The War for Profit Series Omnibus

by Gideon Fleisher

  “Well I can’t manage beyond ALOC, too much going on.”

  “He knows that. He’ll do a great job, as usual. And you know that makes you subordinate to him. If he bothers to tell you to do something that means it’s important so don’t hesitate.”

  Karen winked, “Sure thing, boss.”

  Galen finished his breakfast. “I need to borrow your skimmer.”

  She nodded. “I need it back by 1700 hours, to supervise shift changes.”

  “I’ll be back in time for lunch.” Galen stood, picked up his chow residue and carried it over to the chuck wagon dish return. He left the warehouse yard and found the skimmer parked out front and sat in the passenger seat. Karen’s gunner and driver came out soon after and took their positions. The Gunner was a Female Sergeant in every sense of the word. But the driver, even in field uniform, looked better suited to competing in pageants. Galen knew better, knew she was an outstanding driver who could make that skimmer do more than its designers ever thought possible. The driver said, “Where to first, sir?”

  “Let’s go out the south end of town and see what Chief Pescador is up to.”

  They rode on a cushion of air along the main boulevard of Hillsboro for six kilometers, waved through the checkpoints by the Legion soldiers stationed there. Then they left the city and traveled another kilometer to the southeast, cross-country, to where the Ajax tanks were lined up facing south. They fired a volley. Off in the distance, the rounds impacted and raised a cloud of thick, dark dust. Twenty seconds later the rumble of their explosions reached the firing line. The skimmer parked behind the tanks and Chief Pescador climbed out of his tank and stood by the passenger door of the skimmer.

  “Sir, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  Galen said, “Just coming out to see how you’re doing.”

  “Calibration, sir. We’re checking out all the characteristics of the various 175 millimeter rounds and getting them logged into the database.”

  “Glad to hear that. You ready for tomorrow?”

  Pescador said, “Tomorrow?”

  “Too soon?”

  Pescadores’s face brightened. “Oh, you mean to move out tomorrow. I’m ready for that, sir. We’re checking ballistics for the defensive guns of Batista City, simulating their capabilities. We’ve been ready.”

  Galen said, “So you’re actually just dicking off today.”

  “Uh, yessir. That’s about it.”

  “Thank you for your honesty. Get some rest and be at my op brief at 1800 hours in the TOC dome.”

  Pescador turned and yelled toward the tanks, “Cease fire, cease fire. Stow your gear and prepare to move off the firing line.” He then turned back to Galen. “I’ll be there, sir.”

  “Glad to hear that. Carry on.”

  The skimmer left that area and made its way around the western edge of the city to where the Light tank and Cav task force commander had her command post set up. The skimmer parked outside and Galen entered the track extension. Lieutenant Colonel Day was there, nibbling a piece of beef jerky while she studied the main display. Galen stood on her right side and placed his hand on her shoulder. She gave him a startled look and then smiled. “I wish you wouldn’t sneak up on me like that. Sir.”

  Galen lowered his hand. “You ready for tomorrow?”

  She nodded. “I’ll bring ‘em in for some rest. Training went well. We’re ready.”

  “Good. Op brief at 1800 hours in the TOC dome.”

  “Roger.”

  Galen left and the skimmer took him to the Legion’s area. At the entry control point there was a battle car parked facing out with a soldier on the gun and one in the driver’s seat. The driver dismounted and said, “Halt.”

  The skimmer stopped. The guard approached the passenger door and said, “Sir, you’ll have to dismount and ground guide that vehicle inside our perimeter.”

  Galen said, “How about if I park outside your perimeter for a few minutes?”

  “Yessir. You can walk in without the vehicle.”

  Galen shook his head, “How about this. How about you call Tribunus Tribula and tell him Colonel Raper is here at your guard post and he needs to come see me right away.”

  “Uh, yes sir.” The soldier turned away to make the call from his vehicle.

  “Soldier!” The soldier faced back toward Galen. “What’s your name?”

  “Munifex Stovall, sir!”

  “You’re doing a fine job, Stovall. Now go call Tribula.”

  “Yessir.”

  After about five minutes, Tribunus Tribula came out and stood beside the passenger door of the skimmer. “You wanted to see me?”

  Galen dismounted. “Let’s walk.” They strolled about fifty meters away. “I realize the importance of saving face in front of your men, but this is ridiculous.”

  “Colonel, they’re just following standard safety guidelines. I didn’t mean anything by it. All vehicle movements inside the perimeter require a ground guide. Legion SOP.”

  Galen took a deep breath and sighed and then said, “Okay, moving on to more important matters. Are you ready for tomorrow?”

  “Yes. During this war, between our campaign and the Northern Republic’s successes, the Batistian military can do nothing and their continued defeats should convince them of it. They have lost six great battles; we have captured six hundred and eight tanks and guns, nearly ten thousand stands of arms, made twenty thousand prisoners, have the greatest portion of their country and are fast advancing on their Capitol City which must be ours,—yet they refuse to negotiate terms!”

  “You know I want you to take the lead on this.”

  “Yes.” Tribula smiled.

  “I’m leaving Sevin back in Hillsboro. You’re it, you’re the lead. You’re in command of the frontal assaults. You take care of four objectives, one after the other, and then I’ll come forward with the Hercules battalion to lead the breach into the city itself.”

  “Colonel, this is what we do. Our unit is built on a doctrine that allows us to swarm fixed defenses. I assure you, we will succeed.”

  “I want to make sure you understand a very important detail. You are the one sticking your head in the lion’s mouth. You have access to full and unfettered support. Whatever you want, you got it. You’ll be in direct comms with supporting elements. I’ll be monitoring but the traffic doesn’t go through me and you won’t need my approval, for anything. Until your fourth objective is closed out, you’re the de facto commander of the assault force and everything supporting it. Do you understand what that entails?”

  “Yes, Colonel, I do.”

  Galen lowered his head and spoke quietly. “In every operation there comes a point where only the commander out front knows if it will succeed or not. The decision to retreat, that’s what I’m talking about. It’s better to make that call too soon rather than too late.” Galen locked eyes with Tribula. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “I do.”

  “Good. Op brief at 1800 in the TOC dome.”

  They walked back to the skimmer and Galen rode back to the ALOC in time for lunch with Karen. After lunch he toured the bone yard and watched mechanics and technicians work on getting salvageable vehicles pieced back together. The chief engineer pulled him aside and said, “Sir, you’ve got to see this.”

  She led him into her office and pulled two spools of insulated wire from her top desk drawer. She pointed at the one on the right. “This is wire from a store here in Hillsboro. It’s simple, common copper with vinyl insulation. This,” she picked up the second spool, “is from the Northern Republic. See how the metal is yellow?”

  Galen said, “Is it defective? An inferior product?”

  “Yes and no. It’s softer and less resilient than the copper, not as well suited to our repairs. But I tested to see what it’s made of. It’s thirty two times more dense than water, it’s more conductive and more malleable than copper.”

  “Are you saying you think that’s gold?”

/>   “Yessir, it’s gold. Apparently, gold is so plentiful in the Republic they use it in place of copper.”

  Galen considered the possibility. “They did give us a generous bid on this contract. They…” Galen shook his head.

  The Chief Engineer said, “What’s wrong, sir?”

  “It could be that this particular lot of wiring was part of some smuggling scheme gone wrong. Hold on to it, check all wiring that comes in, but not at the risk of the mission. Use the wire for repairs if you need too.”

  She said, “What about…”

  “Troops trying to stash it for themselves? Sure. Let your people know that we know, and that all the gold we scavenge is going into the kitty for the contract shares anyway. Let them know they don’t have to sneak around and hide their own little stashes. They’ll get their share.”

  “I suppose that helps, but gold fever is a strong emotion.”

  Galen nodded. “Maintain discipline but don’t wreck any careers. We’ll sort all this out when we get back to Mandarin. In the mean time, we have a war to win.”

  He left and then toured the hospital. Fifty four troops and soldiers healing up and expected to return to duty in less than four weeks. Another dozen, permanently disabled. Galen assured the disabled troops they’d be sent back to Bristol on the next convoy out. Then he went to his tank and checked his status screens and updated the data and sat on the turret and ate a field ration.

  Chapter Eighteen

  President General Theil wore full field gear to include body armor and faced a vid crew and removed his ground troop helmet and spoke. “People of Batista, as you can see I am alive and well. I will bring victory and honor to you all. It is my only desire to serve. To prove this, I now renounce my presidency and will accept, will serve as commander in chief under whatever President the people choose. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you all for your support.” He ended the statement with a curt bow.

  The vid crew shut off their gear and then took down the green curtain that had been hanging behind Theil. The smooth rock wall was near the entrance of an abandoned irrigation tunnel that now held the vehicles, equipment and personnel of a full armored division. It was located in the rugged mountains seventy eight kilometers northeast of Batista City. Theil stood at the tunnel entrance and looked out at the road that wound down into the broad valley below. The other end of the tunnel came out at a dry lake bed, the high mountain lake drained long ago by this very tunnel.

  General Rea’s skimmer approached and stopped just inside the tunnel. He dismounted and stood in front of Theil and saluted.

  Theil returned the salute and said, “So nice to see you again.”

  “Sir, they are preparing to march on our capitol. In the morning, most likely. We must deploy this reserve division to stop them.”

  Theil put his arm around Rea’s shoulders and led him out of the tunnel to a small patch of sand off the side of the road. Theil squatted down and Rea did as well. Theil drew a line in the sand with his finger. “This represents the National Road. Here is Hillsboro at the halfway point. At the end of this long road is Batista City. My plan is to send the division to Hillsboro, to take that city and leave the mercenaries without support, cut off from Bristol. You will lead that attack. Surround Hillsboro and put it under siege and that will draw the mercenaries back from our capitol. Then I will strike them from behind, with the forces I saved from the battle at the canyon. We’ll have them in a pincer and a trap and a hammer and an anvil, all in one great battle. We’ll annihilate them.”

  “The people, they will lose heart when the mercenaries enter their capitol.”

  “The people. Let me tell you what I know about people. Do you like water, General?”

  “It’s okay.” General Rea shrugged.

  “Of course. When a person has enough water, is not thirsty, water is okay, a secondary choice. But deny a person drink long enough, let them experience true thirst, and they will then prefer water over any other drink. They would turn down the finest whisky or Champaign just for a sip of water. Do you understand?”

  “Sir?”

  Theil stood, glared down at the sand. “Let the people have a taste of defeat, let the mercenaries take their precious capitol. Let the people swallow their pride and know what it means to be truly humiliated. And then we come out of nowhere and destroy their enemies and once again raise our flag over the nation of Batista, then they will worship us as their Gods!”

  Rea stood. “Brilliant!”

  “Yes it is. Now take command of this division and on the same day the mercenaries march into our capitol, you put Hillsboro under siege. I’ll be along at about the same time as the mercenaries and we’ll have a victory the people will never forget!”

  They walked back up to the tunnel entrance and General Rea mounted his skimmer and rode slowly into the tunnel, the vehicles of the Division parked along each wall. Theil went to his own skimmer and stood. His driver and gunner helped him remove his field gear and stowed it in the skimmer and Theil put on his peaked Commander’s cap and strapped on his ornate gun belt and sat in the passenger seat. Theil’s command skimmer left the tunnel and sped off to the location where Theil’s heavy brigade combat team was hiding, a narrow box canyon at the foot of the mountains fifty kilometers north of Hillsboro.

  ***

  At 0400 hours in the morning, Sevin stood beside Karen at the side of the National Road near the exit point and watched the units leave Hillsboro. First was the reconstituted recon troop, followed by Legion battle cars intermixed with light tanks and infantry fighting vehicles. When Tribula’s command skimmer went by, Sevin turned to Karen and said, “I hope that jackhole knows what he’s doing.”

  Karen said, “You’re just upset about being left behind.”

  Sevin said, “You better believe it. But we’re vulnerable here and I’m pretty sure Theil has that figured out.”

  “Well I’d feel a whole lot better if our supply route had more security.”

  “Can’t spare the forces.”

  “I know. After we take their capitol, the supply lines will be too long to maintain. I hope the Bastards give up after that.”

  Sevin said, “I called the Northern Republic navy about an hour ago.”

  “What for?”

  “I asked them if they had any spare troops who could come up here and occupy Hillsboro.”

  Karen said, “What? Does Galen know about this?”

  Sevin shrugged. “He was busy. Anyway, now is not the time to bug him about it.”

  “I see.”

  Sevin said, “I’ve been given the job of securing this city. I can’t do it with the forces we have. I called up the Navy and asked for help.”

  Karen waved at a Stallion tank as it went by. “What did they say?”

  “I talked with Admiral Scott. He’s sending a brigade of his Marines.”

  Karen said, “That should do it. When will they arrive?”

  “Three days. If you want to send some trucks back to Bristol, I’m sure the Marines would agree to escort them back here with them.” Sevin smiled.

  “Don’t tell me how to do my job.”

  Sevin waved as the Cav squadron commander rode by in his command skimmer. “I’ll stay out of your business as much as you stay out of mine.”

  “You have a deal.”

  The Ajax tanks rolled by. Sevin gave them a proper hand salute.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The remnants of Delta troop were attached to Pescador’s Ajax tank platoon: a light tank and two infantry fighting vehicles, along with a troop to ride in each Ajax as a manual loader. Pescador pulled away from the main body of the Brigade and headed northwest to find higher ground from which to fire. Four ammo trucks joined his group.

  The city’s defenses were designed to engage attacking land units. The range and firepower of the defensive guns outclassed even the Hercules heavy tanks. But Pescador wasn’t worried. His Ajax tanks outclassed them. The only guns in Batista that could outshoot hi
m were the space guns, but their plasma and laser cannons couldn’t aim low enough to hit him.

  His team met a bridge across a gully. The light tank, the two IFVs, the four ammo trucks drove across and waited. The Ajax tanks were too wide for the bridge. Pescador dismounted and walked across the bridge and then to the right, waved at his tank. It pulled up to the right of the bridge and paused. Pescador engaged his commo helmet and spoke to this crew, “Gunner, loader, dismount and walk over to this side. Driver, disengage your rear lifters.”

  “Roger.”

  “Pull forward, slow and easy.” Pescador watched, gave the signal to come forward with both hands. The tank eased forward, its center of gravity shifted to the rear. It stayed level, didn’t start to tip until the second to last road wheel was at the far edge. But that was okay, because the second to the front road wheel was halfway over the near edge of the gully. Pescador said, “Driver, engage your rear lifters.”

  “Roger.” The tank spanned the gully but looked stuck.

  “Now, disengage your front lifters.”

  “Roger.” The tank’s rear rose a bit.

  “Come forward.” Pescador waited until the rear road wheel of the tank was past the near edge of the gully. “Engage your front lifters, pull ahead fifty meters and park.”

  The driver parked and the gunner and loader got back in the tank. Pescador stood there and repeated the process and ground guided the other four Ajax tanks across the gully.

  A little farther along the narrow road, the light tank’s sensors pinged an enemy observation bunker around the next hill, up a draw about a hundred meters. Pescador said, “I got this.”

  His tank moved to the lead, turned its turret to the half-right. Any farther and the gun muzzle would scrape the side of the hill. “Loader, four bags of scrap.”

  The loader reached down to the floor of the turret and lifted four sandbags full of scrap metal into the open breach. The magnetic field held them in place. He closed the breach. “Up.”

  “Driver, ease forward.”

  As the bow of the tank made its way past the edge of the hill, machine gun fire from the bunker sent bullets to ping off the armor of the Ajax. “Easy, to the right as you move ahead.”