Greenies

space, it just wouldn't fly.

'So that,' Jules continued, 'is what we have found so far regarding this unbelievable catastrophe. Of course our investigation is far from complete in this manner, and we will of course look at every possible circumstance surrounding this event, but at this time it appears that those are the facts of the matter.' He paused, as if overwhelmed with the emotion of the moment. 'And at the same time, I also have preliminary findings on the explosion aboard the Billings, which I'm sure that most of you have heard reports of us well. It appears, based on findings by the brave rescue personnel that went aboard her after the explosion, that one of the torpedoes was being worked on in the maintenance section of the ship and that somehow the conventional explosive that sets off the nuclear warhead of the torpedo was detonated. This did not — I repeat, did not — cause a nuclear detonation of any kind. What it did was cause a rupture of the propellant tanks, which in turn caused gross damage to the hull and the structural integrity of the vessel. I am shocked and saddened to report that all hands were lost here as well.'

'More fuckin bullshit,' Mallory said in disgust. 'The goddamn torpedoes aren't stored anywhere near the propellant tanks. No ship does that. So how the hell did the explosion make them rupture?'

Callahan didn't even bother telling him to pipe down this time. Any marine who had ever served aboard a ship before knew that what he was saying was true. There was some more grumbling and cries of disbelief as the briefing went on and Jules continued to explain about the collision of the two vessels that had been separated by nearly ten thousand kilometers of space, and about the explosion aboard Billings that had somehow managed to avoid detonating the nuclear package but had somehow ripped open the fuel tanks while still leaving enough evidence behind for the investigators to determine this. It was when Jules opened the floor to questions however that things really started to get out of control.

Not a single reporter asked about the rumor of an attack by greenies in control of a stealth attack ship. There was no way that the reporters could have not heard that rumor. The marines were in the middle of a landing ship, cut completely off from the naval command, and they had heard the rumors. How could the reporters not ask anything about them? The closest they came was when one of them — a pretty young thing from InfoServe — asked if there was any sort of connection between the collision of Mule and Camel and the explosion aboard Billings.

'At this time,' Jules answered with a perfectly straight face, 'there does not appear to be any sort of connection at all. These are just two tragic events — the most tragic since the Jupiter War itself — that coincidentally happened to strike the navy and the marines on the same day. This day will go down as one of the darkest in our proud history of course, all the more darker because the thousands of brave men that gave their lives on this day did not give them in battle but because of a series of accidents.'

'Christ,' even Callahan muttered at this speech. 'This is getting pretty thick here.'

'Why can't they just tell the truth, LT?' a young private asked. 'Why don't they just say that the fuckin greenies managed to get one in?'

Callahan didn't answer.

On the screen, another reporter asked, 'Will the events of this day effect the mission on Mars?'

'Well obviously,' Jules said, 'there will be a few less troops and equipment that are able to participate in the mission. And though this is more General Wrath's department than mine, I can say with assurance that our mission will go on despite the tragedy and loss of life. We will still land the marines on schedule and they will still retake that planet from the control of the terrorist factions that have taken over it. I can give you my solemn word on that.'

'You hear that, guys?' Mallory said. 'He gives us his solemn word! Doesn't that make you all feel better?'

Chapter 11

MPG Base, Eden

July 24, 2146

The office of Major Frank Jorgenson overlooked the flight line. Down below, on the floor, ground crews were busy doing pre-flight inspections on a group of Mosquitoes that would soon be launched on a training mission. Up above, Jorgenson himself, commander of the 27^th Attack squadron, was sitting behind his small desk, his Internet terminal showing a screen saver of vaguely pornographic images. Standing before the desk, dressed in his uniform shorts and T-shirt, was Brian Haggerty.

Brian was not in the least bit happy. 'It's bad enough that you took Rendes away from me after we'd been flying together for almost two years,' he told his commanding officer. 'You already know how I feel about that.'

'Yes, Haggerty,' Jorgenson said with a sigh. 'We've been through that quite enough I think. We had to break up the experienced aircrews so we could pair up some of the newbies with the veterans. That's all there is to it. Rendes is now in the 24^th.'

'I'm down with that,' Brian said. 'Like I said, I don't like it, but I've accepted it. But what you've done now...' He shook his head angrily. 'I'm sorry, Frank, but it's just not acceptable.'

'You would be referring to your new sis, I assume?' Jorgenson asked dryly.

'Of course I'm referring to that! Did you think I was talking about the fucking food in the mess hall?'

Jorgenson let the impertinence pass. He and Haggerty did go back a long way after all. 'Okay,' he said. 'Let's get this over with. What's wrong with him? He graduated third in the training class on navigation skills and second on gunnery. He's fully qualified to fly in that Mosquito with you. So what's the problem?'

'What's the problem?' Brian almost hissed. 'He's vermin! That's what the fucking problem is. He's a lowlife, gang member piece of shit and I will not fly with him. There's no way in hell. I'll fucking resign first!'

'You'll resign before you fly with Mendez?' he asked, raising his eyebrows.

'Goddamn right I will,' he said. 'If you can't give me Rendes then I demand a sis who knows what its like to hold a goddamn job at least.'

Jorgenson cracked his knuckles thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair and appraising his pilot for a moment. This was of course not the first such conversation that he'd had along these lines — on the contrary, there had been many, particularly from the experienced systems operators who didn't want to fly with a novice pilot — but this was by far the most heartfelt. Haggerty's hatred of the unemployed class went far beyond what most projected, even for a police officer. Jorgenson even knew the story of why he hated them so much, how a group of gang members had raped and killed his pregnant wife. But at the same time, he had a squadron to run, time was getting very short before the Earthlings arrived, and order were orders.

'Is that the way it's going to be then?' he asked. 'Either Mendez goes or you go?'

'That's right,' Brian said.

'Okay then,' he said. 'I'll start processing your resignation immediately.'

The smug look that had appeared on Brian's face suddenly disappeared, being quickly replaced by one of disbelief. 'What the hell are you talking about?' he asked.

Jorgenson ignored him and turned his Internet terminal towards him. 'Computer, access personnel files,' he said.

'Accessing,' the computer responded.

'Frank, what are you doing?' Brian said, alarmed.

'I'm changing your status in the computer,' he told him. 'Will you be resigning from the service completely, or would you like me to just remove your flight status and find you a support position? You'd probably be a good help in the logistics...'

'You can't do that!'

'You just told me that you would resign before you would fly with Mendez, didn't you? Well Mendez has been assigned to your aircraft and he is not going to be removed from it. So that means you're going to have to be the one to go. So how about that logistics position? We'd really hate to completely lose...'

'Goddammit, turn that fucking computer off,' Brian told him.

'Oh?' Jorgenson said. 'Are we changing our mind? I wouldn't want you to compromise your ideals