“I wish you could stay longer.” Mom stood.
“No. He who hesitates is lost. All the other grads are looking for jobs now. If I wait too long, even an extra day, all the good jobs will be gone. Besides, the sooner I leave the sooner I get back.”
“I like the way you think. Imagine, in just five short years you’ll be home for good with enough money to live well and never have to work another day in your life.”
Galen smiled. “Enough for you and me. I’m going into an armored brigade that stays busy. Unit contract shares will add up pretty quick.”
“Which unit?”
Galen struggled to remember. “The Jasmine Panzer Brigade.”
Mom frowned and patted Galen’s hand. “Just be careful.”
Galen said nothing. His mother left his room, closing the door behind as she left. Galen was glad she left because he was naked under his blanket. He got up and stepped into the body cleaner, got dressed and sat at his desk. He engaged the terminal and read the long list of missed messages on his flat screen. Most were more than a year old. He noticed that as time went on the fewer messages he had. The newest one was four months old. He simply deleted them all in one shot. Then he called Tad.
After a moment Tad’s face filled the screen. “What’s up?”
Galen smiled. “Ready to party?”
“You just woke me up. But yeah, I’ll be there. You call Spike yet?”
“Nope.”
“I’ll do it.” The screen went blank.
Galen shut off the terminal and stood, faced left and pulled back the curtain covering his window. An airbus went by, a hovercraft that moved along on a cushion of air that kept the bus twenty centimeters off the ground. It also sprayed a fine mist of water ahead of itself, to prevent dust. The overall effect kept the street clean. Across the street was a warehouse, thin steel walls thirty meters high. On the other side of the warehouse the control tower of the spaceport was clearly visible. Tomorrow he’d take a short bus ride and then walk to the hiring hall. Then walk from there to the spaceport, to travel to his unit. He realized he’d likely not see home again for at least five years. But that was the plan. This was his life plan. Five years as a mercenary, then come home with a pocket full of money.
He left the apartment and went down stairs and entered the bar through the back door. The male and female bathrooms were on the left and right, and past them the hallway opened up into the main floor of the bar. The ceiling was four meters high, soft lighting strips arranged in a meandering grid pattern that varied in width and resembled the time-space distortion map of Osterich’s gravity well. To the left the wall was lined with booths with sturdy square tables, a larger horseshoe-shaped booth in the corner with a sturdy round table supported by a single center pole, more booths along the wall to the far left. Ahead was the dance floor, half a dozen tables along its left and forward edge, the bar itself along the right side wall, the entrance to the kitchen area behind it.
Galen stepped forward a couple of steps and looked up and behind over his left shoulder. A banner saying ‘Congratulations Graduates’ hung high on the back wall. Danceable music just loud enough to mask conversation more than two meters away played. The bar was filling up, nearly half the seats taken already. Most of the customers were people Galen recognized from the Academy, there with family, friends and lovers. Nearly every table and booth had one graduate with three or four civilians there to celebrate.
Barmaids in bodices laced up the front, peasant blouses bearing abundant cleavage, and short fluffy skirts with knee-high white stockings, sturdy shoes, they moved around carrying as many as four 2 liter ale mugs in each hand. Bus boys and girls dressed in subdued black and grey suits and hip aprons made their way around, clearing tables a bit at a time as each plate or mug became empty. Galen made his way along the space between the booths and tables, smiling, responding to greetings, waving back, shaking the occasional proffered hand, politely declining offers to join the groups.
Around to the far wall was the reserved table, a long table with seating for twelve. Tad and Spike were there, seated to the immediate left and right of the head of the table, each with a girlfriend for the evening. Seated along with them were Galen’s paternal uncle and his wife, and his maternal aunt and her husband. They directed Galen to sit at the head of the table. His mother sat at the foot, dressed in a white blouse and black skirt that hung below her knees. For work she’d wear a barmaid uniform, but she took tonight off and dressed conservatively.
Barmaids brought mugs and Galen stood to make his toast. “I want to thank you all for coming here tonight and for all the help. I have to thank my mother, my family, my friends. I couldn’t have made it without each and every one of you. Left to my own devices, I’d probably be working in a spaceport gift shop right now.”
Galen took a long pull on his mug and sat down. The others also drank. A barmaid leaned in close over Galen’s right shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Please don’t get drunk.”
Galen looked. Raven hair pulled back in a high pony tail, round face with high, soft cheeks, a big smile as wide as her face.
Galen said, “Olivia!”
She leaned in again, her bosom against his shoulder. “I want to spend the night with you. Please don’t get drunk.”
Galen nodded and smiled. Olivia took his half-full ale mug and returned it a moment later, full. Galen took a sip and realized it had been watered but it still tasted good.
Bar maids came and placed steak and baked potatoes in front of them all. They bowed their heads and then looked up and started eating. Halfway through the steak Galen’s uncle asked, “They still run up Tank Hill?”
Galen swallowed. “Roger. Every damn time we did PT.”
“And the phase one FTX?”
Tad said, “It was cold. Too cold.”
Spike said, “We hiked thirty klicks up into the mountains for basic marksmanship.”
“In the middle of winter,” said Tad.
Galen’s uncle chuckled. “Good training.”
Galen said, “I learned a lot. Ballistic weapons, laser weapons, grenades. Shooting up hill, down hill, all different kinds of weapons. We even threw rocks.”
“What about at the end?”
Spike said, “The end was great. Heavy 20mm ballistic rifles, picking off targets at five klicks.”
Tad said, “The training was great, but it was cold. I was happy to get back to the academy after freezing my butt off for a month.”
Mom said, “But you’re okay now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tad took a drink of his ale.
Galen sipped his drink and watched Olivia as she walked past with a tray. Her hips swayed and then she looked over her left shoulder. Galen glimpsed her left eye a moment before she smiled and turned her head forward, walking off to the kitchen.
An alert bus girl snatched up Galen’s empty plate. Olivia returned and placed half a pumpkin pie in front of Galen and added colored water to his ale. He knew it was water but Olivia used the same sort of pitcher Ale came in so the other guests wouldn’t know.
Uncle asked, “I heard you shot a thousand.”
“On the tank range,” said Galen. “It was my proudest moment at the Academy.”
“That is no small feat. Do they still make you operate everything yourself, in the tank alone, using commander’s override controls from the cupola to do it all?”
“Yes. It all just came together. Felt as natural as if I were born to do it. I was in a zone where me and the tank and the main gun and the systems all felt like an extension of me. Or I felt like a part of the tank. I was the biological control component of a mechanical weapons system. I can’t wait to get back in a tank. It just feels so natural. It makes me feel complete.”
The guests all stared at Galen, mouths partly open.
Mom broke the tension. “Hey, finish desert so we can have our shots.”
They finished their pie and bus boys took away the plates and forks. Olivia retuned with a t
ray full of shot glasses. Galen knew the other glasses contained Uzo, but his contained water. He stood, the guests stood and Galen said, “Success!”
“Success!” The guests drank their shots and set their glasses on the table and sat down in their chairs.
Olivia returned and set mugs of ale in front of each guest. Galen sipped his watered-down drink and listened to the conversation.
Tad said, “That hand to hand instructor, that guy taught me a lot. I love martial arts now.”
Spike nodded.
“Who’d have thought you could get out of being pinned? Everything I learned in high school wrestling was not to get put on your back, but there I learned there is a lot you can do from that position.”
Galen said, “It was valuable training, but since I’m tall they kept calling me out for demonstration. That got old real quick.”
“Sure. But now you know you can get out of anything.”
Galen sipped his drink, Tad and Spike held up their empty mugs. Busboys removed the mugs, barmaids brought more. Then heaping plates of potatoes sliced and fried. They used forks and dipped the potatoes in little bowls of ketchup, or salsa, or mustard, each to their own taste. Galen ate nearly an entire plate himself, using up two bowls of ketchup as well. With the table cleared once again, the barmaids brought coffee and little squares of cinnamon coffee cakes.
Uncle spoke, “So where are you guys going tomorrow?”
Spike said, “The hiring hall. We have an appointment with the designated agent of the Jasmine Panzer Brigade.”
Tad said, “I hope they take us.”
Uncle said, “I’m sure they will. They’ve been rebuilding these past two years and taking a lot of small contracts. You’ll have plenty of chances to make lots of money. And the door is wide open for advancement.”
Galen nodded. “And I’ll be back in five years, with a pocket full of money.”
“Your father—” Uncle stopped, changed the subject. “You’ll do well.”
Mom sat at her end of the table conversing with her sister and sister in law and brother in law. Tad and Spike’s dates leaned forward and spoke to each other, laughing and pointing. Galen leaned back in his chair and saw Olivia waiting in line at the bar behind two other bar maids at the bar maid station to pick up more orders. She glanced back and noticed him looking and faced his direction and stood hipshot and smiled, then turned back toward the bar, rolling her hips as she did so.
The newly-graduated cadet sitting with his family in the corner booth directly behind Galen was talking loudly.
“And then instructor McPeeperton said, ‘Oh, and you just decided all on your own it was a good time to turn left.’”
His family laughed. The Cadet stood and gave a very convincing impersonation of Instructor McPeeperton, matching the voice and mannerisms of the Academy’s Driver’s Training instructor perfectly. “You’re in the right lane! You must be turning right!”
Galen and Tad laughed.
Spike stood, his date along with him. “Ladies and gentlemen, we must be off.”
The guests waved and said farewells. Galen shook Spike’s hand, and then Tad’s, who was leaving too. Aunts and Uncles bid farewell and Mom gave Galen a hug before leaving to her apartment. Alone, Galen waited.
Olivia came. “Wait for me outside, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Galen went out the back entrance of the bar and waited at the base of the inside stairs. Olivia came and smiled and took his hand and led him up the stairs, all the way to the third floor and into her apartment. She opened the door and gently pulled him in by the hand.
She hugged him, her bosom bulging. “Well, what do you think of my place?”
“This apartment is all yours?”
“I share it with three other bar maids. They’re still at work and won’t be here for a few minutes. But I do have my own room.”
Galen followed her into her room. Inside, she shut the door behind them and dimmed the lights and added a tinge of red.
She asked, “Have you been intimate before?”
“Sort of. Once.”
She sat on the bed and removed her shoes. “Tell me about it.”
“A couple of weeks ago I went to the red light district. I was on overnight pass and didn’t have much time.”
“And that was your first time?” She rolled her knee-high socks down and took them off.
“Yes.”
“How was it?” She stood directly in front of him and looked up into his eyes.
“Terrible. I had to do everything. What was I paying her for? All she did was complain. ‘It’s too big, it’s too hard, you’re taking too long, hurry up, please finish’ and that’s when I said, ‘you’re supposed to make me!’ and then I quit and got dressed and left.”
Olivia pressed her index finger against his lips. “Shhh. Forget about that. I’m going to show you how it’s done.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I’m going to teach you all about it. We’re doing everything.”
Galen put his arms around her. “Okay.”
“First of all, sex begins long before the clothes come off. Put the palm of your left hand in the small of my back and pull me toward you gently. Good. Now, your right hand on the back of my neck, support my head as I tilt it back.”
Galen gazed down into her eyes, her bosom. Her mouth parted slightly.
“Now, lean in and down. Kiss me.”
Galen did, her tongue rubbing his, swirling in his mouth, then she sucked his tongue into her mouth and tickled it with hers. She pulled away. “Very good. Now relax, I’m going to get undressed. You too, while you watch me. Then we’ll get back to kissing.”
Galen sat in the desk chair and undressed and watched her undress in front of him.
Chapter IV
Galen awoke on his back, Olivia snuggled up against his right side, her head resting on his shoulder. She was magnificent. All the things he heard about morning hair and morning breath, all the jokes he’d heard about going to bed with a beautiful woman and then waking up with an ugly one were all proven untrue to Galen. He liked the smells, the disheveled look. He pulled back the blanket and admired her nude figure. She stirred, kissed him on the cheek and looked at the clock.
She sat up. “Damn! I was going to teach you about morning sex but there’s no time.”
Galen saw the clock. “Crap.”
He dressed quickly and rushed down the stairs. He went through the bar, yelled “goodbye” to his mother on the way out to the street and caught the next airbus to the hiring hall. After he stepped off the bus he sat on the bench and wondered if he were doing the right thing. He could get a job at the bar, take a commission with the local reserve unit, and live happily ever after with Olivia.
He used his personal communicator to call her.
“Olivia. I’m having second thoughts.”
“Galen, I love you in my own way.”
“Let’s stay together. We could get married!”
“Galen, don’t take this the wrong way. I love you as much as I have loved any man. But I don’t get married. I don’t. You can spend the night with me any time you want, but right now you have to go. Duty calls. Besides, your mother will kill me if you miss your appointment today.”
“I understand.” Galen didn’t like it but he understood it. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
He shut off the communicator and shoved it in his pocket and sat hunched over, head in his hands, for half a minute.
Then he stood and walked toward the hiring hall.
First Contract: War for Profit Part One
by
Gideon Fleisher
Copyright © 2012 Gideon Fleisher
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved.
Chapter One
Galen would be a mercenary, as soon as he signed his first contract. He wanted to be successful enough to make his mother proud. She raised him and paid his way through the Ostwind Military Academy a
s she worked as a barmaid at the warrior base on Ostreich.
Galen didn’t know his deceased father, but knew he had been a mercenary in the Foreign Corps; that’s why Galen was two hundred and ten centimeters tall. His mother, she raised Galen to be a mighty and successful warrior. Galen had just graduated from the Ostwind Military Academy Armor School and it was time for him to do his part.
He sat at the bench on the sidewalk, hunched over, staring at his size fourteen combat boots and rubbed his large hands over his close-cropped brown hair. The mild headache was a reminder of last night’s graduation party. He stood to his full height, stretched, buttoned his grey full-length wool coat, stuffed his hands into his pockets--he could do that now, outside the Academy--and started walking toward the largest building in the city. It was where he would meet two of his academy classmates, to join the same unit with them.
He stopped fifty meters away from the steps of the building and scanned the three dozen or so groups of job-seeking warriors. When he picked out his two friends he stood watching them for a minute. Tad was almost two meters tall, of average build but not to be ignored. His scalp showed through his close-cropped academy haircut and added a slight touch of pink to his bright orange hair. He wore a rescue-yellow windbreaker and green-blue plaid parachute pants and gestured vigorously as he spoke to Spike.
Spike seemed to be leaning on something invisible, standing in his knee-high leather boots, dark blue pants tucked into them, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black leather waist-length jacket. His conservative haircut was probably the longest allowed by the academy, and his hair’s blackness was made even darker by styling spray. With his thick moustache, the short and stocky Spike resembled an ancient fighter pilot.
Galen walked up to them and said, “Spike, Tad, how’s it going? Find us a job yet?”
“Sure!” said Tad, “as soon as the agent bothers to show up to work. We’ve been standing here through lunch, haven’t seen him yet. He’s supposed to poke his face out that door and wave us in, any time now. I’m tired of waiting. I want some action. I can’t stand all this waiting around!”
The War for Profit Series Omnibus Page 3
