Greenies

the passing police cart. A few had even waved at them, something that had been so unusual as to be unheard of not long before. As Lisa had said, it was eerie in a way. It was like everyone had been given some sort of happy gas.

'Incoming call,' said the dash-mounted computer, which was linked to the dispatch system via cellular technology. A second later, rows of text appeared on the screen, describing their latest assignment.

'What is it?' asked Lisa, who was behind the wheel.

'A request to assist a FLEB team on a takedown,' he said.

'A FLEB team?' Lisa said in disgust. Assisting FLEB agents in apprehension of federal criminals was not a common thing, but it was not exactly uncommon either. 'Those assholes? What do they got this time? Another bunch of software pirates?'

'It doesn't say,' he told her, reading through the rest of it. 'The staging location is over at 101^st and Broadway. They sent over Delta-53 and Bravo-56 as well.'

'Three patrol units to help take down someone?' Lisa said, shaking her head a little. 'That's a lot of guns for a software pirate.'

'Big waste of our time if you ask me,' he replied, pushing the acknowledge button on the terminal. 'Why can't those federal fucks take care of their own pick-ups?'

'They need someone to tell them how to do it, don't they?' she replied, making both of them chuckle. It was a well known fact that the FLEB agents, though sworn law enforcement officers and despite a tough guy reputation garnered by Internet shows, were severely lacking when it came to street sense and tactical matters. It was said in Martian law enforcement circles that the average FLEB agent couldn't find Phobos with a telescope and a tracking computer.

The trip to 101^st and Broadway took about five minutes. When they arrived there they found two black FLEB vans parked outside in a truck-loading zone behind a low rent apartment complex. The FLEB vans were electric panel trucks with the emblem of their agency stenciled on the sides. Both Lisa and Brian were amused to see that someone had spray-painted FREE MARS on the side of one of them in bright red paint. Standing outside of the vans were ten agents, all of them dressed in heavy Kevlar armor gear and carrying M-24 rifles. They looked a little like accountants playing dress up for a Halloween party. One of them walked over to the police cart as it parked, approaching on the passenger side.

'What's up?' Brian asked, opening his door but not stepping out.

'Special agent Walker,' the man introduced himself. He was in his late forties and spoke with a heavy Earthling accent. 'I'm in charge of this strike team today.'

'Static,' Brian answered, deliberately thickening his own Martian accent. 'So what's the deal? Got some software pirates or something you need to take down?'

'No,' he said with a shake of the head. 'Not pirates. Terrorists.'

Brian shared a look of puzzlement with Lisa. 'Terrorists?' he asked. 'What kind of terrorists?'

'A whole group of them,' he said. 'Violent Martian separatists. We have information that they're planning to plant explosives near federal installations here on the planet.'

'Explosives?' Lisa asked incredulously. 'Where the hell would vermin get explosives?'

'That's what we're going to find out,' Walker assured them. 'Our information is that there are at least six of them up there, maybe more. They may be armed.'

'Everybody's armed on Mars,' Brian said. 'This is a WestHem colony. Home of the right to bear arms, remember?'

'Right,' Walker said. 'So that's why we wanted you locals here with us. We just want the back-up in case we need it. We'll move in as soon as the other two units get here.'

Brian and Lisa shared another look. 'Uh... just what sort of information do you have that leads you to believe there are terrorists up there?' Lisa asked.

'Sorry,' Walker told her. 'That's confidential. So anyway, they're up on the 93^rd floor of the building here, apartment 9312. We have a door breach and the plan is to just go in and strike and then get out. Be sure to grab your M-24s when we go up.'

'Do we have a warrant for all of this?' Brian asked.

'Of course we do,' he told them. 'A federal magistrate signed one out less than an hour ago.'

'A federal warrant huh?' Lisa said.

'That's right,' Walker told her. 'Is there a problem with that? If so, we can always contact your watch commander to rectify it.'

She scowled at his thinly veiled threat. 'It's your show, Mr. Walker,' she said, reaching under her seat and unclipping her M-24 from its holder.

The other two patrol units arrived a few minutes later and, after they were briefed on the plan of action, everyone headed into the building. It was a typical public housing building and the lobby was full of the usual assortment of unemployed people sipping from Fruity bottles and smoking out. They all gave curious looks to the armed squad of feds and police officers but kept their distance. Walker, leading the parade, walked to the bank of elevators in the rear.

'Okay,' he said to everyone. 'Half of you take the left elevator and half of you take the right. Don't let any riders in as you go up and we'll assemble up on the 93^rd. My maps show that 9312 is sixty meters to the south of the elevator bank. Any questions?'

None of the feds had any, but Lisa did. 'Excuse me,' she said. 'I have a suggestion.'

'What is it, officer?' he asked somewhat impatiently.

'Well, it's somewhat traditional in a case like this for everyone to assemble on the floor above where the target apartment is and then walk down the closest staircase. That way, you see, if your suspects have a look-out or just happen to be outside at that particular moment, they don't notice you gathering for the strike.'

Walker considered that for a moment. 'You know,' he said brightly, 'that's a good idea. Let's do it.'

'Christ,' Lisa mumbled to herself, resisting the urge to roll her eyes back. Her good idea was basic police academy training.

They did it, all of them riding up to 94 in two shifts. Once up there they went to the back emergency staircase and down a flight. They passed several people in the halls and on the staircase itself, all of them giving an extremely wide berth to the group of armed and armored men and women.

Walker opened the staircase door on 93 and, after a quick, careless look, waved everyone forward into a hallway that was lined with gang graffiti and anti-Earthling sentiments. They all walked along behind him, their weapons clanking, their boots squeaking, until they reached the doorway labeled 9312. Walker and two of his men then prepared to breach the door.

'Look at these morons,' Lisa said softly, without moving her lips. Her throat microphone transmitted her words only to the police officers in the group. 'They're standing in front of the freakin door while they do that.'

'What do they teach them in FLEB academy?' replied Scott James, on of the other real cops. 'You'd think for a two year program they'd be a little smarter than that.'

'They're college educated you know,' Brian put in. 'I guess all of that higher learning pushes out the common sense.'

While the cops all laughed among themselves about the sad tactical performance they were witnessing, Walker placed the door breach module against the power box of the door. The door breach was a device that sent out a strong but brief electromagnetic pulse, causing disruption of the locking mechanism on cheap automatic doors. It worked it's magic now and the door slid open about half an inch, just enough for another agent to put a crowbar into the gap. He began to pry, forcing the door the rest of the way open. Had the inhabitants of the apartment been armed and willing to, they could have easily gunned down several of the FLEB people since they were standing directly in the doorway instead of off to the side of it like real cops. But they were allowed to get away with it in this instance. With guns raised the FLEB squad rushed inside, all of them screaming at the residents to get down but all of them using different phrases.

'Fucking morons,' Lisa said again as she and Brian and the rest of the Eden police officers went through the doorway behind them, M-24s raised in the firing position.

The apartment was a two bedroom with a relatively large living room area. Some old furniture, all of it threadbare and falling apart, all of it undoubtedly from the welfare store or from a rent-to-own shop, was arranged