“Somebody has to do the paper shuffle. Anyhow, there isn’t more than a platoon of them. It can’t cost too much to give them decent housing.”
A garrison soldier was walking by and stopped to interrupt the conversation. “Gentlemen, the Colonel doesn’t give us our housing, we rent those apartments. The rent comes out of our pay. Your accommodations are free.”
Tad glared at him. “Shut the hell up!”
The garrison soldier walked away quickly.
“See what I mean? They act like host-planet regulars.”
“Sure, Galen. Host-planet regulars, What does that mean?”
“Well, most governments maintain their support, supply, service, police and administrative military units as part of their regular military and part-time militia.”
“Rear-echelon pukes.” Tad looked out the window.
“Keeping those types of soldiers around is cheap and they lack the combat power to overthrow a government. But they’re strong enough to maintain civil order and they generate a healthy batch of patriotic retired veterans and citizen-soldiers. They contribute to a large segment of loyal citizens mixed in amongst the populace.”
“A weenie army, but what good is it really?”
“Aha! Now you understand the need for mercenary regiments. They hire maneuver brigades to do any real combat, usually against an off-plant government, but sometimes to bring a world under a single government.”
“But what good are the regulars then?” Tad listened, but didn’t really care.
Galen said, “They provide the mercenary units with combat service and support. They drive trucks, provide ammunition depots for us to draw from, satellite pictures of enemy territory. They provide us with support and act as coordinators of combat operations on the corps level.”
“So how do Mandarin’s regulars rate?” Tad didn’t care but he knew Galen would keep talking until his idea was fully explained and decided to keep him focused by asking questions.
“Supposedly they’re prepared to hire and support nine mercenary regiments.”
“Three divisions?” Tad’s eyes widened.
“A whole corps.”
“That’s a big can of whoop-ass.”
“I thought you were from Terra.”
“I am.”
“Terra has the capability of fielding three army groups. That’s nine corps, or twenty-seven divisions. Eighty one mercenary regiments.”
“There aren’t that many mercenary regiments. I only know of about dozen. That’s how many showed up on our prospectus sheet.”
“Tad, our prospectus sheet only included units that might be interested in us. Some hire exclusively from their own academies, some were too sorry for us to consider, and I hate to admit it, but some regiments won’t take us because we aren’t good enough. There must be over two hundred mercenary units out there. Most are regiments, but some are specialized companies or battalions and some are entire divisions.”
Tad was already standing to leave. “You don’t have to tell me the whole history of warfare.”
“Sorry. Let’s go pester Spike.”
Chapter Twelve
That evening the three of them walked ten minutes to the Outlander Bar. It was located just off the main street, its front recessed from the curb of the side street. Galen followed Tad and Spike inside. The building was a converted hotel and the bar used to be the hotel lobby. It had a white marble floor and the walls were draped with golden silk curtains. The sturdy round tables were made of grey cement and so were the curved benches around them. The dance floor was a clear spot about ten meters square surrounded by the tables. There were about fifty customers there, the place about half full. A live band consisting of a male Mandarin musician playing a synthesizer and a half-occidental female vocalist performed “Bonnie Prince Charlie.”
Tad said, “They’re playing my favorite song! Have a seat. I got to use the bathroom.” Galen and Spike sat down at the table furthest from the band. They didn’t like “Bonnie Prince Charlie.”
“So where’s Tad’s awesome waitress?”
“It could be her night off. Hey, I got to go see Mimi. Don’t go anywhere, Tad will be back soon.”
Spike left and went to the back of the bar and ascended a staircase Galen hadn’t noticed before. The stairs were painted the same color as the drapes and blended in to the background. Spike seemed to walk on air.
“What would you like to drink?”
Galen swung his gaze to the waitress. She was tall, even by Galen’s standards. He stood. She was maybe five centimeters shorter than him. Perfect. Her straight black hair was tied in a pony tail that hung past her shoulders. Her almond eyes and small nose made Galen like her. The slight overbite and somewhat recessed chin made her seem cute to Galen. Her neck was longer than most women’s and her shoulders looked sturdy but not muscular. Her gold mid-sized pendant earrings and dark red dress had an erotic allure.
“I’ll take ale.”
The thin material of her dress had a modestly high neckline, but her breasts jiggled as she wrote down Galen’s order. The breasts poked forward against the silky material of her dress. If Galen hadn’t seen them jiggle, he’d haves sworn they were fake. Mandarin women, Asian women, never had tits that big.
“Anything else?”
“Your name?”
“Sandy.”
“Sandy, my name’s Galen.” He offered his hand.
She took his hand and shook it softly. Galen stared into her eyes and thought, “Maybe she is just a waitress, but my mother’s a barmaid. She must be only half Mandarin. Maybe her father’s a mercenary like me.” Galen looked away and Sandy let go of his hand.
“My friend went to the bathroom. He’ll want ale too.”
“Okay. Two ales for this table.” She wrote down the order and left.
Tad returned a minute later and sat at Galen’s table.
“Order yet?”
“I got you ale. Sandy should be back soon.”
“Who?”
“Sandy, the waitress. She’ll be back with our drinks soon. By the way, where’s your awesome woman?”
“Haven’t seen her yet, maybe it’s her night off.”
“Spike went to see Mimi.”
“That figures. He said he’d wait until I showed you around the place.”
Sandy came across the empty dance floor carrying two bottles of ale and two glasses on a tray. She stopped behind Tad, reaching around him to place the tray on the table in front of him. Before he could turn to look she covered his eyes with her hands.
“Guess who?” she winked at Galen.
“I’d know that voice anywhere! Baby, how you been?” Tad pushed her hands away and turned to look at her. She smiled at Tad and then picked up the tray. She placed cardboard coasters on the table, put the glasses on them and poured the ale into the glasses. She sat the half-full bottles next to the glasses. “Enjoy.”
Galen’s heart sank. “So you two already met?”
“Yeah, Galen, meet my woman.”
Sandy looked nervous. “We aren’t exactly married.”
“Give me time, lovely,” said Tad.
Galen gave her two hundred czan. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you.” She smiled at Galen and then scurried off to wait on another table.
“You’re right, Tad. She’s awesome. I like her.”
“I didn’t bring you here to gawk at my woman.”
“Your woman? She looks unattached to me.”
“You’re really starting to piss me off.”
“Better to be pissed off than pissed on,” Galen reached for his ale bottle and drank from it, an excuse to have the object in his hand.