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Captain Page 13

by Rick Shelley


  The groups of officers started to march toward each other, at about half a normal marching pace. When the two commanders were six feet apart, both groups of officers were halted.

  j-"I am Lieutenant Colonel Hiram Black, commanding 128 IICK SHELLEY

  2nd Battalion, 7th Regiment, Dirigent Mercenary Corps," Black announced. He had the visor of his helmet lifted.

  "Major Anthony Esterling, commanding 2nd Volunteer Expeditionary Detachment, Aldrin East Defense Force," the other commander said.

  Second detachment, Lon noted. / wonder where the first is. Were they the people we fought in the mountains? Or are they somewhere else, waiting for their shot at us?

  "Colonel Black, when I spoke with you before, I indicated that I would only surrender my men, and the town that I was charged to defend, to you and your men. At this point, I wish to commit my men, and my civilian charges—men, women, and children—to your protection.

  We believe that we can trust you to act honorably and to protect us against drastic reprisals by the enemies of our people. The honorable reputation of the Dirigent Mercenary Corps is well known. Will you accept our surrender under that condition, sir?''

  Lon blinked quickly several times. Was all this worked out in advance? He wanted, desperately, to see how the people from Aldrin West were reacting to Major Ester-ling's speech, but he was at attention, and the Westers weren't in his field of vision.

  Colonel Black did not hesitate long enough for those civilians to object. "I will, Major Esterling. I promise you and the town of Hope that you will remain under the protection of the Dirigent Mercenary Corps until suitable guarantees for your safety can be arranged between the governments here."

  That's done it, Lon thought. He's put the Corps right in the middle, between the colonies, right where the Council wanted us. He had to confer with Colonel Flowers first. Black wouldn't have dared to do this on his own. Lon's desire to look toward the Westers grew.

  "Colonel Black." The voice was unfamiliar and came from the side. Lon knew that it had to be one of the civilians. "Could I speak with you for a moment?" There was command rather than request in the tone of voice.

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  Colonel Black did not turn. Instead, he spoke to Major Esterling again.

  "You have my assurances, Major," he said. "If you will excuse me for a moment?"

  Esterling nodded, a minimal gesture.

  Black executed a sharp "left face" and strode to the Westers. Now Lon did permit himself to glance that way, almost surreptitiously. The leader of the Wester delegation took Black by the arm and walked him farther from eavesdropping ears. Lon brought his gaze back to the front, so he could not see what was going on, but Colonel Black had left open his radio circuit, so Lon—and the other DMC officers—could hear everything.

  "You had no right to make those promises to these people," the civilian said, his voice low and controlled but obviously angry. "You were ordered to accept their surrender only, without terms, to place them under our control, to allow the government of Aldrin West to assume its proper and legal sovereignty over this territory. Your have exceeded your authority."

  "I beg to differ, sir," Colonel Black replied, his voice showing no emotion at all. "I do not take orders from you or from anyone else in your government. My orders come from Colonel Flowers, and I was acting within the scope of those orders."

  "Your promises are invalid. The government of Aldrin West will not honor them."

  ' "The Dirigent Mercenary Corps does not count on your government honoring the promises made by it, sir. We honor our own promises. I will repeat, sir, so there can be no misunderstanding. The Dirigent Mercenary Corps will honor the promises I made to Major Esterling and the people of Hope."

  "We shall see about that. Colonel," the civilian—Lon did not know the name of any of the government people— said. His voice was so tight with anger that he seemed to have difficulty getting the words out without sputtering. We shall," Black agreed. "Now, if I may return to Esterling? We still have to make arrangements for 130

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  the disposition of things here, and to arrange accommodations for you and your people."

  The civilian did not respond, but Colonel Black had not waited for permission. He returned to the commander of East's soldiers in Hope.

  "You have my word, Major," Black said. "And the word of my commander, Colonel Medwin Flowers, the senior DMC officer on Aldrin. If necessary, the entire Corps will support our promises to you and to the people of Hope." Black spoke loud enough to make certain the Westers could also hear him.

  Both commanders put their men at parade rest, then resumed talking, more softly. Lon was surprised that the commanders were touching on each of the main points instead of leaving those arrangements to their staffs. After a few minutes the soldiers on both sides were given the "at ease" order, and Lon relaxed a little more. Now he could look over to where the Westers stood, still apart, in a tight group, turned inward, discussing the situation among themselves. While Lon watched, the leader of the Westers took out a small radio and started talking into it.

  Getting new instructions, Lon thought. They're not a happy lot, and their bosses won't be happy either. A few minutes more and Colonel Flowers will be getting his ear bent. There won't be any ' 'on completion'' bonuses voted for us here.

  He listened, but without full attention, to the discussions taking place a few steps in front of him. Details. Surrendered weapons would be under DMC control. East's soldiers would return to their barracks, once they had been inspected to make certain there were no munitions, and allowed then- freedom within the settlement. The battalion of mercenaries would remain, for the present, in and around Hope, and would act as a buffer between the residents and the representatives of West. The local civilian government would continue to function until mutually acceptable arrangements could be made between the leaders of the two colonies. And so forth. Lon paid close attention only when the talk turned to living arrangements for his battalion. They would be quartered in sep-CMTJUN

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  arate locations, close in, a company at each site. Tents would be flown in. Local facilities for water would be extended to provide the basic amenities.

  Apart from that, Lon concentrated on the civilians from West. He could not hear what they were saying, even when he adjusted the gain on the microphone on the left side of his helmet, but he could see their agitation. He realized that the consternation of the Wester delegation could translate to difficulty for the regiment, but it was too soon to worry. Cooler heads would almost certainly prevail. West could not afford to dare the wrath of the DMC.

  And any attack on 7th Regiment would guarantee massive reprisals.

  The talk between the two commanding officers had gone on for more than a half hour before Major Esterling said, "Have I your permission to dismiss my troops, Colonel?"

  "Of course, Major." Colonel Black nodded. A platoon from Bravo Company, summoned near the start of the discussion, had already inspected the barracks and nearby buildings.

  Lon assumed that their report had reached the colonel, but Lon had not heard what it was.

  Major Esterling saluted and, after Colonel Black returned it, turned to face his soldiers and dismissed the formation.

  Colonel Black turned to face the officers he had assembled. "Very well, gentlemen," he said softly. "Company officers, return to your men. You'll have detailed orders within the half hour.

  Captain Orlis, I'll want your company to remain here for the present. Your job is to guard the weapons that have been surrendered until we get floaters in to take them to the shuttles for transfer to Long Snake."

  Captain Orlis said "Yes, sir" and saluted. Then Orlis gestured to Lon and they started back to their men.

  We could be here a while, Lon thought. / hope this is Qfjiot as it gets. It wasn't only the temperature he was thinking of.

  Doe platoon stood guard directly over the captured weapons in the center of
the plaza, out in the sun, with Captain Orlis's promise that no one would have more than fifteen minutes at a time. The rest of the company moved into the minimal shade of the buildings on the western side of the plaza. It was not long enough after noon for the shadows to extend far, but even a little protection from the sun helped.

  The first platoon to draw the duty, one of Carl Hoper's, started an inventory, and made sure that all of the surrendered weapons were unloaded. The inventory and examination were finished by Lon's third platoon, which drew the second shift.

  "Looks like not more'n a third of these rifles have been fired recently," Tebba told Lon afterward. All that remained was to wait for transportation to move the weapons to the shuttles. "I doubt many men cleaned their weapons for the surrender."

  "Don't complain, Tebba," Lon said. "Would you rather have had them all firing this morning?"

  "That's not the point, Lieutenant," Girana said in his "explaining" voice. "The point is, they could have put up a lot better defense than they did. And some of the magazines I looked at were only two or three rounds short of full. They could have made it one bloody fight if they'd had the heart for it."

  Lon nodded slowly. "The regulars we faced in the mountains put more into their work. These people..." He turned through a circle. More people were visible, but 133

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  most still kept as much distance as they could between themselves and the mercenaries.

  "Maybe they'd have fought to the last man if it was Wester soldiers comin' in 'stead of us,"

  Girana suggested.

  "Good thinking, Tebba. I hadn't gotten around to looking gift horses in the mouth. I'll pass your observation along. It might help the colonel deal with both sides."

  Lon walked to where Captain Orlis was sitting, in the shade, and reported what Girana had said, careful to attribute the observation properly. Orlis nodded, then passed the report along, with its source, to Colonel Black. The Corps made a fetish of encouraging everyone to offer suggestions, and recognizing those contributions.

  "The colonel says to give Girana a 'well done,' " the captain said after completing his call. "I guess no one else had thought of it yet. He's going to pass it along to Colonel Flowers and the contract officers."

  "I'll tell Tebba," Lon said.

  "Better yet, we'll both go, and I'll tell him."

  A switchover was being made. Third platoon was being relieved by second. The captain

  and Lon did not wait for the platoon to move into the shade, but met them in the center of the plaza. When Orlis gave Girana Colonel Black's commendation, Tebba looked almost embarrassed.

  "Thank you, sir," he said. "It was just a thought that came to me when I saw the condition of those rifles."

  Orlis shook his head. "An astute observation, and something that might never have occurred to the higher-ups if someone on the scene hadn't looked and done some thinking."

  Third platoon moved into the shade. A few minutes later, two small trucks arrived, driven by men from one of the other companies in the battalion. Second platoon loaded the weapons and boxes of ammunition in the trucks and—except for one squad sent along to do the unloading at the other end—watched as the vehicles left, then moved out of the sun.

  "When the trucks come back," Captain Orlis told Lon, CAPTAIN

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  "they should have our tents. Our bivouac area will be in the direction of the shuttles, just past the edge of town, near that stand of trees." He pointed. The tops of the trees could just be seen over the intervening buildings. "The locals are extruding pipes to carry water out to the site. We should have that in place and running by sunset if everything goes right."

  "Does it ever?" Lon asked.

  "Once in a while, Nolan," Orlis said. "Like this morning."

  The work of establishing camp was almost finished by sunset. Lon was with Captain Orlis, Lieutenant Hoper, and the cadet, O'Fallon, in front of the company command post. Colonel Black was holding an officers' call by radio, briefing them on the events of the day.

  "Aldrin West is raising holy hell over my promises to the locals," Black said at the start.

  "Colonel Flowers and I anticipated that. It does mean that we have to be especially vigilant here, as much against the remote possibility that our employers might try something, ah, inappropriate, as against the theoretically greater chance that the locals, particularly the militia, might not regard the surrender as binding on them.

  "The representatives of West chose to return to their shuttle and stay there rather than in Hope, at least for tonight. Bravo Company has one platoon with our shuttles to provide security. Against any eventuality," Black added.

  "I want everyone else to maintain tight security around the camps. We'll run squad-strength patrols in and around Hope through the night. We'll set up a schedule, drawing squads from each company but Bravo, since they've got one platoon detached. I want the patrols commanded by platoon sergeants. They are to avoid any confrontations with the locals if possible. The guiding word is still 'restraint' I want open eyes and ears. Tell your men to look at everything, but not to interfere with the locals unless ttwft {xesent an immediate hazard."

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  There were a few questions about details of the orders for the patrols, but nothing critical.

  "I can't say how long this situation will continue," Black said. "I expect that it will be more than a day or two, possibly quite a bit longer. CIC launched an MR with a full report on the situation to Dirigent four hours ago. There have been regular reports since we arrived, so the latest news might not come as much of a surprise to the Council. But it will be at least twenty-eight days before we get a response to today's events."

  A message rocket required as much time as a ship to get from one star system to another.

  An MR held limited room for cargo—less than one cubic foot. Everything else was propulsion, Nilssen generator, fuel, and the necessary control and navigational mechanisms.

  The Nilssen fitted to an MR was considerably smaller than those that moved ships through Q-space and provided artificial gravity, but they still accounted for more than 70 percent of the mass of an MR.

  "Gentlemen, this next is very tentative, but once the newness of our presence here wears off, we hope there will be opportunities for some of you to meet members of the community on

  an informal basis. Colonel Rowers and CIC want more information on how these people really feel about the fighting between the colonies. We're looking for anything that might help us resolve the conflict without further bloodshed. And we need more data. Points of leverage."

  That last phrase stuck in Lon's mind after the briefing was over and Captain Orlis, the acting battalion adjutant, had set up the duty roster for patrols that night. Points of leverage. Lon thought back to Tebba's observation about the captured weapons. That was one, he thought, happy that one of his people had found it. When he got back to his platoons, he brought his sergeants together and told them about the night's orders.

  "Weil, you take care of the sentry duty for us. One fire team at a time, led by the squad leader. Coordinate with Jim Ziegler and whoever leads the detail from Lieutenant CAPTAIN

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  Hoper's platoons. Tebba, you'll handle the one patrol we've drawn tonight. That means you and your first squad. We'll alternate the responsibilities night by night as long as this situation continues. I'll be going out with you tonight, Tebba, just because this is the first time for us. Weil, anything comes up while we're gone that you can't handle, check with the captain. I'll let him know that I'm going out." / don't think he'll veto it, Lon thought, wishing he had cleared his decision with Orlis first. But he had just made it.

  "Lieutenant, I've got a question," Jorgen said. He waited for Lon to prompt him before he continued. "I know this is a touchy situation, but which side are we most worried about, the people who surrendered to us or the people who brought us here?"

 
"Our biggest worry is keeping our men safe," Lon replied. "We don't take either side for granted. I don't know which we need to worry most about, so we worry about both of them.

  Right now, the locals are closest, and despite the cache of weapons they surrendered, there's nothing to say they don't have more stashed where they can get at them once they think they've lulled us into complacency."

  The early patrols into Hope that evening reported no difficulties. There was no real contact between them and the locals. Early on, the patrols did note that they were being observed, sometimes by people standing around in plain sight, but by four hours after sunset, when Lon got ready to lead his patrol, none of the locals was outside. There were few lights on either, especially in the outlying houses.

  Dav Grott's squad, augmented by Tebba and Lon, moved in a well-dispersed formation, the sort they would have adopted going through territory where the likelihood of ambush was extremely high. Weapons were loaded, but Lon instructed the men to keep safeties on. "I don't want any accidental discharges. Remember, we do nothing provocative. We don't want to fight these people."

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  Hope was quiet. And the mercenaries made very little noise. Any talking was done in whispers, over the radio. Lon watched his men as well as the temtory they walked through. It was never necessary to remind them to be alert. The possibility of duplicity by the locals was present in every mind.

  Around the town and through it, the patrol came within fifty yards of every building, close enough that the dark could hold no secrets. Lon gave special attention to me barracks where the soldiers were, cranking up the pickups on his helmet to the maximum each time they came near them, listening for any sounds from within. But there were none, not even snoring. The buildings were too well built to leak routine sounds.

  "Nice and quiet," Tebba commented as the patrol headed back toward camp. A patrol from Charlie Company was already on its way in, keeping the surveillance nearly continuous. "I hope it stays that way."

  "You, me, and everyone else in the regiment," Lon replied. "We get in, get the men bedded down for the night. Tell them to sleep while they can."

 

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