“Looks like a gaggle of know-nothings,” another chimed in.
“They sure don’t look squared away,” another said.
“Let’s see what they know,” the leader said. His nametape read, PAULEY.
Approaching Vincent, Pauley stopped just shy of contact. A head taller than the stocky greener, he snarled and barked, “Atten-shun!”
Vincent seemingly did nothing but look hard into the bully’s eyes, however Sam knew his friend well enough to realize Vince was growing angry. Tensing, Vincent’s weight shifted slightly in a way Sam recognized—a prelude to fisticuffs, a skill Vincent was most adept at. To avoid an incident so soon after being hired, Sam moved next to his friend.
“Sorry, Private Pauley,” Sam said in a conciliatory tone, “but I must point out you lack the authority to issue orders. Unless there’s something we don’t know, you might consider a more comradely approach.”
Pauley looked at Sam with distaste. “A barracks lawyer? Sorry slick, but being a greener means you don’t know how it works in a unit like this. This is the real world, not service school. Best you shut your trap before you get yourself in trouble.”
Sam shrugged. “I’m thinking it’s you that doesn’t know how it works in this unit or most others. Privates may only possess command authority over other privates and that occurs solely when ordered by a sergeant or higher holding a command position. I’m willing to bet Senior Sergeant Winger didn’t grant you anything more than employment. Maybe we should go see him and inquire for clarification?”
“Leave it alone, greener,” the buzz-cut blonde next to Pauley said. “You’re asking for trouble. Once we’re processed in and we’re all company mates, you’ll see how it works. We can show you the ropes. We have stint-marks. You don’t.” She canted her head and raised her eyebrows.
“A stint mark,” Vincent said in a challenging tone that begged for a response from the four. “I almost missed it.” His comment brought laughter from the greeners looking on.
“You—”
“Glad to see we’re all getting along,” Corporal Hicks said looking back and forth between the two groups as he approached. “Pauley, Somers, Perkins, and Curtis. Missed you coming through the door. Your names popped up on my screen here. Maybe Sergeant Winger didn’t mention you were supposed to find me? Never mind. Making friends already? It’s always best when everyone is on civil terms with each other.” Leaning in to look over the newest group, he smiled as he centered on Pauley. “My, it’s just like the man said. A single stint mark. It’s good a grizzled vet like you is here to square away these greeners.” Leaning in closer and squinting to read the stint mark, his smile grew. “Pilton Biological Expedition? That was a wild one I heard. Wild indeed.” Looking at his screen before returning his gaze to the four he continued. “All four of you survived it. You guys see much action?”
“Well, no actual combat, but we were in danger plenty,” Private Pauley said.
Hicks smiled unpleasantly. “I know. I have a pal that was there. Not a shot fired and zero casualties unless you consider insect bites to be valid injuries she said. Easy money she called it except for putting up with shit-flinging primates, stinging plant life, and all the jack-wagons in the unit. She didn’t bother putting it on her service panel. That ought to tell you something. You’re in the Red Light now. There won’t be any biological expeditions with this outfit. We go where the fight is and earn our pay. We also don’t have time to screw around and petty bullshit gets left at the door. If you don’t like it, pick it up on the way out. Got me?”
“Yeah, got it,” Pauley replied sullenly.
“That’s ‘got it, corporal,’ private. We’re not chums just yet, so protocol is the rule. We’re nearing our recruitment cap for this session so we’ll be departing soon. Why don’t you make friends with your fellow privates before then. Healey here had it right.”
“Are you through… corporal?” Pauley challenged.
Hicks laughed. “You must have slipped something by Sergeant Winger. I’ll find out how soon we pack up, until then play nice.” Pointing at Vincent while glaring at Pauley he said, “I have a hunch Davout there was just a few seconds from putting you on your ass, Private Pauley.” After giving the troublemakers a parting hard look, Hicks headed for the door to the hiring hall.
Once Hicks was out of earshot, Pauley looked at Sam with anger. “Your little corporal buddy isn’t always going to be around. Remember that.”
Sam nodded. “I will. You might remember what Hicks said as well. He wasn’t wrong.”
“Wrong about what exactly?”
“Vincent Davout. Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Let me introduce you to—”
“Stow it, greener. Once we’re in barracks you’ll see what’s what. That Hicks is naïve if he believes the crap he spews. Troops with experience will eat you for dinner. There’s a pecking order. You’ll see. That’s a lesson you need to learn.”
“I’m looking forward to hearing your wisdom,” Vincent said in the same baiting voice he’d used before. “Our education in bug-hunts is lacking.”
Nearly every greener in earshot laughed.
Balling his fists and reddening in anger while turning to face Vincent, Pauley was quickly pulled away by his companions. With parting glares, the four disappeared into the crowd of mercenaries.
. . .
Picking up the Pieces
. . .
Old Earth had long ago sent some of her inhabitants to distant star systems and in time those settlers in turn sent more to spread humanity to the far reaches of the galaxy. One of these faraway places was dubbed Jubilee—a bountiful system rich in resources and habitable bodies. Two planets were settled initially with more added once habitable body-forming tech was able to be produced a few generations later, allowing the modification of environmental and ecological conditions on other worlds. Centuries beyond this initial phase, the Jubilee System had grown to host billions of people on numerous planets, moons, and space stations. Most significant among these were the giant planets Novar and Valenz.
Originally governed by a single political entity, Jubilee soon outgrew this and authority fractured into squabbling parties fighting for power. New governments arose to control various moons, stations, and planetary regions large and small, while expansive and powerful business interests took on similar roles in others. Inevitably, further conflicts cropped up, growing into system-wide war that ravaged the Jubilee to the point many began plans to depart as their ancestors had long before. As these people prepared to build generation ships and sleeper vessels, others sought to end the wild, lawless, and devastating warfare that became known as The Precipice Wars.
A solution of sorts was found in the Accords of Warfare, a method of governing conflict and combat within the system. Though far from perfect, the Accords ended much of the wanton destruction by creating an ordered body of regulations requiring mediation before armed conflict. Only after negotiation failed was combat permitted under strict guidelines. Requiring a specified limit on weaponry, limited zones for battle, and monitored conduct during such combats, these mitigated civilian casualties and destruction of vital infrastructures. Violators of the Accords could be economically censured for minor infractions while major offenders faced military sanctions the likes of which made such actions prohibitively dangerous.
A result of this new form of warfare was the rise of professional soldiers conditioned and educated in service schools and employed by mercenary units. Hired to augment or oppose corporate, governmental, or other mercenary forces, these free companies and legions abided by the Accords of Warfare just as government and corporate backed forces did but with the added element of contracts. Those that were talented, savvy, and fortunate found that such endeavors could be quite lucrative, though perilous.
Methods of war and victory conditions were spelled out in contract when mercenary forces were involved. As a general rule, weapons of mass destruction, space-based arms, robot-controlled com
bat systems, and battle in heavily populated areas were forbidden. Typically fighting within strict boundaries, collateral damage was kept to a minimum. At times, local contracted wars took on aspects that made them seem bizarre or even fanciful: aircraft only affairs, weaponry limited to sword and shield, timed wars, and more oddities occurred. While such strangeness did come about, most conflicts were conventional ground campaigns with armored vehicles and infantry making up the bulk of fighting units.
As one of the earliest mercenary units formed, the Red Light Company had long been successful and highly regarded, but as the fighting on Boomoon demonstrated, battle was a harsh and fickle business environment.
With vigorous recruiting efforts taking place, the Red Light was soon near full strength and now faced the process of rearming and reequipping itself. Even in the business of war, time was money and every day spent not at war was a day the company’s coffers lost coin. With dwindling funds and time, the members—old and new—understood they must make haste.
. . .
Red Light Company Barracks, Nelson City, Planet Novar
Hundreds of soldiers stood at attention in a block formation as a uniformed man took the steps up a crude dais two at a time. Just visible in the light of dawn were the silver diamond shaped rank insignia designating a commander of mercenaries that adorned his epaulets. On his left shoulder was a round red patch with the depiction of crossed rifles and inscribed with RED LIGHT COMPANY across the face, a patch every soldier in the formation also wore. A sandy-haired man just slightly taller than average, he carried a natural air of authority. His steel-grey eyes looked over his new command before he spoke.
“At ease,” he said loudly.
Nearly as one, those in the formation assumed the position, legs shoulder width apart, overlapping hands clasped just above the belt at the lower back.
“I am Jack Hawkwood, newly hired commander of the Red Light Company. Many of you know of me. A few of you actually know me. A small number of those actually like me.” He paused for the quiet laughter to subside.
“The Red Light will fight again despite what occurred on Boomoon. We have funding and orders for new gear. We now have a nearly full complement of troopers with enough coming in shortly to bring us to full strength. What remains is filling some leadership and tech slots; organizing the unit; getting gear, vehicles, arms, and personnel into working order; and taking a contract. This must be done in haste. There will be no screwing around and little downtime. Hard work will see us through. In case you lunkheads haven’t noticed, we have gathered a rough bunch most units would love to have in the ranks. I expect the best from you, each and every one whether veteran or fresh from service school. Some of the top mercenaries in the business signed on to stand in our formation. Troopers like Terry Holden, Dan Forrester, and Rod Mitchell to name a few. Some like Senior Sergeants Ray Winger and Harper Brown have served the Red Light for some time. They and the other crusty sorts will see to it you provide your best. When you don’t, they have orders to kick your ass so hard you’ll be wearing it for a hat so put in the effort, help each other, and speak up if you’re in over your head.
“I’m tabbing Holden to be company topkick.” Pointing at the soldier, Hawkwood ordered, “Top Sergeant, front and center.”
Holden came to attention before stepping from the ranks and moving out smartly to assume a position of attention next to the dais directly in front of Hawkwood. Executing a sharp about-face, he came to parade rest.
“Sergeant Holden has my full confidence. If he orders you to shove your head up your own ass, you can be assured it is with my blessing. For the time being, unit assignments are temporary and flexible. Today we receive weapons and gear shipments and send a detail to the Maelstrom Corporation depot to receive our company’s vehicles. Tech and mech section will oversee this detail under Top Sergeant Holden’s supervision.
“We need both tasks completed in two days. Two. Three days from now we head to Moore Training Grounds. How you perform from now until the end of the upcoming skill evaluations, ranges, and field exercise will have considerable bearing on your unit and job tasks which will be assigned upon our return here. The prep is not make-work or bullshit. It is part of the job and I expect professionalism from each and every one of you. Upon dismissal, check your data-receivers for current assignment.”
Looking over his command once again, Hawkwood smiled. “The Red Light will fight again. Atten-huh!”
As one, the members of the formation came to attention.
“Dismissed,” Hawkwood called.
As the soldiers checked their assignments, Hawkwood descended the steps and found Holden waiting for him at the bottom.
“Your first official address to your new command, Jack. How many times have you been offered a slot like this? What made the difference this time?” Holden asked.
“The unit and the conditions. A top company that needs a rebuild. Bob Kent ran this outfit for a long time and kept it at the top level like it was when he took command. I aim to see it stays at the top. I have enough faith in the prospect that I bought a stake in the company. The remaining pieces are solid to outstanding and troopers like you make this unit something to be feared. New gear, new arms, and young troopers taught to soldier the right way makes this an opportunity for something special. I’m guessing you thought I needed the help?”
Holden laughed. “Something like that. You, Forrester, Mitchell, Winger, and half a dozen other top mercs? I see what you mean. The vehicles, are we refurbishing or—”
“Spanking new and top of the line, Terry. It’s costly, but we have the financial backing needed to fully refit. It’s a big pile of debt, but with top troops and top gear, we’ll make it pay. We must.”
“Victory or bust. Same as it ever was.”
“Pretty much.”
“Any change to the unit’s makeup?”
“Very little. The Red Light Company is a hybrid, but at its heart is light infantry. It’s a proven formula. Light infantry is pure so we stick to the path. The strength of light infantry is backed with other strengths, but we keep it basic.”
Holden smiled. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
“Any issues with me being your boss?”
Holden laughed. “I wouldn’t be here if there was. We’ve worked together enough times to know what each of us brings to the field. I’m not commander material. I know my strengths and I’m built to be a sergeant. Your being the CO was a selling point.”
“I’ll need all the talent you have, Terry. Together we can make this something special.”
Holden sighed and smiled once again. “Those command diamonds are making you soft.”
“I have a hunch the old crusty troopers are going to be giving me the business for awhile.”
Holden laughed again. “Trust your hunches, Jack.”
. . .
Sam and Vincent looked at their data-receivers. Scanning for their assignments they soon found they were going to the Maelstrom Corporation depot along with their schoolmate Myles Rivers. The other four were tasked with gear and weapons detail at the barracks.
“That’s going to be something,” Rivers said as he joined his two classmates. “Every sort of vehicle imaginable will be at the depot.”
Sam nodded and smiled. “When we see some of those mechanical monstrosities we’ll regret pursuing the path of infantry. I’m thinking we’ll wish had more than just a frag vest and helmet to protect us.”
“Vehicles. Deathtraps, all of’em,” Vincent replied with a laugh. “You’re acting like we’re going to an expo.”
Rivers shrugged. “Hey, I’m just saying it might be cool to see a two hundred thousand kilo armored vehicle that isn’t hostile.”
“Depot detail,” Top Sergeant Holden bellowed. “Head for the mess and eat a quick and hearty breakfast. We depart in three-zero minutes and have a lot of work ahead of us.”
The trio made their way to the mess hall and were soon joined by the other four that ma
de up the lucky seven as Bastrop had dubbed them.
“Vehicle detail?” Briggs said as they sat down to eat. “You guys have it easy.”
“Sure we do,” Vincent said around his first bite of food. “You get to play with rifles and machine-guns while we’ll be carrying tracks on our backs.”
“Did the company lose everything on Boomoon?” Fran Smith asked. Of the same height and nearly as heavy of build as Vincent, she was a rare being in light infantry, a woman who could withstand the physical rigors of the job and excel in service school. “They told us the entire unit is receiving new weapons, load-bearing gear, body armor, the works.”
“You heard Corporal Hicks,” Sam said. “They surrendered. The Accords dictate the victor can claim most of the vanquished unit’s gear if the surrendering unit is at a large enough disadvantage. It seems like they didn’t have much left given the casualty rate and the fact the Red Light is getting completely outfitted.”
“You’re quite the know-it-all, aren’t you?” Private Pauley said as he passed by carrying a tray of food. “How a greener who’s never deployed can know so much is amazing. I might go so far to say you’re full of—”
“Why did you have to go and act that way?” Vincent said with an exaggerated shrug. “We heard the company was going to name you ‘most helpful trooper’ and put you on Hawkwood’s staff. You just blew it.”
Pauley stopped and glared at Vincent and Sam as others nearby laughed. “Keep it up and you’ll see what happens, private.”
Vincent smiled. “Your food’s getting cold, private.”
. . .
Sam, Vincent, and Myles Rivers boarded a mass transit transport along with nearly fifty others from the company. A good quarter of the group were clad in work coveralls as opposed to the military utilities or crew suits the rest wore. They were technical and mechanical soldiers—tech-n-mechs in merc parlance—who serviced and repaired the vehicles and higher technical weapons systems such as air defense and ordnance interdiction units.
Free Company- Red Zone Page 3
