were nearest to, readying their own weapons. The SAW gunner racked a round into his chamber and gripped the handles of his weapon. The squad sergeant, a twenty-six year old delivery truck driver for an Agricorp subsidiary company, took a quick look himself just to confirm that what his private had reported was true, and then pointed his own weapon outward.
'Okay, guys,' he said, his voice betraying no nervousness. 'Looks like the Earthlings are making their move. Get ready to light them up when I give the word. I'll get on the link to command.'
As the airlock slowly ground along its track, the sergeant talked to his lieutenant, who was in a trench six hundred meters to the southwest. The lieutenant then talked to his captain, who was in an APC a half a kilometer further west of that. The captain then told the rest of his command and then switched to the artillery channel, telling the three batteries of mobile guns that they had available for their operation to stand by for a mission.
'You know the drill, guys,' the captain announced to everyone over the tactical net. 'As soon as they start to emerge from the airlock, start putting some fire on them. If they continued to advance, we'll plaster them with arty. If that doesn't drive them back inside, the tanks and the APCs will move up and tear into them.'
The Eden MPG forces, for security reasons, had no idea what was going on up on Triad. Therefore they had no reason to think that the airlock was going to be used as it was intended: to launch a spacecraft. Everyone was braced for the rush of marines to come pouring out of the large doorway, probably in at least battalion strength, possibly in regimental strength.
It was the squad sergeant that was first to identify the true nature of their enemy. Instead of the forms of hundreds of biosuited marines, he saw the sleek shape of a modern C-12 surface to orbit lifter when the door finally opened enough to allow a visual. 'That's a fuckin C-12,' he yelled in bewilderment. 'Hold your fire.' He keyed up the command net. 'There are no troops in that airlock,' he reported. 'It's a C-12 lifter. I repeat, a charlie-one-two surface to orbit lifter is the only thing in that airlock!'
His report was quickly passed up the chain of command and the order to hold fire was quickly passed back down. This took less than thirty seconds to accomplish, during which time the C-12 utilized its rear maneuvering thrusters and began to edge out of the lock towards the launching area a kilometer away.
Major Chin, who was in the base command post, instinctively wanted his tank crews to move in and blow the living crap out of. But then he had second thoughts. The C-12 was undoubtedly full of hydrogen and liquid oxygen, enough to blast it free of the Martian atmosphere and elevate it up to geosynchronous orbit. If the tank rounds or the lasers were to ignite this mixture in just the right way, the resulting explosion would wipe out a good portion of the airlock complex that the craft had emerged from. MPG doctrine was not to cause needless casualties to the enemy, especially not when the base that they occupied might be useful to your own forces after you took it. He quickly contacted General Jackson for instructions.
'A C-12?' Jackson said, frowning a little. He did not, however, seem particularly surprised by this. 'Just one?'
'Yes sir,' Chin said, looking at his tactical display. 'I have no idea what they're hoping to accomplish by launching spacecraft.'
'There's a special forces operation taking place on Triad,' Jackson said, figuring it was safe enough to let that particular cat out of the bag since it was well underway now. 'They're probably trying to get some marines up to reinforce the navy forces up there. We can't allow them to dock.'
Major Chin smiled at the information he had just been given. Special forces up on Triad? Naval forces engaged? That could only mean that the MPG was trying to take the naval base and the ships at anchor there. He silently wished them luck and then returned to business. 'My tank crews have a bead on it,' he told Jackson. 'Should we try to take it out without hitting the fuel tanks? We could probably put a few rounds low and take out the gear.'
'No,' Jackson said, shaking his head. 'Too risky. Let it proceed unmolested to the launch pad and lift off. We'll take care of it once it's in the air.'
'Yes General,' he said.
The C-12 rolled slowly across the tarmac of the exterior base, its occupants completely unaware that hundreds of Martian eyes were peering at it, that dozens of anti-tank lasers were pointed at it, that a battery of artillery guns were tracking it. It was painted in Martian camouflage colors, patterns of red, like all Mars assigned ships and it was filled to overfull with 340 angry marines packing M-24s, grenade launchers, and SAWs. The marines had been hurriedly briefed on what the situation in Triad was. The greenies were trying to take the base. The greenies! They were outraged by the very thought of this and they were eager to land on the base and kick some green ass. They could also show the navy pukes a thing or two about defense while they were at it.
Five minutes after leaving the airlock, the spacecraft rolled to the launching platform and stopped. The platform latched onto the ship and lifted it to the textbook sixty-degree launch angle. Inside the passenger compartment the marines sat in continued comfort thanks to the inertial damping system. They felt the thrum as the engines slowly cycled up and then dropped back. They waited, gripping their weapons. In ninety minutes they would be docked and deploying. The greenies were going to get a little more than they bargained for.
The Eden area regional command building for the MPG was located six kilometers west of the main base in the unsavory neighborhood of Helvetia Heights. Even in times of absolute peace it was necessary to guard the building with a full platoon of armed MPG soldiers and to escort the workers to and from the tram stations lest they be molested by the gangs that ruled the streets here. On this day however, while the building was rapidly filling with recently called up MPG workers, a full company of infantry had been sent over from the main base and were now deployed around and inside of the building and all the way to the nearest tram station six blocks away. The street thugs were smart enough to keep well clear of the area. The MPG soldiers did not seem to be in a playful mood.
Inside the building the excitement was electric as word was passed about recent events at the capital and the marine barracks. Rumors flew in all directions. On the sixth floor was an office labeled 'REGIONAL AIR DEFENSE'. Inside this office were fifteen technicians, many of them women, who were monitoring the airspace in a ten thousand square kilometer range around Eden. Orders had already been sent out to the civilian spaceport to halt all flights to or from Eden until further notice. For the first time since the Jupiter War, there was not a single craft in the air or in transit to or from the surface.
The air defense commander, Robert Vendall, had not been briefed in about the events that were now taking place on the planet but he, like most of the people in the building, had long since glimmered that a revolution was now under way. As such, when he received a very powerful order from General Jackson himself, he did not question it and was proud to be the man to carry it out. He in fact had every intention of forcing any man or woman from the room if they hesitated for an instant in following his commands.
'Section four and six,' he said into his terminal, speaking to the controllers that manned, or in this case, womanned, the tracking terminals for that particular section of the city. 'A C-12 will be launching from EMB in less than five minutes. Charge your lasers and lock onto it as it ascends.'
'Yes sir,' came the duel reply. The women spoke commands into their screens.
On the northern fringes of Eden, just outside the city perimeter, two fixed anti-aircraft laser sites came to life. Their covers slid open and the stubby barrels of their 150mm cannons pointed upward. The lasers charged up, an operation that took about fifteen seconds, receiving the power from a cable that ran from Eden's main grid. If this supply were to fail, something that could happen in time of war, each laser had a self-contained hydrogen powered generator beneath it. The barrels swung back and forth restlessly as their human controllers, peering through infrared magnifiers that were attached to the top of the laser and down linked to their screen, searched for a target.
The pilot of the C-12 received his launch order. He ran the engines up to one hundred percent thrust and the entire craft began to shake as hydrogen was burned and expelled with great force out the back of the craft. It shot quickly up the launch platform and streaked into the red sky. Inside, the marines watched the ground drop rapidly away below them as they flew out over the greenhouse complexes and the frozen wastelands of Mars.
'We're coming to get you, you fuckin greenies,' a young corporal yelled out triumphantly.
His call was met by enthusiastic cheers from his comrades.
'I have the C-12,' the first controller said calmly. And so she did. The infrared plume from the spacecraft's engines was glowing brighter than the sun.
'Me too,' said her counterpart on the other gun.
'Lock onto them,' Vendall ordered.
