The War for Profit Series Omnibus

by Gideon Fleisher

  The Stallion Battalion established checkpoints along the route, a tank and a squad of Capellan Space Marines set up along every kilometer. The Cavalry Squadron’s four Troops closed in and secured the objectives designated as the firing points for the Ajax guns. Mechanized and Light Tank Companies came in to re-enforce them, and then a company of Hercules tanks moved in to secure those areas and the Cavalry Troops set to the task of securing lines of communication all the way back to the Kyok Forest. The Hellcat tank battalion remained in the forest, keeping the route of egress open. Seemed silly under the circumstances, but Tad insisted. Galen and his task force now waited for the arrival of the five Ajax guns, waiting for the Mandarins to capture Guri so that the Ajax guns could be brought forward by rail.

  The Mosh were caught completely by surprise. Their units were hunkered down to wait out the solar storm. Resistance was spotty and ineffective. Without effective comms, reliable reports were slow to go up their chain. In a knee-jerk reaction, the Mosh High Chief ordered his independent armored corps into Guri. It came in from the west but arrived too late. Guri was already cut off by Mandarin forces and the Mosh independent armored corps was stopped at a river crossing more than fifteen kilometers away. A blocking force and harassment by Mandarin Interceptors prevented the Mosh from bridging the river. They were stuck.

  The Mandarin commander of forces surrounding Guri was a Field Marshall and had an Army Group at his disposal. He bolstered his outward-facing defenses, concerned about another push from the outside by Mosh forces. He assigned a mechanized infantry corps the task of taking Guri. That corps surrounded the city, conducted a general bombardment of key defensive positions, and then sent a representative to the Mosh commander to demand his surrender. The representative was decapitated by the Mosh, his headless corpse sent back.

  The Mandarins then probed the defenses for weak spots and found that the entire perimeter was lightly defended. Then a massed assault was turned back, the defending Mosh using a limited amount of indirect fire to weaken the attack. They also had a mobile reaction force to meet the attack head-on, with a small but fierce company of light tanks to hit the attack in the flank. The Mosh also made use of underground transportation and storm sewer tunnels to move forces around and established a crude landline phone system in the tunnels for communication.

  The Mosh defenders were little more than a light infantry division augmented by the garrison force of Guri and whatever stragglers had managed to retreat there. The Mosh commander made the most of limited resources and held on stubbornly. Three more Mandarin attacks were turned back and an all-out air attack by every available Mandarin Interceptor simply flew low over the city but could not locate any targets. In frustration, the Interceptors expended their rail gun rounds at random buildings and then returned to their base.

  Time was running out and the Mandarin Field Marshall made a final push to capture Guri, committing an armored division to back up the mechanized corps. Many tanks fell into traps and pits, were set ablaze. The tanks that moved slowly enough for infantry to clear their path were picked apart with Mosh indirect fires. Streets were blocked by falling buildings, cutting units in half. The Mandarins, the ones that still could, retreated. Staring fifty percent casualties in the face, the Mandarin Field Marshall decided to call off the attack and simply re-enforced the siege.

  His request for re-enforcements and more assault forces was sent up to High Command. Their response was to send out a field court that conducted a summary courts-marshal, formed a firing squad and executed the Field Marshall. The acting commander then ordered all his units to attack the town, to move into Guri all at once. It was a complete disaster for the Mandarins. When the blocking force in front of the Mosh independent armored corps left its position to join the attack on Guri, the Mosh independent armored corps crossed the river and came in to flank the entire attack, moving around it in a circular sweep.

  And then the solar storm ended earlier than expected. The storm ended a day early because the Mosh fleet had moved around and positioned itself between the sun and the planet and the ships expanded their shields and deployed chaff to temporarily block much of the energy of the solar flare from reaching the planet. The Mosh fighter-bombers were in the air again.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Galen sat up, the screens of his command suite coming to life with more data than he’d seen over the past two weeks. How long had he slept? Two days? The solar storm…

  The solar storm had ended a day sooner than expected; he’d only been asleep for three hours. He sorted through reports, statuses, shook his head. He then sent a text message to every element of his task force, “Retreat pending. Orders coming. Execution within the hour.”

  He then called Tad, “Hey three, you got a plan?”

  “Roger. Touching it up now, sending it out in a mike.”

  “Good. I think this op didn’t go so well.”

  Tad said, “Fucking indigs. Transmitting orders now.”

  Galen looked them over. “First in, last out.”

  “That’s why they pay us the big bucks.”

  Galen added his approval to the digital orders and forwarded them. He and the Command Group were the rear guard. Kitty bar the door.

  Unit markers for Mosh units began to show up on the battle maps. Fighter-bombers sought targets, strafed columns of retreating tanks. The less experienced pilots made straight runs, most of their rounds dusting the ground between the vehicles, scoring maybe two or three hits on a tank, rarely inflicting enough damage to disable the vehicle. The less experienced Mosh pilots also made themselves easy targets for Jasmine flak panzers, flying in straight lines.

  The more experienced Mosh fighter-bomber pilots approached from odd angels, constantly changing speed and altitude and direction, circling back and diving at a single vehicle, pouring enough fire into it to destroy it before peeling off. The better pilots also knew to run away like scalded dogs when Jasmine Interceptors arrived, to retreat back to their base and the protective umbrella of their own air defenses.

  Galen and the command group sat at the road intersection where the routes back from the four firing points converged. They waited until those units, the Light tank and Mechanized battalions, had withdrawn. Then the command group followed the main road, spread out on either side to present a harder target to air attack. The loss of vehicles to air attack was a nuisance so far. Six vehicles. Then Galen saw a large formation of fighter-bombers approaching. He ordered the troops in the Hercules and Stallion tanks to abandon their vehicles and walk back to the forest. The lighter vehicles were fast enough to get back to the forest in time. Galen looked at his own position. He and the command group had the farthest to walk, twenty five kilometers.

  As he climbed out of his tank, he noticed that the large formation of Mosh fighter-bombers was headed to Guri, to finish off what remained of the Mandarin army group. That group was trapped, cut off from retreat. Galen called the Helos and Marine assault boats forward to pick up troops and shuttle them back to the Jasmine Brigade compound, with Interceptor escort.

  Galen then had Bier park the Lion tank on a low bridge crossing a creek, parked the tank sideways across the road surface and turned the main gun toward the west and pulled the emergency destruct cord. He and his crew had time to walk a hundred and fifty meters before the Lion tank went into its death throes. First its electrical systems overloaded, the circuit breakers locked closed. Smoke from the electrical fires billowed from the open hatches. The relief valve for the fusion bottle popped, allowing the liquid hydrogen inside to escape as a gas, ignited into a tall flame by the electrical fires. The overcharged capacitors of the particle cannon burst in a brilliant white light. The turret lifted off and landed upside down ten meters away and the sudden loss of electrical power allowed the containment field of the reserve capacitors to collapse. The upper hull of the Lion tank lifted half a meter and the lower hull fell through the bridge, the force of its internal explosion enough to ruin the structure below
it.

  Trooper Bier watched, presented a proper hand salute to the dead tank, dropped it and executed an about-face and started walking along the road. Corporal Wine said, “It was fun while it lasted, sir. Firing the particle cannon, I mean.” He walked off briskly to catch up with Bier.

  Tad and Spike waited for Galen to catch up to them. They saw a Helo set down a short distance ahead and sprinted to it, climbed in with the rest of the dismounted command group and rode back to the Jasmine Panzer Brigade compound.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Galen entered his office and fired up the comms. The latest message from the Chancellor’s office was sent by his chief of staff. It simply said, “The Chancellor is dead. Died of a single, self-inflicted gunshot wound to his right temple.”

  Galen keyed his personal communicator. “Hey Colonel Baek, you there?”

  “Yessir.”

  “We’re leaving ASAP. How much space do you have on those assault boats?”

  “Enough. They’re on the tarmac outside the marshaling yard.”

  Galen thought for a moment. “Good. Tad, you catch that?”

  “Roger.” Tad’s voice was strained. “What happened?”

  “Why the rush?” Spike’s voice.

  Galen said, “The Chancellor is dead. Our obligations here have been met. It is time for extraction. Get out everybody we can get out in six hours or less. We need to get out of this system before that Mosh fleet can get back from blocking the solar storm. Also, the indigs at High Command will want us to stay here and get turned into dog meat while they skate off to Capella. Not acceptable.”

  Tad’s voice, “Roger, we’re moving on that now.”

  “Jasmine Six out.” Galen sat at his desk, shut off the comms gear. He then changed into a fresh, clean set of combat coveralls and hung his gun belt on the back of his chair. Leave it for the Mandarins, they would need it. He left his office and jogged across the quadrangle to the marshaling yard. Tad was there, directing the troops to leave their vehicles and move out to the tarmac on foot.

  Galen got his attention. “Hey ops daddy. Going well?”

  Tad shrugged. “Lift capability. We can get our troops out but their gear weighs too much.”

  Galen nodded. “Tell them to ground everything but boots and coveralls.”

  Tad said, “That’s about all we can manage. But it’ll still be tight. You have room for me on the command drop ship?”

  “Sure.” Galen smiled.

  “Okay. We’ll have to leave last so I can direct operations right up to the end.”

  “Sure. No problem.” Galen patted Tad on the shoulder and walked through the marshaling yard, past vehicles parked in somewhat sloppy rows. Beyond the yard was the tarmac and company-sized formations of Marines and Mercenaries formed up. They grounded their war gear and weapons and then marched off to board assault boats.

  They were packed in tight, standing room only. Galen looked back at the tarmac and saw several blocks of grounded gear from formations that had already prepared to depart. He then made his way over to this command jump ship and sat in the cockpit with the flight crew. The pilot said, “Welcome aboard, sir.”

  Galen said, “Won’t be long. Are you sure about the jump?”

  “We can do it. Won’t be easy, but it can be done.”

  Colonel Baek entered the cockpit and sat next to Galen, handed a slip of paper to the pilot. “The coordinates I promised you.”

  “Thanks.” The pilot began entering data and making calculations.

  Tad entered and said, “That’s about it, just two boats to go.”

  “Have a seat,” said Galen.

  Tad sat and fastened his seat belt, looked at his communicator screen. Beyond the chain-link fence of the marshaling yard was a mass of military-age Mandarin men. They pressed against it, a few climbing over. Here to get their hands on the gear left by the Marines and Mercenaries, most likely.

  The loadmaster called up to announce that the ramp was closed and the cargo secure. Tad nodded and the pilot ordered the assault boats to lift. They took off and headed for he coordinates of the pirate jump point provided by Colonel Baek. It was a longer flight, but Galen didn’t want to have to confront the Capellan Space Force at the conventional jump point. The Interceptors lifted off next, and then Galen’s jump ship followed last. Through the view port, Galen saw Mandarin men grabbing at the war gear on the ground. An organized group of uniformed soldiers marched in formation toward the military vehicles in the marshaling yard.

  The pilot arrived at the jump point and engaged the jump point generator. The assault boats moved toward it, made final adjustments to their vectors, and passed through one after the other. An indicator on the instrument panel of the command drop ship turned amber. The pilot shut down the jump point and said, “It’s not a problem, just have to let the generator cool for a couple of minutes.”

  The two dozen remaining assault boats and seventeen Interceptors waited. Galen said, “Can we get them all out on the next jump?”

  The pilot nodded. Then a mass of space shimmered and shifted and fourteen Mandarin Space Force stealth boats materialized in front of the command drop ship. The instrument panel received an encrypted hail. The pilot looked back at Galen.

  Galen said, “Answer it.”

  The pilot acknowledged the hail.

  “Mercenaries, this is Commander Chey. Requesting assistance.”

  Galen paused. He was staring at enough firepower to turn his little refugee caravan into less than an historical footnote. He cleared his throat and said, “What is the nature of your emergency?”

  “We ran out of chow three days ago and just today ran out of water. Can you give us anything, anything at all?”

  Galen looked at Tad, at the pilot. Colonel Baek shook his head. “We got nothing. We left supplies on the ground to make room for people.”

  Galen said, “We’ll give you passage to Capella. I’m sure they can help you out.”

  A long pause and then Commander Chey said, “Thank you, that will do.”

  “Stand by for eleven minutes. I’ll send you vector data.”

  “Standing by.” Commander Chey waited.

  The assault boats and Interceptors passed through the point, the pilot let the generator cool, sent vector data to the stealth boats, generated the point again to let them pass, then took the command drop ship through behind them.

  On the other side they were detected by a Capellan Confederation Space Force patrol. They sent a transport ship to their location. The boats and Interceptors docked and the personnel were sorted out. All the Capellan Space Marines re-boarded their assault boats for a ride to their home planet. The Mandarin Stealth Boats were taken by Capella, not permitted to return to Mandarin. That war was essentially over. The Capellan Space Force wasn’t in the business of sending its people to certain death.

  Galen sat in the lounge of the transport ship and sipped ale. Soon this ship would take his people to Juventud, the new home for what was left of the Jasmine Panzer Brigade. He sat and wondered abut the troops left behind. The dead, he could honor their service, their sacrifice. That was something he knew how to do, he had plenty of practice. But the ones captured by the Mosh, the ones taken prisoner. He could only guess at their fate and the thought of it churned his stomach.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Mike Stovall lay on his back under the quilt of his sturdy bed. It was in the loft of an A-frame resort getaway cabin in the mountains to the east of the Skeleton Desert on Mandarin. He slept naked, not much sense in getting dressed. He did have a bath robe and a pair of slippers by the door, something to wear if he wanted to leave his room. The sun was just coming up over the ridge of the mountains across the valley. He was Terran as a child, taken to grow up on Langston by his parents, enlisted in the Langston Legion, was discharged early for not being black enough…

  Moved to Capella and joined their Space Marines, became an assault boat pilot, became a Panzer Brigade Interceptor pilot, was shot dow
n and captured, held as a bondsman by the Mosh. His mission, at the request of his captors, was to impregnate as many Mosh women as possible during a Standard year. Their gene pool was getting stale; they needed an infusion of new blood. They could all pass for first cousins; the majority looked like brothers and sisters, and there were clones too.

  A knock came at the door. Inger was the house keeper, a young woman not yet ready for breeding. In her mid-teens, perhaps. She was one of the High Chief’s great-grand daughters. Stovall was certain that the intention was for him to marry her after his year of bondsmanship was over, an enticing bribe to get him to choose to remain with the Mosh instead of going home. She was pretty, super-cute.

  Stovall said, “Inger?”

  The door opened. “No. My name is Marpha.”

  Marpha was tall, blonde, full-figured, mid-thirties. She wore a shawl over her white peasant blouse, a red knee-length wool skirt, and sturdy black walking shoes. She removed her shawl and hung it on the coat rack by the door next to Stovall’s robe. Stovall eyed her ample cleavage. She approached the bed and pulled back the blanket, leaned over and fondled Stovall’s genitalia. She then stood up and reached under her skirt and removed her underwear, climbed onto the bed and straddled Stovall, enveloped him, rode and thrust. He climaxed, glanced at the clock. Six minutes this time, not too bad. She leaned forward and lay on him until her ragged breathing and fast pulse went back to a normal resting rate. She rolled off him, sat up, stood by the bed and slid her underwear back on, put her shawl back on and looked back and winked as she left the room.