Tad said, “We have time to eat chow and then we can hang out in the TOC and help manage the battle.”
“But…”
“Forget it. Nobody’s giving you that tank.”
Galen shrugged. “We got a couple of hours. Okay, let’s go eat.”
They entered the chow hall and noticed it was more crowded than usual. While waiting in line, sliding their trays along to the serving station, a troop noticed them and said, “Hey Sergeant Majors, any word from the head shed?”
Galen was cautious. “What have you heard?”
“We’re going to get hit soon and it’s going to get ugly.”
“Well, you’re right. But put up a good fight and you’ll be fine.”
A troop further back in line asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Galen stepped out of line and faced the troop. “It means, earn you pay.”
The troop looked down. Galen didn’t like insubordination but hated the way the Trooper gave in right away even more. He moved away from the serving area to the front of the dining area and turned off the screen as he faced the troops seated at their tables.
“Listen up, people. I just came from the TOC and I’m here to tell you it’s going to smash into the fan in a couple of hours.”
Many troops stopped eating and faced him. “That’s right, the Mosh are coming. I expect about fifteen hundred of them, landing and walking amongst the streets of our fair city.” Galen paused to allow some groans and snickers to rise and then dissipate. “Okay, here’s the deal. We’re going with a mobile defense. Stick and move, make them pay but don’t give them any blood back. I’ve seen your personnel records; this isn’t the first party for all but a dozen of you. Keep your head in the game, cover your buddy. Trade real estate for their blood. You ground troops, you grunts and military police, you’re outnumbered ten to one, so you’ll have to take your time and make sure you kill your assigned ten enemies each. I don’t care what you have to do to make that happen. For the moment you have excellent fire support from heavy weapons like the ground-mobile rail guns, so get all of that you can and don’t be afraid to ask for help.”
Galen paused for breath and looked at the somber, serious faces. He decided to change the tone a bit. “And remember, after it’s over we’ll have food and drink, and entertainment!”
He stood erect, shoulders back more than normal and stroked an imaginary beard, to project a Mosh persona. He spoke with a bellowing Mosh accent, “Submit and you will be treated well. I will make you a servant in my lodge, a good life indeed.” Troops laughed, some laughter delayed as the veterans explained the joke to newer troops.
“It is good to serve the Mosh. We will train with you. You will teach us your ways on our home worlds and we will teach you how we mate with our sisters, and sheep! A good life indeed!”
Howling laughter filled the chow hall. Galen let things quiet down and made a final point in his natural voice. “I know things can get confusing but don’t be led astray. We will win this fight. We will never accept defeat. If you get orders to stand down or submit, take it with a grain of salt and question its validity. Is it really the right choice for you? No one can order you to surrender, that is written in your contract.” Galen paused and counted to five in his head. “And although it goes against your nature, give up ground and fall back to conserve forces. That means conserving your life and the lives of the mercenaries around you. Civilians, save them if you can but not at the risk of the mission. Not this time. The fight will be too tough for that. All right, we’ll all meet back here tomorrow for breakfast.” Galen slipped back into a Mosh persona and bellowed, “We will have food, and drink, and entertainment!” With that he turned the screen back on and stood in line for chow.
Tad said, “Man, you’re crazy. After that speech these guys are going to be running around cutting ears off corpses and tying severed heads to their belts.”
“Better them than the Mosh. I know what I just did. I want these guys fired up. When they survive the fight, if anyone saw them do anything wrong, we can sort that out later. But at least they’ll be alive to get accused, and I’ll step up and take my responsibility for this speech. And anyway, the Mosh aren’t signatories to any kind of laws of land warfare treaties.”
Tad and Galen sat at the table nearest the exit to eat and received thumbs-up gestures and confident remarks from the troops as they left.
Tad followed Galen down the steps into the TOC conference room. Major Ross was seated in the command chair and motioned for Tad to relieve the troop operating the sky battery terminal. Galen approached the Major and asked, “Sir, where’s the Colonel?”
“He’s in the office talking to the Mosh prisoner. Take over for me so I can go to chow.”
Galen sat in the command chair. Out of curiosity, he flipped up the small command chair screen and switched its feed to the sensor in the office to eavesdrop on what the Colonel was doing. The sensor was installed as part of the total comms package for the TOC but had gone unused and forgotten for the most part. Astonished, Galen saw that not only were the guards not there, but the prisoner was unbound and pacing back and forth in front of the Colonel, who was stretched out on the couch sipping from a small, thick glass of amber liquid. Galen leaned forward and turned up the volume just enough to hear the Mosh say “…the gold was delivered and is being held by your financial advisor.”
The Colonel replied, “Yes, that has been confirmed. But you came too early. This is not what I agreed too.”
“What difference does it make?”
“Chief, it’s a huge difference. My men are trapped here with no way out. I can’t let you take them as slaves.”
The Mosh stopped pacing and held his right hand balled as a fist pressed hard over his heart. “You want more gold. I will give you more gold because I will take more slaves. That is my word, and my word is my bond and my honor is my life.”
“Good,” said the Colonel. “Now all we have to work out is the amount of gold.”
Galen turned the volume all the way down but continued to record the conversation and saved the file to his personal account. There must be a reasonable explanation. Maybe the Colonel was amusing himself at the Mosh commander’s expense, pretending to accept a bribe. But how would that explain any previous arrangements, any prior delivery of gold? And the ominous message from Mr. Burwell. Treachery by the Colonel would explain a lot. Galen decided to wait and discuss it with the Major when he got back. But what if the Major were in on it, or the other officers? Galen was stuck. He didn’t want to share this news with the whole room and he couldn’t call Tad away from the sky battery post and he didn’t want to leave the command chair empty when the enemy attack was so imminent. Mostly he wanted to see more of the conversation and share it with Tad, and Master Sergeant Sevin, if possible, and determine a course of action. But most of all, he was glad he had given that speech in the chow hall. The Mosh would have a hell of a time trying to take prisoners.
“We got something,” said Sevin. He received a report on his aerospace command terminal. The main screen switched to the pilot’s view of the Interceptor team leader. Off in the distance was the Mosh fleet, the one destroyer in front, three light cruisers behind, with a full battle cruiser in the back row flanked by eight large troop transports, four on each side. The view zoomed in to show the troop transports, heavily laden to maximum capacity with drop boats. Enough for more than three thousand ground troops.
“That’s a lot of troop transport,” said Galen.
The fleet commander said, “Most likely some of them hold supplies and fire support vehicles. It’s also a common Mosh tactic to bring empty landing boats to carry away plunder and prisoners.”