The War for Profit Series Omnibus (29 page)

“So the angle is just as important as the coordinate.” Karen leaned forward in her chair.

“Yes. Changing the angle at which the connection is made changes the destination, but not correlatively. Meaning, the destination could be anywhere. Just because a ship passes through angled slightly to the left, it doesn’t mean it will travel to a point to the left.”

“And why is that?”

“I don’t know, and I doubt anyone else does either, or they would have found a way to use that knowledge by now.” The co-pilot swiveled his seat back to forward and then fastened his seat belt. “Zero G coming up.”

The pilot shut off the ionic propulsion drives, rotated the ship so that its belly faced directly toward the jump point, waited for just the right moment, and turned the ionic propulsion engines on again, to decelerate toward the jump point with a force of one G.

Karen said, “Zero G gives me butterflies in my stomach.”

Galen said, “You’ll get used to it. Pilot, when we get there, I want to be able to sit back at a distance and watch the other ships jump through first.”

“Not a problem.” The pilot made a tiny course correction. “We’ll be there in about forty minutes. I’ll park so we can watch them go through from the side.”

***

“Here they come.” The pilot rotated the command drop ship to the right about forty mils so that Galen could view the two approaching transport ships. Their hulls were covered with attached drop boats, docked to catch a ride to the jump point on the larger ship. The jumpship, a cylinder, blunt at each end, rotating slowly for axial stability waited at the jump point, its two kilometers of outer hull space clear at the moment. The two transport ships stopped alongside at opposite sides, matched the slow rotation of the jump ship so as to be stationary relative to the hull of the jump ship, and docked to the jump ship at the same moment.

Galen watched as a ish opaque cube shimmered into existence in front of the jump ship. “So, they drive into that cube?”

The pilot said, “It’s not really a cube, it’s a flat plain but it appears to us as a cube because of an optical illusion, the result of space-time warping caused when the two points of space are connected.”

The jumpship moved forward slowly, its forward section disappearing as it entered the jump point. Galen winced at the sight of his cargo ships and attached drop boats vanishing along a straight plane as they passed through the jump point. Viewing the jump point from the side, it looked as though the entire jumpship and the ships and boats attached to it were simply going away and ceasing to exist. Vanishing. After the jumpship was completely gone, the opaque cube illusion of the jump point shimmered as it, too, vanished.

“Wow, that was disturbing,” said Karen.

“Our turn,” said the pilot. He moved the dropship into position in front of the jump point, double checked the calculations against the co-pilot’s calculations, set the space craft into a slow spin, checked the numbers again and then activated the jump point. Viewed head-on, the jump point looked like a flat grey square, less opaque, that filled the cockpit window. The pilot then eased the craft forward, approaching the jump point slowly.

Galen withdrew an auto-injector from his pocket and removed the protective cap and injected himself in the thigh with a powerful sedative. After a moment, he was unconscious.

Galen came-to and shook his head, still a little groggy from the sedative. “How long was I out?”

The pilot said, “About an hour. We already passed the turnaround point and we’re decelerating toward Juventud.”

Galen unbuckled his seat harness. “Where’s Karen?”

“We took her to her cabin during the zero-g at the turnaround. She passed out during the jump.”

“Not really passed out,” said the co-pilot. “She screamed, then went limp, and slumped in her seat when we accelerated. We waited for the zero-g at the turnaround to take her to her cabin, to make it easier to move her.”

Galen stood. “I’m going to check on her.”

It was dark in her cabin, a small red light the only illumination, so Galen left the door open half way to allow light from the hallway to get in. Karen was strapped to her bunk with a couple of elastic cords. She was on her back, breathing slowly, a blank look on her face except for the faint hint of a smile. Galen removed the cords, swiveled her desk chair and sat next to the right side of her bed. He placed his left palm on her forehead for a moment, and then brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. He held her right hand in his and noticed she squeezed his fingers gently. He placed his left hand on her right shoulder and shook it gently.

Her eyes stayed closed, but Galen noticed the eyes moving under the lids, and her cheeks pulled up on her face and her mouth opened a bit as she smiled. She breathed deep and then let out a long sigh. She squeezed Galen’s hand hard and then released it, then grabbed it again, held it gently.

Galen said, “Welcome back.”

She opened her eyes and turned her face toward Galen. “Life is love. Love is life.”

Even in the dim light and despite Karen’s olive skin, Galen could see that her cheeks were flush. And her lips a little puffy, and her eyes. Her eyes, open, dilated, the usually dark color of her irises more brown than ever, the bottom lids pushed up a bit by the cheeks, her entire face one big smile.

Galen now knew she was a sleeper like him, and knew what it was like. He just hoped she’d be okay. For lack of anything better to say he simply said, “Yes.”

She said, “I thought about you.”

Galen released her hand as she sat up. She stood and stretched her arms over her head, facing Galen. He couldn’t help but to admire her trim figure, evident even through her combat coveralls. Feeling conscientious about sitting with his face about the same height as her hips, especially since the fabric of her coveralls was tight up against her crotch, he stood. She stepped closer to him and said, “I thought about what you said, about how this was real and I’d come back. That really helped me. That helped me so much.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. He hugged her, arms around her shoulders. Her hair tickled his nose until she tilted her face up to look into his eyes. Her lips parted. Galen used his right foot to kick the cabin door closed, then cupped the back of her neck gently in his left hand and kissed her full on the lips. The kiss held for half a minute, then she stepped back and sat on her bunk, smiling into Galen’s eyes as she took off her boots.

***

Karen sat next to Galen in the seats behind the co-pilot, her head leaned against Galen’s shoulder. The co-pilot said, “You okay? I’ve heard stories about you sleepers.”

Karen smiled. “Never felt better. Where are we anyway?”

The pilot rotated the dropship so that the planet showed through the front viewport. “We’re parked above Juventud. The two transport ships won’t be here for a little while. We got ahead of them because they needed time to de-couple from the jump ship.”

“Lovely,” said Karen.

The pilot rotated the ship back to its original view.

Galen was starting to enjoy zero-G. “What are we looking at now?”

“That’s the direction the transport ships will come from.” The co-pilot pointed at two tiny white dots. “That’s them.”

The transport ships came in backwards, their thrust slowing them down as they approached their destination. The first one went into a stationary orbit half a hemisphere away from being above the crater where its drop boats would land. The second transport took up a position beside Galen’s command drop ship, waiting its turn to unload.

The dropship pilot rotated to give Galen a view of the first transport ship. Drop boats detached from its hull and formed up in a column four boats abreast to make their landing. The side to side spacing was more than four hundred meters, the interval from nose to tail between the landing boats nearly two kilometers. With the boats detached, the cargo ship moved away and took up a position near Galen’s drop ship. Galen flipped the small flat screen up from his armrest and opened a channel with the landing leader, Master Sergeant Sevin.

“Hey Sevin, you ready?”

“Roger, Smaj. Just need to let the planet rotate just a little more and we’ll be spot-on. Just a moment more.”

“Good luck,” said Galen.

“Luck is for amateurs.” The column of drop boats began their decent toward Juventud. The first four boats descended sharply while the rest of the column stayed just above the atmosphere to circle around the planet one time before making their landing. The first four dropped sharply and then leveled off at an altitude of one hundred meters, dropping to ten meters as they passed over the rim of the crater. At the site selected for the space port, the drop boats leveled off at ten meters above ground and opened their cargo doors and extended their cargo ramps. Sevin’s light tank, a Hornet, slid out the back on a drop pallet. The straps holding the tank to the pallet broke and the tank sped along at top speed. Then a tank slid out of each drop boat, followed by infantry fighting vehicles and finally, four engineering vehicles, Hellcat tank chassis fitted with dozer blades on the front, a short gun barrel in the turret and a crane rig on the back.

The drop boats angled up sharply and blasted themselves back into space. The vehicles on the ground stopped and then spread out in a rectangular perimeter five kilometers long and two kilometers wide. The engineering vehicles ran end to end of the new landing strip, smoothing the surface. After making four passes, they moved to the center left side, just outside the perimeter and shoved dirt into a mound ten meters high. Then they parked on-line in front of the mound, facing the landing strip. Sevin parked his tank on top of the mound and popped the hatch and stood tall and looked around.

“All right, we’re ready. Come on down.” Sevin sounded happy.

The rest of the column finished its circumnavigation of the planet and the drop boats came in and skid dropped their cargo. Each platoon of the mechanized infantry battalion took up places in the perimeter, making a solid rectangle around the landing strip. The last four drop boats unloaded the final sixteen vehicles of the engineer platoon.

Finished, the drop boats re-attached to the first cargo ship. The first cargo ship then left, headed back to the jump point. Their job complete, they were now the property of the Ostreich Free Fleet Transport Company.

The engineers went back over the landing strip a few times, first collecting up all the drop skids, then softening the ground, then spraying a liquid into the soft earth, then spreading that mixture of earth and liquid with dozer blades, and then finally smoothing the landing strip with heavy rollers. The roller vehicles went over the landing strip again, spraying a hardening agent to make the surface solid. After allowing the surface to dry for an hour, the chief engineer walked across the landing strip, testing a couple of samples as he went.

Satisfied, he gave Sevin a thumbs-up.

“Hey Samj,” called Sevin. “We’re done here.”

“Roger.” Galen used his drop ship sensors to look over the landing field. “Second cargo ship, you can let my people go.”

The Captain of the second cargo ship called back and said, “Roger.”

Galen called Sevin. “Sevin, how is it down there?”

“It’s all right. The thinner air meant the boats had to come in faster but the reduced gravity meant the impact of the skid-drop was less. But you need to get a whiff of this air. It’s sweet. I really do feel younger.”

“I can’t wait.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Galen let Sevin have the last word.

Galen went to his cabin and slept. Karen stayed in the cockpit and monitored the landing, unloading and return of the drop boats. She then officially released the cargo ship and its docked drop boats from its obligations to the Brigade and sent it on its way.

Then she awoke Galen. “Hey sleepy head, the fleet is gone.”

Galen undid the strap across his chest and sat up. “Okay. Everything go well?”

“As well as planned. Tad’s got control down there. Sevin has his mechanized battalion and the recon company outside the crater looking for trouble. Nothing yet.”

“Good. This zero-G is getting old. Let’s go see the pilot.”

They went to the cockpit.

Galen said, “How soon can we land?”

The pilot looked over his shoulder. “Ready when you are.”

“Give me a minute to get in my tank.”

“Roger.”

Galen went to his tank crew’s cabin door and knocked. “You ready to do this?”

The door opened immediately. The driver pushed off and floated down the hall.

The gunner came next and said, “You got it, Smaj. This is what I live for.”

“All right.” Galen settled himself into the cupola of the tank and put on his commo helmet and attached its curly spaghetti cord. He then dropped his seat and closed the hatch. The driver and gunner settled into their crew stations and brought the tank’s systems on line.

When the comms system showed a green status light, Galen called the pilot. “Okay, take us down.”

“Roger.”

Galen switched his auxiliary status screen to a pilot’s view from the dropship. The tank was backed into the cargo bay so that it could drive out forward on the ground, but the turret was turned to the tank’s rear for transport. So, Galen sat forward in relation to the ship. He watched as the ship nosed down toward the planet and entered the atmosphere. The deceleration reminded him to put on his lap belt. The ship descended sharply for several minutes then leveled off about a hundred meters above the ground. Galen could see the rounded top of the crater’s central mountain in the distance, growing larger, off-center slightly to the left. Then the ship flew over the rim of the crater, a cliff two hundred meters to the floor. The ship dropped again to fly ten meters off the floor, aligned with the tarmac. At a speed of less than four hundred kilometers per hour the ship’s landing gear touched and then the thrust deflectors of the atmospheric propulsion engines slowed the ship to a mere thirty kilometers per hour. The dropship turned around and taxied to its designated spot at the left corner of the landing strip, then crept backward at a walking pace until it was clear of tarmac, a mosaic of metal sheets laid out on the ground for its parking spot.

The cargo ramp lowered to the ground and the upper section of the cargo door retracted into the overhead. Karen and the co-pilot undid the tie down chains of the command tank and the co-pilot signaled the driver he was clear. The Hercules command tank drove off the jumpship. As soon as there was enough room for the gun to swing, the gunner turned the turret forward and Galen popped his hatch and adjusted his seat all the way up to ride high in the cupola.

Galen spoke into his commo helmet microphone. “This air is sweet. You guys need to get a lungful of this stuff.”

The gunner opened his hatch and stood to Galen’s left. “I like this.”

The driver’s hatch opened and the driver raised his seat so that his head poked out from the neck up. Through the commo helmet speakers, Galen heard a deep breath followed by a relieved sigh. The driver, reacting to the fresh air.

“Driver, you know where we’re going?”

“Roger, Smaj. It’s marked on the nav screen.”

The tank moved along slowly, turned right, following the tracks left by other vehicles. Soon the other thirteen tanks of the heavy tank company were on the left, lined up dress-right-dress, an interval of five meters between them, their turrets turned to the rear and their guns in travel-lock. At the end of the row, Spike stood facing the approaching tank, both hands signaling the tank to keep coming forward. Then he signaled “stop” by balling his hands into fits, together, one hand in front of the other in front of his chest. Then he crossed his forearms, kept his left fist balled and pointed with his right hand, the signal for the driver to pivot-steer clockwise. Spike sidestepped to keep in front of the vehicle as it pivoted, then signaled “stop” again. After eyeballing down the right side of the tank’s hull, Spike signaled “back up” to the driver by making a pushing motion, both palms forward, facing the driver, moving his hands forward and back to indicate the speed at which the driver should drive backward. Spike occasionally stuck one hand or the other out to the side to make minor left and right adjustments to the driver’s course.

The driver paid attention to Spike but also glanced at his rear-view camera display as well. He knew Spike was responsible for the tank’s movements while he was giving the signals, but he also knew that if he hit something, it was only the driver who would get teased about it, only the driver’s name would be mentioned in the legends that would be created about the tank that hit or ran over something by accident.

Galen looked ahead and saw the tarmac fifty meters away. A construction crew was already at work building the concrete support piers for the air traffic control tower. Spike’ tank was to his right, and the three platoons of Hercules tanks were to the right of that.

Spike signaled “cut” by drawing his right hand across his throat, fingers extended and joined, thumb flat. The driver shifted to neutral and set the parking brake, the gunner swung the turret to the rear and engaged the travel lock, and Galen said, “Dismount” before removing his commo helmet.

He climbed down over the main gun and then slid off the sloped amour of the rear of the tank to land on the ground with less force than he expected. He noticed a half-meter deep trench that ran behind the row of tanks, and looked to his right and saw an engineering vehicle with an attachment on the back still digging, turning left toward a spot where a fence was going up, surrounding a small tin shack with an electrical transformer installed next to it on a concrete slab. A thick power cable lay in the ditch, and two soldiers from the engineer platoon dragged a shorter cable over, dropped into the ditch, spliced it into the main cable and laid the free end on the ground just under the command tank.

“What’s that for?” asked Galen.

“Sergeant Major, we’ll connect it to your tank’s fusion power plant, to power the camp. As soon as the grid is complete, we come back and hook up to all the Hercules tanks and put the dirt back in the trench.” The engineering Corporal pointed at a receptacle cover at the rear of the tank, right above the towing pintle. “Plenty of juice for the whole camp.”

“Carry on.” Galen walked to the front of the tank and met Spike with a handshake.

“Welcome to Juventud, Smaj!” Spike smiled. “This place is awesome. Point eight Gs and extra oxygen in the thinner air. I feel ten years younger.”

“Why the full gear?”

“We’ll stick with it until day two of position improvement is complete. The troops need to have a place to hang it before they stop wearing it.”

“Be right back.” Galen climbed back up on the tank and reached inside and got out his war gear and put it on, then climbed back down. The chin strap for his ground troop helmet needed some adjustment, it was the first time he’d worn it in over two years.

Spike pointed toward the cliff face of the crater, twenty kilometers away. “We’ll dig a tunnel there next week so we can get out of this place and trade with the natives. It won’t be long before we’ll have to give these troops some liberty and the chance to pursue happiness.”

“A month,” said Galen. “That’s how long it usually takes for the natives to start setting up a little party ville. You heard anything from Sevin yet?”

“Just regular reports. They’re only a third of the way around the outside of the crater so far.” Spike and Galen walked away from the tanks, parallel to the landing strip, toward its midpoint.

Tad approached. “Hey Smaj, come check out the ops center!”

Galen shook his hand while patting Tad’s opposite shoulder. Tad gestured toward a thirty meter square hole, excavated two meters deep. An engineer Sergeant supervised a handful of heavy tank company troops as they wired together reinforcement bars. A concrete mixer ran near by.

Tad stopped to watch. “I’m using the same plan as the TOC on
Alamo, except it will be completely below ground. And later, the spaceport terminal will be constructed here, right on top of it, so that it can become a hard site for spaceport defense. When the Myung Jin construction company arrives next month, we’ll build a new TOC on the mountain, emplaced with the space shield generator and controller.”

Galen looked around. “Beautiful.”

Karen caught up to the group and looped her arm through Galen’s. “Hey guys.”

Spike smiled. Tad’s mouth fell open for a moment, then he closed it.

Galen said, “We’re a couple now.” Then he said to Karen, “Not in public, or at least, not when we’re in full field gear.”

She let go and stepped back and said to Tad, “Your place or mine?”

It took Tad a moment to understand. “To the TOC vehicle, the extension is up. Chief Polar has the ALOC track extension up too, but she’s using it right now. Busy in there, we’d just get in the way.”

Tad led the group past some more construction, corrugated metal buildings getting bolted together on concrete slabs, barracks for the troops, dining facility, shower houses, storage sheds… and a fitness center, and a theater, and more. Tad gestured toward his TOC vehicle and held open one of the three overlapping flaps of the entrance vestibule that led into the domed tent attached to the back of the armored command post vehicle. Spike muscled his way in and held the inside flap of the three-curtain entrance door for Karen. Tad gripped Galen’s elbow and pulled him back, dropping the outside flap before Galen could enter.

“We need to talk,” said Tad.

“Okay.” Galen walked alongside Tad as he took a few steps away from the TOC extension.

Tad stopped and faced Galen and looked down, his voice lowered. “Do you like black women?”

Galen said, “Not all of them. Some are all right. Why?”

Tad looked up, his eyes meeting Galen’s. “Karen. What do you know about her?”

“Enough. She likes me. And make no mistake, her olive skin is no barrier to me appreciating the love of a good woman.”

“Her father died six years ago, at the hands of the Mosh. He was a Major in the Ninth Legion of Langston.” Tad folded his arms.

“And her mommy was probably Mandarin, or some other sort of Asian. So what?” Galen placed his hands on his hips.

“Her grandfather is…” Tad looked to his right. “Her maternal grandfather is the chairman of the board of directors.”

Galen took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “Okay. Okay, here’s the deal. She’s a sleeper. But this was her first jump so we didn’t know it. She went through the eternal darkness and I was there when she came out of it, and she admitted she loved me.”

Tad blinked and stepped back.

Galen continued, “You can’t understand, but I do. I know what it’s like. And because of that, I know she loves me. That’s the whole reason she’s here, she wanted to be on this contract to be close to me, and that was before she found out she was a sleeper, before she had an eternity to think about it. She’s all right in my book, everything is fine.”

Tad smiled. “Have you told your mother?”

“It’s none of her business, not yet.”

“And have you told Karen your life-long plans? To save enough money so you don’t have to do anything for the rest of your life? You want to get a farm house on forty hectares of land and grow your own food as a hobby. Really, have you told her that? She’s in love with an up-and-coming military professional who fast-tracked right into a Brigade commander slot with a real good chance of becoming a filthy rich member of the board in less than ten years.”

Galen looked to his left and spit. “I’ll have to think about that later. Let’s go inside and get this meeting over with.”

Tad patted Galen on the shoulder. Galen strode toward the TOC extension and Tad followed him.

Inside, the tent walls were white. White glow strips that seemed a bit yellow in comparison to the white walls spanned the ceiling of the dome. A dozen fold-up chairs faced the flat screen at the end of the dome opposite the lowered assault ramp of the TOC tracked vehicle. Galen took the first seat at the front right corner of chairs and removed his helmet and placed it under the chair. Karen, Spike and Tad sat to his left. A burly sunburned man with light brown hair stood before them wearing combat coveralls, the top pulled down and tied around his waist, revealing a non-standard dark green muscle shirt. His short hair showed a tan line that indicated his hair had recently been much longer.

“Aloha, lady and gentlemen. My name is Chief Koa and for this contract I will serve as the Brigade intelligence officer.”

Spike said, “We all know who you are. How was the beach?”

“It was wonderful. Best year of my life. You ever get the chance to visit Terra, go to Hawaii. And stay ten years, one year is not enough.”

Galen leaned back in his seat and said, “Relax, gentlemen. This is an informal briefing. Continue, Chief.”