Read The War for Profit Series Omnibus for Free Online Page B

they were leaving Mr. Burwell said, “When you look back on this day, and you will, remember that I gave you some good advice and you ignored it. Remember that!”
    The three young mercenaries scurried down the hallway, went up the steps two and three at a time, strode out of the office building and walked briskly to the spaceport. They were now officially members of a recognized and active mercenary unit, eager to get to their first duty station.
    They entered the spaceport, drawing icy and suspicious stares from the security guards. They seemed lost and had no luggage: obviously up to no good.
    “So where’s our gate?” asked Tad.
    “Section zulu one niner foxtrot.”
    “Which is?”
    “On this map somewhere. Hey, where’d Spike go?”
    “Over here,” called Spike. “We got to get on the pedestrian skywalk, hit this shuttle here,” he indicated an obscure part of the spaceport map, “then walk to the edge of the tarmac, enter this building, check in on the…well, not the first floor… then board our drop boat.”
    “Simple. We’ll follow you,” said Galen.
    They walked about half a kilometer, the bustle of the main terminal dissipating into lonely walkways as they went. Soon they came to the automated monorail shuttle, waved their personal communicators past its toll sensor it and rode it to their destination.
    “Hurry guys, we only got twenty five minutes left,” said Galen.
    “I’m with you, brother,” said Tad.
    “Don’t worry, we’ll make it,” said Spike. They found their terminal and gate and dropped their boarding passes on the counter for a bored attendant to examine.
    “You got any luggage?” asked the thin man in his mid-thirties.
    “No,” said Galen, unable to take his eyes off the man’s bald spot.
    “Unusual. Oh well, your liftoff has been delayed about three hours.”
    “So what do we do now?” asked Tad.
    “Go up two levels to the lounge, and keep a close eye on the monitor, to be sure you don’t miss your liftoff,” said the attendant, as though the question were directed at him.
    They took his advice. The lounge looked worn and overused and there were no other customers. The three mercenaries chose the corner booth nearest the bar.
    “Three ales, barkeep,” ordered Galen,
    “With you in a minute.” True to his word, the barkeep took at least a full minute to bring the drinks. “So, you young guns heading out into the big universe today?”
    “Yeah,” said Tad.
    “Where to?”
    The young men looked at one another, then at their boarding passes. Galen dug out his contract, scanned it for the name of some place, any place. The three young mercenaries honestly didn’t know where they were going. After a long pause the barkeep broke the tension, “Oh, a classified, secret destination. I understand.”
    They drank their first ales in silence, brooding over their lack of knowledge about their future. When the barkeep finally returned with another round of ale Tad asked him, “You know anything about the Panzer Brigade commanded by Colonel Theil?”
    “The Jasmine Panzers. Yes, I’ve heard of them.”
    “Well? Where are they?”
    “Mandarin Confederation space. If you’re lucky you’ll get stationed on Cyan. Beautiful world. Or maybe Ngsien. That rock is a great big ball of ore orbiting the fourth planet of the Drago star system.”
    “We didn’t say we were going to the Jasmine Panzers,” said Galen, trying to preserve some semblance of operations security.
    “No, I guess you didn’t.”
    They left nine empty bottles and a reasonable tip when they went back down to their boarding gate. The balding attendant was talking with a loadmaster and a ship steward. They were welcoming civilian passengers and processing their paperwork when Galen and his two buddies arrived.
    “Wait over there, gentlemen,” said the steward.
    They watched nearly a hundred passengers pass through the boarding gate and guessed there were about twenty more waiting to board when the