That had been a bit hairy in and of itself. The Martian artillery had been deliberately targeting the refuel points all day long, sometimes doing tremendous damage, causing nasty, messy death. It was during this process that troops were exposed, that fueling hoses were exposed, that live ammunition was out in the open just waiting to be prematurely detonated by a close explosion. But again, someone up above — General Browning it was said — had come up with a procedure that had minimized the attrition during the process. The APCs, tanks, and artillery platforms would pull up as close as physically possible to the supply car and the supplies would be tossed across from one hatch to the other. Though tossing eighty-millimeter shells over a distance of a meter and a half was dangerous, it had proved to be not as dangerous as keeping the four meters of seperation that protocol dictated. This closer distance had also reduced the amount of fueling hoses damaged by shrapnel and had kept the amount of troops out in the open as few as possible too. When it had been the turn of Callahan's APC to go through the process a few pieces of shrapnel had come pinging in, causing a slight injury to their driver, but that had been it. They had pulled away and sat in wait ever since.
The minutes ticked by and Callahan watched the time display carefully. They had been scheduled to pull out and begin their assault on the main line by 1430 at the latest. The measures taken to protect the armor crews had slowed that down considerably.
An explosion rocked the APC, the concussion so violent that Callahan knew it wasn't merely another arty shell going off. 'Who got it?' he asked the driver, who was looking out through his camera.
'Third squad of second platoon just bought it,' the driver told him. 'They were two APCs over from us in the line. Blew them to bits.'
Callahan nodded, feeling his anxiety to get on with it pushing at him. He wondered again why the Martians had abandoned their attempt to take out the artillery guns. Was it because they realized they wouldn't be able to kill enough of them to neutralize the weapons in the coming battle? Was it because they realized they'd better start taking out some of the ground troops instead? Or was it... was it something else? Something more sinister?
He didn't know, couldn't know, but the question itself made him uneasy. The Martians were clever bastards, led by a man who had proven himself to be a military genius. Was it possible he had a few tricks left up his sleeve?
While he was still pondering that thought the last of the APCs finished the fueling process and the fueling trains began their long, slow turn that would take them back towards the Jutfield Gap where they would stage — hopefully not to be needed again. The word came over the command net, transmitted from the ship instead of from one of the APCs.
'All units,' the voice said. 'Prepare to start moving in. The time has come to liberate Eden once and for all.'
Engines began to start one by one and, after less than twenty minutes, the next order came and the tanks and APCs began to move forward, heading for the main line and the final battle.
Meanwhile the mobile artillery guns separated from the camouflage they'd enjoyed amid the tanks and began to assemble into their own formations. Their loaders and gunners prepared to begin firing on pre-determined points, their goal to destroy the concrete reinforced anti-tank bunkers of the main line. A battalion of tanks remained behind to guard them. This was not because any trouble was expected — after all, what kind of trouble could there be? — but because it was standard doctrine.
And from high above a group of peepers under the control of the MPG noted all of this movement and tracked it, the take being sent to the highest levels of MPG command.
General Jackson sat in his office, an open link to General Zoloft appearing on one of his computer screens. Another was showing live shots from the peepers. Yet another was showing a composite view of the entire Eden theater of operations, including the tanks that were now sequestered just beyond the foothills.
'Lead elements are moving in,' Jackson said. 'What's their speed?'
'Twenty-five klicks,' Zoloft told him. 'Arty is setting up in position and will start firing soon. Supply trains are moving west at twelve klicks.'
Jackson nodded, smiling predatorily. 'It would seem the time is right. Get the Hannibal tanks moving on their targets, full speed ahead. They have the telemetry and they have their orders.'
'Yes, sir,' Zoloft said smartly. 'The order is going out now.'
'I'm going to address the troops,' he said. 'Computer, open a link on the main dispatch channel for Eden operations.'
Jeff and Drogan were sitting against the backside of the agricultural truck their squad had been assigned, facing the city. They could see the high rises before them, the city buildings they were fighting to protect. Their topic of conversation, as always, was the uncomfortable and unresolved love triangle between Jeff, Xenia, and Belinda.
'Just wait until the fighting is over,' Drogan was telling him. 'You're not gonna be able to sort anything out with anyone until then. In that, Xenia is completely on the fuckin' money, you know? How can you make plans in the middle of this mess? How can you commit yourself to anyone or anything when any of us could be dead at any minute.'
'I can't change how I feel, Drogan,' he replied. 'I know I'm stupid for imagining a life beyond this thing. I can't even imagine what Mars is gonna be like if we win, but...'
'All units in the Eden theater of operation,' a familiar voice suddenly cut in. 'This is General Jackson, talking to you from MPG operations in New Pittsburgh.'
'What the fuck is this shit?' Drogan asked, actually grateful for the interruption. She was getting a little weary of hearing Creek drone on and on about Xenia all the time. Sure, she was a hot piece of quim, but was anyone worth all the fuss?
'I don't know,' Jeff replied. 'I think maybe the shit's about to hit the fan.'
'For those of you who are monitoring the enemy positions on your command screen,' Jackson said, 'you already know what I'm about to tell you. For those who aren't, let me break the news. The WestHem marine units have completed their resupply operation and, as of ten minutes ago, they have begun to move in on the main line of defense. They are moving east at two-five klicks per hour in standard assault formation. The final battle for the fate of Eden is about to begin.
'Desertions have been high over the past few hours, mostly due to the pounding that the WestHem artillery inflicted upon our Jutfield Gap and Blue Line positions last night. I understand and I hold no ill will towards those who left. They simply decided the price of our freedom was a little higher then they expected. For those of you who have stayed behind, I salute you and I thank you for your faith in me and the other commanders who are leading this struggle. Allow me now to ease your mind a little bit about what is to follow.
'The WestHem mobile artillery guns are forming up as we speak. I expect they will begin firing on your positions soon. I wish I could tell you that you won't have to endure any artillery fire at all, but I can now tell you that we initiated a plan that will deal with those guns quickly and efficiently. We will neutralize the artillery threat in this battle and we will neutralize it swiftly. I cannot promise zero casualties before this neutralization takes place — after all, this is war and one cannot always predict everything when so many unknown variables are floating around — but it is my belief that we will silence those guns before they are able to compromise the integrity of most of the main line infantry and anti-tank positions.
'That is all I have to say for now,' Jackson concluded. 'I don't want to take up communication time that is best left to your field commanders. But I wanted to let all you know that when those shells start to fall on you that it will not last for long. Free Mars, people. You're fighting a just war.'
Drogan and Jeff looked at each other.
'What do you think?' Jeff asked her. 'Feel good bullshit?'
'He hasn't laid any of that on us yet, has he?' she replied.
'That's true,' Jeff admitted.
'Did you hear how he termed that? He didn't say 'we're
'I sure the fuck hope he's right about that,' Jeff said. 'Because we're sitting out here in the open.'
Lon and his squad were lying across two hills on the north side of the valley, directly across from where the
