| From: | "Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | High Ground |
| Date: | Thu, 20 Nov 1997 23:23:27 +0000 |
>>>>>[Well, the Court wanted a representative there, so I went up the
well (don't know why, we could have done it all by e-mail or videophone)
and briefed the Court's official. For some reason they decided not to
parade me before the Court justices <g>
I'm back in Seattle now. Looks like we're gonna get our chance for some
payback.
And believe me... payback is a motherfucker.
+++++begin trideo
Lynch's headware camera, in a luxuriously furnished office: the walls
curve oddly and all loose items are held down with Velcro. He's sitting
opposite an expensively handsome man in a perfectly tailored suit. who
is regarding him with slight distaste.
"You could at least have made the effort to smarten up, Mr Lynch."
"You said 'urgent', so I hustled to Vandenberg most ricky-tick." Lynch
stretches - you see he's wearing his camouflaged flight suit, dust in
the creases, and well-worn combat boots. "Nothing on the invitation that
said formal dress. Besides, who cares?"
"If you're called before the Court-"
"They can take me as I am. Pulling me out of an entertaining war is bad
enough, asking me to wear a tie adds insult to injury. What do you want
to know?" Lynch sounds like he's grinning.
The suited man sighs. "I do trust you can speak authoritatively?"
"I own a quarter of that unit. Good enough?"
"Sufficient. Then it's quite simple. What would it take to destroy
Akbar?"
"Define destroy." the mercenary responds at once.
"Shatter his military force beyond reconstruction. Hunt down and kill
Akbar himself, and ruthlessly harry his forces until they are scattered
and dispersed." the suited man responds.
"If Akbar isn'y reinforced, and providing funding was made available, we
could do it alone within six months."
"Too long. Six weeks, maximum. And funding, provided it's sensibly used,
is not a problem." The suit leans forward. "He needs to be made into...
an example." A door opens and there is a faint rip-rip-rip noise, and
Lynch turns to see an exquisitely beautiful woman walking into the
office, two covered tankards on a tray. She passes one to him, the other
to the suit, before leaving with the same soft tearing noise on every
footstep.
Lynch sips the tankard, leaves it to hang in the air beside him and
thinks for some time before replying, choosing his words with care.
"In six weeks we can make good our combat losses. We would need more
heavy units, more artillery and more airpower: the artillery we can do
ourselves, but we can't train crews and support personnel fast enough."
The suited man is making notes. "How much of each?"
"A company of MBTs and two of cavalry vehicles. Ares Athenas - Athenae?
- would be ideal for those, the terrain suits them. Three batteries of
self-propelled 155s and one of MRLs. Three batteries of self-propelled
mortars for company-level fire support. Air assets... two squadrons of
light attack helicopters, and three of transport helos. One squadron of
Avengers and three of Wandjima drones. A full squadron of transports,
Titans would do, to free our Herks up for Spooky and Snoopy work. We're
okay for tactical aviation, but AWACS and STARS coverage would be nice."
The suited man writes rapidly. "How much purchased, how much leased?"
"We'd buy... the MBTs, a battery of SP mortars, a squadron of Stallions,
the Avengers and one drone squadron. Need subcontracted crews for this
op, but we'd purchase hardware from the surviving assets."
"Expected losses?"
"Five per cent. Ten, max. If Akbar's heavily reinforced, as high as
twenty, but we'd still win." Lynch sounds confident.
The suit is adjusting the list. "How much for the mission itself?"
"To hire all available useful Rebels, for a six-week war with your
stated objectives? Quarter-billion."
"That's a great deal of money." the suit responds.
The mercenary chuckles. "It's a great deal of fighting. It's reasonable
for what you're asking, and you don't have time for competitive
tendering."
"Very well. Can you sleep in zero-G?"
"I can sleep anywhere."
"Then I'll have my secretary show you to a cabin and you can rest. I'll
brief the Court: if there's a problem we'll call you in." The suit
rises, actually shakes Lynch's hand. "Are you keeping Socotra?"
That baffles Lynch for a second, it seems. "Huh?... Oh. No. The Yemenis
let us base there until we trash Akbar, is all. We're expanding our new
base in Tarislar. UCAS turf, and we pay tax. It has advantages."
+++++end trideo
Surprise, surprise, three hours later they wake me up and say it's a
deal and my ride home leaves in ninety minutes, time to board for trim
adjustment.
We are on contract, people. The corporate troops will join on us within
two weeks. Don't know who, but at a guess I'd say the armour will be
Ares and the artillery Maxim or Saeder-Krupp.
That's the big job. While Akbar watches Socotra and sweats, I'll put a
team together and see if we can't get our PoWs back.]<<<<<
-- Lynch <23:23:54/11-20-58>
