“I’ll inspect that later,” I said, firmly. I’d have to make sure that the UN hadn’t left the gear behind because it was useless, or because they’d decided to leave a few unpleasant surprises behind when they left. If nothing had blown up by now, it probably wouldn’t, but it always paid to be careful. “How long do we have to prepare the army?”
The President looked around the room. “The elections are in six months,” he said, grimly. “We need a deterring force by then.”
“Yes, Mr President,” I said. I doubted that the force would deter anyone. I’d have to study the history of the planet myself, but if there were two conflicting ideologies involved – with lots of weapons to boot – we’d probably end up with a war anyway. If Fleet’s intelligence was accurate, and it normally was, the two sides literally couldn’t get along without each other. It was going to be the worst kind of war. “With your permission, then, I will start shipping my people down to the surface.”
Frida smiled. “And the recruiting?”
“It will start a week from today,” I said, carefully. I thought we could secure the spaceport and work out the details quicker than that, but it never hurt to have extra time to work with, if we needed it. I also wanted to study the planet more carefully. “I trust that that is acceptable?”
“Yes, thank you,” the President said. For a moment, he looked very tired and old. “Ask for anything you need and it’ll be sent to you. We’ll talk later, Andrew.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, standing up and saluting. “There’s no point in wasting time.”
“Interesting set-up,” Muna said, when we were back in the car. Peter checked all three of us with a counter-surveillance tool he picked up on Heinlein. The President and his men were surprisingly trusting. They hadn’t tried to bug us…unless, of course, they had access to better bugging tech than we had countermeasures. I doubted that that was possible, but it was well to be careful. “It’s just like home.”
The edgy flat tone in her voice brought me up short. I still knew almost nothing about her, but one thing I did know was that she never wanted to go home. I had a suspicion I knew why, as well; I’d seen her naked once and she was scarred in places that had made me want to hunt down the person who’d done that and cut him into tiny pieces.
“They’re going to tear that poor man apart,” she continued, unaware of my thoughts. “This coming election will certainly tip off the civil war, whoever wins. I don’t think coming here was a good idea, boss.”
“Maybe not,” I agreed, and grinned. “Look on it as a challenge.”
Peter snorted. “A challenge,” he said. Muna’s snort was even louder, somehow. I doubted she saw it quite the same way I did. “Someone will probably write that on your tombstone.”
I laughed and keyed my wristcom. “Johan, this is Andrew,” I said. “You may begin the unloading now. Contact the William Tell and invite them to send inspectors if they wish, but tell them that we cannot delay to suit them. If they push it, agree – reluctantly.”
“Yes, sir,” Johan said. He’d been a former UNPF officer himself and there were times when I suspected that he was a Fleet spy watching us. How else would we have gotten to keep the Julius Caesar, a former UNPF Infantry transport? “We’ll commence the unloading now.”
“And tell Ed that I want A Company to land first and secure the spaceport,” I added. “I want the entire place checked completely before we start training operations.” I broke the link and smiled at Peter. “Shall we go earn what we’re being paid?”
Chapter Three
According to UNPF regulations, all spaceports and other service facilities have to be located at least twenty kilometres from any major habitation, for safety concerns. Officially, they worry about the safety of civilians, but unofficially they worry about preventing insurgents from getting close enough to attack the base.
-The Unblemished Truth; The UN and the Colonies
The spaceport, when we returned, was a hive of activity. Captain Stalker had landed A Company in three shuttles and ordered the spaceport secured, before we landed anything else. A team of armed soldiers met us at the entrance and insisted on checking our ID, even though they recognised us. I’d have disciplined them if they’d done anything else. The UN’s enemies had proved adroit at using the UN’s weaknesses against it before. It wouldn’t be long before someone on the planet tried to sneak into the spaceport.
Ed saluted when we finally caught up with him. “Sir,” he said. “We have secured the outer limits of the spaceport and are sweeping through the interior buildings. So far, we’ve located all of the barracks and enough equipment to keep a brigade functioning for years. We haven’t found any unpleasant surprises so far.”
“Good,” I said. Back on Heinlein, it had been a persistent worry that the defenders would mine the spaceport with nuclear bombs, detonating them when the invasion force tried to land. Here, with Fleet controlling the spaceport, I doubted that there would be any real threat, but it was worth checking. Start as you mean to go on, as my old Sergeant would have said. “Is there anything else to report?”
“No, sir,” Ed said. “I believe that Captain Price-Jones intends to have a few words with you, but he’s still on his ship.”
I nodded. “I’ll speak to him when he lands,” I said. “Once you’ve swept the spaceport, give orders for the main body of the unit to land. I think we’re not going to have much time.”
“I know,” Ed said. “I’d like to borrow B Company for a sweep around the perimeter. That set of shanty towns is looking rather worrying.”
I nodded and left him to get on with it. I trusted Ed to ensure that it was done properly, although I wanted a look at the shanty towns myself. I’d expected to see them, but it was more surprising that they were still there. The UNPF banned people from living near their installations, but the poor and the destitute always knew that they could sell crappy junk to UN Infantrymen, or even themselves. The towns were wretched hives of scum and villainy, where a young infantryman could lose his innocence, virginity and his life. No amount of orders could keep a young man out of the pleasure dens.
A series of sonic booms echoed through the air as the first shuttles came in to land. We’d obtained several heavy-lift vehicles from a former UN deport and each of them could carry over two hundred soldiers, or several armoured vehicles. B Company would add itself to Ed’s forces as they completed their deployment, then we’d bring down the trainers and their equipment, followed by the medical and support staff. We had one advantage over a UN unit of comparable size; every one of us was a fighter, as well as a specialist. A UN unit might have a thousand men with a hundred actual soldiers. It was something I’d grown to loathe while on UN service.
I found my office and examined it thoroughly, but found nothing apart from a set of dirty postcards some officer had picked up on deployment. It always struck me as odd that the UN censored news and routinely rewrote the truth to suit itself, but it never forbade pornographic material, even of the vilest kind. The pictures I found were tame compared to some of the stuff I’d seen before and I binned them without regret. Their owner had probably left them behind for his successor to keep.
My wristcom buzzed before I could do more than settle down into my chair. “Captain, Captain Price-Jones would like to have a word with you now,” Ed said. “Where do you want to see him?”
“I’ll come meet him on the landing ground,” I said. I’d have preferred my new office, but it wasn't ready for visitors – besides, antagonising Captain Price-Jones might cause problems further down the line. Admiral Walker – John – might have interests here, but Price-Jones wouldn’t know that, would he? It would be better to meet him on neutral territory. “Just tell him I’m on my way.”
The landing ground looked almost like a functional base again when I emerged from the buildings. We’d landed almost all of our shuttles by now and two were even taking off again to return to the transport, after unloading their soldiers and their equipment.
A small Fleet shuttle sat to one corner, painted a drab grey colour that looked faded compared to the colourful paintings on our shuttles, but it still drew my eye like a magnet. Captain Price-Jones was waiting for me by the shuttle’s ramp. He didn’t look pleased to be on the ground.
“Captain Nolte,” he said, shortly. “I am Captain Price-Jones, Fleet Senior Officer in system.”
The interview was brief, formal and edgy, confirming my suspicion that Captain Price-Jones hadn’t been told anything about Fleet’s clandestine interest in the system. He warned me that the entire mercenary unit would be inspected before it was allowed to land and any discrepancies – such as the presence of forbidden weapons – would result in the confiscation of my ship and probably criminal charges in front of a Fleet court-martial. I listened carefully and nodded in all the right places, wondering why Captain Price-Jones had been allowed to retain his command. He didn’t sound like one of the newer breed of Captains, but someone from the old regime. I was tempted to file a complaint, but in the short term, it wouldn’t matter. His tiny destroyer was the most powerful ship in the system.
“We’re hired merely to train and support a local army,” I said, when he had run out of dire warnings. Fleet generally doesn’t approve of mercenaries. “We’re not here to take over the planet.”
He didn’t see the humour. “See that you don’t,” he growled, and stomped away with a parting shot. “Make sure that you get an agreement on ROE before you begin operating with the locals. I’d hate to have to arrest you for that.”
I nodded as he retreated back inside his shuttle. It was something we would have to sort out with the President. Fleet was generally indifferent to what atrocities local governments perpetrated on their citizens, but when it came to interstellar units, such as a mercenary unit, it was a different story. We had our own codes of conduct – I’d hung men for rape and looting before – but we’d have to sort out ROE with the locals. It was something I wasn't looking forward to doing. Civilians don’t have the slightest idea of what a military unit can and cannot do.
“Charming fellow,” Master Sergeant Russell Kelsey observed. In theory, he was nothing more than a simple soldier, but in practice I would have rated him as a Special, one of the UN’s Special Forces units. He came from Heinlein and swore blind that his training was typical of Heinlein infantry training, but no one believed him, not least because if they’d all been as good as him, the war on Heinlein’s surface would have cost hundreds of thousands more lives. It had cost just under two hundred thousand by the time the war ended. “I take it he’s going to be watching over our shoulder?”
“Probably,” I said, sourly. It wasn't something I could bring myself to care about – for the very simple reason it wouldn’t matter. Fleet wouldn’t intervene on either side of a civil war, if one broke out. We’d just have to be careful not to do anything that Fleet would have to take official notice of. “Have you seen your facilities?”
“Typical UN crap,” Russell said. I’d hired him and several others from Heinlein, knowing that their experience against the UN would be useful. There were times when I doubted the wisdom of that choice, but they were few and far between. “The people here didn’t even bother to maintain it.”
I nodded. “I expected that,” I said. “They had this vast base and only ten people on the ground. No wonder the good Captain had a bug up his ass about it.”
“A destroyer only has…what? Forty men?” Russell asked. I nodded, tightly. Captain Price-Jones would have been terrifyingly short of men even before he was forced to assume responsibility for the spaceport as well. It was ironic – there were a few interstellar freighters that made the stop here – but if the factions had been able to agree on who should operate it, the planet would have been richer. “He’ll be glad to get them back into space.”
His lips tightened. “They won’t be,” he added. “Have you seen the cleaning staff yet?”
“No,” I said, feeling a trickle of alarm running down my spine. “Do I want to know?”
“There are fifty very good-looking young women here who have been gainfully employed doing the cooking, cleaning and probably certain other services as well for the people working here,” Russell said. I stared at him. On Heinlein, employing locals had been asking for trouble. On Botany, if anything, the problems had been worse. “They’ve been working here since before the pull-out and…well, they’re not sure what’s going to happen to them.”
“Shit,” I said. The only good thing about Svergie was that its war hadn’t been as bloody and merciless as several other wars. The girls would probably be safe enough if they returned to the city, or wherever they’d come from, but it would throw them out of work. We might well need them later. “Do they pose a security risk?”
“I doubt it, at least at the moment,” Russell said, confirming my inner thoughts. “That might change if the planet’s political situation shifts…”
“I know,” I said. I made a snap decision. “Very well; tell them we’ll keep them on provided they behave themselves. They’ll probably find themselves overworked cooking and cleaning for all two thousand of us. Sex…well, make sure they know that they have a veto over whatever one of us wants them to do. I won’t tolerate rape or molestation, understand?”
“Of course,” Russell agreed. “And the new recruits?”
“The girls are off-limits,” I said, firmly. Basic Training always kept the new recruits celibate for their early training. The UN had had mixed-sex groups for training, but it had been forbidden to sleep with a fellow trainee. It was something I actually approved of, although some Drill Sergeants had abused the trust placed in them and molested their charges. I would have shot any of my trainers who did that. “Once they’re in uniform and graduated…well, we’ll look at it then.”
“Yes, sir,” Russell said. “A soldier who won’t fuck won’t fight.”
It was Heinlein’s unofficial motto. “And a soldier who fucks when he should be fighting won’t be fucking any more,” I countered. “Get your people on the ground and get ready for the first bunch of trainees. Hopefully, we should have them here in a week, perhaps less.”
The day wore on slowly. I watched as the remaining units landed, only to be inspected carefully by Fleet observers before allowing us to move them into their pre-prepared positions. We were officially rated as an undersized regiment, but in practice we didn’t have anything like the uniformity that would have created a proper fighting regiment. Half of us were light infantry, although with antitank weapons that made them formidable opponents in built-up areas, while the remainder consisted of a variety of different systems. We had a small helicopter detachment, several dozen armoured vehicles, and what looked to be the most advanced medical complex on the planet. It was something else we were going to have to look at, quickly. What could Svergie produce for itself that we – and their new army – were going to need?
I smiled faintly, thinking of the Government’s reaction if we had to import even basic weapons from other star systems. Even if Fleet didn’t get involved – and I doubted they would if the weapons didn’t include nukes or biological warfare systems – the cost would be astronomical. Even very basic UN-standard rifles and their ammunition would be incredibly bulky and very costly. I’d prefer to buy it on the planet, if possible. If nothing else, it would give the local economy a boost.
“Captain, this is Ed,” a voice said, suddenly. “You have a…visitor.”
“Already?” I asked, puzzled. I’d expected the local politicians to come trailing out to the base over the next few weeks, not immediately. “Who is it?”
“A girl called Suki,” Ed said. His voice suggested that he didn’t believe her. “She claims to be from the government.”
“I see,” I said. My puzzlement hadn’t abated. “Send her in to my office.”
Suki proved to be a strange mixture of Chinese and Swedish. She was tall, dressed to show off her assets – and they were very impressive – and had a surprisin
gly oriental face. I studied her carefully – for tactical purposes, of course – and concluded that she didn’t have any real military experience. That proved nothing, of course. Jock and his band of Specials were good at looking like harmless assholes until they hit the enemy as hard as they could. Suki might be an unarmed combat expert with a degree in killing for fun and profit.
Picking Up The Pieces (Martial Law) Page 3
