Greenies

As if in answer to his question the door slid open behind him and General Wrath, the commander in chief of the Far Space marines entered. CINCFARMAR was his designation and Jules knew him well, on a first name basis in fact. The far space navy and marines, though full of the traditional animosity that had existed between the navy and the marines since the 1700s, worked closely together and relied upon each other. Wrath and Jules' jobs were closely entwined. The two were professional acquaintances, quite close in that regards, although not exactly friends.

'Richard,' Jules greeted, offering a smile and an outstretched arm as the General and his staff entered the room.

Wrath, dressed in his own class-A uniform, little changed since the early twentieth century, shook his hand warmly. 'Tanner,' he greeted. 'I see you're here for the same purpose as me.'

Jules nodded his head cynically. 'Yes I am. It seems our bosses want a few questions answered about what happened yesterday.'

'Those fuckin' greenies,' Wrath commented sourly. 'Who the hell would have believed they were capable of this? And that bastard Sega.' He shook his head. 'He'd better hope the greenies kill his ass. Can you imagine? Surrendering all of the forces with barely a fight? He must've been mad.'

The men took their seats, Wrath taking the chair next to Jules, Wrath's staff taking the seats on the other side. The marine general inserted his own briefing disk into the Internet terminal before his chair.

'Were you up all night too?' Jules asked, noting the bags under his counterparts' eyes.

Wrath nodded wearily. 'This clusterfuck pulled me out of a formal dinner party. Not that that was upsetting; I hate those fuckin' things. But I spent the next five hours on a flight from Buenos Aires getting briefed in. We then stayed up all night researching and planning how to take that planet back from the greenies if it comes to that.'

'Do you think the greenies will really vote for independence?' Jules asked him. 'I mean, Whiting didn't exactly make it sound too hopeful in her speech or anything. She actually told them that they might not win. What kind of propaganda is that?'

Wrath shook his head. 'I think they just might,' he said. 'Greenies are not like Earthlings. They don't think the same way we do. Think about where they came from; the unemployed. They actually like speeches like that, they actually like to fight the odds.'

'They can't possibly beat us though,' Jules pointed out. 'What the hell are they thinking?'

'I don't know,' Wrath answered. 'She told them in her speech that we would send troops to take the planet back and you can bet your ass that we will. She can't possibly think that their little civilian soldier force and their cute little airplanes are going to stop us when we land a half a million troops with tanks, full hover support, artillery, and APCs on that flying shithole. We'll have them routed and mopped up in two days.'

'Maybe she is mad,' Jules suggested. 'Maybe she's trying to go down in Martian history as a martyr; the first woman who ever tried to make Mars free or some shit like that. Who knows what she is thinking but I've been over the figures time and time again and I can see no conceivable way that they can prevent us from landing and taking that planet back.'

'There is no way,' Wrath agreed. 'But whoever said the greenies were smart?'

The door opened once again and yet another briefer entered. This time it was a man that neither Jules nor Wrath had ever met personally though both recognized him on sight thanks to his frequent appearances in Internet news clips. It was FLEB director Stanley Clinton. He was dressed in a neat, conservative suit and had bags under his eyes similar to the two military officers'. He had no staff with him, simply walking alone to a seat well away from the military leaders and their staffs, making not so much as a nod of greeting, and sat down. He inserted a disk of his own into a terminal.

Silence prevailed until 0804 when the set of doors near the front of the room slid open, signaling the entry of the council. Everyone in the room quickly stood to attention as the nine men and three women of the council, all dressed in business suits of their own, strode into the room. Their faces were grim as they took their chairs, taking their time making themselves comfortable. Finally one of them, Loretta Williams, spoke. 'You may be seated,' she said stiffly.

With a shuffle, everyone resumed their seats.

Williams, as the representative of Mars, was still acting as the spokesperson for the council in this matter. 'Begin recording,' she told the room computer system. Digital cameras and audio microphones clicked on.

She stared at the assembled group of military officers and the single civilian. Her expression, matching the other council members, was of barely concealed rage. 'Gentlemen,' she said coldly, 'yesterday an unprecedented event took place on the WestHem possession of Mars. An event with such far reaching and cataclysmic implications that, even if the situation is resolved quickly in the next two days, an issue which is doubtful, we will be left unable to predict the long-term consequences.' She shook her head angrily. 'What in the hell happened here, gentlemen? How in the hell could something like this have been allowed? These are questions that I want you to answer only briefly in as few words as possible before you start explaining to this council how we are going to rectify this situation.' She stared at the two military officers in particular. 'I trust that we can rectify this situation.'

'Yes ma'am,' spoke Jules and Wrath in unison.

'I certainly hope so,' she said. 'I don't need to tell you that the entire WestHem economy is fully dependant upon that little red planet. Ninety-eight percent of our steel comes from there. Forty-six percent of our food, our food, comes from there. The profits from that planet account for more than twenty-nine percent of our tax base. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, more than a third of our navy is in dock under Martian control right now. Admiral Jules, I trust you have prepared a side-briefing on the implications of that.'

'Yes ma'am,' Jules answered, grateful that he'd taken the time to do that. He almost had not.

'Very well,' Williams said. She turned her gaze to Clinton. 'Director,' she said, 'we've already been over the fact of Laura Whiting's election to high Martian office in the first place time and time again with you. We will skip re-hashing that part. But if you will please begin our briefing by explaining how the circumstances of her removal went so badly wrong?'

'Yes ma'am,' Clinton replied, standing and activating his Internet terminal.

He explained the fiasco of the previous day in short, concise statements, occasionally using news clips or transmissions from his disk to illustrate some point. The council listened without interrupting. They knew most of the story anyway. When he finished they had only a few questions.

'How many agents do you have on Mars?' Asked one council member.

'Six hundred and forty-three,' Clinton replied. 'Of course twelve of them were killed at the capital building yesterday.'

'Are the whereabouts of all of these agents on Mars accounted for?' was the next question.

'Not officially,' he answered. 'I know that all ten of my field offices were occupied by Martian troops and that all ten surrendered to them. We can presume that all of the agents in those buildings at that time are in Martian custody. As to the fate of those agents that were either off-duty or out in the field at that time I have no information, nor even a guess as to how many that might be. Unfortunately though, the number of off-duty agents is probably pretty low. When news of the events in New Pittsburgh reached Director Hayes he mobilized the entire force. Many of them were probably inside the buildings when they were taken.'

'In any case did the FLEB offices under attack by the MPG request assistance from the local police departments?' asked Williams.

'Ma'am,' Clinton replied, 'in every case they did and in every case the assistance was refused on orders from the various police chiefs. I have information that in three of the cities; Eden, Dow, and Triad, the mayors attempted to override the orders of the police chiefs in question. The mayors of each Martian city, as you are aware, are subjected to the same scrutiny that legislative and gubernatorial candidates are.' By which he meant that the corporations owned them. 'In all cases, obviously, the orders were disregarded and no assistance was given. As far as I know not a single Martian police officer lifted a finger to prevent this revolt from occurring. As to the fate of the mayors and city councils involved; I have no information. I suspect they may have been taken into custody but we are currently completely out of communication with Mars; even the Internet feed has been severed from their end.'

'So we are no longer receiving Martian Internet transmissions?'