“A white dress? I thought—” the pilot cut himself off, looked back at Galen, his eyes wide, his mouth closed.
Galen said, “I know all about that, mister pilot. But it’s a white dress to symbolize purity of spirit, her past forgiven, a clean slate, that sort of thing.”
The pilot smiled and faced forward towards his instruments. “I didn’t think you liked small breasts.”
Galen lightly poked the pilot on the back of his head. “Shut up and drive.”
“Yessir.”
Karen returned and Galen stood to give her a hug. The top of her head came to just below his nose, something Galen liked. Hard for a man who was two hundred and ten centimeters tall to find a woman tall enough for him. He briefly enjoyed the scent of her dark brown hair, and then she leaned back and gazed into his blue eyes and ran her left hand through his close-cropped light brown hair, and then he released his hug and he sat back down and fastened his lap belt. She took the seat next to him.
“Zero G,” said the pilot. He turned off the ionic propulsion nacelles and retracted them into the belly of the drop ship. Weightless, he rotated the ship to face the planet below. “Welcome home, boss.”
Karen looked out the forward cockpit window. “It’s beautiful.”
Terraformed more than two millennia ago by privateering space pirates for use as a hidden base of operations, Ostreich was now a well-developed industrial planet that had factories producing the Galaxy’s finest weapons of land warfare and the Galaxy’s finest soldiers, mercenaries serving in professional units for hire. The oceans were green and blue, blue being the deep parts. The southern hemisphere held the majority of the land mass in three continents, but it was the smaller fourth continent in the northern hemisphere that held the capitol city of Ostwind, and the several factories and cities around the factories, and the training areas for the mercenary academies and mercenary units. The great variety of terrain and climate of the planet’s smallest continent offered the best training opportunities. An elongated landmass extending from the arctic to the tropics, with mountains and valleys and coastlines, truly, a unit could train in every type of terrain and climate known to support human life, all within the same ten-day training exercise. And with its gravity of one point two Gs, Ostreich grew strong people.
The pilot sent registration to the Ostwind City spaceport and received clearance and a flight path. He tilted the nose down and lined up with the path before engaging the thrusters to push the ship into the outermost layers of the atmosphere. Galen felt the gravity take hold, then the thrust of the ship as it began powered atmospheric flight. The wings extended to their mach two increment, then after a few minutes the pilot decelerated to below mach one and extended the wings fully. The city was visible ahead, the landing strip of the spaceport growing larger as they approached. The pilot made a few minor course corrections, slowed to a hundred and sixty kilometers per hour, lowered the landing gear and set the ship down. It trundled along, thrust deflectors reducing its forward speed to twenty kilometers per hour. Then the pilot stopped the ship, rotated it, and then backed into a hangar. Stopped, the pilot lowered the rear cargo ramp and shut down the ship’s flight systems, leaving the Auxiliary Power Unit engaged to power the ship’s minor subsystems.
The co-pilot said, “Thank you for flying with Jasmine Space Lines.”
Karen said, “As small as this ship is, why isn’t it called a boat like all the other spacecraft this size?”
The pilot said, “Size doesn’t matter. To be a ship, a spacecraft has to be capable of unassisted interstellar travel. Anything less is just a boat.”
Karen stood and stretched. “So anything with a jump drive is a ship.”
“Well,” said the pilot, “Supraluminal and Faster Than Light drive counts too, if it’s capable of reaching the next star. Just better hope there’s nothing but blank space between you and your destination, using that old junk.”
Galen gripped Karen’s shoulders and faced her toward the door and gave a gentle push and said, “Pilot, you’re boring the lady. We’re out of here, have a nice day and thanks for the ride.”
The pilot said, “Yessir. See you next week. Call me when you’re ready to leave, we can take off with as little as four hours notice.”
Galen looked over his shoulder as he left the cockpit, “In seven days we’ll be on our way to Mandarin. Until then, enjoy Ostreich.”
Karen and Galen walked along the catwalk that ran along the length of the jump drive generator, climbed down the ladder at the end, checked their cabins one last time and walked down the cargo ramp to exit the rear of the ship. They walked to the back of the hangar and exited there to wait for the spaceport tram to come take them to the passenger terminal. Galen checked his wrist chronometer: 14:22 hours local time. When the tram arrived, Galen realized he had no coins to pay for the ride. The only other passenger was an elderly man wearing a business smock. He handed a coin to each of them so they could get on.
“Thank you,” said Karen.
“Think nothing of it. Someone did the same for me in the past, and some day you’ll help someone else. You just get here?”
“I just got back from a contract. I’m going to see my mother and introduce my girlfriend.”
The passenger pointed at Galen’s and Karen’s brand new rank pins. “Looks like you did pretty well on that contract; it looks like you just got pinned.”
“Oh yes,” said Galen. “We did just fine.”
“This is my stop.” The passenger got off.
“Nic guy,” said Karen.
Galen placed his right hand on his side arm. “There are some nice people here. Most everyone is armed, and most everyone has military experience; I guess that makes most everyone more polite. I just need to remember to get some coins.” When the tram passed terminal fifteen Galen pressed the ‘next stop’ button and he and Karen got off at terminal fourteen.
The terminal was little more than a walkway four meters wide, brightly lit, with a polished concrete floor, benches along each side, sparse metal framing, a sturdy metal roof above and floor to ceiling windows and docking gates for drop boats about every fifty meters along the right side. At one gate, half a dozen passengers waited. A medium-sized drop boat was pulling up. Galen walked briskly along, Karen keeping pace. The terminal ended and they passed through the automated customs checkpoint and walked into the main passenger greeting area of the spaceport. Not too crowded, but still, hundreds of people. Some milling around the large open area, browsing shops, lined up to reserve flights, seated on benches, or just waiting to greet arriving passengers.
Someone shouted, “Hey Killer!”
Galen heard the familiar voice, loud, to his right and looked. A tall middle aged woman with wheat straw colored shoulder-length hair framing a ruddy face, broad shoulders and large breasts and wide hips, dressed in a dark blue dress that reached from her ankles to her neck, a five centimeter wide black glossy belt cinching in her waist, with a sidearm holstered on the right side, a black jacket worn open over that, and a thick gold chain necklace hanging outside her dress.
Galen walked briskly toward her and said, “Mom!”
She held her arms out and Galen walked into her and they embraced, Galen patting her back. After a moment they stopped hugging and stepped apart.
“Welcome home, son!”
“Mom,” Galen continued to smile.
His mother said, “Look here, this is Robert.”
Galen noticed the man standing next to his mother, a man near her age, with a full beard and dark slacks and a black leather jacket worn over a dark green flannel shirt. His graying hair was still mostly black. Galen shook his hand.
Robert grinned with a perfect set of white teeth. “Hello and congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Galen gestured toward Karen. “This is Karen Mitchell. We’re a couple.”
Mom shook Karen’s hand, and then Robert said, “I’ll go get the car,” and walked away.
Galen and Karen fol
lowed Mom across the terminal to the exit. They waited outside for Robert. There was a bit of a chill in the air as they waited, standing on the curb of the broad sidewalk. The metal roof four meters above channeled a breeze, making it just chilly enough Galen wished he had a jacket.
“No luggage?” said Mom.
“No,” said Karen. “We flew straight here from Juventud. My name’s Karen, by the way.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I was just so glad to see my son, I was distracted. My name’s Nancy but you should call me Nan.” Nan extended her hand and shook with Karen.
Galen said, “Is that him?”
An air car approached; a nice one. Glossy black with chrome trim, windows tinted so dark they looked black, a long sliding door along the side. The air car stopped and settled to the ground and the door slid open. Galen got in first, followed by Karen and then Nan. Robert was seated in the back.
Galen said, “Who’s driving?”
“Nobody,” Robert grinned. “Home, James.”
The door slid shut and the air car rose to ten centimeters off the street and drove away from the spaceport.
Nan said, “Robert is an engineer. He designed this car. I, however, had to cut through the red tape to get it licensed.”
Robert said, “Nan’s a real treasure. Don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“Ah,” said Karen, “What’s your specialty?”
“Proteum,” Robert winked, “but I’ve also been dabbling in reverse engineering and compressed micro-data recovery.”
Karen said, “That sounds like an interesting job.”
Robert leaned back, looked left and right, eyes wide. “Job? Who said anything about a job?”
Nan said, “Oh stop playing, Robert. He’s retired from working thirty years at Gravatech. Now he just messes around in his workshop as a hobby.”
Galen said, “Making things like this car that drives itself.”
Robert said, “No, this car doesn’t drive itself, it can’t drive. That would be illegal. I’m driving it, or rather, I drove home from the spaceport before and it’s just following the same route, and all the safety devices are connected and coordinated to ensure the vehicle has a safe trip. It’s like that one feature that takes control of the car if the driver falls asleep, and the other feature that prevents collisions, and so on and so forth, all taking turns controlling the car for brief periods of time. It’s like a safety feature that makes the car not wreck if the driver decides to sit in the back and have a conversation instead of driving. But a car that drives itself, that would be illegal.”
“Like when they outlawed artificial intelligence, but this is a work-around that gets the same results?” said Karen.
“Exactly,” Robert smiled.
Karen said, “So where is this workshop?”
“It’s at Nana’s place. I live with her.”
Nan said, “I own the Outlander bar. The second floor is our apartment and Robert’s work shop is Galen’s old bedroom. You two can stay in the third floor apartment, it’s vacant right now. Don’t worry about the fourth floor tenants, my six bar maids live up there. After a shift in the bar, all they want is peace and quiet.”
They went past the Outlander bar, turned right down the next street and then right again into the alley behind the bar and into the garage next to the bar’s loading dock. The air car settled to the ground and the blowers wound down, the garage door closing behind the vehicle.
Robert led them up the stairs to the second floor apartment and invited them to sit on the sectional sofa. Galen sat near the corner and resisted the urge to put his feet on the low, square coffee table. Karen sat next to him and Robert sat at the end of the longer section. Nan split off to the kitchen and returned with four glasses of ale on a tray, which she sat on the coffee table.
Nan sat next to Robert and said, “Don’t be shy, take up a glass.”
The four of them raised their glasses. Robert said, “To success.”
“Success,” they said, then took long drinks.
“So what would you like for dinner?” said Nan.
All eyes went to Galen. He said, “Steak and potatoes, with pumpkin pie for desert.”
“Very well,” said Nan. She thumbed a message into her personal communicator. “Dinner will be ready in an hour. So tell us, Galen, what was it like?”
Galen sat his ale down. “I, uh, well…”
“Rather sudden,” said Karen.
Robert said, “It’s too soon, they haven’t sorted it out for themselves yet. Tell them about the Academy.”
Nan said, “Oh yes, the Academy. They want a speech. You’ll be speaking to their entire student body in their coliseum, scheduled for Friday afternoon’s convocation. That’s in three days. That is, if you accept their invitation.”
Galen said, “I need time to think about it.”
Robert said, “Well think about this: the Association of Distinguished Mercenary Colonels is considering granting you membership and the ceremony for that is Friday evening. It’s no coincidence; the appointment to the Association is really for giving the speech more than anything else.”
Karen said, “But how could that be? Association membership is to honor Colonels who have distinguished themselves in command, in battle, achieving results above and beyond even the highest expectations.”
Robert smiled, “I’m not arguing, I’m just saying what it is. I don’t make the rules. What has Galen actually done since his promotion to Colonel?”
Galen finished his ale. “Not a damn thing. I just got promoted,” he checked his wrist chronometer, “nine hours ago. I’ll give the speech.”
Nan said, “Well it’s a ten minute slot, but you can go to fifteen if necessary. And you’ll need a full dress uniform. Shall I schedule a tailor?”
“Sure.”
Nan picked up her communicator and thumbed the screen. “Tomorrow morning at nine, he’ll stop by upstairs.”
“Thank you,” said Galen. He picked up the tray with four empty glasses on it and took it to the kitchen returned with four full glasses and sat back down.
A knock came at the door. Nan opened the door and held it while the Outlander bar’s cook pushed a wheeled food cart into the dining room and set the table. He left desert on the cart. He nodded as he left. “I’ll be back in two hours to clear the table.”
Nan said, “Thank you, Mark.”
They moved to the dining table and bowed their heads briefly for a silent grace. Galen was the last to look up and the first to slice off a piece of steak. He chewed and swallowed and then said, “This is really good, Mom.”
“Mark makes the best steak, and his potatoes are good too. But the pumpkin pie, I think that will be just average.”
Karen said, “All pumpkin pie is just plain good; there’s little that can be done to improve it.”
After a few minutes Nan said, “I can’t believe I’m already the mother of a Colonel. I wondered if this day would ever come.”
“Me too,” said Galen. “If it weren’t for Karen, I probably would have been cashed out instead of promoted.”
“Whatever do you mean?” said Nan.
Galen said, “She sent recommendations to the board of directors. My original plan was to cash out at the end of that contract, but the board chose me as Colonel and I accepted. Their first choice, I’m sure, was Mister Ross, who is now the Governor of Juventud.”
Nan’s eyes narrowed as she frowned.
Galen said, “Karen’s grandfather is the Brigade’s President and Chairman of the Board.”
“Oh.” Nan smiled.
Robert noticed everyone was done eating. He stood and collected the dishes and then handed out the desert. He refilled Galen’s ale, then his own. Nan and Karen were still sipping from their second glasses.
Robert said, “Galen, care to take a look around my shop after desert?”
“Sure.” Galen shrugged. It couldn’t take long. Galen wanted to take a shower and get in bed, but checking out the sho
p now would help get on Robert’s good side. It was the first time he’d met his mother’s husband and he wanted to make an agreeable impression.
Robert gobbled his pie in three bites and chugged his ale before getting up to go into the kitchen. He returned with two wine glasses and a bottle of port for Nan and Karen. Galen stood and followed Robert to the workshop, leaving Nan and Karen to talk at the table as they sipped their wine.
The room’s left wall had a metal table with a terminal on it and a flat screen mounted on the wall behind that. Along the right wall was a workbench with tiny tools and measuring devices and electrical gizmos scattered amongst the bench vice, grinder and anvil, and what looked like a miniature forge. At the far wall was a heavily curtained window, and below that on the floor, a barbell set. Galen stepped inside the room and looked back as Robert closed the door. To the left of the door was a locked metal cabinet, and to the right, a safe a meter square, a clutter of metal casings and insulated wires piled on top of it. The door of the safe had a numeric keypad and a hand print scanner to the left of its handle.
“Nice hobby,” said Galen.
Robert went to the window and pointed at the barbell set. “Each weight is twenty five kilograms.”
Always ready to accept a challenge, Galen picked up the barbell and did a couple of curls before setting it back down. Robert touched the end of the bar and then picked up the barbell with his left hand and held his arm straight out to his side and raised and lowered it half a dozen times. Then he set the barbell down and touched the end again. Galen gripped the bar with his left hand, and then both hands, and was unable to lift the barbell at all.
“Okay, you win. What’s the trick?”
Robert grinned. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Absolutely.”
“Proteum compression. I know how to alter the coefficient of gravity.” He reached down and touched the end of the barbell again.
Galen noticed the three-way switch built into it. “Cheater.”
The War for Profit Series Omnibus Page 45
