Mulbah already knew where Thorpi stood on the matter. The Veetanho had been the one to bring the contract and proposal to him, along with the suggestion the Korps rule not only Liberia, but every country along the coast from Ghana to Senegal under one common nation. It was an interesting idea, far grander than anything Mulbah had thought about, but he had little patience for governing that much area. The number of tribes in Liberia alone made his head spin, and their conflicts continued to spill over and create new civil wars. Considering the last two had resulted in the deaths of almost a half million people, it was a road he was not yet prepared to travel. This aspect of the proposal in particular was something he had kept from his senior staff…for now.
Next to the Veetanho, the Korps’ Chief Financial Officer was going over notes via his pinplants, staring off into the distance. Captain Zion Jacobs was an intelligent man who had a better education than Mulbah did, though he rarely flaunted it. Given command of the support unit, 3rd Company was typically filled with men who ascribed to Zion’s pragmatic views on everything. Overly cautious and a fastidious planner, it would be Zion who could change Mulbah’s final decision.
“The numbers look good, boss,” Zion informed Mulbah, his eyes coming back to reality. The CFO blinked a few times and rubbed his face with his palm. “There’s some sketchiness with the term ‘in perpetuity,’ since that could be forever, or they could declare a success tomorrow and not pay us at all, leaving us holding the bag and landing us on the bad side of everyone still on Earth. I’d get that part changed. As for policing the mercenary companies of southern Europe, that should be easy. From what I’ve seen, most of the other merc companies ran the moment General Peepo and her fleet showed up. The ones remaining are either on her side, too poor to leave, or are actively working to subvert the Mercenary Guild.”
“Bass, whose side are we on?” Samson asked, leaning on the table. He peered at Mulbah with dark eyes. “I don’t trust the aliens. No offense, Thorpi.”
“It is wise to never trust anything at face value,” the Veetanho said shrugging off Samson’s apology. “I was the one initially presented it from an individual I know, and I am skeptical of the sincerity behind it. However, the contract does look good, and with the exception of the perpetuity clause, I think it’s an honest contract.”
“Menh, I don’t like it,” Antonious chimed in as he used the rubber band on his wrist to tie his dreadlocks back. “I don’t want to fight Human mercs. Isn’t it obvious to anyone else? If General Peepo doesn’t want to fight them, then why should we?”
Mulbah conceded the point. “True. But what happens when they bring in the Besquith to pacify them, and then they come at us for not helping? This isn’t about destroying the merc companies but about the survival of Earth. What happens when they decide Humans aren’t worth the risk anymore? I don’t know about you, but accidents happen on a frighteningly regular basis in the Galactic Union.”
The comment caused all the men in the room to fall silent. Africa was a continent where the term “accidents happen” held a far darker connotation than elsewhere in the world. Far too often, presidents were “accidentally” killed fighting rebels, or protestors “fell ill” during transportation to a local jail. Even the occasional general who “committed suicide” by shooting himself 27 times in the back was a cautionary tale about how “accidents” occurred.
“General Peepo could also call in Tortantulas to ‘pacify’ Earth,” Mulbah added, driving the proverbial stake home with a single, vicious blow. “We can prevent a potential slaughter by taking the contract. We can protect Earth by doing this.”
Everyone shuddered at the idea of pacification by Tortantula. Spiders the size of a small car were not something even the most hardened of mercs wanted to face on a regular basis. Not to mention, the Flatar who rode them into battle were not to be taken lightly either. Letting them loose on a civilian populace was probably the worst thing imaginable.
“Bass, I still think we’re getting played here,” Samson murmured and rubbed a hand over his bald scalp. He looked away, almost ashamed. “But if you think this can keep more people alive, then we do it.”
That settled it. “Zion, get the contract fixed, and I’ll sign it. Everyone else, ready your companies for action. I have a feeling we’re going to be deployed a lot sooner than we’d hoped once we’re back in Liberia.”
Unbuckling their safety harnesses, the trio of company commanders left the meeting room, leaving Mulbah alone with the Veetanho. Thorpi was looking at him with what Mulbah called his “curious” expression. However, the alien appeared almost embarrassed by something that was on his mind. Mulbah raised a single eyebrow at him.
“I couldn’t help but notice you left out the mention of the Korps ruling all of the costal countries around Liberia,” Thorpi observed, his tone neutral. It wasn’t accusatory, but something between surprise and curious. Mulbah did not fault the Veetanho’s caution. He had to play a dangerous and delicate balancing act between his loyalty to his employer, his guild, and his people. He was much like Mulbah, in this regard. The Veetanho flicked an ear and cocked his head slightly. “Why did you choose not to reveal this information?”
“Instinct,” Mulbah replied. Thorpi motioned for him to explain further. After a moment of introspection, Mulbah clarified for the Veetanho. “Humanity has been at war with itself since the dawn of time. The first murder occurred when there was only four people on the planet, supposedly. We are born and bred for conflict. However, Africa—my people and all the peoples of Africa—have a special disposition to violence and conquest of one another. Before and after the white Europeans came and enslaved us, we were doing it to one another.”
“But that doesn’t explain…” Thorpi’s voice trailed off, apparently at a loss for words. Mulbah smiled. It was confusing to someone who didn’t know the region, the tribes, or the ancient conflicts stretching back generations.
“Did you know that everyone on the command staff is Liberian?” Mulbah asked him. The Veetanho nodded eagerly. “Did you know that none of them are from the same tribe?”
The Veetanho blinked, his sleek and furry features showing confusion. Mulbah understood the bewildered look all too well. Many Americans he had tried to explain the same issue to while he was going to school had looked at him the same way. It was a common mistake amongst Westerners, assuming just because someone was of the same country meant they were all the same people. Sometimes Mulbah wished everyone thought in the same positive manner as the Americans he had known.
“Liberia is made up of ethnic tribes,” Mulbah explained. “Think of it like families, and then tribes, and then the nation itself. Nobody is going to put nation over tribe. The sense of community that drives, oh…Canadians and Americans? Africa doesn’t do this. I feel we can’t. We are divisive, conflictive, and, generally, we never trust anything or anyone outside that tribal circle. That is the African way. People are easier to rule this way, so politicians don’t preach unity outside of the tribe. They might argue otherwise, but when the cards are down and all the chips are in the pot, a tribal group will save its own, even at the cost of its country.”
“I…don’t understand this at all,” Thorpi admitted as his claws dragged lightly across the table top. “Everything we Veetanho do is to further our species, and the Galactic Union.”
“Yes, but if you had to choose between your species or the Galactic Union, which would you pick?”
Thorpi said nothing as he unbuckled his safety harness. Pushing away from the meeting table, he glided toward the door leading back to his private quarters. As he reached the doorway, however, he stopped and half-turned to look back at Mulbah.
“I did not mean to cause offense, sir,” the Veetanho said. “You have just given me much to think about. Permission to be excused?”
“Of course,” Mulbah told the alien. Thorpi nodded and pushed his way through the doorway and down the long hall. The CEO of the Kakata Korps watched him go and gazed down the corridor
for a long time after, deep in thought as his mind began to draft plans for dealing with Human merc companies without actually wiping them out.
* * *
Möller Interstellar Consortium Vessel Jörgummund, 900km Above Earth, Sol System
“Load ’em up!” Captain Karnga shouted as the men of 2nd Company hurried to their drop shuttles. He stared and waited for a few stragglers, the last of his men. Their CASPers moved more slowly into the shuttle than he would have preferred. Antonious looked over at First Sergeant Victor Oti and grimaced. “They were a lot faster during the drills, menh.”
“Ya, bass, they were,” his Top agreed. Master Sergeant Oti had been with the company since they returned from their first successful contract and had proven to be an able leader of enlisted personnel, which had led to him being rapidly promoted through the ranks. When it came time to form the companies within the Korps, Antonious had snagged the former fisherman as quickly as he could to serve as his senior NCO.
They made for an interesting duo. Antonious was skinny, wiry, and good with the ladies. Victor was tall, broad, and rarely talked to women in any manner. Antonious wasn’t sure if the larger man was shy around women or simply not interested in them. However, he also did not want to pry, so he’d left it alone and allowed Victor to whip the boys of 2nd Company into shape.
So far, the men of 2nd Company were not performing up to expectations. They had experienced the most losses during their recent contract, with two killed and four wounded. One of those injuries could very well lead to a medical retirement, which was not something Antonious was particularly proud of. However, Colonel Luo hadn’t been too concerned, since he had established a very generous retirement package for anyone who survived 25 completed contracts as well as a retirement package for combat-related injuries. The combat readiness of the company, however, had been brought up by the colonel as being “suboptimal.”
Antonious had his doubts early on when Colonel Luo had purchased the failed mercenary company Mercenarios Ojo de Tigre and renamed them the Kakata Korps. The first meeting had not gone very well but the first contract had been successfully accomplished. Completed, perhaps, but they had lost Antonious’ oldest friend, Khean Waring, while protecting the alien Korteschii from the mysterious lizard raiders. From there they had transitioned the company to Liberia, where they had almost lost their owner in a partially botched contract which had ended well for the company. It also earned them a fat payday, courtesy of the Winged Hussars. From there, the successes—and newer equipment—continued to pile up as Mulbah Luo carefully guided the Korps through contract negotiations.
“Remind the boys we only get paid if we can get our jobs done on time, Top,” Antonious muttered over his personal frequency to the First Sergeant.
“Ya, bass, it done,” came the quick and easy reply. Antonious nodded. Despite Victor’s barely passable English he was an effective first sergeant. He had no doubts the enlisted men of 2nd Company were about to have their hides verbally flayed in a pidgin mashup of English and Kisi.
“Be gentle on them,” Antonious suggested. Victor snorted over the radio and gave his boss an incredulous look. Antonious shook his head and smiled. “Right, stupid idea. You handle it, but after the drop is complete and the fighting is over.”
“Ya think fight, bass?”
“I don’t want one,” Antonious admitted as they boarded the combat dropship and looked around. Eight CASPers stood waiting for their command team to take their places in the hold. The duo moved to opposite sides of the dropship and the magnetic locks secured them in place. Antonious exhaled and continued his private conversation with Victor. “But just because I don’t want one doesn’t mean we won’t get one, menh.”
“Ya, bass,” Victor agreed. The first sergeant switched frequencies and addressed the men of 2nd Company. “Menh, listen. We go down, only shoot if they shoot. They wan’ fight, we fight. Kill they fighters. Get pay. You ken?”
“Paint the sky!” roared the rest of the company. Antonious grinned inside his CASPer and switched frequencies. “Lion Six, this is Jackal Six, over.”
“Jackal Six, this is Lion Six,” Mulbah’s voice came over the radio. “Probably don’t need to remind you, but I’m going to anyway. Only fire if they fire, Captain. I don’t want to kill Humans if I don’t have to.”
“Roger that, bass,” Antonious acknowledged. His grin remained wide upon his face. “We’re ready to go. See you on the ground, bass.”
“Copy, Jackal Six,” Mulbah replied. “Paint the sky, over.”
“Roger, Lion Six. Paint the sky. Jackal Six, out.”
Antonious took a deep, calming breath as the weight on his chest steadily grew stronger with each passing moment. The dropship rocked slightly as it entered the atmosphere. The captain kept his eyes on the Tri-V inside the cockpit of his Mk 7 CASPer, marking their descent the entire way. A small countdown timer emerged on the lower half of his screen. The G-forces grew stronger as the dropship accelerated and began to pull out of the steep dive.
He could faintly make out a man howling from somewhere near the front of the company. Antonious couldn’t blame him, not really. They were pulling almost five Gs for longer than they ever had before. Even the battle-hardened captain was beginning to feel the effects of the combat drop as the edges of his vision began to blacken. Pushing down with his gut, he struggled to force his blood to circulate so he would not pass out.
“You train for dis!” First Sergeant’s Oti voice cut through the darkness. “Don’t be craw-craw. Do your job. Get pay! Ken?”
The force on his chest began to lessen as the dropship leveled out. Wobbling slightly, the craft stabilized and continued to slow as they approached the target drop zone. Antonious looked at the bright light to his left where the rear ramp was. It was still red, but he knew it wouldn’t be much longer. It was time for them to bail.
“Drop positions!” he ordered the men of 2nd Company. “Shuttle control, this is Jackal Six. Release magnetic clamps.”
“Releasing magnetic clamps, Jackal Six,” came the immediate reply. “Good hunting.”
I hope not, Antonious thought. “Copy, shuttle control. Jackal Six, out.”
Freed from the magnetic clamps used to secure the CASPers during a combat drop, Antonious slowly moved to the ramp. The rest of the company followed their captain’s example and carefully made their way to the rear. The vibrations of the shuttle increased violently as the ramp hatch slowly opened, exposing the bright blue Mediterranean Sea below. In the distance, he could make out the familiar boot shape which was Italy, as well as the island of Sicily just off the “toe.”
The light suddenly changed from red to green and Captain Antonious Karnga, 2nd Company, Kakata Korps, made his first combat drop onto Earth.
* * *
Möller Interstellar Consortium Vessel Jörgummund, Near Earth Orbit, Sol System
Colonel Mulbah Luo watched on his Tri-V display as the second of his three companies dropped to Earth. 3rd Company had dropped earlier, on schedule. 2nd Company had been slower than the rest boarding their dropship. This bothered him greatly. It had become something of a trend ever since the botched kidnapping of the Zuparti crime lord at Troubadour Station. They were constantly running behind on just about everything since Mulbah had broken down the organization into a traditional military model, and it had more to do with Mulbah’s choice of commander for the company than anything else.
Mulbah really did like Antonious personally, but it was becoming painfully obvious to everyone else on the command staff why the captain had been a mechanic early on. He needed to attend some sort of leadership school, but given the current state of affairs on Earth, it simply wasn’t an option anytime soon. He could replace Antonious as CO of 2nd Company but considering the working relationship he had with his men, Mulbah could potentially be facing an even bigger problem. Not mutiny, but something close enough to cause the entire Korps to not function as efficiently as it once had.
No, for the ti
me being, Captain Karnga would remain the 2nd Company’s CO.
Mulbah switched frequencies as his Tri-V shifted the view to the second dropship. “Leopard Six, this is Lion Six, over.”
“This is Leopard Six,” Captain Samson Tolbert of the 1st Company replied. “Go Lion Six.”
“2nd Company is in position and dropping,” Mulbah told him. “Commence your drop now.”
“Copy, Lion Six,” Samson confirmed. “Leopard Six, out.”
Unlike Antonious, Mulbah had complete and utter confidence in 1st Company and its captain. Samson had proven himself to be more than capable of command and had kept his losses to only one casualty in eight missions. That had been a broken leg, which was later fixed in no time, and the merc in the CASPer had been battle ready for the next contract. It had surprised Mulbah after he learned Samson seemed to thrive as being the Korps’ “Tip of the Spear” when it came to battle. Despite the odds, Samson’s perfect combat record remained intact, which made the faults of 2nd Company all the more apparent.
You can’t compare the two when you look at their histories, Mulbah mentally chided himself. While Antonious had been from a decently wealthy family in the states and had played his way through high school and his VOWS, Samson had been one of the thousands of child-soldiers left out to die when the fourth Liberian civil war ended. However, unlike most of his fellow former slaves, Samson accepted the teachings of the Christian missionaries and was a quick study. His VOWS scores had been average, which meant nobody had really gone after him in the recruiting department. The only reason he had taken the job as a mechanic for the Spaniards was because it paid better than most of the merc positions he was offered. Until Mulbah hired him as a CASPer driver, at least.
Sons of the Lion Page 3
