By then the infantry had the rest of the Legion disarmed and bound. At the hasty casualty collection point, about three dozen Legion soldiers received first aid. There were sixteen bodies immobile, zipped up in human remains collection bags.
Galen looked at the Legion commander. “Okay. How do you want to play this?”
“Exchange,” he said.
“What have you got?”
“Our equipment. Replace a few blown fuses, bang out a few dents, replace the ruined batteries of the battle suits, they’ll be good as new.”
Galen stifled a laugh. As much as he wanted to laugh, he knew it would antagonize the Legion commander and make him less cooperative, and that could cut into profits. Plus, their unit motto was Death Before Dishonor. With no sensors around to record what happened next, if the Legion decided to get suicidal and fight to the death under these conditions, it would be very hard to convince a review board an atrocity had not taken place.
Galen took a deep breath and said, “Look. You are the Twelfth Legion of Doom. Maybe the other eleven Legions will pitch in to buy your way out of this. If you agree to leave this planet in less than three days, I’ll take standard exchange rates for your people, plus fair salvage value for your equipment, less damages. I’ll also cover the death benefit for your fallen comrades.”
The legion commander looked down. “This is it. There are no other Legions of Doom. ‘Twelfth’ just sounds good, the way it rolls of the tongue.”
Sevin said, “You’re new at this, aren’t you.”
“Yes.”
Galen said, “We’ll work something out. I’ll set you down with the Director; I’m sure there is something you can do for him, for which he’ll pay.”
A team from Chief Polar’s detachment came and got the Legion commander and walked him over to one of the non-tactical troop transport vehicles and crammed him inside with about fifty of his troops. Galen and Sevin walked back to Stone’s tank and climbed on top. Galen got back in the loader’s hatch and put the machine gun back in its swivel.
Galen told Stone, “Let’s go home. Back to the Crater.”
Chapter Thirteen
Galen stood at the podium at the top of the tunnel and read aloud from the citation orders. “For gallantry and service beyond the call of duty, for participation in an operation of overwhelming success where the opponent was completely defeated in every sense of the word, and with no significant injuries, and no deaths amongst Jasmine Panzer Brigade personnel, I hereby award the Commendation Medal to…well, there are nine hundred and six names on the list. Swing by here and I’ll hand you your medal.”
Galen stepped down from the stand and stood in front of the formation.
The group of soldiers stood in a block formation, Sevin in front of them. He executed an about face and gave the commands, “Right, face! File from the left, column left! At ease, March!”
The lead soldier peeled off left from the front rank, the rest following to form a line that led to Galen, who gave each soldier a handshake and a fifty gram gold coin with the unit crest stamped on one side, the words ‘Operation Short Circuit’ stamped around it, and the EugeneX corporate logo on the other. After receiving the coin, each troop left the area to return to normal duties. The last soldier to come through the line was Karen. Stone faced, she took the coin and slipped it in her pocket. The hint of a smile crossed her lips as she turned and walked away.
Galen massaged his hand and looked back at Spike.
Spike had been reaching into a box on the stand, handing coins to Galen as the troops filed by. “One coin left. Stick it in your pocket.”
Galen took it. “Well that was really nice of EugeneX to provide these coins. They are definitely not cheap.”
Spike said, “The director is coming up top to talk to that Legion clown and wants us there. We have time for a bag lunch.”
“Let’s ride over to the EPW camp and eat in front of them, so they can see us eat the same crap they get. Good for morale.”
“Roger.” Spike got in the driver’s seat of the skimmer, Galen got in beside him. When the fans came up to speed and the vehicle rose, the laser gunner woke up and stood behind the weapon. They travelled straight out away from the crater for twelve kilometers and stopped outside the main gate of the Legion EPW compound. An unimpressive single strand of concertina wire encircled the EPW camp, which consisted of a bring-your-own-bucket-of-water shower house and a covered eating area surrounded by twelve slap-together cheap tin shacks erected right on the dirt. The latrine was a latrine indeed. Lined with corrugated metal bent to fit, it was a five meter long trench a meter deep and ten centimeters wide with canvas erected around it on metal poles to provide screening from view. It drained, along with the shower house, into a cesspool about a hundred meters outside the wire, down wind most of the time.
The main gate was a gap in the wire, where two Panzer Brigade troops sat on a bench under a tarp erected for shade, armed with nothing more than a radio. Off in the distance, a kilometer away, a ground-mobile rail gun stood watch over the camp. Galen and Tad and their laser gunner stood around the bow of the skimmer and ate their field rations, a few of the Legion troops taking a passing interest in their activity.
Galen said, “I hope that Director gets here soon. If I were on the other side of that wire, I’d see this skimmer as a very tempting opportunity for escape.”
Spike looked at his wrist chronometer. “We still have ninety minutes. For something as dangerous as escape, it takes the normal human brain about two hours to see an opportunity, process the information and formulate a plan before taking action.”
The driver patted his side arm and grinned.
Spike said, “That’s just another prize they’d really like to get their hands on right now.”
“Now you’re making me nervous.” Galen walked over to the camp entrance and yelled, “Hey Tribunus. Come on out here.”
The Legion commander made his way to the entrance. Each EPW was issued a pair of shower shoes and a two meter square blanket. He wore the shower shoes on otherwise bare feet and had the blanket draped over his shoulders “What do you want?”
“I’m getting nervous waiting here. Let me offer you a ride, for your meeting with the Director.”
“I want two of my staff present.”
Galen thought about it, and then looked back at the skimmer. “There are only two open seats. You can bring one.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself.” Galen walked away and got back in the skimmer. “Let’s ride. Park five hundred meters away, out of the line of fire for that rail gun, and wait for the director to arrive.”
As they rode Galen said, “No, go back. Park right by the gate.”
Spike turned the skimmer back around and said, “Why?”
“Well, those are our EPWs. Their decisions about any offer made by the Director will be made under duress, and that duress is being caused by us. I want no part of it.”
Spike parked the skimmer. “So what?”
“It’s a moral thing, that’s all. I’m going to cut these guys lose.” Galen dismounted and went to the entrance and called for the Tribunus again.
He came. “What is it now?”
“I’m done with you. You are free to go.” Galen smiled.