Episode 23
Retaliation
The flight back to base was silent. We touched down, cleaned up and hit the sack. I was asleep as soon as my head hit my pack. A few hours later I awakened, wondering where I was. I looked up at rough wood beams over my head and smelled hay. Why the devil does my back hurt? was my first thought, followed by remembering I got hit in the back. Then I remembered I had just assassinated a prince the night before. How about that! Then I looked around and remembered I was in a big old barn turned mercenary barracks.
Okay, Tommy, now you’re all up to date. What now?
That hit last night seemed like a stupid thing for the Ulimbese to order, especially since they were holding so much Corwistalian territory. Showing mercy would have made so much more sense. There were witnesses to the prince’s surrender. Whacking him like that just made the Emperor look like a turncoat jackass.
I wondered if the King of Corwistal knew about it yet. Then a dark thought struck me. What if the Ulimbese didn’t know about it either? What if it was us?
“Hey, Tommy, things just got interesting,” came a voice. I rolled over to see Jock crouching by my side, already dressed.
I looked around. Most of the men were still passed out.
“How?” I asked Jock.
“Air strikes.”
“Not here,” I said, sitting up and grabbing my boots and socks. “I don’t hear anything. Incoming?”
“Nope, not here,” Jock said. “They hit the capital.”
“The imperials hit Corwistal?”
“No, the Corwies are hitting the Ulimba-Mor. Come on, try to keep up.”
“Dude, I just woke up.” I shook my head to get the cobwebs out. “Run that by me again.”
“The King of Corwistal heard about his son getting whacked and hit back at the Ulimbese.”
“Yeah, I don’t blame him. I would be pissed too,” I said. “Do the Corwies know it was us?”
“I dunno,” Jock said. “Though if they find out, they’re gonna be pissed at us too.”
I shrugged. “What are they gonna do about it? Their army is just slightly more competent than a gang of kids with sticks.”
“Hey, don’t get too cocky,” Jock frowned, shaking his head. “Even a kid with a stick can beat your head in.”
A couple other guys were waking up now and listening in. Four-eyes had showed up behind me. “You know, Sarge,” he said quietly, “the imperials may retaliate if they are mad enough at us.”
“Like how?” said Jock. “Lodge a formal protest with the colonel? About what, killing too many of their enemies? Performing our contract too well?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure you’re thinking this through, Jock. We’re sitting here without armor, artillery, or proper supplies in the middle of enemy territory, and our friends don’t seem to like us all that much.”
“Maybe,” Jock said. “But without us, their offensive would have stalled out. They know we pulled their imperial chestnuts out of the fire.”
Four-eyes nodded. “Sure, but we’d better have an alternative in mind. Just in case.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Seems reasonable to me.”
Jock punched me in the arm. “All right, boys. But before we do that, we need to know what’s going on, and we aren’t going to do that by sitting around here. I’m going to liberate some coffee from command HQ and hang out over there to see what happens next.”
“Want some company?” I said.
“Sure,” said Jock. “Just keep your mouth shut. What about you, Four-eyes? Coming?”
He shook his head. “I’m going to hit up Andrews and see if I can jack into local radio chatter.”
“Good idea,” Jock said. “Let’s go, Tommy.”
The command tent was rather more decorative than any I’d seen before. Scratch that. It was downright gaudy. The colonel had gotten it from the Ulimbese, since our stuff was still lost in shipping limbo. The thing looked like it was requisitioned from a gaudy, low-end whorehouse. It had gold, green, and red stripes with an upside-down ice cream cone top. I admit, I laughed when I saw it. But I kept it in. Mostly.
Major Skelton was pacing outside the tent when we showed up. I’d served with him a few times, but he and Jock went way back.
“Major,” Jock said, and Skelton nodded at him. “Good to see you, Sergeant. Looks like our friendlies might not be feeling so friendly.”
“Yeah,” said Jock, “so I’ve heard. Any idea where we can get some coffee around here, Major?”
Skelton raised an eyebrow. “If you’re looking for a waitress, you’ve come to the wrong place. However, if the corporal might be able to liberate some from back there,” he jerked a finger towards a smaller tent. “Bring three cups. Major’s orders.”
I saluted, fetched the coffee, then returned as directed. It smelled better than anything I’d had in a while. Probably an officer’s private stash.
“The airstrikes didn’t take out the emperor, fortunately, but the Corwies were clearly NOT kidding around. Stratarches Tark is probably going to show up any second now and start screaming about it.” Major Skelton was telling Jock. “I don’t know how much they know about our real client.”
“They know something,” said Jock, sipping at his coffee. “Everyone knows we’re not just here for an imperial real estate acquisition program.”
As we spoke, Colonel Emerson himself stepped outside the tent, looking pained, followed by his aide, an Ulimbese liaison, and a captain from Echo Company. We saluted and he returned the salute, then signed off on something his aide was presenting to him.
“Major,” he said. “I may need you for something in a few minutes.” Then he noticed what we were drinking. “Is that my coffee?”
“Yes sir,” the major replied calmly.
“Damn your eyes, then.” He nodded to Jock in silent approval; clearly he wasn’t about to say anything about the previous night’s operation in front of the imperial officer.
