“The PBS,” said Spike.
“The what?”
“The Panzer Brigade School.”
“The PBS. Got it.”
The last of the prisoners were processed. The Mandarin truck drivers started their engines and began pulling away. A final prisoner, still hog-tied and unconscious, was thrown into the bed of the last truck by two unkempt policemen. The vehicle immediately drove off.
“All right, dumbasses! Mount up! We’re leaving!”
The mercenaries boarded their APCs and rode in convoy for three hours before reaching the Panzer Brigade compound. They parked in a motor pool near the welcome center. All the other vehicles Galen had seen that afternoon were parked in the compound and Galen noticed three more motor pools filled with wheeled and tracked vehicles. Mortinson was standing in front of the vehicles.
“Fall in, anti-armor platoon.” The mercenaries lined up facing their Chief.
“You guys that ain’t been here before, follow the guys that have. Talk to the broke-dick on duty at the barracks front desk and he’ll assign you a bunk. Sleep well. Battalion formation is in front of the barracks at zero nine thirty. Take a shower and wear a clean uniform. Any questions, ask your buddy. I’m going to bed. Dismissed!”
Galen raised his left wrist and checked his communicator. Seven hours of rest was better than nothing. The next morning the weather was clear and refreshingly cool. Galen felt much better after a night in a real bunk. Being clean and fresh felt good. The company was massed, not broken down by platoon but formed up in a block of a hundred and twenty mercenaries. The other two companies of the mechanized infantry battalion were also formed up on the parade field. At zero nine thirty the battalion commander marched out front, turned to the companies and ordered, “Bring your units to attention.”
The company commanders faced their units and ordered them to attention starting with the company on the right and ending with Galen’s company. The company commanders then faced the battalion commander.
“Report!” demanded the battalion commander.
“Rifle Company, all fit for duty present.”
“Mechanized Company, all fit tor duty present.”
“Cavalry Company, all fit for duty present.”
“At ease. I’m Captain Vought, your battalion commander. I’ll be a Major soon enough. I’m here to train up for promotion just like the rest of you. But that’s neither here nor there. What I’m here to tell you is, you did a great job. Everything I asked you to do, you got it done. I love you guys. What we pulled off yesterday and last night was nothing short of a miracle. I hate to play favorites but the cavalry troop deserves special praise. I also have to single out the anti-armor platoon. Their actions were critical to setting the stage for the opportunity we took advantage of last night. They defeated a full company of tanks. Not many grunt platoons can pull that off and live to tell about it. Let’s have a big round of applause for the anti-armor platoon.”
To Galen’s surprise, the rest of the battalion cheered. The cheering and applauses sounded genuine, not the false sort of clapping and hooraying he heard so often at the military academy back on Ostreich. A real unit, with a real mission. Real applause.
“I know you’re mercenaries, so I’ll add a little cash value to the praise. Cav Troop gets a bonus of two weeks pay. Anti-armor platoon gets an additional week’s pay on top of that.” The mercenaries of the other companies cheered again, this time without any prompting from the Captain. Galen wondered how much money he would get. Judging from the murmured comments of the seasoned mercenaries around him, it would be a decent wad of money.
“Now for the good news. Everybody gets an extra half month’s pay bonus for quelling the riot. Not only do you get the money, you get the time to spend it. I cut a deal with the Mandarins. A crack unit from their regular space marines will watch our sector for the next two weeks. So our sector should still be clear when we get back. I will see you right here in this formation, at zero seven thirty, thirteen days from now. Until then…”
The Captain paused for a full five seconds, “Dismissed!”
Galen, Tad and Spike walked away from the formation area, talked as they went.
“What now?” asked Tad.
Galen shrugged, “Follow the Captain’s orders and go goof off for a couple of weeks.”
“What’s there to do on this rock?”
“I’m sure our money’s good enough for some locals to find ways to entertain us.”
“We could hit the ‘ville and party right outside the gate for a couple of weeks. Those people know what we like, some better than us,” said Spike.
“That’s a good way to spend a couple of days. Any complaints, Tad?”
“No.”
“Good. We’ll change into civvies and hit the ‘ville.”
Chapter Ten
The three friends, dressed in civilian clothes, approached the bank machine. Galen placed his right hand on the screen, waited, then stared with confusion at the teller machine.
“Just shove your ID card into the slot,” said Spike.
“Oh how primitive.” Galen pushed his Jasmine Panzer Brigade ID card into the slot beside the screen. The machine sucked the card inside.
“Enter your code,” said the machine.
“Last five digits from your contract number,” said Tad.
“What?”
“Don’t you have a copy of your contract with you?”
“Enter your code,” the machine said.
“No, I left it in the barracks.”
“If you lose it, maybe the unit will conveniently lose their copy,” said Spike.
“Wait here while I go get it.”
“Your contract number is one less than mine and one more than Spike’s. They’re sequential.”
“Enter your code,” said the machine. Tad punched in the number for Galen.
“Audio on or off, Sergeant Raper?”
“Off.”
“Audio on or off, Sergeant Raper?”
Tad reached over and pushed the ‘Off’ key. “You got to press the keys, Galen. These machines can’t hear.”
“Okay, I got it now.” He pushed the keys, responding to the prompts and questions printed on the machine’s monitor. “What’s a credit worth?”
“I’m not sure,” said Tad.
“Well, I have about eighteen thousand of them. I’ll withdraw a hundred. That should do me for a couple days.”
“No!” said Spike.
The machine made a grinding sound, then very evenly spaced whirs and clicks, with a rustle of paper after each click.
The prompt came up for Galen to “Please remove your money.”
Tad opened the door below the monitor. The space behind the opened door was ten centimeters wide, ten centimeters deep and five centimeters high. The whole space was stuffed with cash, the local currency, in denominations of one thousand czan.
“What’s this?” asked Galen.
Spike said, “The interplanetary credit is very strong against the local currency. The czan is probably the weakest currency in the known universe. That’s more money than most Mandarins make in a year.”
“So maybe I’ll put some of it back?”
“We’d have to go to the main bank and see a teller to make a deposit. Maybe we’ll just divvy it up between the three of us, and me and Tad can pay you back later.”
“You both owe me thirty five credits, right?”
“Right.”
“Good. Help me pry this cash out of here.”
The three men stuffed their pockets and walked to the compound main gate.
“Halt!” said the gate guard, his pistol drawn. His partner in the guard shack leveled his submachine gun at the three friends. Galen heard footfalls behind him. Five troops approached from behind, submachine guns at the ready. The gate guard nodded to the troops. Three of them slung their weapons and began to frisk the detainees. The troops pulled everything from their pockets and threw the items on the ground. The money they handed into a bag held by the gate guard.