One Day on Mars

'At ease.' Lieutenant Commander Jack Boland stepped up to the podium in the front of the briefing room. The large gray conference room was more than thirty meters wide and twice that deep and could hold a seated audience of more than a thousand people in the stadium seating. The room was crowded and standing-room-only at present.

'All right, here is our game plan fresh from the Looney Bin, up the food chain, and White House blessed,' Jack started, sarcastically. 'Before I go into that I want to make certain that everybody has been briefed on the new Seppie Stinger mecha that is comparable in capabilities to the Marine FM-12s. Everybody has been briefed at this point, right?' Jack paused and saw affirmitive nods and grunts and saw no hands go up.

'Good. Okay here is how it will work. We are going to have two fronts of attack. The first is a support and cover mission for the fleet's frontal assault on the Seppy armada in space hover over the Tharsis territory. The electronic warfare and recon air wings will be deployed immediately following exit from hyperspace. Then, Lieutenant Commander Chavez, you will take the Demon Dawgs in your Ares fighters and cover the Madira and, Rabies, keep the CO free of any Gomer Gnats and Stingers that might decide to pester him while he is giving what-for to those damned Seppy rust tubs out there. You are to fly protection for the fleet not to engage the Seppy boats. The main fleet will be firing their supercannons, missiles, and DEG batteries full bore. Maintain full IFF squawk and stay out of the firing solutions.' Boland paused for a moment and moistened his lips.

The sims he had completed in the Looney Bin had suggested as much as fifteen percent casualties for this mission. Out of the fifteen hundred or so pilots in the room about one thousand of them were combat pilots—the others were support, rescue, reconnaissance, electronic warfare, and rearming/supply vehicle pilots. The casualties within that group of pilots was usually fairly low. For this mission two hundred of the combat wing would be held in reserve. Out of the eight hundred combat pilots that would be deployed for the mission more than one hundred and twenty of them might not make it back. Jack never liked thinking about that part of the mission planning.

'Second layer cover for the Madira will be provided by Captain Cameron's Utopian Saviors and their FM-12s.' Jack nodded at Captain Janice 'Bigguns' Cameron. There were those with less pure minds who often thought that Janice had gotten her call sign because of two fairly large assets that she sported proudly, but her nickname had originally been 'Big Guns' because she was a very large caliber gun nut. Her other assets simply acted as a catalyst to the evolution of her call sign, which eventually became officially 'Bigguns.' Jack had had nothing to do with her call sign.

'Lieutenant Cameron, tag up with Rabies after the briefing. Any questions on the first attack wing?' Jack paused and waited for questions. He scanned the room and saw nothing but professional acknowledgment there. The Madira had the best pilots in the system.

'The second group will be air and ground support for the extraction of a small force of lost armored e-suit gyrenes and a handful of civilians. Note that one of these civilians is a United States senator and is to be protected and extracted at all costs. Gods of War will fly cover and Lieutenant Colonel Warboys and Warboys' Warlords will drop the Army M3A17 transfigurable tanks for ground and heavy fire support. At this point the SH-102 Starhawk rescue vehicles will be dropped to extract the evacuees and any wounded. Gods of War, make certain to support the colonel's extraction once the targets have been evacced. Also, we have intel that there is heavy Seppy drop tank activity in the area and there are some reported SAM mobile sites as well. Watch for that. Your AICs have the particulars.'

'Another note here is that we expect to have the full contingent of Cardiff's Killers gyrene FM-12 strike mecha from the Churchill along for the ride planetside. Keep in mind that the Killers, the AEMs, and the civilians have been fighting their way to this evac for several hours now and they are battered and tired and probably running low on ammo. We have to cover their backs and get them out. Let's step in and do the fighting so they can retreat ladies, and gentlemen. Finally, as soon as the civilians are gathered, immediately evac them to the Madira or the nearest orbital platform taking the least amount of heat at that time. Once all the civilians and the Killers are evacuated, the Starlifters will drop in and load the tanks pulling out the Warboys. The Gods of War are last out, flying cover.'

'Are there any questions?'

There was dead silence in the large conference auditorium. The pilots knew their jobs and didn't have to ask about the odds for survival. They had all seen enough combat to understand when things were going to get bad and they knew that some things were best left unasked.

'Very good. We hit hyperspace in twenty-six minutes.'

'Hey, jarhead, wait up a sec.' Navy Lieutenant Armando 'Rabies' Chavez pushed a Navy ensign and an Army lieutenant out of his way down the stairs as he was 'going below' and trying to tag up with Bigguns. The stairwell, or ladder in Navy-speak, was just big enough for him to squeeze by the junior officers. Rabies always enjoyed being paired up with Bigguns and not necessarily because she was a female. Hell, Bigguns was more than just 'boat cute,' a term applying to female sailors that weren't cute in a skimpy red bikini on a sunny day at the beach, but would be after three months away from port. In fact, Bigguns would be something to see in a bikini simply due to her call-sign-bearing assets, but she wasn't a supermodel either. Bigguns sported her red hair in the typical spiky short-cropped haircut of the Marine pilots. Her skin was milky and she was about one hundred and eighty centimeters tall, which was typical of Martian women. She wasn't hard to look at, but that was only part of why Chavez enjoyed her company. Rabies had been through several scrapes with her and her Marines and they all were good at their job and goddamned 'Uncle Sam and apple pie' all the way. Besides that, the girl could shoot damned good and Chavez was a bit of a mad dog about guns himself.

'What's up, deck spotter?' Bigguns used the derogatory term for her Navy colleague meaning that he was no good at making carrier landings because he was so stupid that he would be panic stricken and stare at the deck rather than watch the ball like he was supposed to when on approach. Of course, Rabies was an expert pilot and had seldom had to be waved off, but a Marine pilot would never admit such about a squid pilot.

'Hey,' Chavez almost made another petty comment, but time was short and they had too much business to take care of. 'I've gone through the Looney Bin sims on our sorties and I have an idea.'

'Make it quick, Rabies. Before I hit the hangar I need to send a Marine to sea.' Bigguns meant she needed to stop at the head, but Rabies understood. He wouldn't mind a Combat Dump himself if time permitted.

'Okay. The Dawgs are going to protect the Madira. Wherever the Seppy fighters concentrate is where we will be. If we go standard second wave we will just fill in the weak spots of the ship's coverage.' Rabies had to stop walking down the corridor because Bigguns stopped to turn left to go to the head.

'So you want to do what?' Bigguns wasn't annoyed, she just had to go, bad.

'Look, I'll get my AIC to send you my sim and you can study on the pot.' Rabies laughed.

'Good idea. Thanks.' Bigguns nodded to the Navy lieutenant and rushed into the head looking for an unoccupied stall. 'Squeeze it off, seaman, I need that stall.'

Janice, I have the sim from