The War for Profit Series Omnibus

by Gideon Fleisher

  Gilani pointed at Coyote, “I make a challenge. Kolah, to the death. I will kill him and we will all stay on Tumbler, the Acadians be damned.”

  I drew my side arm. Gilani’s deputy pointed his hunting rifle at me, at my chest. My body armor would protect me from the first shot, anyway. But I’d be on my back with the wind knocked out of me after that first shot. But I had my pistol pointed at his face. I squeezed the trigger a bit and the green pointing laser showed where my bullet would go: right into his neck. My five point seven millimeter hyper-velocity caseless wad cutter round would rip his whole neck away and separate his head from his body. And I had thirty two rounds in my magazine, enough to put down this whole council if need be.

  Coyote stepped forward. “My entire Clan is up there already and they aren’t coming back. Gilani, I care more about your people than you do. I’m willing to die for them, to improve their lives.”

  Gilani stepped forward. “You would turn your back on a way of life that has sustained our people for nearly fifteen hundred years. You are a fool.”

  “And you’re an asshole! Sure, life is great for you; you’re the big bad Chief! You get to tell people what to do all day and a different Clan gives you a new teen bride about every five years. You like things just the way they are but you don’t give a damn about the privation, the neglect and suffering of your people.”

  Gilani said, “Better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven.”

  Coyote drew his knife, his beefalo-skinning knife. A real toothpick, thirty centimeters long. He threw it at the ground and the blade stuck in the sod up to the hilt. “I accept your challenge!”

  Gilani threw down his knife to stick in the ground, but not as deep. His deputy lowered his weapon and I lowered mine, put it back in its holster. I raised my left hand. The Host stepped between Coyote and Gilani, pointed at me and said, “You. Speak.”

  I took a deep breath and puffed my chest. That’s what they all did before they spoke and I was just trying to fit in. “Clan Goran was wiped out, every man, woman and child, three days ago. This I know to be true, I was one of the killers.”

  The assembled Chiefs and Deputies looked at me. What was I supposed to do? Let Coyote fight to the death? If he won, fine. If he lost, the Task Force would have a rebellion of over seventy thousand Indigs blow up right in its face, and I’d be the first mercenary killed. Dead before I had a chance to warn my unit.

  The Host said, “We will wait.” He turned to his deputy. “Go find Andrede, his mother is from the Goran Clan.” He addressed the Chiefs again. “Andrede is the oldest surviving male heir of the Goran Clan. He will cast their vote.”

  The circle broke apart, the Chiefs stepping out of the circle of light cast by the work lamp. The sun was far down; it was dark. Coyote retrieved his knife and said to me, “I was going to kick his old ass up between his shoulders. He can’t fight.”

  I said, “My thoughts exactly. But he challenged you, knowing you would thump his melon in a fair fight. He’s got a trick up his sleeve; otherwise he’d never challenge you.”

  “You are wise. But this is none of your business. You have no right to interfere.”

  “Coyote, the moment you tapped me to be your Deputy it became my business.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and stared at me. Ungrateful bastard. I shoved my hands in my pants pockets and stared back. Then I stepped about five meters away and used my personal communicator to call Major D. He was unavailable so Major Deskavich answered.

  “What is it, Sergeant Slaughter?”

  “There’s an Indig council meeting in progress. Could be a problem.”

  “What?”

  “Sir, they’re tied on a vote and Coyote is about to fight to the death to decide the matter.”

  A long pause. “What matter?”

  “Whether or not they’ll move up to the Acadia. All or none decision.”

  “We’re ninety percent loaded on the drop boats. We’re in no position to fight. Get the hell out of there. We’re leaving as soon as possible.”

  “Sir, it’s Coyote.”

  I heard a deep sigh and then Major Deskavich said, “I’ll be right there. But in about five minutes it’s just you and me and one last drop boat. The rest of the unit is out of here.”

  “Yessir. I understand.”

  “Where the hell is this council meeting?”

  “Under the work light. Hundred meters from the tarmac.”

  “I see it. Three out.”

  I walked toward the tarmac and made out the silhouette of the Major approaching. I met him. “Sir, they’re finding some kid to cast a vote that will either uphold the tie and allow the challenge…”

  “Just tell me what I can do to help.”

  I pointed out Chief Gilani, standing in the light by his Deputy. “Sir, the old Chief who challenged Coyote can’t fight, so he’s obviously got a trick up his sleeve. We need to find a way to take that advantage away from him before he can use it.”

  He held up his night vision goggles. “I’ll make my way around the perimeter, see what I can detect. Damn magnetic field here makes these hard to use, but I’ll get close enough. What kind of fight?”

  “Unarmed, hand to hand. To the death.”

  “I’ll look for a boot knife or something on the old Chief.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  The Major put on his goggles and adjusted the settings. “Don’t thank me, thank your agent.” He strode off into the darkness.

  I made my way back to the council light and located Coyote. He said nothing, just faced the light and stared across it at Gilani.

  The Host stepped in below the light with a twelve year old boy by his side and said, “This is Andrede. He will cast the vote for the Goran Clan.”

  The Chiefs and Deputies reformed the circle. The Host said, “Coyote, you will speak your piece to the boy, followed by Gilani. Then he will cast his vote.”

  Coyote said, “This is no way to live. The future is up there.” He pointed to the sky, stepped back into the circle.

  Great speech, hero. Should have told the boy about vids and games and swimming pools and cake and ice cream. And girls, Acadian girls.

  Gilani stepped forward. “Young man, Chief of the Goran Clan, you know the heart of your people and their spirit runs through your veins. Move to the Acadia and you’ll never know the thrill of the hunt, never wear powered armor, never chase down a bull and break its neck with your own hands, something you must do to become a man according to our traditions. You could go to the Acadia, attend school every day, amuse yourself with luxuries, eat candy and never know what it means to cross the wasteland. If you fear these things you might as well dress up like a girl right now, because that is what you’ll become when you leave your home to live in space. Choose the harder right, not the easier wrong.”

  Gilani stepped back.

  Typical. Half the young men get killed trying to prove their manhood, that leaves more young women for the older men to enjoy. Pretty good scam.

  The boy stepped forward and said, “We will stay on Tumbler. No real man would abandon his home without a fight.” He turned and walked off into the darkness where his mother waited for him.

  Gilani flicked his knife to stick in the ground. So did Coyote. He stepped toward Gilani, Gilani toward him. I looked across the circle and saw Major Deskavich in the background. He shrugged, palms up. Nothing yet.

  Coyote moved forward, crouched, hands up and open. Kept his left foot forward, stepped carefully. Left foot forward a bit, drag the right foot up to the left heel, left foot forward some more. Gilani didn’t seem to care what happened, like he wanted to die. He casually walked forward, hands at his side, a smirk on his face. Coyote reached out with his left hand and snatched Gilani’s right forearm, easily. Too easy. Then it happened. Gilani brought his left knee right up into Coyote’s groin. Coyote fell on his right side, doubled up in pain. Gilani walked around to get behind Coyote, was about to wrap his arms around Coyote’s ne
ck from behind. Then the work light went out. Bits of glass and glowing pieces of filament fell. The Major had shot out the light with his suppressed side arm. I heard a thump and an oof, then a body dragged toward me. Me and the Major draped an arm around each of our necks, hooked our arms to make a seat and lifted, ran carrying Coyote to the remaining drop boat. We dashed up the cargo ramp.

  Major Deskavich yelled, “Pilot! Go! Go, damn you!”

  The ramp started to raise, the boat started moving. The ramp closed just moments before the boat left the ground. I strapped Coyote into a cargo bay seat, then myself. The Major climbed up to the cockpit. The boat angled up and blasted its way toward space. I hate riding in drop boat cargo bay seats.

  Coyote was feeling a little better. He said, “That old bastard cheated.”

  I looked into his eyes and said, “Jackass.”

  Chapter Twenty One

  I sat in my room on the transport ship wearing my suit, waiting. The Task Force wasn’t going anywhere, just sitting on the ship. Accelerating and decelerating around in a box pattern at one G. All the Indigs were in the safe zone. If a group left, we’d skid-drop in and pay them a visit. So far, so good. My personal communicator vibrated on my wrist. I looked. Let’s go.

  I stood, left my room and made my way down to the drop boat docking bay and walked toward the collar where Major Delagiacoma, Major Deskavich, Emily and Coyote waited.

  Major D said, “Hello, Sergeant Slaughter.”

  “Sir.” I rendered a proper hand salute, he returned it.

  Then he said, “I thought we both have to be in uniform to exchange salutes.” He and Major Deskavich wore full dress uniforms, glittering with military awards and decorations. Emily wore a long blue business pants suit. Coyote wore his suit. Like mine but all brown.

  “Yessir. Actually, we have to be outdoors as well. Unless reporting, or during a prescribed ceremony. It’s all very open to the situation, Sir.”

  He nodded. The docking collar opened and we entered and took our seats behind the pilot and co-pilot. Major D said, “This should go well. I think they understand the gravity of their situation.”

  The boat detached and headed for the Acadia. Coyote said, “It’s been interesting but I think we’ve worked out our differences.”

  Major Deskavich said, “They hand over what’s due and we’re out of here in a month.”

  Emily said, “Or sooner, if all the Indigs come up here before that.”

  Coyote said, “One can only hope.”

  Major D said, “I saw a movement South across the wasteland.”

  Coyote nodded. “Gilani and his clan. It makes no sense to me.”

  I said, “You two certainly don’t see things the same way.”

  Major Deskavich said, “They’re still within the prescribed longitudes. As long as they stay between them, I don’t care where they go.”

  The boat backed into the landing bay of the Acadia. We floated to the exit hole and climbed down the ladder and took the elevator down. Victor met us and we walked with him to the Government building, entered the domed legislative chamber and sat before the Governor. Coyote took his place among the Representatives. Two more Indig Chiefs sat to his left.

  The Governor banged his gavel. “This session will come to order.”

  The various Representatives looked up from what they were doing on their terminals, or cut conversations short, or quit picking at their nails, to sit facing toward us. The Governor said, “Welcome, Major Delagiacoma. Did I say that right?”

  Major D said, “Close enough, Governor.”

  “Then pardon my Standard. I believe we have worked out the details of the resolution of this contract dispute in good faith and all that remains is for this legislature to approve it. This hearing is little more than a formality for the official record.”

  The screens came on and displayed the official document of the settlement, several pages scrolling slowly. The Governor spoke, “Here we have the increase in original contract compensation from one hundred and thirteen tons of gold to four hundred and twenty tons of gold. The next page discusses the provision to make payment in kind with biologics in the form of seeds and embryos in stasis, for a variety of now-extinct species. That, and a good-faith payment to the families of the troops who died in battle of one hundred kilograms of silver, per troop. That, of course, will be paid in bullion. The next page describes the relationship between the Brigade and Acadia, an extension of home world status. Major, perhaps you cold explain that in your own words?”

  Major D stood. “Certainly, Governor. Ladies and gentlemen, what this provision means is the home world status of Mandarin will extend to Acadia. Many of our troops and leaders come from Ostreich, the home planet of the Galaxy’s mercenary industry. However, we also have a high number of volunteer professionals who join from our home world where our unit is headquartered. This provision means your young men and women will have the opportunity to enlist in our unit exclusively. To enlist in another unit, they would have to travel to that unit’s home world first. Also, people could come here and enlist in our unit. Furthermore, it would mean leaving a small detachment here on the Acadia to enlist and process applicants who wish to enlist. It would prevent any other mercenary organization from recruiting here. But most importantly, it would mean the Brigade, any of its personnel present on the Acadia or Tumbler, and any forces reasonably able, would come to the defense of Acadia if attacked. This part of the settlement can be struck out of the agreement but I do see it as a good faith gesture on my part, an olive branch to you, so that you do get something out of this settlement.”

  “Thank you, Major.” The governor gestured at the screens. “Here is the official transcript of the trial of our former Military Liaison and the part he played in the tragedy that befell the mercenaries, and an official apology from myself on behalf of the people of Acadia. The guilt has been determined, but the sentencing phase of that trial has not yet taken place. Is that a problem?”

  Major D said, “As much as I’d like to see that scoundrel suffer the insufferable, the terms of his sentence are of no consequence. The important thing was to assign blame outside the Brigade for the purpose of preserving the reputation of the unit, the officers and the troops. You can give him a slap on the wrist or have him drawn a quartered, just as long as he was found liable, accountable, and at fault.”

  The Governor said, “Very well. Representatives, are there any questions?”

  Silence. The Reps had all read the document. Some had participated in the negotiations that created it. And they all understood the consequences of not coming to a resolution. Ostracized from the rest of the Galaxy, up for grabs for whoever had the force necessary to take the Acadia from them. But as a recognized home world of a licensed and bonded mercenary unit in good standing, they were becoming part of the interstellar community.

  “Cast your votes.” The Governor looked at his terminal. “Vote is: twenty two for, one against. The motion carries. The settlement takes effect immediately.”

  “Thank you.” Major D stood, we all stood. “By your leave, Governor?”

  “Certainly.” He banged his gavel. We left, except for Coyote. The legislature had other items on the agenda and he was there as a representative, a voting member now. Each Clan that chose to move to the Acadia now had one voting seat.

  Victor met us on the steps of the Government building. I pointed across the street at the hotel and said, “Sir, you’ve got to try the chow here.”

  Major D raised his wrist and checked the time on his personal communicator. He shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

  Victor went with us and we sat together at an umbrella table on the balcony of the hotel restaurant. The air, the light, the food. Excellent. I sipped the tiny cup of coffee with desert, having learned from the last time. Major D burped. We stood and left, back to the elevator. I looked up. The sky. The clouds had a break in them and I could make out the vast expanse of land on the opposite side. Wide open nothing for now, und
eveloped. Woodland I guessed, by the darkness of the green. Hard to tell, it was more than two hundred kilometers above my head.

  Emily said, “What are you looking at?”

  “Heaven.”

  The elevator doors opened. We stepped inside. Acadia, I’ll miss you.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  A month passed. We still had a couple of weeks left on the contract, still hung out on the troop transport watching to see if any Indigs would dare leave the safe zone. Most of them had either moved to Acadia already or were making preparation to move, except for the Gilani Clan. They were still dicking around at the South Pole, the ice melting away. Soon they’d be sizzling like bacon in a pan if they didn’t do something. I left my room and headed to work, the temporary ops center for the Task Force, a corner of the rec room set aside for our use. I walked past the bay that housed some of the stasis pods and wished I were in one already, headed home. Some pods held troops wounded too badly for treatment aboard ship. Or just put in there to alleviate the workload of the ship’s medical staff. Either way, they were better off. Treatment back home would be much better. Some other pods held troops who were ‘exhibiting signs of combat stress.’ That really means they were unable to handle the dull routine of being cooped up on the ship and were acting like fools. But disciplinary problems take time and paperwork to process and that also leaves a skid mark on the troop’s record. Just stick ‘em in a stasis pod, problem solved.

  I arrived in the ops center. Captain Blythe was in charge of my eight-hour shift and Major D was there to supervise the shift change. Corporal Parks stood next to the ground monitor station and said, “I stood up a couple of minutes ago so the chair can cool off for you, just like you asked.”

  “Thanks.” I hate it when a chair is already warm. I sat.

  Major Deskavich shook hands with Captain Blythe. “All yours. Nothing going on.”

  “Good.” Captain Blythe sat.