Tad swiveled the camera some more and zoomed in. Where a street met the beach, the sand was littered with at least a hundred Mosh bodies. “That’s a typical example of Mosh tactics. A ground-mobile rail gun tore them up. They might have five hundred warriors left and they can’t get past simple choke points because they don’t know how. Eventually they’ll figure it out, which will put them in the kill zones of our second defensive phase line.”
Galen felt dizzy and leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “Are they accomplishing anything?”
“By accident I’m sure, because we were using a mobile defense withdrawal, they managed to get control of the Mandarin construction company’s administrative building. Now they might just be able to force us to take offensive action.” Tad switched the view to another camera. It showed two dozen Mandarin men, office workers, standing in a line. The Mosh troops held weapons on them. Their leader paced up and down and occasionally poked one with something that shocked the prisoners, like a cattle prod would. Galen looked up and watched as the Mandarin men were ordered to strip naked. One refused and was put to the ground by the cattle prod. Two warriors drug him out of the line and centered him so all could see. The leader shocked him again and used his foot to roll the prisoner onto his stomach.
A Mosh soldier walked down the line of naked men and handed each two pieces of cloth. Then the leader gave a command and the men put the items on. Black Spandex skirts and tube tops. Another warrior handed out wigs of straight black hair for the men to put on, the hair long enough to reach the small of their backs. The Mandarin on the ground was shocked again. The prisoners stood on their toes. A fat one was pulled out of line and ordered to change back into his regular clothes. Then a warrior moved down the line handing out pairs of high-heeled shoes.
Galen stared. “That’s sick.”
Another warrior moved down the line with a bandolier of auto-injectors, sticking one into the shoulder of each prisoner for ten seconds before withdrawing it, each in turn, all down the line.
“What the hell are they doing?”
The public affairs Chief said, “I think he’s my counterpart, their civil affairs guy. I’d guess they’re lining up some entertainment for later. Those guys are being shot up with synthetic female hormones.”
The sky battery technician said, “It is good, to serve the Mosh.”
“Not funny,” said the public affairs Chief. “This is the first step. After three months their genitals and their brains will be surgically altered. They will be mindless bar girl sex slaves.”
Galen stood. “Re-take that building, liberate those prisoners and kill every one of those Mosh!”
Tad said, “Take it easy, you’re still weak. We have a plan.”
“Last I checked I’m in command here.” Galen felt dizzy again and sat down.
“As your second in command I declare you unfit for duty. Really, I got this. All you need is a couple hours rest. You’ve done more than enough already.”
“What do you mean? I’ve done nothing but pass out.”
“You fainted like an old lady, but that’s not the point. Stop being so modest. It took more guts than I’ll ever have to pull off a coup like that. And if you hadn’t, we would be the ones getting converted into mindless drinky girls right now.”
Galen leaned back in his chair. “Okay, you can command things for a while but I get to watch.”
The view shifted back to the Mosh fleet. Only the battle cruiser and the troop transport ships remained. Galen realized the plasma cannon strikes had stopped. He looked closely at the battle cruiser. Its forward turret was blackened and distorted, aimed slightly to the right.
“What happened to their fleet?”
Tad smiled. “The fleet commander coordinated an attack. He brought his battle cruiser and the command ship in with the interceptors. To support them, we dropped our shield and hit them with the lasers. That was done at the same time as the Mosh troop landing. Their commander was caught off guard with too much to think about all at once. If you give your enemy too many options at the same time they will always pick the worst one.”
“Well how about this? How about you go ahead and finish off their battle cruiser, kill those Mosh before they get off the beaches, and use their drop boats to carry boarding parties up to capture their troop ships so they don’t have anything left to block our jump point.”
Tad’s face lit up. “That’s what I like about you, you’re decisive. Okay. The hard part is getting enough firepower onto the beach to kill them. The ground mobile rail guns are too slow and don’t have enough armor.”
“Do we still have that tank?”
Tad smacked himself in the forehead with the palm of his left hand. “I forgot all about that. Okay, here’s the deal. I get things started with your battle plan. You go lay down and when it comes time to send the tank to beach I’ll get you up and you can command it.”
Galen looked at Tad. “You’d really do that, instead of leaving me asleep and taking the tank out yourself?”
“Normally I would but you’re my commander now. I can’t pull pranks on you any more because it would violate my contract.”
Galen stood and went through the office to the Major’s bed—his bed now—and let himself fall asleep. It seemed like only moments had passed when Tad shook his shoulder.
“Your chariot awaits.”
“Quit kissing my ass, that’s an order.” Galen sat up and rubbed his eyes. In a moment of clarity he realized something, expressing itself in the back of mind. Mission first, people always. “Where’s Sevin?”
Tad tilted his head to the left. “Why?”
“He’s the best tank commander we have. This mission is too important to use it as an excuse to satisfy my ego. Where is he?”
“He’s sitting in the command drop ship, supporting his four Interceptors, guarding our jump point so our battle cruiser can block the Mosh jump point. Now get dressed, get out there, and command your tank.”
Galen walked through the office and the conference room, up the steps and out the door with only one thought on his mind. He was about to realize his dream of commanding a Hercules heavy tank in combat, about to personally deliver the final blow to end the battle. He climbed up over the glacis plate, the gun mantle, onto the turret and lowered his body into the cupola with a hand on either side of the open hatch, careful to not let his boots touch the seat. The cushion was not soft, but rugged, meant to prevent injury more than provide comfort. He slipped on the commo helmet and adjusted the chin strap. The smell of its previous owner’s scalp filled Galen’s nostrils. No time for that, he’d get a brand new helmet for himself after this contract was over. He connected the tightly coiled spaghetti cord, connected the thick, heavy clothing clip to the opposite end of the connector cable to ensure it wouldn’t come apart by accident.
Galen blew into his mike then said, “You got me, driver?”
“Yessir.”
“Gunner, you up?”
“Yessir.”
Galen wanted to repeat the old NCO saying of ‘don’t call me sir because I work for a living,’ but held back. He wanted his crew focused on the job at hand, acting on long-practiced training that had become instinct. Forcing them to use some part of their brains to worry about calling him the wrong thing would just throw a monkey wrench into their minds.
“Move out, driver. We’re going to the beach.”
The tank moved down the narrow street lined with tin shacks. Then it took a right and moved toward the Mosh-infested beach with the large concrete warehouses alongside the air strip blocking them from the enemy’s fire. Galen could see the very tops of some of the drop boat tail section rudders above the buildings. He closed his hatch and said, “Gunner, be ready for targets to the right and then the front. Driver, full speed to the beach and then power slide to face right down the beach and halt.”