The War for Profit Series Omnibus
Page 98
Inger entered and used a hot washcloth to wipe his groin. He sat up and pulled his quilt up to his waist. Inger sat a breakfast tray across his lap. Pork chops, fried eggs and a tall glass of cold milk. Breakfast. Stovall said, “Thank you, Inger.”
Inger curtsied and left, a blush on her cheeks.
He turned on the vid and watched a news show about events from the day before. The conquest was complete. The last Mandarin offensive campaign was crushed and the victorious Mosh were rooting out the last tiny pockets of resistance in the capitol city of Mandarin itself. In the background of some of the combat footage, Stovall recognized the buildings of the Jasmine Panzer Brigade. The news reported that the mercenaries managed to flee but had left their equipment behind for the Mandarins to use.
Stovall stared. So that’s how it ends. Maybe he would settle here with the Mosh. He’d be a land owner, head of a household and a member of the ruling elite. If he went home he’d be starting from scratch at the very bottom of society. Anyway, where was home, he wondered. Maybe this was it. So far so good.
***
Galen’s command jump ship landed at the spaceport on Juventud and backed into a hangar. He and the other members of the command group strode down the cargo ramp toward a collection of friends and family there to greet them. Galen recognized Karen and angled toward her. The boys were at her side and charged forward to hug him, stopped him in his tracks. Karen stepped from the crowd and Galen noticed her distended belly. The boys stepped aside and she wrapped her arms around him and he kissed her full on the lips. They broke off the kiss and she said, “Welcome home, Mister.”
Galen stepped back and looked her up and down. “Good news?”
She patted her belly. “It’s a girl, due next month.”
Galen hugged her again and their boys followed them out the back door of the hanger where a taxi waited to take them to their hotel.
Next morning, the senior leaders of the Brigade met with the board of directors in the hotel conference room. The Chairman cleared his throat and said, “First order of business is a vote to disband the Jasmine Panzer Brigade. After careful consideration, I’ve decided that this is the best course of action for all involved. All in favor?”
The board members all raise their hands.
“Unanimous. Good. Now that’s settled, Mister Raper, what are your plans?”
Galen said, “I’m taking an instructor position at the Ostwind Armor Academy on Osterich.”
The Chairman said, “Good choice. The rest of you, go around the table and tell us what you have planned.”
Marjorie Polar said, “I’m a year and a half out from retirement. I’m going to Fairgotten to serve with General Sevin long enough to finish my twenty.”
“Me too,” said Spike. “Going to serve with Sevin.”
Tad said, “I’m staying here on Juventud, planetary defense operations chief.”
The Chairman said, “General Sevin will take anyone from the Brigade who wants to serve with him. Otherwise, the troops are hereby released from their contracts. If there is nothing else, this meeting is over.”
The Chairman stood and they all stood along with him and made their way out of the room.
***
The Mosh High Chief stood in the press box of the stadium in downtown Mandarin City and spoke using the sound system. “Good people of Mandarin, it is good, to serve the Mosh.”
Nearly sixty thousand Mandarins filled the seats of the stadium. An omnidirectional hologram hung high in the air above the athletic field. It was not three dimensional but did give a projection that seemed oriented directly to the viewer no matter what angle it was viewed from. The High Chief’s face filled that screen. A procession of civilians entered the stadium from beneath the press box. A long line of men and women, young and old. Some well-dressed, some overdressed in tacky socialite gear, others wearing conservative business attire. Fat, skinny, a real slice of humanity but for one important distinction: they all had an aloof, superior, and generally annoyed demeanor.
After the group filed in under Mosh warrior escort, the High Chief announced, “What you see before you are your old masters, the five hundred people who were the wealthiest and most powerful citizens of Mandarin. Notice that not a single one of them suffered injury or death. They, however, sent millions of Mandarins to die on the field of battle to protect their wealth and power from my invasion. I lost many good friends, relatives, even one of my two sons were killed. But that was my responsibility and I ask no sympathy from you, the people of Mandarin.
“I do point out, however, that each and every one of these people had contacted me or one of my Chiefs, negotiating with us, your enemy at the time, begging us to allow them to keep some of their wealth and power, to preserve their lives of wealth and privilege after our victory was complete. They offered to assist us in our conquest in exchange for our favor, and at the very same time they were sending millions of you to your deaths. This is a crime and will be punished.”
The Mosh warrior escorts left the field and the five hundred Mandarins on the field looked around and spread out into little groups of two and three. Hands on hips or arms folded, displeased and bored. The guards locked the gate behind them. At the far end of the field, a group of thirty one Mosh men entered wearing simple olive drab coveralls and leather work boots. They were unarmed.
The High Chief announced, “Now entering the stadium are Mosh warriors accused of cowardice. No one can know what is truly in the heart of another warrior. What may look like cowardice to an observer might actually be discretion and valor. For this reason, these warriors have been granted trial by combat, the chance to prove their accusers wrong.”
The civilians on the field meandered to encircle the warriors, to get a good vantage point to view this trial by combat. The High Chief announced, “Let the trial begin!”
The Mosh warriors each grabbed a civilian, pushed them face down and then wrenched their necks. They then began bare handedly killing the civilians on the field. The civilians soon realized the combat was not for their entertainment, but for their own execution.
The crowd cheered, roared, and applauded the more interesting kills. A clump of business executives ran to the far wall from the killing and gestured wildly for their comrades to give them a hand up so they could escape over the wall, while the business executives near them suggested they should be lifted out first. This side-show continued while the business executives vainly tried to convince the others to form their hands into stirrups to help them out over the wall.
The Mosh tried more interesting moves, caught up in the applause of the crowd. They truly wanted to put on a good show. One Mosh warrior grabbed the necks of two obese women and cracked their heads together several times until one of them burst, then put the boots to the other’s head until it split open as well. A pair of Mosh teamed up, the first one doing rolling tackles to knock civilians off their feet, the second one following along to stomp their necks to kill them.
Soon there were less than twenty civilians left alive on the field. Half a dozen Mosh kept their distance, injured in one way or another. Dislocated joints, sprains, and one seemed to have a broken leg.
The last of the civilians stood their ground. Business executives, for the most part. The Mosh set upon them individually, wrestled and grappled for a few seconds to entertain the crowd, then broke the necks of their opponents and stood and brushed themselves off. All but one. One Mosh warrior lay on the ground, his limbs contorted into impossible positions, his head turned backward. A gray-haired business executive stood over the body, raised his balled fists and looked up and let out a bellowing scream. He was the last civilian standing.
The uninjured Mosh formed up in two rows of ten and moved slowly toward the old business executive. He managed a solid kick to the face of one warrior, a vicious punch to the neck of another, was pushed to the ground and smothered by a pile of Mosh warriors who waited a full two minutes before untangling the dog pile to see if their i
ntended victim were dead. He was. His hands were in a death grip around the throat of a Mosh warrior who had died along with him.
The surviving Mosh faced the press box.
The High Chief announced, “You have proven yourselves worthy and are granted all the rights and privileges of being my adopted sons. Your accusers acted in good faith, reporting what they perceived as cowardice. I bear them no ill will. However, from this day forward, beware any fool who accuses you of cowardice again.”
The screen shut off. The Mosh High Chief shut off the sound system and said to his son, “That didn’t go quite the way I expected.”
His son said, “Even our least worthy warriors understand the importance of teamwork. The wealthy elites, they were selfish. They believed it was beneath them to help one another. That is why five hundred of them were no match for thirty one of our least worthy warriors.”
The High Chief said, “And I have gained twenty nine sons because of it. They will fill bureaucratic offices in my lodge. All is well.”
The End