Greenies

will be primarily concerned with. They lie sixty kilometers southeast of the approaches to Eden. As you can see, they are classic layered defensive emplacements, designed after our own models. There are fixed anti-tank trenches on these hills over here. They are surrounded by other entrenchments on these hills which can be occupied by infantry troops to defend the anti-tank positions and also by mobile troops packing shoulder-fired anti-tank lasers. Behind these hills are other entrenchments that the greenies can install eighty millimeter mortar nests in to help protect their infantry and anti-tank positions. And in addition, the entire network of hills and trenches is protected by heavy artillery guns, both the fixed guns installed outside of Eden, and the mobile guns that the greenies have as part of their force inventory.'

The platoon was paying a little more attention now as they actually saw digital images of the Martian defenses. A few even managed to look uneasy as they contemplated their targets. After all, those were professional, well-constructed defenses and it was their job, as marines, to put those positions out of commission. Callahan quickly picked up on this unease and went to work putting it to rest.

'Now let's not get our panties in a bunch now,' he told his men. 'Granted, these are some pretty good defensive emplacements, but the greenies are not really smart in how they use them. Let me explain a little further.' He took a deep breath and paced around for a moment, cracked his knuckles. 'There are a few essentials of defense that our green friends our sorely lacking in for this battle. One such thing is tanks, which are the cornerstone of any military operation, be it offensive or defensive. The other is airpower, which you could call the other cornerstone. According to statistics compiled before the takeover of the planet, the greenies are extremely shorthanded on these particular commodities. The amount of tanks from our landing force alone will outnumber the amount the greenies have deployed by nearly seven to one, six to one if they manage to bring down the ones from our landing ships. So the first thing you have to remember is that those positions that we'll be taking are not protected by very much armor.

'The second thing that the greenies are lacking in are hovers. They have invested so much of their budget on those little aircraft that they've built that they have less than fifty hovers for their entire planet's defenses. Less than fifty. And they have no air-to-air combat hovers at all. This means that our hover force, which numbers more than a hundred just in this landing alone, will enjoy complete air superiority over any battlefield.

'So, with those two facts in mind, let me tell you what is going to happen on our march. The hover force is going to bomb and strafe these defensive positions starting from day three, when they get into range. It is going to be a non-stop, around the clock campaign with 150-millimeter cannon shells ripping those trenches from one end to the other before our forces are even close. And then, once our artillery forces are in range — which should take place early on day five — we will begin shelling those positions relentlessly as well. And after that, as we finally start to move in, the tanks will go in ahead of us and blast them some more and kill everything that is seen moving. Then, and only then, will we advance to the base of those hills in our APCs and then climb up to occupy them. By that point I'm sure that every greenie that isn't already dead — if there are any — will gladly surrender himself to us. If they do not, we will shoot them down like dogs.'

'And always remember this, if nothing else,' he concluded. 'There will be more than one hundred thousand of us advancing on this greenie city. One hundred thousand! Standing in our way will be less than sixteen thousand greenies at best, and that is before we bomb and shell them into oblivion. There is no way that those greenies can do significant damage to us. No way in God's universe.'

July 20, 2146

Deep space, near the sun

Mermaid had finished her deceleration burn several days before and was now drifting along in a solar orbit, just over sixteen million kilometers away from the bright yellow orb that gave life to the solar system, well inside the orbit of Mercury. Her orbit was east to west, timed to correspond with an intercept course with the approaching armada when it came around from the other side. By this point, nearly four weeks after leaving Triad and encountering their first contact, the crew was as well drilled as they were going to be for their mission. They had run through every procedure so many times that they could do them in their sleep, and often did.

On the bridge everyone was strapped into the chairs since the engines were no longer burning and there was no acceleration to provide even the most meager of artificial gravity. Brett drifted into the room from the direction of his quarters. He was well rested after a five-hour sleep period and had just finished with his traditional post- awakening bowel movement in his private bathroom, although the vacuum device that needed to be employed in the absence of gravity took much of the pleasure out of such an action.

'Good morning, Brett,' greeted Sugiyoto, who had been in charge of the bridge during his absence. Sugi wasn't quite up to taking complete command if something should happen to Brett, but he was getting there.

'Is it morning?' Brett asked with a yawn. 'I didn't notice. I guess I must've missed the sunrise.'

'Well, a figure of speech really,' Sugi told him, unbuckling and floating up from the command chair. 'It's actually about 1600 New Pittsburgh time, and the sun is most definitely up. We've done six heat dumps while you were out. It's rankin hot out there.'

'Nothing like the sun,' Brett said, ignoring the chair for the moment and propelling himself over to the corner of the room, where a coffee maker designed to work in zero or minimal G was always percolating. He grabbed one of the pressure cups and fastened it to the tap, allowing the cup to fill. 'About three of these things and I should approaching wakefulness,' he said. He kicked off the wall and pushed himself over to the captain's chair.

'All systems working just like they're supposed to,' Sugi told him. 'Waste heat is currently at 64 percent with another dump due in about ninety minutes or so. Our position is on the screen, right on course. And we're do for a communication link-up in ten minutes.'

'Static,' Brett said, pulling himself into the chair with a practiced flip of the hands on its back. His backside settled neatly down in place and he quickly pulled the strap around his waist, securing himself. He set his coffee cup down on the magnetic holder that was specifically designed for such a purpose. 'I've got the con,' he said automatically.

'Brett's got the con,' said Mandall, who was operating the helm at the moment although there was really nothing to con since they were in a stable orbit and weren't maneuvering.

Sugi drifted over to his own chair at the detection console, relieving the junior crewmember who had been training on it. The junior crewmember was then allowed to return to below decks to get a little sleep.

'Nothing out there yet?' asked Brett once Sugi was strapped in and tuned in to his equipment.

'Nothing but the sun,' Sugi said after checking the board.

'About what we expected then. It's awfully nice of those WestHem folks to continually broadcast their present position to us. They surely making our job a lot easier.'

What he was referring to were the media reports being beamed out live from the armada in each and every briefing given by General Wrath and Admiral Jules. These reports were seen not only on Earth and on the Jupiter colonies, but on Mars as well since Internet transmissions were still being sent there. In each briefing, for the enjoyment of the viewing audience, a graphic would be presented of the armada's exact position in space at that particular moment in time. This graphic was always accompanied by a countdown clock showing how many hours, minutes, and even seconds until the first ships entered orbit around Mars. The Martian intelligence network, which would have otherwise been blind to the armada's exact course, speed, and location, was beaming this information via communication laser to the Owls that had been deployed, therefore keeping them constantly updated on their targets' position. While it was possible that the information might actually be deliberate misinformation, designed to mislead the Martians, nobody really believed that. It was so very Earthling to transmit such information out for the entertainment of the masses.

'Like General Jackson said,' said Sugi, 'it's their arrogance that's gonna defeat them.'

'Here's to their arrogance,' Brett toasted, picking up his coffee cup and grabbing a sip. 'Now how about giving me some status reports on crew fitness? Are they keeping up with their exercise routines?'

They talked of crew fitness and other shipboard physical and sociological factors for a few minutes, Sugi hesitantly bringing up the fact that at least two sets of couples had formed among the coed crew members and that there had been some experimentation with zero gravity sexuality in the storage rooms.

'Did you actually catch them doing this?' Brett asked. 'Or are you merely telling me rumors?'

'One is a rumor,' Sugi said. 'But Wentworth and Loggerman I actually caught in the act. I'm sorry, I hate to rat people out but...'

'I understand,' Brett said. 'And I'm sure that no one blames you for ratting them. After all, you are the