A knock came at the door. Inger was the house keeper, a young woman not yet ready for breeding. In her mid-teens, perhaps. She was one of the High Chief’s great-grand daughters. Stovall was certain that the intention was for him to marry her after his year of bondsmanship was over, an enticing bribe to get him to choose to remain with the Mosh instead of going home. She was pretty, super-cute.
Stovall said, “Inger?”
The door opened. “No. My name is Marpha.”
Marpha was tall, blonde, full-figured, mid-thirties. She wore a shawl over her white peasant blouse, a red knee-length wool skirt, and sturdy black walking shoes. She removed her shawl and hung it on the coat rack by the door next to Stovall’s robe. Stovall eyed her ample cleavage. She approached the bed and pulled back the blanket, leaned over and fondled Stovall’s genitalia. She then stood up and reached under her skirt and removed her underwear, climbed onto the bed and straddled Stovall, enveloped him, rode and thrust. He climaxed, glanced at the clock. Six minutes this time, not too bad. She leaned forward and lay on him until her ragged breathing and fast pulse went back to a normal resting rate. She rolled off him, sat up, stood by the bed and slid her underwear back on, put her shawl back on and looked back and winked as she left the room.
Inger entered and used a hot washcloth to wipe his groin. He sat up and pulled his quilt up to his waist. Inger sat a breakfast tray across his lap. Pork chops, fried eggs and a tall glass of cold milk. Breakfast. Stovall said, “Thank you, Inger.”
Inger curtsied and left, a blush on her cheeks.
He turned on the vid and watched a news show about events from the day before. The conquest was complete. The last Mandarin offensive campaign was crushed and the victorious Mosh were rooting out the last tiny pockets of resistance in the capitol city of Mandarin itself. In the background of some of the combat footage, Stovall recognized the buildings of the Jasmine Panzer Brigade. The news reported that the mercenaries managed to flee but had left their equipment behind for the Mandarins to use.
Stovall stared. So that’s how it ends. Maybe he would settle here with the Mosh. He’d be a land owner, head of a household and a member of the ruling elite. If he went home he’d be starting from scratch at the very bottom of society. Anyway, where was home, he wondered. Maybe this was it. So far so good.
Galen’s command jump ship landed at the spaceport on Juventud and backed into a hangar. He and the other members of the command group strode down the cargo ramp toward a collection of friends and family there to greet them. Galen recognized Karen and angled toward her. The boys were at her side and charged forward to hug him, stopped him in his tracks. Karen stepped from the crowd and Galen noticed her distended belly. The boys stepped aside and she wrapped her arms around him and he kissed her full on the lips. They broke off the kiss and she said, “Welcome home, Mister.”
Galen stepped back and looked her up and down. “Good news?”
She patted her belly. “It’s a girl, due next month.”
Galen hugged her again and their boys followed them out the back door of the hanger where a taxi waited to take them to their hotel.
Next morning, the senior leaders of the Brigade met with the board of directors in the hotel conference room. The Chairman cleared his throat and said, “First order of business is a vote to disband the Jasmine Panzer Brigade. After careful consideration, I’ve decided that this is the best course of action for all involved. All in favor?”
The board members all raise their hands.
“Unanimous. Good. Now that’s settled, Mister Raper, what are your plans?”
Galen said, “I’m taking an instructor position at the Ostwind Armor Academy on Osterich.”
The Chairman said, “Good choice. The rest of you, go around the table and tell us what you have planned.”
Marjorie Polar said, “I’m a year and a half out from retirement. I’m going to Fairgotten to serve with General Sevin long enough to finish my twenty.”
“Me too,” said Spike. “Going to serve with Sevin.”
Tad said, “I’m staying here on Juventud, planetary defense operations chief.”
The Chairman said, “General Sevin will take anyone from the Brigade who wants to serve with him. Otherwise, the troops are hereby released from their contracts. If there is nothing else, this meeting is over.”
The Chairman stood and they all stood along with him and made their way out of the room.
The Mosh High Chief stood in the press box of the stadium in downtown Mandarin City and spoke using the sound system. “Good people of Mandarin, it is good, to serve the Mosh.”
Nearly sixty thousand Mandarins filled the seats of the stadium. An omnidirectional hologram hung high in the air above the athletic field. It was not three dimensional but did give a projection that seemed oriented directly to the viewer no matter what angle it was viewed from. The High Chief’s face filled that screen. A procession of civilians entered the stadium from beneath the press box. A long line of men and women, young and old. Some well-dressed, some overdressed in tacky socialite gear, others wearing conservative business attire. Fat, skinny, a real slice of humanity but for one important distinction: they all had an aloof, superior, and generally annoyed demeanor.
After the group filed in under Mosh warrior escort, the High Chief announced, “What you see before you are your old masters, the five hundred people who were the wealthiest and most powerful citizens of Mandarin. Notice that not a single one of them suffered injury or death. They, however, sent millions of Mandarins to die on the field of battle to protect their wealth and power from my invasion. I lost many good friends, relatives, even one of my two sons were killed. But that was my responsibility and I ask no sympathy from you, the people of Mandarin.
“I do point out, however, that each and every one of these people had contacted me or one of my Chiefs, negotiating with us, your enemy at the time, begging us to allow them to keep some of their wealth and power, to preserve their lives of wealth and privilege after our victory was complete. They offered to assist us in our conquest in exchange for our favor, and at the very same time they were sending millions of you to your deaths. This is a crime and will be punished.”
The Mosh warrior escorts left the field and the five hundred Mandarins on the field looked around and spread out into little groups of two and three. Hands on hips or arms folded, displeased and bored. The guards locked the gate behind them. At the far end of the field, a group of thirty one Mosh men entered wearing simple olive drab coveralls and leather work boots. They were unarmed.
The High Chief announced, “Now entering the stadium are Mosh warriors accused of cowardice. No one can know what is truly in the heart of another warrior. What may look like cowardice to an observer might actually be discretion and valor. For this reason, these warriors have been granted trial by combat, the chance to prove their accusers wrong.”
The civilians on the field meandered to encircle the warriors, to get a good vantage point to view this trial by combat. The High Chief announced, “Let the trial begin!”
The Mosh warriors each grabbed a civilian, pushed them face down and then wrenched their necks. They then began bare handedly killing the civilians on the field. The civilians soon realized the combat was not for their entertainment, but for their own execution.