back down. They land another fifty kilometers out in this wider plain here to the west. It's larger and flatter which would make it more difficult for any Martian special forces teams to operate and would put it at the very extreme range of the Martian Hummingbirds and Mosquitoes. From there, we assemble and rush in at best possible speed to set up a refuel point. We don't stop to engage snipers or other Martians who attack us. We absorb the Mosquito attacks when they come. Less than seventy-two hours after landing, we'll be at the Jutfield Gap in nearly full strength and we'll hit the Martian positions in regimental strength, sweeping them right the hell out of there. We should be able to get through the gap in a matter of hours. Once that happens, we push hard to the main line of defense and slam into them with everything we got. Our advantage should be at least seven to one, maybe closer to eight to one. They'll fall within hours.'
'And then we simply occupy Eden and hold onto it?'
'Exactly,' Wilde confirmed. 'Once we're in those buildings, on those streets, we can probably expect some guerrilla warfare but they won't be able to dislodge us. Not in a million years.'
'Okay,' Browning said. 'You've convinced me. Start getting the flight crews ready for full deployment. I'll look this over in detail and then get it off to the Executive Council.'
'Yes, sir,' Wilde said. 'Oh... there's one more thing.'
'What's that?'
'This has to remain top secret if it's going to work. That means we can't brief the reporters on what is going on.'
Browning rolled his eyes at him. 'I'm not an idiot, Wilde,' he said. 'I have no intention of briefing reporters on what my attack plan is.'
'I'm sure you don't, sir,' Wilde said. 'It's just that General Wrath used to release operational details before they happened because the press insisted on it. I think a lot of our problems might be because of that.'
'I'm not Wrath,' Browning said forcefully. 'Now go brief in the flight commanders. I want to get this campaign rolling on schedule.'
'Yes sir,' Wilde said, saluting.
Chapter 20
Aboard the WSS
September 5, 2146
Rear Admiral Mitchell Spears was the commander of all of the task force's F-22 space fighters. Each of the California Class superdreadnoughts housed a wing of ninety-six of these saucer-shaped craft for a total of 192 of them — or at least that was what they'd left Earth with, they were currently down to 147.
Like most of the command rank officers involved in the conflict, Spears was somewhat upset and disillusioned by the losses and defeats his forces had taken in what had been promised a slam-dunk conflict. His spacecraft had not had to perform their primary mission of fleet defense since the Martians had not been so dumb as to attack the armada with their A-12s based in Triad but even so he had lost more than forty spacecraft and twenty crews, most of them escorting AA-71s on useless photo-recon missions of which only three had been successful since establishing orbit. The reason for this was twofold. The first was that the Martian pilots had turned out to be much better at their jobs than even the most pessimistic pre-war reports had given them credit for. The second was the fact that political and economic concerns had not allowed him to take the most basic precautions of any orbital space campaign — that of removing the enemy's ability to detect outgoing launches and sorties.
But now Spears was finally starting to sense a turnaround in the conflict — something that would put orbital space superiority back in his hands where it belonged. Two days ago he'd been asked by General Browning's aide — Major Wilde of the marines — to formulate a plan to destroy the Martian's navigation, communications, and, most importantly, their space reconnaissance satellites, a mission his F-22s had been specifically designed to undertake, that his crews regularly trained in as it was a vital part of EastHem vs. WestHem doctrine. This was the plan he was now presenting in detail to the good major by means of a holograph generated in his main pilot briefing room. The holograph showed a two-meter globe of Mars with the cities showing on the surface and each and every known satellite in both geosynchronous and low-Mars orbit represented by constantly moving red dots. The positions of each of these satellites could be updated in real-time, shown in past time, or projected forward into future time.
'Basically, the plan is this,' Spears explained to Wilde, who had a digital notebook open on his laps and was making constant notations. He used a laser pointer to show the location of the armada. 'We start with the geo-sats first, hitting the recon birds that are closest to our own position and then moving outward from there. The rationale behind this, obviously, is to eliminate their closest assets first which will cripple or destroy their ability to detect our spacecraft launches and flight paths on subsequent missions.'
Wilde nodded. 'Space operations are not exactly my specialty,' he said. 'But my understanding is that our losses so far on the recon missions have because we have not been allowed to hit these satellites?'
Spears looked at him carefully. The rumor at the top was that this man — a mere major — was actually much more than just an aide to former General Wrath and current General Browning. It was said he was actually a brilliant military tactician who had been trying to keep this war steered on the path it was supposed to have been on the entire time, only to have most of his advice disregarded again and again by political concerns. It was said that he now had pretty much a free hand in planning the next phase of Operation Martian Hammer and that his 'suggestions' to General Browning had already been approved. That was the rumor anyway. But this was the WestHem military after all so it was possible the rumors were wrong and Wilde was actually nothing more than a sneaking, back-stabbing, two-faced weasel like most aides to command rank officers (including Spears' own aide) and he was only trying to get Spears to spout off something negative about the war to date so he could report it and use it as the basis for finger-pointing in upcoming reports on the losses.
'Look, Admiral,' Wilde said, seeming to pick up on his thoughts. 'I'm not here to start finding blame or to pin the responsibility for past mistakes on anyone. I'm not composing any reports on what went wrong or why we lost what. I'm simply trying to put together a cohesive and logical plan to achieve the objective of capturing the city of Eden with the least amount of friendly casualties as possible. Now I know your forces took some significant losses on those recon missions they escorted. Logic and common sense tells me it was because of the real-time recon those satellites provided the Martians as you launched and headed for the IP. I just want to know if this is true or not.'
Spears nodded, his respect level for this man climbing upward a few notches. 'Yes,' he said. 'Basic doctrine for orbital space warfare around an enemy planet or moon is to take out the enemy's satellites first and foremost. Since we weren't allowed to do this in the initial phases, everything my ships do is transmitted immediately and in real-time to Martian Space Command at Triad. No matter how many spacecraft I sent to escort a recon mission, they knew about it the moment they leave the bays and send more.'
'So once we take out the nearest satellites?'
'We'll be able to hit the rest with near impunity,' Spears confirmed. 'Not only that, but our bombing missions — when they go — will also be able to launch and enter the atmosphere unseen and unchallenged, therefore almost insuring their success in their missions. It's the same thing the EastHems did to this very planet during the Jupiter War.'
Wilde smiled. 'That's exactly what General Browning wants to hear, sir. Please proceed with your briefing.'
He proceeded, explaining the order of attack, times of attack, and methods of attack one by one. He was only halfway through, however, when Wilde's PC began to buzz, indicating an urgent communication request from Browning.
'Excuse me for a minute, Admiral,' Wilde said, pulling the PC from his waist and flipping it open. As expected, Browning's face was on the screen. It looked a bit nervous and upset. 'Yes, General?' Wilde asked.
'I need you to drop whatever you're doing and come to my office right away,' Browning told him.
'Uh... well, sir, I'm receiving a briefing on the upcoming anti-sat campaign from Admiral Spears at the moment. Can it wait until I'm done?'
'No,' Browning said without hesitation. 'Tell the admiral you'll hear the rest of the briefing later.'
