Laura, ever the lady, made the required introductions to her colleagues. Hands were shaken and kind comments were passed between Jackson and Steeling and the others. Laura saw that despite their jovial expressions her fellow councilmen were impatiently awaiting the end of her conversation. She put an accommodating look upon her face and told them to go on without her, that she would find her own way back to city hall.
'But, Laura,' Dan Steeling said worriedly. 'What about security? Surely you're not thinking about walking back to city hall alone, through downtown?'
This was a legitimate concern, and not just because she was an easily recognized person. With Martian unemployment at approximately twenty-two percent, the crime rate was frighteningly high. Large, well-organized street gangs roamed about with near impunity in certain parts of the downtown Eden area. 'Have one of the police wait for me,' she told him. 'Tell him I won't be long. Captain Jackson is an old friend from school and I'd like to talk to him for a few minutes.'
Steeling reluctantly agreed to this plan and took his leave, heading across the park towards the entrance.
'So,' Jackson said, his smile warmer once he had gone, 'you're making quite a name for yourself in the political arena, aren't you? I've heard stories even down in Argentina about the charismatic Eden city council member.'
Laura smiled. 'I have a gift for making myself known to the right people,' she told him.
'You always did, Laura, you always did.'
'And yourself?' she asked. 'You say you were in Argentina. I hear it's pretty nasty over there.'
He shrugged a little. 'Poorly armed fanatical nationalists who have never accepted WestHem rule. They love to hide in the mountains and shoot at us with old World War III era weapons. It's not that dangerous as long as you have a little common sense and don't venture far from the base. The worst part is being in that hellish environment. For someone who grew up on Mars where the temperature is always the same and it never rains, it takes a little getting used to, I'll tell you.'
'I'll bet,' said Laura, who had never been to Earth before and had therefore never experienced anything but the constant 22 degrees Celsius of the artificial environment.
'Do you have a few minutes?' Jackson asked her. 'Maybe we can go over to the mess hall and scrounge up a cup of coffee or something.'
Laura sensed that his offer entailed a little bit more than simply catching up on old times. However, it did not seem that renewing their romance seemed to be his goal. That could only mean that he had news for her; news that she might not otherwise hear. Never one to shun a potential source of information, she agreed to join him.
They talked of inconsequential things as they wandered through the calisthenics area and to the large mess tent Herald had shown her earlier. It was still empty of soldiers and still filled with the aroma of cooking meat spiced with onions. Jackson led her to a mess table in the center of the room, within easy sight of the entrances, and bade her to sit. She did so and he disappeared behind the serving counter, reemerging a few minutes later with two steaming metal cups. He rejoined her and they sipped the strong brew as they appraised each other.
'So how do you find the political life, Laura?' Jackson asked her, seemingly lightly but obviously very interested in her answer.
Laura hesitated before answering him. During their past friendship they had been as close as two people could be. They had spent many a night sharing their views of the solar system over coffee or beer or marijuana. Jackson was one of the few people in existence she had discussed her peculiar ideas about an ideal government with. Was that what he was thinking about now? Was he trying to equate Laura Whiting, the idealistic realist, with Laura Whiting the politician? 'I find it,' she told him carefully, 'pretty much as I always expected it would be back in college.'
He gave her a pointed look. 'You used to say that politics was the most corrupt, soulless profession in existence; that it was worse than working for a law company or a corporate management team.'
She returned his look. 'Yes,' she said. 'I did say that.'
'So that's how you've found the life to be?'
She took a deep breath. This could be a set-up of course. In the world of politics you could never discount that possibility. But her instincts, which had always served her well, told her it wasn't. Jackson was just trying to see if his old friend and lover was still the same person she had once been before he talked about whatever was on his mind. Finally, she nodded. 'That's how it is,' she told him. 'And I hate every minute of it. I've almost quit in disgust a few times.'
'So why do you stay if you hate it so much?'
'I believe you remember our past conversations,' she replied slyly. 'The ones about why I needed to go into politics.' She smiled a little in fondness, remembering the closeness that accompanied those talks. 'You used to think I was crazy, remember?'
'I remember,' he said warmly, remembering the same thing. Yes, this woman before him was the same person he had once loved. 'But I also remember being impressed by the complexity of your ambitions. I wish you the best of luck in them.'
'I appreciate that, Kevin,' she told him.
'But in the meantime,' he said, turning to business, 'there's this war going on.'
'So I've noticed,' she answered. 'I toured the blast site in the Calvetta district today. It's rather frightening to see what one blast of an EastHem laser can do. One tenth of a second of energy release from eighty kilometers away and more than nine hundred people are dead. And that wasn't even one of the bad ones. Those are up on Triad.'
'Triad is getting the shit beat out of it, that's for sure,' he agreed. 'But the laser blasts are not the concern here.'
'The invasion fleet?' she asked softly.
'Yes,' he answered. 'I saw the briefing by Admiral Graves of the navy on an Internet terminal earlier. He did a good job of blowing smoke up the asses of all the citizens here.'
'And the citizens believe him about as much as they do anyone else in such a position,' Laura put in. 'That's the biggest failing of Earth natives when they deal with Martians. They assume we're just as easily cowed by reassurances as people in Denver or Buenos Aires.'
'Underestimation,' Jackson said with a nod. 'You always said that that was the key to your plans.'
'And it still is,' she assured him. 'If we can survive this war, that will still be the key. So tell me. How much at risk are we? I know we're in danger of invasion from that fleet up there, but I don't know how bad it is. You do, don't you?'
He leaned back a little bit, taking a quick glance around the room, searching for eavesdroppers. Seeing none, he leaned forward a bit and lowered his voice. 'They have three divisions of combat troops up there,' he said. 'Those landing ships are loaded with heavy equipment and troop carrying landers that can be down on the surface in less than an hour with every last one of those men as well as their tanks, their APCs, their artillery, and enough hovers to guarantee air superiority over an advance. If they left the landing ships right now, they could be in occupation of all the Martian cities except Triad in three days.'
'Three days?' she asked, feeling fear coursing through her body. She had known it was bad, but that bad? 'What about your marines? You won't be able to hold them off at all?'
'Our presence here is nothing more than a public relations tour,' he scoffed bitterly. 'We make the public feel better and we look good parading around the park in our shorts. See, Mr. and Mrs. Greenie? You're nice and safe on your planet. The marines are here to protect you from those evil EastHem fascists.'
'But surely you can hold them back for a little bit?' Laura asked nervously.
'We're a goddamned battalion, Laura,' he said, letting a little of his own fear show now. 'A battalion! That's four companies of soldiers. Twenty platoons! We have thirty tanks, forty APCs and a few artillery guns we managed to scrounge up. We have six anti-tank platoons and one anti-air squad. If the EastHems land here they're going to throw at least a division at Eden, complete with hover support. The battalion we have as a defense here would be nothing more than a warm-up exercise for them. It's even worse in New Pittsburgh and Proctor. We weren't even able to spare complete battalions to defend those cities. They have no artillery at all and only a few tanks. This planet is virtually defenseless.'
