One Good Soldier

even tone, 'the main issue for today is that the Separatists took away a major manufacturing source for the country. The citizens in the remaining colonies do seem to have little desire to support this administration or its policies. In fact, the governors of all three of the remaining original colonies have issued statements that their executive branch and judicial branch lawyers believe that President Alberts' and then President Moore's tariff packages to the Congress were and are in violation of the Inter-System Free Trade Agreement and that they have been seeking appeals of the policies through the Supreme Court.'

'Well, I think that is the right course of action, or perhaps the only real course of action, that could be taken from a colonial standpoint,' Walt Mortimer said.

'And one would hope that the remaining colonists don't take a play from the Separatists' playbook here,' Alice added. 'After all, they are just territories without representation in the House or Senate.'

'Oh, come now, Alice. You really think in worst- case scenarios, don't you?' Mortimer said.

'I'm just saying that I hope the colonists don't feel the same way the original Thirteen Colonies felt when King George upped the tariffs on them to protect them from France. You know what happened then. . . .'

Chapter 2

July 1, 2394 AD

Mars Orbit, Sol System

Friday, 7:40 AM, Earth Eastern Standard Time

'Admiral on the bridge!' Navigation Officer Commander Penny Swain snapped to as USMC Brigadier General Larry 'EndRun' Chekov saluted without slowing his full Marine marching pace by the nav to the executive officer's (XO) station of the USS Sienna Madira, the flagship of the U.S. Naval Fleet. The rear admiral of the Outer Fleet followed behind his XO.

'At ease, folks.' USN Rear Admiral Upper Half (RADM) Wallace Jefferson paced a little more slowly to the captain's chair to give Captain Wiggington time to get up and go to her usual seat at the air-boss station. Wallace nodded to her and had a seat. 'Thanks, XO. Get me a status on the ground troops.' The two-star admiral wiggled into his seat and made himself comfortable while giving his bridge crew an approving nod. They were good sailors, all of them—even the groundpounders. Wallace took a brief instant to look out the viewscreen as well as the battle-scenario DTMs going on in his head.

By now our tankheads and fighters ought to be wearing down the John Tyler, he thought to Captain Timmy Uniform November Kilo Lima Three Seven Seven, a.k.a. Uncle Timmy, who was both the commander of the AICs and ship's captain's AIC. Wallace and Uncle Timmy had been together for over four decades and made such a good AIC-human team that they could predict each other's responses and thoughts in most situations.

Roger that, Admiral. The clock is at four hours and seventeen minutes. The Warlords, the Utopian Saviors, and Ramy's Robots have pushed through the Martian National Guard units and the support from the John Tyler and the Abraham Lincoln. And the Gods of War have pretty much cleared the upper ball of enemy fighters, Uncle Timmy replied DTM.

DeathRay is giving them hell, huh?

Aye, sir. He and Fish already have a confirmed seven kills apiece. The Gods of War far outmatched both fighter groups from the Tyler and Lincoln.

Damn.

'Air Boss!' Chekov shouted.

'Aye, XO?' Captain Michelle Wiggington responded as she settled into her seat at the commander of the Air Wing station.

'Status of the support wings?'

'Utopian Saviors and Demon Dawgs are on the bounce dirtside, and the Gods of War have cleared the ball and are crawling the hull, sir!'

'Good. Ground Boss, status!' The XO turned to the station adjacent to Captain Wiggington.

'Yes, sir!' U.S. Army Brigadier General James Brantley replied.