, a column of smoke rising above to make a flat layer of dark smog that hung about fifteen hundred meters above the tallest buildings. At ground level there were dark shapes moving as a mas
s, gradually closer with each stumbling step. Then laser fire from the light tanks, very precise, lanced out. Each shot went into a zombie neck, the aim being to burn out the brain stem. The mass of zombies continued to come closer to the tanks, the zombies attracted to the light and the noise, carelessly stepping over the bodies of fallen zombies.

  Closer they came, closing to a thousand meters, with no end in sight to the advancing mob of mindless, flesh-hungry creatures. The coaxial and cupola rail guns of the light tanks began selecting targets, firing short, well-aimed bursts. The gunners had to use standard optics, the auto-fire feature wouldn’t work against zombies; their body temperature too closely matched the air around them. Thermal sights, too, were useless.

  The infantry fighting vehicles pulled in between the line of tanks to answer the request of the tank battalion commander for their support, uncertain that his tanks alone could drop the targets fast enough to prevent them from reaching the line. The rail guns of the infantry carriers added much-needed firepower. At 0607 local time, the initial zombie charge had been put down, bodies strewn across the entire three kilometer width of the skirmish line, all the way back to the edge of the city three kilometers away. Some zombies had gotten within fifty meters of the tanks and IFVs.

  The troops in the IFVs dismounted and got on line and walked forward across the zombie bodies to ensure they were put down. An occasional rifle shot here and there showed they were doing their job. Then the troops withdrew and climbed back into the IFVs. The armored vehicles pivoted left and dove in a column to the South side of the city and repeated the process, the noise and the motion of the armored vehicles drawing zombies out of the city to the slaughter. After attacking all four sides, the Brigade moved back to their original position from that morning. The Brigade Support Battalion brought up ammo and hot chow for the troops, and they went back into a sleep plan cycle. At 1922 hours, day one of the operation was complete.

  Galen called up Tad. “Hey, you got those estimates?”

  Tad said, “It looks like about forty thousand; about twenty thousand to go.”

  “Well, we must have gotten most of the walkers. Tomorrow we’re clearing the suburbs, then during the days that follow, rooting out the ones who like to hide and bite people who come by. Getting them out of all those tall city buildings will be a pain in the ass.”

  Tad said, “Well, there are likely to be more now, the infection spreading and all that. The Legion holdouts got mobbed, so that’s the end of them. I still estimate four more days, and two days of evacuating survivors.”

  Galen said, “Any word from the crater?”

  “Still the same old thing, a bunch of EugeneX people enjoying their lives. One suicide, though. A guy jumped off the bridge into the lake. The engineers fished his body out, worried that he’d still turn into a zombie later even though he’d drowned. A lake with a zombie in it could be a real problem. It was kind of funny in a way, the troops using the lake’s recreation area paddleboats to go after the body. Now they have to keep all the EugeneX people away from the lake. But anyway, they shouldn’t start changing until next week. We’ll have Seventh City cleaned up by then.”

  “Roger.” Galen ended the transmission. To his gunner and diver he said, “Corporal Slaughter, Trooper Parks, sleep plan. Get me up for last shift before stand-to.”

  Then he removed his commo helmet, climbed out of the cupola and stretched out on the flat area behind the turret and let the heat rising from the fusion engine’s cooling system keep him warm as he slept.

  ***

  Trooper Parks shook his shoulder and said, “Good morning, Sergeant Major. Your shift.”

  “Roger.” Galen sat up and checked his wrist chronometer: 0325. He stretched, drank some water and then climbed into the cupola. He looked back and saw Parks stretched out, asleep already. Galen brought up his screens and looked through various status reports, looked at the unit positions on the battle map and then opened his personal account. No new messages.

  He ran diagnostics tests on all the tank’s systems; all systems nominal. Then a free text came across the screen from Tad: You up?

  Galen put on his commo helmet and called back over comms, “Yeah, I’m up. How’s it going in ops?”

  Tad said, “Same old thing. We had contact earlier, some civilians getting out of town. They ran toward us.”

  “They weren’t mistaken for zombies?”

  “The troops are using thermal overlays on their sights; they recognized them as not zombies.”

  Galen said, “Was that it?”

  “Well,” said Tad, “There were zombies following them. The people could run faster, but the zombies, returned to perfect youthful health before they changed, they can’t run but they sure can keep up a light jog. The people started getting tired, but the zombies just kept their pace and started closing the gap.”

  “So how did it end?”

  “I sent a platoon of light tanks forward, so they could fire from the flank, you know, so the people would be out of the line of fire. They did well, but I’m waiting for daylight before sending dismounts to check the kills. Oh, it was eight people who got out. I sent them to the refugee camp.”

  Galen smiled. “Glad to start the day with good news.”

  “Well good hunting today. Now it’s time to raise the rest of the net for staff call.”

  “Roger, standing by.”

  ***

  Galen stood high in his cupola and watched the action ahead as the heavy tank company followed the advance, spread out evenly, a hundred meters behind the skirmish line. He saw the dismounts clear each and every one of the single-family homes of the suburbs, the occasional small apartment complex, and he watched as the support battalion trucked away survivors, and watched as the chemical defense company used its decon equipment along with logistics’ water trucks to put out the occasional building fire. After a fire was out, a team wearing full combat suits sifted through the burnt remains of the structure to ensure there were no zombies.

  The Brigade made it to its Day Two phase line and called a halt. Galen looked at the time: 1917 hours. A long day.

  He called Tad. “Hey ops, I’m bored. You have a job for me tomorrow?”

  Tad said, “Give me time. We might have a slot open on the line. I’ll check.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tad called back, “There’s a squad leader slot open, dismounts, third platoon of Bravo Company, mechanized battalion. Their squad leader broke his ankle. But we have casualty replacements; they don’t really need you down there.”

  “Will it be too disruptive if I step in?”

  “No, not really. Their platoon leader is Chief Rodebaugh, you know him. And the squad knows its business.”

  “All right then.”

  Tad said, “There is one important detail you’re overlooking here, don’t you think?”

  “And what is that?” said Galen.

  “You, and you alone, are the Brigade commander. You belong right where you’re at, I don’t care how boring it is.”

  Galen thought about it. “Okay, I’ll stick with this job. The burdens of command and all that.”

  Spike’s voice cut in, “Damn right, Command Smaj. You step out of that slot to be a squad leader and I’ll assume command and bust you down to Troop, for dereliction of duty.”

  Galen laughed. Then he realized that’s exactly what Spike would do. “If I cease to be the commander, this Brigade could lose its charter.”

  Spike said, “That takes time. Before the bonding commission could do anything, I’m sure I could find an unemployed lieutenant with an inactive commission screwing off somewhere on this planet who’d like to stand up in your tank. Especially now that the Brigade owns this planet.”

  Tad said, “I forgot about that. Galen, you’re now a governor.”

  Galen said, “Yeah, Spike, you better watch it. I’m a planetary governor now. And not just any governor, but a military governor.”

  Spike laughed. “All hail the Lord M
aster Governor General of Fuente de la Juventud!”

  An un-enthusiastic, satirical chorus of, “all hail,” sounded. Galen realized it was a canned audio track. He laughed along with Tad and Spike.

  Sevin’s voice cut in. “Tomorrow the real test comes, clearing down town. Get your rest.”

  “Roger.” Galen took off his commo helmet and climbed out of the cupola and stretched out on the tank for another night short of sleep. At 0330 he was back up, seated in his cupola, pulling his share of watch for the tank crew’s sleep plan. Sunrise came at 0547, first light touching the peaks of the mountains behind the city. A small city, its population quickly cut down from two hundred thousand. Galen checked a status report. Sixty thousand zombies put down so far, an estimated twenty thousand remaining. Forty thousand survivors evacuated over the past two days. Seventh City was getting smaller.

  Some of the other air factory towns were larger. City Six had almost a million residents, with a total of five million residents in its district. Galen looked at the planet’s total population, eighty million, more than seventy percent of them living in rural areas. Most of them were homesteading dirt famers, livestock ranchers, and miners. More lived in towns and villages near the few scattered freshwater lakes and the rivers that drained from them into brackish inland seas. Five seas in all; small, but seas none the less. A perfect recruiting ground for more soldiers, for fresh troops. Galen thought about that, considered the possibilities.

  At 0600, Galen held staff call over his comms. “All right, who’s confused?”

  “Nobody,” said the mechanized infantry battalion commander.

  Galen said, “All right, go get ‘em.”

  Two material handler vehicles from the engineer platoon used their extended fork lift attachments with workstation safety cages installed to lift squads onto the roofs of buildings up to five stories high. The squads cleared the buildings from top to bottom, and then called medical forward to bring out the survivors. Galen watched on his screen, getting direct vid feed from one squad leader’s personal communicator. The squad first encountered two dozen people on the roof, and sent them down in two groups, using the material handler’s lift. Then they breeched the roof’s door with a pry bar and immediately smoked a mob of zombies that came out onto the roof. A count showed seventy four of them, put down with head shots. The team entered and checked each room on the top floor, pulling out a couple of people. The third floor, then the second floor, and finally the ground level, putting down zombies that hid in the corners, zombies that stood in the hallway, a zombie that scratched at an apartment door where there were survivors inside. In the basement were three more zombies and two victims who had been bitten, gnawed on, dead, but not yet changed. The squad leader restrained the bodies hand and foot, put duck tape over their mouths and brought them out of the building for medical to deal with.