by Mark Rounds
"Name it," said Jeffy.
"I made a promise to the troopers I was with. We would have to be hired together or not at all."
Jeffy looked at Taol, asking for approval, Taol thought for a moment, and then nodded.
"We'll take them based on your recommendation as new troopers, OK?" said Jeffy.
"I'll have to check with them before I say yes,” said Igor. “But I want to."
"Then get out there and find them before they shuttle down,” said Jeffy grinning. “If you can't reach them all before you leave, you can reach us through the Commission. Now get moving, Sergeant."
"Yes, Sergeant Major!"
Jeffy smiled at Taol and headed back up the hill. With much on his mind, Taol was about to mount the sled and head back when Jarl tapped Taol’s shoulder.
"We need to talk," said Jarl.
"Now?" said Taol. He was wounded, and the adrenalin was wearing off. He wanted to get some decent medical attention.
"Now. Taol, I am confused," said Jarl bluntly. "We fought like hell against the Krasni. I killed several of them at short range. I heard their dying screams and was glad. Now you and Jeffy are offering them jobs. I don't get it."
"Jarl this is a business," said Taol. "My competitor just let an experienced technician go in a field that we are critically short in. I won't trust any Krasni we hire. They won't be partners like you or I or the other former cadets until we all agree. But with Mason possibly out of action, we are going to need good career NCO's."
"I don't know," said Jarl. "Sometimes this seems like a game. You just told me it was a business. Other times it is so serious that I feel like crying. Taol, which is it really?"
"Jarl,” said Taol seriously, “I don't think it ever was a game, no matter what we were told. It also isn't war, for money and not politics are the central points of any negotiations. It is for damn sure not just a business, for we pay for our reputations and our incomes with peoples' lives.
“For us, the surplussed cadets, it is a means to an end. For everybody else, I can't see what they find in it. I'll certainly never watch a game on holo again just for relaxation.
“In the past, the Romans used bread and circuses to keep the masses in line. Are the billions of humans on Earth and Lords of the Commonality so different? The Lords in their cozy habitats would have to supply some kind of diversion for the displaced masses to keep them occupied. And who knows, maybe they like the carnage too.
“But I'm too tired and my butt hurts too bad right now to tackle any more of it. Let's go have a beer and worry about it tomorrow."
#
The two occupants of the private viewing booth at the Alamein breathed a sigh of relief. From the holo display it looked as though the Krasni were retreating.
"Well Commodore," beamed a jubilant Bernard Ubner. "It seems as though we won't need that bottle you offered after all.”
“I agree for the present, Your Excellency," replied a more somber Commodore Hong. "But there will be other battles. Permit me to pay for the booth and the bottle the next time."
"I hadn't thought that far ahead," said a suddenly sober Bernard. "Agreed then, when the next game is played, we will meet here."
"Agreed," said a now smiling Commodore Hong. The smile was not amusement but that wry, enigmatic smile the Chinese had mastered so many centuries ago.
Chapter XXIII
Jarl piloted the borrowed grav sled to the Legion’s training area. There, Taol, Jarl, and several other members of the Legion were picked up by the Regens. Jarl protested that he wasn't that seriously hurt, but they would have none of it. They were hustled to the low Gee area where they met up with the rest of the wounded. Initial medical care was carried out efficiently if somewhat heavy handedly by human medical technicians.
Most of the patients were walking wounded like Jarl and Taol, but here and there you could see a powered litter. They rose on anti-grav plates just like the sleds the Refs and the Regens used. The litters had their own computer on board with various sensors attached to the patient and were capable of monitoring the patient and finding their own way to the assembly area. From there, the Refs computers sorted who boarded the orbital transporters for the Regen's habitat.
Since Jarl and Taol weren't too badly hurt, they were given little belt mounted units that monitored their condition and injected preprogrammed amounts of medication. These units also contained a small computer that told them were to go.
The two old roommates were herded toward the central docking bay when Taol noticed a large cargo container with its own stasis field. He was curious so, with Jarl's help, he hobbled over.
"Excuse me," said Taol to the technician monitoring the stasis field, "could you tell me what's in the pod?"
"Buzz off," the technician replied tersely.
"It was a polite question," said a deep, gravelly voice with just a trace of a Russian accent from behind them. Taol turned and saw Yosep. He was dirty, with a poorly tied bandage on his thigh. He still carried his Thompson submachine gun and was festooned with extra clips of ammunition, grenades, and all manner of other weapons. He looked as menacing as a modern day Attila the Hun.
"You mean he really doesn't know?" asked a subdued tech.
"He may wear the uniform of a Colonel," said Yosep, "but this is first battle. Humor me."
"This stasis chamber holds the remains of those troopers killed in this little contest. Some of the bodies are intact, others are just collections of scattered parts. We'll haul them over to the Regens’ habitat and try to piece them together. Some will come out OK. Others will be crippled for life. A few will have varying degrees of brain damage. I hope you're satisfied."
Visions of Sergeant Jefferson and worse danced in Taol’s head.
"You don't like your job much, do you?" quizzed Yosep.
"I have a job which is something," said the tech who was now somewhat more subdued. "But I became a med-tech to help people. Being a spare parts collector for your fun and games is a travesty!"
"Thanks," said Yosep as he guided the two stunned cadets away from the cargo pod. "Most of the professional staff involved in the games look at us as little more than cattle in the slaughter house. They think that attitude protects them.”
They walked on in silence for a while.
“By the way,” said Yosep, “you cadets fought well today. I wouldn't have thought it possible."
"You did too," said Jarl. After a minute’s hesitation he continued. "I would like to apologize for my words in the bar. I had no idea at the time it would have led to this."
"Thank you," said Yosep with bit of a chuckle, "but it is I who should apologize. That fool ‘Monty,’ Sokolov, and I had been waiting for two days in various gaming clubs for someone like you to happen along. We had forced several brawls and made some money. You are the first ones to ever call us on it."
"How many troopers," said Taol quietly, "do you think were wounded and killed because we wouldn't settle peacefully?"
Yosep's face clouded for a moment and I thought he was going to strike out. Then he spoke slowly and deliberately, choosing each word.
"Perhaps twenty-five or thirty cadets and maybe fifty Krasni were injured or killed,” said Yosep somberly. “The butcher's bill was indeed high for a night on the town. But think carefully, this is not just one tragic incident. There are many hustlers out there just like ‘Monty’ and a much larger mass of surplussed kids like yourselves, not to mention those who never had the chance you did. What could they do if not this!"
Yosep stalked away without looking back. The shock of Yosep remarks lasted until they had boarded.
Loading was carried out with the efficiency of an old-time factory ship that humans had used to process whales. Technicians manually guided those mercenaries who were too slow in following the directions of the computer link to bunks that were stacked four high on each of three levels in the life support area. Each combatant was strapped in by one of the techs.
"Hey! not so tight," sa
id one cadet.
"The book says you have to be safe, not comfortable," said a bored technician.
The orbital transporter was neither pretty nor were the accommodations spacious. The vessel consisted of a large aluminum and plastic cube at the center of the ship that contained an environment that was notionally friendly to humankind. Propulsion was not self-contained. There were several reactions chambers that looked for all the world like large opaque brandy snifters. These reaction chambers were partially filled with a solid reaction mass that, when struck by a high powered laser, vaporized into a high temperature gas. The shape of the reaction chamber directed the stream of gas and by simple Newtonian physics got the contraption moving.
Each habitat mounted several lasers that were controlled by a central computer. The combination of these devices allowed for inexpensive, if uncomfortable, transfer of materials and personnel between habitats.
Braking was handled by laser on the other end with variable strength grav plates handling the final docking. There was no pilot on board, only a computer to line up the reaction chambers and small medical and technical staff to keep the troops alive until they arrived at their destination. The whole trip took less than two hours.
Each second of that trip was mired in glue. The accelerations were not very powerful, but they were abrupt and interspersed moments of free fall. In the ex-cadet’s weakened physical condition, vertigo and motion sickness were almost assured. Their personal medical computer monitors gave them small doses of relaxants to combat these afflictions, but they were not entirely effective.
Twice, Taol heard audible alarms go off. In both cases medical technicians rushed to one of the power litters and set up emergency stasis fields to preserve whatever was left. Apparently, this was the standard first aid when travelling in orbital transports because they also established a stasis field for a Krasni trooper who was vomiting explosively.
When they arrived at the Regens’ habitat, technicians quickly sorted them according to the type and severity of wounds and sent them to specific departments.
Jarl and Taol parted company as Jarl had some broken bones and had to go to an orthopedic unit. Taol’s computer monitor guided him through the corridors so there was really no chance to get lost. As soon as Taol arrived at the trauma center, he was guided to a couch still in his combat gear and given a sleep net to wear by a pretty young female technician in a white coverall.
"Is this necessary?" asked Taol.
"You don't want to be awake when we regenerate that hole in your butt," answered the female technician. "From what I hear, it's pretty painful."
"I bet you say that to all the guys," said Taol with what he hoped was a winning smile.
"I wish you apes could come up with an original line," she said with a sigh as she seated the sleep net firmly on Taol’s head. Any snappy rejoinder was lost as Taol faded into unconsciousness.
#
Taol awoke to find the sharp pain in his calf and upper thigh replaced by a dull ache.
"Rise and shine Colonel," said an impossibly cheery voice. "They need this bed for someone who is really hurt."
Taol used his thumb to open one eye. There, in the center of an impossibly bright light was Jeffy.
"What the heck are you doing here?" asked Taol, still confused from the sleep net.
"I am here to pick up our wounded,” said Jeffy. “The Commission requires that an official from the wounded trooper's mercenary company pick them up. Otherwise, this place would be crawling with abandoned troopers."
"Could you get someone to turn out that light?" asked Taol squinting and trying to shield his eyes.
"You'll get used to it,” said Jeffy. “You've been out for three days."
"Has anyone told my Dad?" said Taol with a start. "He'll be worried sick!"
"Relax,” said Jeffy calmly. “Harm called all the families of the injured as soon as he got back to earth."
"Did we really lose anyone Jeffy?” asked Taol earnestly. “I mean really dead."
“Three troopers were hit too early in the game to be saved,” said Jeffy soberly. “Four are permanently crippled. One of those is in a chair like mine."
"Who?" was Taol’s stunned one word reply.
"Benning is in the chair."
"God, I am so sorry."
"Taol,” said Jeffy kindly. “We all took that same risk. But look on the bright side. Our coffers are full. We can afford to be generous. He and the other wounded troopers will live well."
"Will I be seeing them?" asked Taol.
"Sure,” said Jeffy, “We are all going down on the same shuttle."
"When?"
"As soon as you get a uniform on," said Jeffy handing him clothes. Taol was initially embarrassed when he discovered that he was only wearing the little hospital gown that covered nothing while being uncomfortable and drafty.
Taol didn’t get out of bed until Jeffy left. The rest of his uniform was in the closet, pressed and clean. That was obviously one of the benefits of command. Taol dressed slowly as he didn't really want to go out and confront the wounded, but finally, he realized that he could only fiddle with the ascot so long.
Cautiously, he opened the door and walked out into the hall. An unidentified hand appeared out of nowhere and began shaking Taol’s vigorously.
"Hi, mine name is Marty Flasher," exclaimed an impossibly cheery voice. "I am with International Sports News. That was an impressive game you played against the Kiev Guard."
"Thanks, Mr. Flasher," said Taol uncertainly. "But it really was a team effort."
"Call me Marty, please," said Flasher still pumping his hand. "Our readers would like to know how a bunch of green cadets beat experienced Krasni Mercenaries?"
"Hard work and good training," said Jeffy.
"And who the hell are you?" asked Marty irritated.
"This is Sergeant Major Jefferson," Taol replied, "He is the Condor Legion's first shirt and the best training NCO in the business."
"Please to meet you," said Flasher quickly. "Now Colonel as I was saying, what special tricks did you guys use to beat the Krasni?"
"Nothing special," said Taol. "Look, I have wounded troopers to attend to."
"Great human interest angle. But our readers want to know the dirty details. I have just a few questions..."
"Marty, our plan was to get to the hill fastest with light motorcycle infantry,” said Taol hurriedly as he began to walk down the hall as fast as he could. “We gambled that they could hold long enough for the rest of our force get up there and support them."
"Did the cycles have special engines or something?"
"Scrap heap rejects," said Taol over his shoulder turning toward the docking bay. "Sergeant Major Jefferson can fill you in on the details. I really do have wounded troopers to attend to."
"Colonel," he said as he grabbed Taol’s shoulder, "a good write up from me can spread your name around and help land a few good gigs, if you get my drift."
"Marty," said Jeffy in a deceptively calm voice, "Do not touch the Colonel. If he says he has troops to attend to, he does."
"Look, Sarge," said the press flack exasperatedly, "I am talking to the Colonel, so butt out. I mean it's not like he had a real job or anything pressing."
"Marty," said Jeffy. "This is your last warning. Let him go."
"And just how do you intend to stop me."
"He doesn't have to," said Jarl unexpectedly.
They turned to look toward the docking bay and saw fifteen able bodied troopers. “My troopers,” Taol realized with a start.
"I don't want to appear ungrateful," said Taol trying to defuse a tense situation, "But I have been conscious less than an hour. Give me a couple of days and you can have an interview in my office."
"What time?" said Flasher immediately.
"Call tomorrow and Major Harm Milne will arrange the details."
"This isn't just a dodge to get rid of me, is it?" asked Flasher uncertainly.
"Ask around," said J
effy unexpectedly. "If the Colonel says he is going to do something, it happens. I personally wouldn't give you the time of day. But the Colonel says different. You will get your interview."
"Great, I'll see you on Thursday." said Marty as he turned and left.
"That parasite wouldn't have the guts to go out on the field during an intermission." said Jarl heatedly after the reporter had left. "Just brush him off, sir."
"He is a fixture up here, Lieutenant," said Jeffy with more than a little irritation. "He pounces on anyone just coming out of Regen in the hope of getting a saleable article."
"I don't think the interview will hurt us," said Taol after some reflection. "But I was not going to risk having any of you arrested for assaulting Mr. Flasher. He isn't worth your time either."
There was some good natured insults passed around about the social habits of Mr. Flasher. Taol missed most of it because he had spotted Benning. He starred uncomfortably at each other for several agonizing seconds.
"Well sir," said Benning finally breaking the spell, "it has been good serving with you. I hope we will meet again."
"Who says we won't be in touch," said Taol trying to lighten the moment.
"Taol,” said Benning sadly, “you wouldn't do it on purpose, but slowly we will just drift out of each other's circle. Our worlds are different now. I accepted the risk that this might happen. Like everyone else I hoped it would be the other guy. I never was all that lucky. I'll watch your games on holo and be your number one fan."
"Trooper you are still on the payroll." said Taol. "We couldn't have won without the help of Sergeant Major Jefferson and he is in a chair just like yours isn't he?"
"Well, yes,” said Benning grudgingly, “but he is an experienced NCO. I'm just a grunt."
"Maybe, but you are one of us,” said Taol as the resolve crystalized. “The Condor Legion will take care of its own, always. You will have a meaningful position, not just make work. Harm needs good clerical help. Mason needs someone to handle the details of supply and maintenance. Your sacrifice will be remembered."