Greenies

'Get them armed up and moving towards the marine barracks entrances,' Jackson told him. 'The marines are going to be trying a breakout any minute now.'

'You mean the combat troops only?' he asked.

'Negative,' Jackson replied. 'I mean everyone. Get them guns, form them up into squads, and send them out there.'

'But, General,' Cargill protested, 'a lot of those troops are women. Surely you don't mean to...'

'They've been through basic training haven't they?' Jackson interrupted. 'Get them armed and on the move. Right now.'

'Yes sir,' Cargill said.

'Be sure to let them know what they're up against and that they will be in fact rebelling against WestHem, but get those that will go out there. And we'll need some armor on those entrances as well. As soon as you get some APC crews ready, get their vehicles moving. Send them out through the main entrance like we did Dealerman's people that went to the capital. Those entrances have got to be covered.'

'Working on it now, General,' Cargill said, signing off.

Lisa Wong was one of the female soldiers that were hastily assembled into a makeshift squad of infantry. Since the downtown area where she worked as a police officer was fairly close geographically to the MPG base, she and her partner Brian had been among the first to arrive. She had quickly suited up in the spare shorts and T-shirt that she carried in her locker and had been on her way to report to her duty station — the main administration office where she worked as a materials supply clerk — when her PC had gone off with an emergency tone.

'All available MPG personnel,' announced Colonel Cargill, the base commander, 'report immediately at best possible speed to the armory for combat load out. This means all personnel, regardless of sex or assignment. We need you over here, people, so let's move it!'

He repeated the message but by the time he was three words into it, Lisa had disconnected from the transmission and was sprinting through the hallways of the base towards the armory. His message had sounded urgent and the fact that he was asking for non-combat volunteers spoke volumes about the desperation of the situation. The materials allotment unit would just have to do without her for a while.

As she ran, others kept pace with her. Men, other women, some people still in civilian clothing, all trekked along, pushing through doors and making their way to a single destination. When they arrived there, huffing and puffing from the exertion, a group of supply personnel were hastily handing out weapons and equipment while an infantry lieutenant was forming them up into groups.

Lisa made her way to the front and was handed a helmet, a set of combat goggles, a radio pack, an M-24 rifle and five 100 round magazines. 'You're C squad, part of Sergeant Jan's platoon over there,' the lieutenant told her.

'Where are we going?' she asked, fumbling with all of the gear.

'Your sergeant will explain it in a moment,' he said impatiently, his tone telling her that there was no time for questions. 'Get outfitted and loaded up.'

'What about armor?' she asked.

'No time for it,' he told her, turning and grabbing another set of equipment for the man behind her.

She carried her equipment over to where a tough looking sergeant was standing with about twenty other people. There was a mix of men and women, a few of whom she recognized as being admin personnel, most she had never seen before. Sergeant Jan was dividing them up into squads and placing those few people he had that were part of the combat arm as the leaders.

'You,' he said, pointing at Lisa and reading her name from her shirt, 'Corporal Wong. Get that weapon loaded and those extra mags stowed. You'll be in second squad under private Zink's command. Your radio frequency for squad operations is 7-C. Got it?'

'Got it,' she replied, feeling overwhelmed and more than a little confused. Just what the hell was going on here anyway? Nevertheless she put her helmet on her head and attached her throat microphone just above her shirt. The radio pack — a small plastic transmitter about half the size of her PC — she tuned to bank 7, channel C and attached to her waist. Though her entire career with the MPG had been spent as an office worker, she knew how to run the radio as well as any of the most hardened combat troops. Likewise she was familiar with her weapon, combat goggles, and other gear as well, and not just because of her job with the Eden Police Department. Ever since the earliest days of the MPG, General Jackson had made it a part of the training requirements that every member, no matter what their rank or assignment, qualify as expert with the combat gear at least twice a year. Though he had been derided many times in the Earthling media for this alleged waste of money, had had stuck to his guns and now, at what seemed a critical moment, all of that training and expense seemed to be paying off. She, as well as the other non-combat soldiers in her understrength platoon, were ready for action in less than five minutes, with weapons loaded and calibrated to the goggles.

'All right, folks,' Jan said, looking them over. 'Looks like we're ready to roll. I don't have time for any inspirational speeches or extended briefings so I'll give it to you straight. The MPG is in the process of capturing Eden and the entire planet of Mars from WestHem control. What we are doing is an act of treason. Right now we have some combat troops that are trying to pen the WestHem marines inside of their base to keep them from opposing our capture. They're going to need help badly in a few minutes. We'll probably be forced to fire on some of those marines in order to prevent them from breaking out. This will be seen as pre-meditated murder by WestHem authorities. Anyone who does not wish to participate in this action, put your weapons down and step to the rear.'

There was a stunned silence for a moment as everyone comprehended what they were being told. Lisa had to run it through her circuits a few times to get it to clear. Capturing Eden? Capturing the entire planet Mars? Firing on WestHem marines? She waited for the punch line, concluding that it had to be a joke of some sort. No punch line came however. Jan was apparently serious. 'Holy shit,' she muttered, feeling a strange surge of fear and determination running through her. If there was going to be a fight to free Mars, she was going to be a part of it. She did not drop her weapon. Neither did anyone else.

'All right then,' Jan said, smiling. '1^st reserve platoon. Let's move it out! Triple time!' With that he turned and began jogging towards the door. His platoon of twenty-five men and women fell in behind him.

Lieutenant Rod Espinoza, a four-year member of the MPG, had been given the dubious honor of leading the Macarthur Avenue defenders. A simple platoon leader whose civilian job was head of security at a small office building, he rose to the occasion quite nicely despite his lack of previous combat experience and his usual reliance on his company commander for guidance. He had divided his forty troops into three sections. One squad was covering the south pedestrian entrance, one was covering the north, and two were covering the larger truck terminal in between. On the orders of Major Dealerman, these squads had held back, out of sight of the marine MP positions that guarded each entrance platform. Though they had aroused the curiosity of many a pedestrian walking by their shadowed forms - and more than one off-duty marine - the guards in their booths remained oblivious to their presence. That was about to change.

'Espinoza,' Major Dealerman's voice told him over the command link, 'move your people in and secure the platforms. Take those guards out without gunfire if possible. Disarm them and send them back into the base.'

'Copy,' he said simply.

'Information is that the marines are going to try a breakout within a few minutes. Once the platforms are secure, pull back to covering positions and get ready to drive them back in. Weapons are free, wartime rules of engagement are in effect.'

'I understand, Major,' he said assuredly, hiding the worry he felt. 'What about reinforcements?' he asked. 'We're pretty heavy on ammo but we're not gonna last long if they're determined.'

'Reinforcements are on the way,' Dealerman told him. 'We've scrapped together some mixed units of combatants and non-combatants. Put them to use as you see fit, but use them. They're all trained in weapons and tactics.'

'Yes sir,' he said a little dubiously.

'We'll get you some armor out there as soon as it's available. Don't let those marines out of that base. The entire operation depends on keeping them penned.'

'I understand,' he said.

As soon as the transmission ended he began giving orders to his squad leaders. Less than thirty seconds