Greenies

'Again,' Jules answered, 'it seems that tragedies are striking this attack force in groups of two. Just minutes before the explosion that obliterated Llama, Packhorse was struck by a small meteor that somehow managed to be missed by the anti-meteor defenses. It is estimated that this was a small meteor, probably composed of a material that does not absorb heat well and that was shaped in just a way that it deflected most of the radar energy. It struck Packhorse amidships and caused a serious hull rupture, which, unfortunately caused the deaths of approximately 230 marines and naval personnel. The ship itself is being repaired in space and is still underway with the rest of the group. The remaining marines on board that ship, although understandably shocked and saddened by today's events, will still participate in Red Hammer when the landings occur.'

'A meteor hit it?' asked Mallory. 'Oh Jesus. There hasn't been a ship struck by a meteor in more than a hundred years. Now we're supposed to believe that one just happened to hit right before Llama went up?'

Nobody disputed his words. Everyone had a pretty good idea of what had really happened.

'LT?' Stinson asked Callahan.

'Yeah?' he said, wearily.

'Them greenies got those Owls that they took at Triad operational, don't they?'

Callahan wanted to lie, knew that his superior officers would not appreciate him voicing his own opinion in front of the troops. He wanted to, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. 'It looks like maybe they do,' he sighed. 'Probably at least two of them, maybe more. They positioned themselves out here and they're pounding on the transport ships.'

'They've given us more casualties doing that than they ever could have hoped for on the ground,' Mallory opined.

'Don't worry though,' Callahan said. 'Once we make our landings we're gonna give it back to those greenie fucks in spades. We're gonna show those bastards what marines really do.'

There were a few half-hearted cheers at his words, cheers that were mostly reactions rather than being powered by any actual emotion. In truth, morale was about as low as Callahan had ever seen before. They were trapped onboard a confined ship with primitive washing and laundry services and they were now apparently being stalked by an enemy capable of vaporizing them all in an instant. There was no way that they could fight back against such a thing; no way they could even see it coming.

Meanwhile, in Eden, just outside the MPG base, the Troop Club was doing its fair share of business. Every table was full of off-duty military personnel swilling down alcohol or smoking marijuana. The three servers behind the bar and the two waiters circulating among the tables were scrambling to keep up with the demand. Though the Earthling accountants that had managed the bar had been banished to their apartments along with most of the other Earthling corporate types, the actual labor pool that ran the facility still reported for work every day to do their part to keep the MPG morale from descending to the level being faced by the WestHem marines. In all, it was a project that seemed to be working well. At most of the tables the talk was boisterous and laughter was frequent. On the large Internet screens that were mounted on the walls and above the bar, MarsGroup channels were the ones being viewed.

The clip of Admiral Jules' briefing regarding the destruction of one of their vessels had just been played for everyone to see. Commentary by the Martian newscasters as to just what this really meant was now being offered.

'Laura Whiting, the interim government officials, and everyone on General Jackson's staff have continued to refuse comment on the destruction of the WestHem ships today,' said a pretty African descended reporter. 'No explanation is offered for the refusal to comment, but it should be pointed out that Whiting and Jackson have both been very candid with past requests on past MPG operations during this conflict. One can only speculate that the reason for their silence must be an ongoing operation that might be compromised if WestHem authorities were given details. As such, our department and all of the other MarsGroup stations that report news and information are honoring their request and not pestering them. It is, however, common knowledge, as we've reported in the past, that at least four of the Owl class stealth attack ships that were captured at Triad Naval Base are no longer in their moorings and that there was a frantic burst of activity at SpaceLab Incorporated, the facility that produces the nuclear torpedoes that the Owls fire. This information, coupled with the wave of explosions that the approaching armada seems to be facing over the last ten days, is certainly compelling.'

'Compelling,' said Lon Fargo from one of the tables near the back. 'She says it's compelling. I think they should keep their fucking mouths shut about it. Don't they know that this planet is full of WestHem spies that are relaying that information back to Earth?'

'Freedom of the press,' said Horishito, who had just packed an electric pipe with a hit of some potent marijuana. 'Even during wartime, we have to let the press report what they see. That's the only way to run a planet.'

'Oh, lets not start that argument again,' said Matza, who was packing his own pipe with another load. 'I agree with Lon. They should shut their asses about it until whatever operation we're running with those Owls is over with.'

'Here, here,' said Lon, picking up a pipe of his own. He looked over at the newest member of his squad, the member that he had fought unsuccessfully to avoid having assigned. It was a fight that he was now kind of glad he had lost. 'What do you think about this, Wong?' he asked her. 'Your partner is usually quite opinionated on these matters. Are you the same?'

Lisa looked up at him, her eyes reddened and half-lidded, a determined expression on her face. She too held an electric pipe in her hands, its bowl stuffed full. 'My opinion?' she said with a snort. 'My opinion is that it doesn't fucking matter. The Earthlings are a bunch of dumb asses. They haven't even admitted that we've hit them yet, at least not with actual weapons. I think we could send them a schematic of the exact location of every one of those Owls and a timetable showing when they're going to attack, and the dumb fucks still wouldn't do anything about it.'

'Fuckin aye,' put in Winters, another of the new assigns from the last training class. He had been a dip-hoe in Eden before the revolution and was now the squad's medic. 'And you gotta hand it to those guys that went out in those ships to hit them. That takes some balls. I thought joining the special forces was nuts. They're actually out there in deep space going up against the goddamn navy.'

'And kicking ass too,' said Matza. 'They've already knocked out about sixty thousand of the OPFOR. And there's still at least two more Owls out there. Shit, they keep this up and we might not have to fight at all.'

'Don't say that,' said Horishito. 'They give up before they get here then we won't get to watch Wong prove she's got bigger balls than we do. I for one have been looking forward to that.'

That produced a bout of laughter from everyone at the table, Lisa included. Though there had been a time when such words, obviously directed at the fact that she was a female, would have provoked anger in her, those days were gone. In two weeks of training with her new squad out in the wastelands, she had more than proved her worth to her teammates. Her physical condition was now better than she had ever imagined it could be. She could haul a full load of sixty millimeter mortars, in addition to her own weapons, up the tallest hill without causing a discharge warning on her suit. She could move boulders and dig hiding holes in the rocky Martian soil as well as any of them. She could shoot any weapon in the special forces inventory with pinpoint accuracy, with or without the combat goggle targeting system active. She could assemble booby traps and plant them in under a minute flat.

'Maybe that's a bad analogy,' Lon said.

'Oh?' said Lisa.

'Yes, I've seen you in the shower, remember? Your balls aren't very big at all. In fact, I can hardly see them.'

'Yes, and I've noticed you've done a lot of searching for them too, boss man,' she said slyly. 'Sometimes you've searched so much in there that your weapon started to get cocked.'

The table erupted in another bout of laughter, this time at their leader's expense. Lon actually blushed at the attention. True, he had been known to check out his new female squad member in the shower from time to time, and true, it had caused him to develop the beginnings of an erection more than once, but he hadn't been aware that anyone, especially Wong herself, had noticed. Another supposition, proven wrong. Still, Lon was good-natured about the jive, and Wong was a very attractive woman. Could he help it if she insisted on showering and dressing with the rest of the team? That was her decision, wasn't it? 'I was just checking to make