The Complete Hammer's Slammers, Vol. 3

“I’m scarcely a traitor, Colonel,” Lindeyar said with a chuckle. He fluffed the lapel of his jacket. “I’ve been quite successful in advancing the interests of my nation …which is Nonesuch, you will recall.”

The UC delegates were whispering among themselves. Lindeyar fixed them with his cold eyes and said, “Now as for you gentlemen—”

The word was a sneer.

“—the first thing you need to know is that my government has withdrawn its financial support. I’ve already informed the Bonding Authority—”

Mistress Dozier nodded agreement.

“—that as of this moment, Nonesuch will no longer pay the wages of the mercenaries employed on Plattner’s World. Therefore unless the UC and its local partners are capable of paying those charges by themselves, the war is over and all the mercenaries will go home immediately. Can you pay, gentlemen?”

The four UC senators gaped at Lindeyar. Minister Graciano said, “Good Lord, man, of course we can’t. But why would we want to? We’ve won. This is what we’ve been hoping for all along!”

“Mister Lindeyar,” Major Pritchard said, “there was discussion about transferring the contract of Hammer’s Regiment to Nonesuch directly.”

Lindeyar met the unspoken question with a wintry smile. “Was there?” he said. “Perhaps there was. In the event, however, my government has decided to depend on its national forces for defense of its new concession here on Plattner’s World.”

The third starship landed near the two which had arrived minutes before. Huber couldn’t see the ships from where he stood, but while everyone waited for the roar to quiet he shifted the upper right quadrant of his faceshield to the view from an H Company tank on the north side of Port Plattner.

Hatches on the first ship began to open as soon as the third touched down. The crew had been waiting till that moment. As close as the vessels were to one another, there might have been danger if the first-landed had begun disembarking previously.

The first personnel out were ship’s crewmen, adjusting the ramps with hydraulic jacks. Starship personnel were used to the agonizing disorientation of interstellar travel. They had the same splitting headaches, the same blurred vision, and the same nausea as those who traveled less often, but they’d learned to work through the pain.

The noise died away. As Huber cut his remote to return to Lindeyar’s response, he saw huge tanks on caterpillar treads starting to roll out of the starship.

“That’s right, you’ve won, gentlemen,” Lindeyar said with dripping disdain. “Go home and tell your people about your victory. Celebrate!”

He swung his blond, handsome head about the circle like a wolf surveying the henhouse he’s just entered. “As for you, Mister President and your fellows, our terms are simple: Port Plattner is now an extraterritorial division of the Polity of Nonesuch. Port controls and fees are no longer your concern. If you choose to argue the matter, then we’ll take over the administration of all Solace.”

He pointed his left arm to the north, fingers outstretched, though he didn’t turn his head away from the Solace delegation. “There’s a division of the Nonesuch National Guard on the ground already. We can bring more troops in if we have to, but given the condition of your forces that obviously won’t be necessary. And if you’re thinking of mercenaries—I’m afraid you’ve overextended your off-planet credit already. Now that you no longer hold Port Plattner, Solace is bankrupt. The money you’ve placed with the Bonding Authority will just cover repatriation of the units already contracted to you, and the Authority won’t approve any further hires.”

All eyes turned to Mistress Dozier. She shrugged and said without emphasis, “The Authority isn’t in the business of making moral judgments. We’re employed—”

Her face hardened.

“—by all parties, let me remind you, to enforce contracts, nothing more. Mister Lindeyar has correctly stated the situation insofar as the Bonding Authority is concerned.”

Colonel Priamedes’ head lolled on Huber’s shoulder. “Papa?” Daphne whispered urgently.

Huber touched the colonel’s throat with an index and middle finger; his pulse was strong. Priamedes hadn’t recovered from the knocks he’d taken at Northern Star Farms, and the present events were simply more than his system could handle without shutting down.

Huber’s leg didn’t hurt anymore; the adrenaline surging through him was the best medicine for pain. He didn’t know how long he could keep this up, but for the time being he could do his job— whatever that job turned out to be. He eyed Sigmund Lindeyar without expression.

“I don’t have to explain this to Colonel Hammer,” Lindeyar said, “but for the rest of you I’ll point out that any mercenary unit which works without a paid contract becomes an outlaw in the eyes of the Bonding Authority. Civilization can’t survive with bands of mad dogs roving from planet to planet without rules.”