Mercenary, Page 2

  II

  His permanent military rank the Haers had no way to alter, but they wereshort enough of competent officers that they gave him an acting ratingand pay scale of major and command of a squadron of cavalry. Joe Mauserwasn't interested in a cavalry command this fracas, but he said nothing.Immediately, he had to size up the situation; it wasn't time as yet toreveal the big scheme. And, meanwhile, they could use him to whip theRank Privates into shape.

  He had left the offices of Baron Haer to go through the red tapeinvolved in being signed up on a temporary basis in the Vacuum TubeTransport forces, and reentered the confusion of the outer offices wherethe Lowers were being processed and given medicals. He reentered in timeto run into a Telly team which was doing a live broadcast.

  Joe Mauser remembered the news reporter who headed the team. He'd runinto him two or three times in fracases. As a matter of fact, althoughJoe held the standard Military Category prejudices against Telly, he hada basic respect for this particular newsman. On the occasions he'd seenhim before, the fellow was hot in the midst of the action even whenthings were in the dill. He took as many chances as did the averagecombatant, and you can't ask for more than that.

  The other knew him, too, of course. It was part of his job to be able tospot the celebrities and near celebrities. He zeroed in on Joe now,making flicks of his hand to direct the cameras. Joe, of course, wasfully aware of the value of Telly and was glad to co-operate.

  "Captain! Captain Mauser, isn't it? Joe Mauser who held out for fourdays in the swamps of Louisiana with a single company while his rankingofficers reformed behind him."

  That was one way of putting it, but both Joe and the newscaster who hadcovered the debacle knew the reality of the situation. When the fronthad collapsed, his commanders--of Upper caste, of course--had hauledout, leaving him to fight a delaying action while they mended theirfences with the enemy, coming to the best terms possible. Yes, that hadbeen the United Oil versus Allied Petroleum fracas, and Joe had emergedwith little either in glory or pelf.

  The average fracas fan wasn't on an intellectual level to appreciateanything other than victory. The good guys win, the bad guyslose--that's obvious, isn't it? Not one out of ten Telly followers ofthe fracases was interested in a well-conducted retreat or holdingaction. They wanted blood, lots of it, and they identified with thewinning side.

  Joe Mauser wasn't particularly bitter about this aspect. It was part ofhis way of life. In fact, his pet peeve was the _real_ buff. The type,man or woman, who could remember every fracas you'd ever been in, everytime you'd copped one, and how long you'd been in the hospital. Fans whocould remember, even better than you could, every time the situation hadpickled on you and you'd had to fight your way out as best you could.They'd tell you about it, their eyes gleaming, sometimes a slightesttrickle of spittle at the sides of their mouths. They usually wanted anautograph, or a souvenir such as a uniform button.

  Now Joe said to the Telly reporter, "That's right, Captain Mauser.Acting major, in this fracas, ah--"

  "Freddy. Freddy Soligen. You remember me, captain--"

  "Of course I do, Freddy. We've been in the dill, side by side, more thanonce, and even when I was too scared to use my side arm, you'd bescanning away with your camera."

  "Ha ha, listen to the captain, folks. I hope my boss is tuned in. Butseriously, Captain Mauser, what do you think the chances of Vacuum TubeTransport are in this fracas?"

  Joe looked into the camera lens, earnestly. "The best, of course, or Iwouldn't have signed up with Baron Haer, Freddy. Justice triumphs, andanybody who is familiar with the issues in this fracas, knows that BaronHaer is on the side of true right."

  Freddy said, holding any sarcasm he must have felt, "What would you saythe issues were, captain?"

  "The basic North American free enterprise right to compete. Hovercrafthas held a near monopoly in transport to Fairbanks. Vacuum TubeTransport wishes to lower costs and bring the consumers of Fairbanksbetter service through running a vacuum tube to that area. What could bemore in the traditions of the West-world? Continental Hovercraft standsin the way and it is they who have demanded of the Category MilitaryDepartment a trial by arms. On the face of it, justice is on the side ofBaron Haer."

  Freddy Soligen said into the camera, "Well, all you good people of theTelly world, that's an able summation the captain has made, but itcertainly doesn't jibe with the words of Baron Zwerdling we heard thismorning, does it? However, justice triumphs and we'll see what the fieldof combat will have to offer. Thank you, thank you very much, CaptainMauser. All of us, all of us tuned in today, hope that you personallywill run into no dill in this fracas."

  "Thanks, Freddy. Thanks all," Joe said into the camera, before turningaway. He wasn't particularly keen about this part of the job, but youcouldn't underrate the importance of pleasing the buffs. In the long runit was your career, your chances for promotion both in military rank andultimately in caste. It was the way the fans took you up, boosted you,idolized you, worshipped you if you really made it. He, Joe Mauser, wasonly a minor celebrity, he appreciated every chance he had to beinterviewed by such a popular reporter as Freddy Soligen.

  * * * * *

  Even as he turned, he spotted the four men with whom he'd had his spatearlier. The little fellow was still to the fore. Evidently, the othershad decided the one place extra that he represented wasn't worth thetrouble he'd put in their way defending it.

  On an impulse he stepped up to the small man who began a grin ofrecognition, a grin that transformed his feisty face. A revelation ofan inner warmth beyond average in a world which had lost much of itshuman warmth.

  Joe said, "Like a job, soldier?"

  "Name's Max. Max Mainz. Sure I want a job. That's why I'm in thiseverlasting line."

  Joe said, "First fracas for you, isn't it?"

  "Yeah, but I had basic training in school."

  "What do you weigh, Max?"

  Max's face soured. "About one twenty."

  "Did you check out on semaphore in school?"

  "Well, sure. I'm Category Food, Sub-division Cooking, Branch Chef, but,like I say, I took basic military training, like most everybody else."

  "I'm Captain Joe Mauser. How'd you like to be my batman?"

  Max screwed up his already not overly handsome face. "Gee, I don't know.I kinda joined up to see some action. Get into the dill. You know what Imean."

  Joe said dryly, "See here, Mainz, you'll probably find more pickledsituations next to me than you'll want--and you'll come out alive."

  The recruiting sergeant looked up from the desk. It was Max Mainz's turnto be processed. The sergeant said, "Lad, take a good opportunity whenit drops in your lap. The captain is one of the best in the field.You'll learn more, get better chances for promotion, if you stick withhim."

  Joe couldn't remember ever having run into the sergeant before, but hesaid, "Thanks, sergeant."

  The other said, evidently realizing Joe didn't recognize him, "We weretogether on the Chihuahua Reservation, on the jurisdictional fracasbetween the United Miners and the Teamsters, sir."

  It had been almost fifteen years ago. About all that Joe Mauserremembered of that fracas was the abnormal number of casualties they'dtaken. His side had lost, but from this distance in time Joe couldn'teven remember what force he'd been with. But now he said, "That's right.I thought I recognized you, sergeant."

  "It was my first fracas, sir." The sergeant went businesslike. "If youwant I should hustle this lad though, captain--"

  "Please do, sergeant." Joe added to Max, "I'm not sure where my billetwill be. When you're through all this, locate the officer's mess andwait there for me."

  "Well, O.K.," Max said doubtfully, still scowling but evidently aservant of an officer, if he wanted to be or not.

  "Sir," the sergeant added ominously. "If you've had basic, you knowenough how to address an officer."

  "Well, yessir," Max said hurriedly.

  Joe began to turn away, but then spot
ted the man immediately behind MaxMainz. He was one of the three with whom Joe had tangled earlier, theone who'd obviously had previous combat experience. He pointed the manout to the sergeant. "You'd better give this lad at least temporary rankof corporal. He's a veteran and we're short of veterans."

  The sergeant said, "Yes, sir. We sure are." Joe's former foe lookedproperly thankful.

  * * * * *

  Joe Mauser finished off his own red tape and headed for the street tolocate a military tailor who could do him up a set of the Haer kilts andfill his other dress requirements. As he went, he wondered vaguely justhow many different uniforms he had worn in his time.

  In a career as long as his own from time to time you took semi-permanentpositions in bodyguards, company police, or possibly the permanentcombat troops of this corporation or that. But largely, if you wereambitious, you signed up for the fracases and that meant into a uniformand out of it again in as short a period as a couple of weeks.

  At the door he tried to move aside but was too slow for the quick movingyoung woman who caromed off him. He caught her arm to prevent her fromstumbling. She looked at him with less than thanks.

  Joe took the blame for the collision. "Sorry," he said. "I'm afraid Ididn't see you, Miss."

  "Obviously," she said coldly. Her eyes went up and down him, and for amoment he wondered where he had seen her before. Somewhere, he was sure.

  She was dressed as they dress who have never considered cost and she hadan elusive beauty which would have been even the more hadn't her faceprojected quite such a serious outlook. Her features were more delicatethan those to which he was usually attracted. Her lips were less full,but still-- He was reminded of the classic ideal of the British RomanticPeriod, the women sung of by Byron and Keats, Shelly and Moore.

  She said, "Is there any particular reason why you should be staring atme, Mr.--"

  "Captain Mauser," Joe said hurriedly. "I'm afraid I've been rude,Miss--Well, I thought I recognized you."

  She took in his civilian dress, typed it automatically, and came to anerroneous conclusion. She said, "Captain? You mean that with everyoneelse I know drawing down ranks from Lieutenant Colonel to BrigadierGeneral, you can't make anything better than Captain?"

  Joe winced. He said carefully, "I came up from the ranks, Miss. Captainis quite an achievement, believe me."

  "Up from the ranks!" She took in his clothes again. "You mean you're aMiddle? You neither talk nor look like a Middle, captain." She used thecaste rating as though it was not _quite_ a derogatory term.

  Not that she meant to be deliberately insulting, Joe knew, wearily. Howwell he knew. It was simply born in her. As once a well-educatedaristocracy had, not necessarily unkindly, named their status inferiors_niggers_; or other aristocrats, in another area of the country, hadnamed theirs _greasers_. Yes, how well he knew.

  He said very evenly, "Mid-Middle now, Miss. However, I was born in theLower castes."

  An eyebrow went up. "Zen! You must have put in many an hour studying.You talk like an Upper, captain." She dropped all interest in him andturned to resume her journey.

  "Just a moment," Joe said. "You can't go in there, Miss--"

  Her eyebrows went up again. "The name is Haer," she said. "Why can't Igo in here, captain?"

  Now it came to him why he had thought he recognized her. She had basicfeatures similar to those of that overbred poppycock, Balt Haer.

  "Sorry," Joe said. "I suppose under the circumstances, you can. I wasabout to tell you that they're recruiting with lads running around halfclothed. Medical inspections, that sort of thing."

  She made a noise through her nose and said over her shoulder, even asshe sailed on. "Besides being a Haer, I'm an M.D., captain. At theludicrous sight of a man shuffling about in his shorts, I seldom blush."

  She was gone.

  Joe Mauser looked after her. "I'll bet you don't," he muttered.

  Had she waited a few minutes he could have explained his Upper accentand his unlikely education. When you'd copped one you had plenty ofopportunity in hospital beds to read, to study, to contemplate--and tofester away in your own schemes of rebellion against fate. And Joe hadcopped many in his time.