Greenies

but still arced well over the top of them, exploding several hundred meters on the other side.

'Still off target,' Callahan reported, his voice flirting with frustration. 'Adjust back another 300 meters.'

The next salvo landed well short, the shells' proximity fuses detonating them just above the open ground in front of the hills. Callahan had them adjust fire again, and then yet again before the rounds finally started to land where they were supposed to. He told them to fire for effect and they plastered the hills with twelve rounds apiece, raising huge clouds of dust and spraying lethal shrapnel about.

And of course it was all for nothing. Following special forces doctrine, Lon and his squad had vacated the hills in question less than thirty seconds after they fired on the marines. By the time the shells came down on their hiding spots they were nearly half a kilometer to the east, occupying yet another overlook. When Callahan led the reserve platoon forward to check the hills twenty minutes later they found impact craters and scattered piles of expended shell casings but no bodies, no weapons, nothing that indicated any of the greenies that had made the attack had been so much as scratched by either the return fire of the artillery.

In the meantime, Scalzi, who would most likely have been saved had a medic been able to attend to him, slowly died as his right lung collapsed around his heart and strangled the organ. Two of the other wounded, Metzinger and Valdez, both of second squad, also died while awaiting help, both of them bleeding to death from severed arteries. Only Private Frank, who had been blown clear by the detonating mine, and Private Kinnaman, who was hit with three bullets in the leg and lower torso, were eventually pulled alive from the killing zone.

'It appears at this time,' General Wrath told the assembled reporters in the briefing room, 'that the terrorist elements who are holding Mars somehow got lucky and were able to have a team of their operatives pre-positioned near the north side of the Eden landing site. My guess is that they placed several of these teams in likely locations where they thought our landing ships might come down and that the law of averages simply allowed this particular guess to be a correct one. This group of terrorists engaged some of our marines as they were on patrol around the northern perimeter of the landing zone. My information is that several marines were wounded during the exchange. I have just ordered a shuttle down to the surface to evacuate them. Our troops right now are sweeping the area where the engagement occurred and will capture or destroy these cowardly terrorists before they can make any more such attacks.'

'How many were wounded?' asked the crusty old reporter from ICS. 'And were any killed?'

'I don't have complete numbers on that yet,' Wrath lied, 'but my information is that there were a few moderate wounds from the exchange of gunfire and from explosive devices that the terrorists planted.'

'Do you believe that any more of these teams might be in the vicinity of any other landing zone?' asked the pretty reporter from InfoServe. 'And if so, what steps are you taking to ensure that they will not jeopardize the landing of the rest of the forces?'

Wrath, a veteran of live briefings, pretended to ponder her question, as if the reporter had not been briefed to ask that very thing in those exact words and as if he had not already formulated a response. 'Well, Cindy,' he said, addressing her by name, 'I cannot actually guarantee that there are no other teams of terrorists lying in wait near any of the other landing zones, but I would guess that it is very unlikely. As I said, the terrorists probably placed several teams outside at several of the landing areas in the hope that we would just happen to set down near them. We just happened to show up next to this team. I hardly think that Laura Whiting and her thugs have an unlimited supply of such men to waste on futile attacks such as these. This attack will not affect the landing of the rest of the forces in any way.'

There were a few more questions, most of them reworded versions of those that had already been asked, and then Wrath, citing the need to get back to work coordinating his assault teams, brought the briefing to an end.

Two minutes later he was back in the CIC, where Major Wilde delivered more bad news to him.

'Perimeter forces on the west side of the New Pittsburgh LZ are in contact with an unknown size force of greenies,' he said. 'Reports are that another patrol was taken down in almost the same manner as the patrol at the Eden LZ and that the responding platoon was once again ambushed from cover. Twelve dead, four wounded are the damages so far.'

'I see,' Wrath said slowly, with barely restrained rage. 'And greenie casualties?'

'None as far as can be determined,' Wilde told him. 'We pounded the area where the fire came from with arty, but, just like at the Eden site, it took far too long for the rounds to get on target. It's the same situation. The lack of GPS data and our unfamiliarity with gunnery in that variable air pressure is making it extremely hard to put down accurate fire. By the time we plastered the hill and got some troops up there, the greenies were long gone. A sweep of the area is underway right now. So far it has turned up nothing.'

'Nothing,' Wrath said, shaking his head in frustration. Nothing was exactly what a sweep of the Eden ambush zone had turned up as well. 'How in the hell are they getting away from us? How can they just disappear into the wastelands like that? There not a goddamned thing for them to hide behind out there.'

'We don't know,' he answered. 'Intel says that the greenie biosuits have a lower infrared signature than the ones we wear, but even so, they have to putting off heat don't they? And then there's the fact that its broad daylight. They should be visible for up to two kilometers with nothing more than an eyeball looking for them. Goddamned if I know where they went, sir.'

'Tell the commanders down there to keep sweeping until they find them. I want those landing sites secure in the next three hours so we can start bringing down our heavy equipment before it's dark at the LZ's.'

'Yes, sir,' Wilde told him. 'We'll get them. After all, how many could there possibly be?'

'Those greenies have been supernaturally lucky so far,' he said with a grunt. 'Their luck will run out as soon as we get our armor down there though.' He paused for a moment. 'What about the evac shuttle? Is it on its way?'

'Completed it's de-orbit burn about forty minutes ago. It should be entering the atmosphere soon and down on the ground about twenty minutes after that. I sent two doctors, three nurses, and four medics down with it.'

'Excellent,' he said. 'I guess we'd better send another shuttle down for the wounded at the New Pittsburgh LZ.'

'I've already taken the liberty of arranging that, General,' Wilde told him. 'They should be leaving Mercy in about ten minutes. Estimated landing time will be...'

'Major Wilde,' a young communications tech suddenly called from his terminal across the room. He sounded excited.

'What is it?' Wilde yelled over to him.

'I just received a message from Colonel Brandywine at the Proctor LZ. A patrol was just ambushed by a force of greenies on the south side.'

'Fuck me,' Wrath said, his words coming out almost as a groan. It was starting to look like things weren't going to go as smoothly as they had in the simulations.

Lon and his squad had tightened up into two teams of five apiece and were now deployed atop of a high ridgeline just over a kilometer from where they had made their attack on the squad of soldiers. They were all tired and increasingly cognizant that they were in hostile territory and being hunted but their spirits were high, particularly after their successful evasion of the manhunt that had been sent out after them.

After cutting down the squad of soldiers from the hilltops they had fled to the east, taking up observation positions on another set of hills and watching with amusement as the marine gunners tried to hit their previous positions with artillery. Their amusement had turned to fear however when they saw an entire platoon fanning out over the landscape thirty minutes later to track them down. They had moved off of their hillside and put into action their evasion plans, which took advantage not of their speed and agility in the wastelands but of the nearly zero heat emission qualities of their biosuits. They had spread themselves out in a large field of boulders in one of the many gullies, lying down at the base of rocks and remaining immobile. Since it was high noon on the Martian equator, the outside temperature of the air was about as warm as it ever got on the planet, a balmy sixteen degrees Celsius. This made it quite easy for the heat dissipation mechanisms of their suits to keep them exactly the same temperature as the ground around them, which kept them from registering in the infrared spectrum of the marine's combat goggles. And when lying in the boulders the camouflage patterns on their suits made them blend in almost perfectly with the background in the visual spectrum. From anything more than a hundred meters away they would look like nothing but rocks among rocks, dirt among dirt. A squad of marines had walked right by the edge of their hiding spot during the search, had looked directly at them, and had passed on without the slightest