Greenies

'So how bad off are we?' Laura asked, not wanting to get into a discussion about what might have happened. 'Why were the casualties so high at Eden?'

'I think the very factors that we've been trying to instill in the Earthlings might have worked against us to some degree.'

'What do you mean?'

'Fatigue and breakdown of command and control at the platoon and company level,' he said. 'We've achieved that goal quite admirably. It's apparent just by watching how their units maneuver. They're all over the place out there, in nothing like a military fighting formation. They're more like ants advancing on a piece of chicken, coming in from all directions with little order or organization.'

'And that worked against us?'

'When they came in to hit the positions in the Jutfield Gap, they didn't stick to their zones when attacking. Instead, all of the individual tank platoons seemed to fire at whatever they perceived to be the greatest threat against them. As a result, some of our trenches and tank positions took three and four times the volume of fire they were designed to withstand while others remained completely untouched. We didn't count on them being so haphazard in their engagements. We expected them to spread their fire across the entire gap, which we could have easily absorbed except for the occasional lucky shot that happened to make it through a firing hole.'

'Is there anything that can be done to rectify this?' she asked.

'Not much we can do about the tank and APC positions,' he said. 'As for the trenches, I've ordered that any position under overwhelming cannon fire hunker down and that any position not under fire expand their zones to maximum in order to draw fire away. The battalion and company commanders will be the ones to initiate this. Hopefully it'll help.'

'And how is troop morale?'

'Variable,' he said. 'It's in the danger zone on the infantry and tank units that got hit hard and took heavy casualties. Among the units that didn't get hit hard, however, it's about as high as we could expect.'

'Desertions?' she asked.

'About a hundred at Eden,' he said. 'All from the units that took heavy fire. As per standing orders, support battalions are transporting them back to the main line if feasible. They can walk their asses back from there.'

'And they're not being persecuted in any way?'

'I know your feelings on that, Laura,' he said. 'There is no official persecution going on against the deserters. When they make their way back to the city we'll discharge them and note in the personnel computers that they're ineligible for further military service or benefits. As for unofficial persecution from their peers...' He shrugged. 'There's not a lot I can do about that.'

'Understood,' she said. 'What's happening out there now?'

'The peepers are showing that they're formed up just over the horizon in all cities under attack. They're re- arming the tanks by APC shuttle from the supply and refuel point.'

'Should the Mosquitoes be attacking those re-supply units?' she asked.

'I considered it,' he said. 'It's what conventional military thinking would dictate. But I still think our air assets are best utilized for doing what they do best — killing the WestHem foot soldiers who will be climbing those hills and trying to dislodge our infantry. For now the Mosquitoes are continuing their attacks on the APCs in their staging positions and leaving the supply units alone. Mortar teams and sniper teams are in the hills surrounding these staging areas. The snipers are directing mortar fire onto the units that are re-loading.'

'You're the military expert,' she said. 'What about the pilot fatigue and the pilot errors that caused the crash in New Pittsburgh. Anything that can be done about that?'

'The fatigue factor is something we're trying to deal with. I've commandeered as much of the coffee supply as I could get my thieving little hands on and I'm feeding it to the air crews and their maintenance crews. As for pilot error, I've sent out an order that only senior pilots with more than five hundred hours logged are allowed to fly lead in a combat sortie. Again, we do what we can.'

'And again, understood,' she said. 'When can we expect them to send in the ground troops?'

'I think they're hoping to have time to regroup before they do that,' he replied. 'We're actually trying to push them to commit sooner. The air attacks are causing constant attrition on them so hopefully they'll decide to move before they've had time to properly plan an attack and get their people rested in any way.'

She smiled, a weak, strained, fatigued smile, but a smile nonetheless. 'Did I ever tell you that I'm glad you're on our side, Kevin?' she asked.

'You may have mentioned it once or twice,' he said. 'Now why don't you get some sleep? I'll have someone wake you when things start to happen again.'

'I'll sleep when you sleep,' she told him. 'That's the rule, General.'

'Yo, boss,' Matt Mendez said as he shook Brian Haggerty awake from his slumber. 'It's midnight. Start of a brand new fucking day.'

Brian opened his eyes slowly and shook his head a little, blinking, trying to come awake. He was lying on a sleeping bag in the back corner of the Mosquito hangar. The sounds of ratcheting air wrenches, hissing fuel hoses, and cursing maintenance techs filled the air. 'Midnight?' he grunted, rubbing a hand over the three-day stubble on his face. 'Already? Seems like I've only been asleep for two hours or so.'

'Very funny, boss,' Matt said dutifully. Haggerty had been asleep for only two hours. 'The ground pounders threw the WestHems back on their first attack. They're staging twenty klicks west of the gap, re-arming and re-supplying for an infantry charge according to Intel. Our bird is done being cycled. They want us wheels-up in thirty minutes to keep the pressure on.'

'Thirty minutes?' Brian said. 'Are they smoking dust?'

'If they are, it ain't the good shit,' Matt said. 'Here, I brought you some coffee. They just sent a shitload of it over from a supply warehouse.' He handed him a steaming cup.

'No thanks,' Brian said. 'I can't abide the Martian coffee. It tastes like printer ink mixed with bull sperm.'

'No, this is the good shit,' Matt said. 'Try it. Best fuckin' coffee I've ever had. They tell me its triple strength too.'

'Earthling coffee?' he asked, perking up a little.

'General Jackson's orders,' Matt confirmed. 'Coffee is to be distributed in bulk to all flight crews and aircraft maintenance crews on an unlimited basis. It seems like we lost a flight over in NP because of fatigue and pilot error. This is the way they're fixing that.'

Brian took the cup and had a sip. His face took on a near-orgasmic expression. 'Oh yeah,' he said. 'That's the shit. Amazing how you take things for granted, isn't it?'

'Wouldn't know,' Matt told him. 'I ain't never tasted coffee this good before. All we ever got in the ghetto was the Martian shit. I thought that's what coffee was supposed to taste like.'

'Oh, man,' Brian said, with genuine sympathy. 'You vermin really were deprived. You know that?'

'I'm figuring it out,' Matt said. He held up a small disc. 'I went ahead and plotted out an initial ingress and egress route for our first sortie. We're coming in from the south this time.'

'We're flying lead?' Brian asked. 'I thought it was Boreland and Cocksman's turn.'

'Not any more,' Matt told him. 'New orders from the CIC. Whenever possible, no pilot will fly lead on a combat mission unless he has at least five hundred hours of stick time.'

'Really?'

'Really,' he confirmed. 'Cocksman and I composed the plot while you were sleeping. It's solid.'

Brian took another sip of his brew. 'Have you gotten any sleep?'

'I'm just a sis, boss,' he said. 'I don't need sleep. I can crash out in the back when we come off target. Come on. Let's go get our biosuits on. Finish your coffee on the way.'

'Right,' Brian told him, standing up. 'Tell the guys to get the engines fired up and have us ready to move in twenty minutes. I'm gonna go to the head and finish this coffee while I'm taking a nice, healthy shit.'

'Ain't you gonna check over the plot?' Matt asked.

'No need,' Brian told him. 'I trust you.'

'General, have our lead elements entered any of the Martian cities yet?' asked the reporter from InfoServe during the question and answer period of the impromptu briefing in the pressroom of Nebraska.