Alpha Contracts

by Chris Kennedy

  “Outstanding,” Shirazi said. He handed a paper to the general, along with a pen. “If you would sign this, General.”

  “What is this?” the general asked, his eyes narrowing as the smile disappeared.

  “Those are the release papers for myself and my troops, so that we can start Asbaran Solutions.”

  * * * * *

  Asbaran Solutions - 7

  “The general has approved my retirement from the army, effective immediately, so I can start a new mercenary unit.” Colonel Shirazi’s announcement was met with gasps from his assembled troops, and he hid a small smile; it was heartening to know his men respected him enough to care about his departure. It also would make his mission easier.

  “The purpose of this unit is two-fold. First, it will go to the stars and earn money to help support our new country.” A murmur of approval swept through the assembled troops. Word of ‘New Persia’ had spread like wildfire and was universally celebrated. “Second, it is my intention to take every contract we can that involves killing as many MinSha as possible.” That earned a roar of approval.

  “I say ‘we,’ because the general has authorized me to take 100 troops with me, and I will be taking volunteers after this formation to fill out the ranks of the new company.

  “The new organization is to be called ‘Asbaran Solutions.’ The ‘Asbaran’ is a call to our past, and it pays tribute to our ancestors, the Asbarani knights, who were the leaders of the Sassanid Army during the last period of the Persian Empire. The Asbaran was a military force that formed the backbone of the army of the Sasanian Empire. One of my ancestors was an asbaran sardar—a high-level leader of the Asbaran. After the Muslim conquest of Persia, my ancestor came over to the Arab side to preserve his status and wealth, and he settled his knights in the newly established Muslim territory of Chabahar. My family’s estate here was established by him and has been handed down through the generations—we have been rulers or leaders in this area ever since. That is why I tell you, Persia was great in the past, and I know it will be great again in the future!”

  The assembled troops cheered, and a broad smile crossed his face. When they became silent again, he continued, “The second half of the name, ‘Solutions,’ is forward-looking. Nominally, it shows that we will be a company focused on solving our clients’ problems. Whatever difficulties they have, we will find an answer. It has a second meaning, though, that is much closer to home. The biggest problem I intend to solve is the MinSha one. They took our honor, and I mean to get it back! We will find and kill the MinSha, wherever we can, until there are no more of them left alive. The MinSha are the problem…and we are the solution!”

  The troops cheered, longer and louder this time, until the colonel had to wave for quiet. Everyone had lost family in the MinSha attacks; the need for retribution was a constant discussion at all levels of society.

  “If you are interested in being part of this new unit, there will be a sign-up in the barracks when you are dismissed. If more than 100 volunteer, we will take the people who best fit our needs, with an eye to filling out our ranks in the future. If you are not initially selected, keep heart; more people will be hired when we return.

  “Additional information will be provided to those who are selected. Regardless of whether you choose to participate or not, please know that it has been an honor to serve with you. That is all. Battalion, dismissed!”

  There was a pause, and then the entire battalion turned and sprinted toward the barracks.

  All of the soldiers, that is, except for the senior enlisted man in the battalion, Sergeant Major Turan Kazemi. He approached Shirazi and saluted. The colonel returned the salute and smiled. “That isn’t necessary,” Shirazi said. “I am no longer in the army.”

  “No you are not,” Kazemi said, “but you are an officer with dignity and courage, and I will salute you until the day I die.” He paused and then added, “I also hope to continue saluting you in this new unit you’re forming. I no longer feel the need to race everyone else to sign up for things; I’m hoping you’ll need a senior enlisted, and that you’ll consider me for the position.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of going to the stars without you, Kazemi; in fact, the only worry I had is that you wouldn’t want to participate in the unit. With you at my side, I can already feel the MinSha beginning to tremble at our approach.”

  “After the last time they were here, I doubt that very much,” Kazemi replied, his tone grim. “However, I look forward to killing as many of them as possible, so we can take their weapons and kill more of them.”

  * * * * *

  Asbaran Solutions - 8

  “We have docked with GS Ghistel,” a voice said over the intercom. “You may disembark. Assistants will be inside to help you.”

  Shirazi looked at his XO, Captain Soroush Abbasi, who had taken himself off the ambassadorial staff to join Asbaran Solutions. “Ready?” he asked.

  “If I say, ‘No?’”

  “Then I will leave you behind. Our country needs this, and I will perform my duty.”

  Abbasi unlatched his seatbelt. “Good thing I’m ready, then,” he muttered.

  Shirazi smiled as he moved toward the hatch, knowing Abbasi liked to grumble. It appeared very few of the people in the shuttle had ever been in space before, and the disembarkation was ‘confused,’ to say the least. Several people lost contact with their reference points and floated up to the ceiling and had to be rescued by alien spacers; happily, he wasn’t one of them.

  As he crossed into the other ship, he saw a line of large, vaguely rodent-looking beings waiting for them. Each of them held a tablet they continued to reference as the Humans came through from the shuttle.

  “Those are Veetanho,” Abbasi stage-whispered. “They are great generals, and many are actively engaged in running the Merc Guild.”

  As the Persians approached the group, a Veetanho wearing a red and blue scarf pulled itself forward to ‘stand’ in front of them.

  “Are you Kuru Shirazi?” the being asked through its two-way translation pendant.

  “Yes, I am, and this is my executive officer, Captain Soroush Abbasi.”

  “Excellent. My name is Steemo, and I will be your escort. I have been assigned to aid you in the contract negotiation process. Do either of you require medical assistance after the flight to space?”

  “No, we’re both okay.”

  “Please follow me, then,” the Veetanho said. It turned and pulled itself down the passageway using handholds provided for that purpose.

  After following the alien for a couple of minutes, they arrived at a rotating cylindrical room that led them to a large room on the gravity deck, where the gravity was set for about half of Earth-normal. “There are refreshments over there,” Steemo said, pointing to a table. “I must log your presence in with the Guild Master, but I will be right back.”

  “Want something to eat?” Shirazi asked.

  “Not if the ride back down is anything like the ride up,” Captain Abbasi replied. “I was okay, but I don’t think I want to test my endurance.”

  “Me either.” He looked around the room and saw there were several people who went for the snacks and drinks. He nodded to them. “They must have done this before.”

  “Yeah,” Abbasi replied. His eyes scanned the room like a hawk looking for prey. “Looks like a good showing. There must be 15 different nations here.”

  Shirazi nodded. “And several countries have sent multiple groups. I see a couple of groups from the U.S. Army, as well as groups from their navy, air force, and marines, too.” He smiled. “And there’s someone I know.” He crossed the room.

  “Welcome to space, my American friend,” Shirazi said, stepping up alongside Jim Cartwright.

  Cartwright jumped, then turned and shook his head when he saw who was talking to him. “Thank you,” he said, offering his hand. Kuru shook it. “What is Asbaran Solutions?” the American asked.

  “The name of the mercenary unit I have formed w
ith our new country. It has…historical significance to both me and my countrymen.”

  “Nice uniform. I wish you luck in the negotiations and hope we won’t be enemies.”

  “There isn’t much chance of that,” Kuru said with a predatory look at one of the Veetanho going by. “Although I have nothing against killing Americans, we’re here to kill aliens.”

  Cartwright nodded and took his leave, looking somewhat put out at Shirazi’s comment. Too bad for him. The New Persians would get to the Americans eventually, but first they had other insults to redress.

  Shirazi wandered the room with Abbasi in tow, trying to get a feel for the competition. If words could be put into action, there were going to be a lot of dead aliens in the future. Based on his experience, though, it was going to be a lot harder than most of the mercenaries thought, but he was fine with letting them find out for themselves. His country needed all the advantages they could get just to survive; if some of the other countries wanted to kill off their best people in useless shows of bravado, so be it.

  He had completed a lap around the room when he noticed a display screen above the food table that he was sure hadn’t been there before. “Welcome, mercenaries from Earth,” it said in a dozen languages.

  “Gentle beings,” a voice spoke. “If you will please move to the outside by the windows, we are about to begin.” Steemo appeared and indicated where he was supposed to be. “Thank you. Now, please, welcome Guild Master Cheshk of Veetanho.”

  Shirazi turned to find a Veetanho standing in the center of the room. Unlike the other Veetanho who were dark gray or brown, her fur was a light gray. Cheshk was probably old, which made sense—you probably needed to have an awful lot of experience to get to be the head of a galaxy-wide guild.

  “Welcome, Humans, to your first contract bids,” Cheshk said. “You’ve all read the briefings provided prior to being accepted as bidders on the 149 contracts selected for your race’s first entry. You may realize that many of these contracts are below prime. You must understand your race is unproven, and this is the natural result.”

  Shirazi had guessed that would be the case, based on information Abbasi had provided from Ambassador Thales, so he wasn’t surprised. That wasn’t the case with everyone present—he heard several snorts from the American special forces guys in the room. Of course they considered themselves the best. Hopefully, they’d sign up for something that would get them all wiped out. It would make his job easier in the long run. He smiled. Maybe they’d get killed by Tortantulas or shot down by their Flatar riders. That would be nice.

  “Please be observant of the potential payouts,” Guild Master Cheshk continued, “as well as the requirements. Your briefings explained that contracts can be incredibly complicated, and I strongly advise you to have a Guild-trained intermediary review it before signing. If you cancel a contract after it is signed, you will not only lose your guild rating for five years, but you will lose your bond as well.”

  Shirazi nodded to Abbasi. “We must be careful. New Persia doesn’t have the funds to pay for another bond, or to replace our people or gear.” Abbasi nodded slowly; he’d been the one to hand over the check for $45 million, so he knew what the price to participate had been.

  “The bidding is now open,” Cheshk said gesturing at the holographic display.

  Colonel Shirazi scanned the room, looking at his competition, as the screen began to fill with contracts. His tiny company could never compete man-to-man (or woman?) with the size of most of the organizations represented. He had no idea how many groups the U.S. Army had sent alone, and all of them were bigger than his single unit. He couldn’t hope to compete in most of the areas up for bidding. Heavy assault? He had seen what happened when his ancient tanks went up against the MinSha. He would never get the screams of his men as they were pulled bodily from the tanks out of his ears.

  Similarly, he didn’t have the troops for a static defense—most were looking at battalion-sized forces, or larger—or the ships to conduct a highguard operation. He’d heard several of the Americans wondering what a highguard operation was, and he had smiled. Typical Americans, overconfident as always. He had contacted Ambassador Thales through New Persia’s diplomatic envoy and had asked for all the information available on mercenary organizations and the guild. Much of it had been eye-opening. He expected many of the Earthlings in the room would be dead within the next six months. Especially the Asian man who looked like Genghis Khan…if the legendary warlord came back as a drug lord. Who wore that much gold to go to an alien spaceship?

  He shook his head and went back to reading the contract list, looking for a small mission that played to his unit’s strengths. He wasn’t sure exactly what those strengths were, yet, but he knew he’d recognize the mission when he saw it.

  He finally saw it at the bottom of the list. The penultimate entry, a mining consortium was looking for a light assault unit to be the diversion for a much larger force to attack a walled mining facility on a high plateau. The terrain around the mine only allowed for easy access from the south, up a sloping hill to the gates of the base. There was no cover along the approach, and any attackers proceeding up the slope would be easy targets for the facility’s defenders. To the east and west, there were large ravines, which were considered un-scalable. To the north, a large desert stretched out across the plateau for 100 miles. There was nothing on the plateau except for sand, which covered the entire plateau. Nothing grew or lived on it.

  The light assault force was to land 25 miles away from the facility on the desert side and approach it in such a manner as to make the defenders believe the attack was coming from that side so the defenders would concentrate their fire there. Once the defenders were engaged, the heavy assault force would sweep in from the south on hovercraft, using the distraction of the light force to buy them the time needed to get to the gate.

  “Why hasn’t anyone bid on this contract?” Shirazi asked Steemo.

  “I would not go there for all the credits in the galaxy,” a being that looked like a giant snail with three eye stalks interrupted before the Veetanho could reply.

  “A Bakulu,” Abbasi whispered under his breath. “They’re good ship drivers.”

  Shirazi gave a quick nod to Abbasi over his shoulder to indicate he’d heard, then turned to the alien. “What’s wrong with that world?” Shirazi asked.

  “It is a desert world. Not only would the heat suck the moisture from my shell, but the sand gets into places it shouldn’t, and it rubs something fierce!”

  “I do not have those issues. Although I have places that sand can get into and make me uncomfortable, it is relatively easy for me to get it back out again.”

  “In addition to the conditions, it would take someone who is a little crazy to take that contract. You are a diversion, and you have to attack in such a manner as to make the defenders believe the main attack is coming from the north. Also, you have to hold their attention long enough for the other force to engage the defenders. You are sure to lose some of your people, and you may potentially lose many, if not all, of them. Also, you’re trusting the other force to attack on time and relieve you. If they are late, or do not come at all, your force will be slaughtered—that’s why there is such a big bonus on it. Aside from the sand dunes, there is no cover for you to shelter behind, either. The MinSha would be firing at you the whole time.”

  “The MinSha are defending the position?”

  “Yes, and they are very formidable on the defensive. No, I would not take that contract. Not for all the credits in the galaxy.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Shirazi said. “It is awful.” He looked back to Steemo. “We’ll take it.”

  * * * * *

  Asbaran Solutions - 9

  “So, what did you get for us?” Sergeant Major Turan Kazemi asked.

  “Always to the point, eh, Sergeant Major?” Shirazi asked, his eyes scanning the table to look at the nine members of his command staff. His staff met his eyes, and most
looked eager to find out what they’d be doing ‘up in the stars.’ Some only looked angry, but if that was what sustained them, he would take it. Hopefully, they could nurse it all the way through the mission until it was needed. For himself, there was no doubt—he knew his anger would last that long.

  Shirazi nodded to his senior enlisted. “That’s what I always liked about you. I will tell you about our mission. All I ask is that you hear me out until the end; please do not pass judgment until you hear the whole plan.”

  “Must be dangerous,” Kazemi said; “I like it already.”

  Shirazi heard several chuckles from down the table and smiled at Kazemi. He always knew how to break the ice. “It is dangerous, but at least the environment is something we’re familiar with—it is desert, along the lines of the Great Salt Desert east of what used to be Tehran. We’ve all done training there; we all know how badly it sucks.”

  Kazemi shrugged. “Yeah, it’s hot. At least it makes for a soft bed at night. You get to my age, you start to appreciate things like that.” Several more chuckles around the table.

  “It’s like the Great Salt Desert, I said,” Shirazi clarified. “The only difference is that it’s about 15 degrees Celsius hotter, on average. It’s hot, and travel by day there will not be possible.”

  “Okay, sir, we’ve all seen desert, and you’ve told us it’s hot. We get that. Stop beating around the bush—what are we going to be doing?”

  “We’re going to be a diversion for another assault that is going to go in and capture a walled town.”

  “Diversion, eh? Those are normally the people who are getting shot at while the other group gets to do the sneaky shit. Generally, I like to be the one doing the sneaky shit; getting shot at really doesn’t thrill me that much. Once you hear the first bullet go by you, all the fun is pretty much gone.”