David Drake - The Forlorn Hope

Lieutenant Stoessel sprang up to fetch someone, but his zeal was unnecessary. Sergeant Ondru rushed into the outer office with his slung rifle clattering on the door jamb. More formally, the non-com paced the three steps to the inner doorway and saluted. "Sir?" he said. Members of his squad were peering through the open doors.

"Have three men take Waldstejn here to his quarters," the battalion commander said, gesturing with a heavy thumb. "Tie him to a goddam chair and make sure he stays in it."

The Supply officer turned and slammed a fist into the wall. He did not speak.

"If you're real lucky, Lieutenant," Lichtenstein snarled at the younger man's back, "I'll have you untied when all this is over."

Waldstejn walked past the Sergeant. He shrugged his arm away from the hand with which Ondru would have gripped his upper arm.

"He doesn't talk to anybody!" the Major shouted. Everyone else in the office was silent, watching. "He tries any crap, shoot him!"

Sergeant Ondru carefully closed the building's outer door behind him. "Breisach, you take over here for me," he told his startled companion. "Doubek, Janko, come on-we're going to escort our prisoner here to his quarters." He prodded Waldstejn between the shoulder blades with a stiff finger.

"And make sure your night goggles are on," the Sergeant added. "We just might get a chance to shoot an escapee." He prodded the Lieutenant again. This time he used the muzzle of his rifle.

"Halt!" cried the first of the guards to see him.

Colonel Fasolini flipped up the visor of his helmet. "It's me, Fasolini," he said inCzech. "Your CO just sent for me."

"You're alone, then?" Sergeant Breisach demanded. "We were told therewas two of you." The whole squad was on its feet and tense.

There was reason enough to be tense, the squat mercenary knew; but perhaps these local troops were reacting only to the morning's raid. "No, I'm alone," Fasolini said. "I make the decisions for the Company by myself." He entered the building at the Sergeant's assenting nod.

Fasolini stood out like a wrestler in a law office among the battalion staff. His helmet and the grim burden of his crossbelts made him utterly alien. Chairs scraped as Federal officers rose to greet the mercenary. "Glad you were so quick, Colonel," said Captain Khlesl. The little Intelligence Officer had been chosen to make the presentation. Now he reached across the table to shake the mercenary's hand. "Do sit down. A drink?"

The Colonel seated himself in the chair left vacant for him. Captain Strojnowski across the table would not meet his eyes. "No drink," the Colonel said."Maybe later."

"Right," agreed Khlesl, "right." He smiled, continuing to stand. "You see, Colonel," he continued, "the strategic situation has deteriorated very sharply in the past twenty hours. The-I'll call them the enemy-has broken through-"

"I know what the Rubes've done," Colonel Fasolini said bluntly. "At the moment, I'm more concerned about what you propose to do about it. I assure you, me and my boys'll agree to any reasonable suggestion."

Major Lichtenstein belched, then looked around as if he suspected someone else of making the sound. The room was silent.

"Well," Captain Khlesl said, "yes. The truth of it is, Colonel, that the plan we have decided to implement is surrender. We have some reason to believe that General Yorck will be quite generous in his terms… though of course we'll have to disarm all the troops in the compound first. We-we here are as good patriots as any on Cecach, but with Republican armored columns certain to encircle us within another day at most, well… There's no point in causing needless slaughter, is there?"

"After all," put in Captain Tetour, "the garrison was put here to keep the civilians in order and to keep the Rubes from making some sort of raid on it. Well, we've done that. But they've got tanks fromTerra!"

"Sure, I can see that," the mercenary agreed with a smile that slashed, then slumped back to stark reality. "Thing is, we've got a notion that General Yorck may not be quite so generous to mercs as he might be to… brothers and sisters of the Cecach soil. Eh?" He smiled again, a reflex and not a real plea. Captain Khlesl's grin had stiffened into a bright rictus.

"Now, I wouldn't be surprised if some of you people kept off-planet bank accounts," Fasolini continued. "Doesn't mean you're not patriotic, it's just common sense, spreading the risk." He gestured with both hands, palms down, fingers splayed. "The rest, you can get an account easy enough. Now, what I'm offering is a pre-accepted order on my agents on Valunta to transfer-" his eyes counted- "thirty-one thousand Valuntan pesos, that's over twelve thousand crowns, intoeach of your private accounts. All you have to do to get that money is to give us one truck and one hour. It's that simple."

Major Lichtenstein rolled forward in his chair. He planted both palms meatily on the table. "How about your life instead?" he said. His voice rode down the buzz of talk that had followed the mercenary's offer.

"Come on, now," the Major cajoled heavily, "that's a fair deal, isn't it? Man to man. We hide you, save your ass when the Rubes roll in-which you and me couldn't stop if we wanted to. You're clear. Your gear's gone, but that's gone anyhow. And Mary and the Saints, you won't have any trouble finding gallows bait to replace what you leave here, will you? Come on, man to man-what do you say?"

"Well, there's a whole lot of truth in that," Colonel Fasolini said. He leaned back in his chair, his tension apparently submerged by the new consideration. "A lot of truth," he repeated. "You know, Major, I think I can buy into that. I mean, businessman's got to know when to cut his losses, don't he?"

Fasolini stood up. "Tell you what, gents-" he nodded to Brionca"Captain, I'm going to myOperationsCenter now to pick up a few items. I'll be back in an hour and give my troops the order to disarm from here." He smiled. "Okay?"

"Take all the time you need, Colonel," Major Lichtenstein agreed. "Glad you're a reasonable man."

The mercenary closed the inner door behind him. Captain Brionca jumped to her feet. Lichtenstein's face was a mask of fury. He nodded to his Operations officer. "The bastard's lying," he said. "He's going to double-cross us."

Brionca caught the handle of the outside door just as it closed. She snatched it open, throwing her shadow forward on a fan of yellow light."Kill him!" she called to the guards.

As they neared the warehouse, Albrecht Waldsten stumbled less frequently. He had recovered both his night vision and his poise during the march, despite Sergeant Ondru's frequent jabs. "You know," the tall officer said in a thoughtful voice, "you boys'd have to tie me upregardless, it'd be your asses if you didn't-"

"Never fearthat,"quipped Ondru. Because of the way his rifle was slung, he had to step very close to his prisoner in order to poke the weapon into his ribs. He did so again.

Waldstejn missed a half step. His voice was still friendly as he resumed, "But it strikes me that the knots might not bequite as tight if we all had a drink or two together first. After all, it's not much point worrying about liquorrations now, is there?"

One of the privates whistled, "Holy Mother," under his breath.

Ondru shifted his grip on his rifle. The looming warehouse had a rosy cast through his light-enhancing goggles. The visual cliche made him bark out a laugh. "You mean," the big sergeant said, "that you'll open the liquor cabinet if we don't try to amputate your legs with the ropes?"

Waldstejn turned his head, stumbling a little again, and replied, "Hell, yes. What did being a hard-ass get me? Look, I may be dumb, but I'm not too dumb to learn."