Greenies

immediately and give me a short, concise report on whatever the hell you're talking about. Start with what C-12 we're discussing here and work your way forward in chronological order from there. Do you understand me?'

'Yes sir, I'm sorry, sir!' he barked, seeming to take a deep breath. 'The first C-12 full of the marines headed for TNB launched normally six minutes ago. It went up on a normal path until it reached thirteen thousand, six hundred and seventy meters. It was sixty-eight kilometers downrange. The flight path was right on the money sir and then...' He shook his head. 'And then it just disappeared from our screen. The IFF display went dark and it was gone. No distress calls, no nothing. We've been trying to contact it ever since with no result.'

'I see,' Sega answered, lowering his head a little, knowing now the obvious, stupid mistake he'd just made that had killed 350 men. 'I suppose you've contacted Eden tower for assistance?'

'Yes sir,' he said, nodding rapidly. 'Its SOP. We did it within a minute of losing contact. They said they'd tracked it on infrared for the same amount of time we did and then it just disappeared at the same time we have. They even yelled at us for not filing a flight plan or letting them know we were launching.'

That had been on Sega's orders. He hadn't trusted the Martian civilian controllers. He'd been right not to. 'I understand, Lieutenant. Have you halted the launch of the second C-12?'

'Of course, sir.' he said, and then paled. 'Is that okay? I mean we don't know what happened and we have to launch some Hovers to go look for...'

'That's perfect, Lieutenant. Initiate your SAR procedures and continue to hold the remaining C-12 until we find out what's going on.'

'Yes sir.'

Sega figured he already knew what was going on. The missing piece of the puzzle had just fallen neatly into place. His suspicion was confirmed a minute later.

'I have General Jackson from the Martian Planetary Guard on the line,' his computer announced. 'It is a highest priority communication attempt. Do you wish to speak to him or would you like me to refer him to the mail server?'

General Jackson, Sega thought sourly. A man who he'd held in contempt since his appointment to the leadership of the MPG when it had been formed. A man he'd considered to be no more than a figurehead who knew a few military terms, a has-been soldier in charge of a large group of men and women that were thought to be no more than a speed bump in their role as defenders of Mars. Had he planned all of this? It seemed unlikely. Could he see reason? 'Put him on screen.'

It took only a second before the dark black face was staring at him. 'General Sega,' Jackson greeted politely. 'Nice to talk to you.'

Sega decided to take a stern approach. 'Jackson,' he demanded, 'are your forces responsible for the loss of one of my C-12s a few minutes ago?'

Jackson seemed to smile. 'Yes they are, General. Your reinforcements for Triad Naval Base were shot down by the anti-aircraft lasers that defend the City of Eden. Any further attempts to launch spacecraft or aircraft of any type from that base will be dealt with the same way. I suggest you stand down your troops.'

'I have rank over you, General,' Sega said. 'Your little band of wanna-be soldiers are subservient to federal forces under the constitution. I order you to cease all hostilities immediately on Triad and everywhere else. If you refuse my order you will stand trial for...'

'General,' Jackson interrupted, shaking his head in amusement, 'surely you have figured out what is going on here. Mars is in a state of revolt against WestHem. You are not in command of me, you are an enemy soldier and I'm advising you to halt all flights from your base. If you launch a single vehicle from there, it will be shot down. And before you ask, yes I am well aware of the consequences of my actions.'

'Jackson, listen to me,' Sega said reasonably, 'I need to launch hovers for search and rescue of the downed C-12.'

'Not a single vehicle, General,' Jackson repeated. 'The C-12 was shot down from an altitude of nearly seventeen thousand meters. Eden air defense personnel tracked it all the way in. It came down without power and struck hard. Survivors are out of the question. And as for that cute idea you have about sending your marines out through the airlocks to take my base from the wastelands, forget it. I have a battalion of armored infantry deployed right outside of your base, covering all potential exits. They have heavy artillery support and in about fifteen more minutes they'll have air support as well from our Mosquitoes.'

'My men outnumber yours,' Sega said. 'They will be coming to take your base.'

'Then they will be slaughtered needlessly,' Jackson told him. 'You have no tanks, no anti-tank weapons, no significant air support. All you have are a bunch of jarheads with guns who will be forced to come out of predictable avenues of advance. Keep your people inside. Stand down your troops and await further developments. There's nothing you can do to help. We planned things this way you see.'

'Jackson,' Sega prophesized. 'You'll be executed for this.'

Jackson simply shrugged. 'Whatever will be will be,' he told him. 'But that's not your concern. I've given my advice and I suggest you take it. In the meantime, I've got a war to fight.' He gave him an ominous grin. 'I'll be talking to you soon, General.'

With that, he signed off, the image on the screen being replaced by his schematic of Triad once more. Without surprise he saw that the Martians had broken out of the main tunnel there.



The MPs guarding the main gate had the advantage of knowing exactly where their enemy was, in what numbers they were in, and what their plan most likely was. They knew that two squads and at least one battalion would push towards them from three directions, undoubtedly all at once. For many groups of trained soldiers this might have been enough despite the numerical and weapon superiority of the enemy. But the MPs were not trained as soldiers, they were trained primarily as a security force for the base, and while General Sega had issued orders on where they were to deploy in general, it was up to the on-scene officers to decide where at that spot to put the men. They thought that they had decided well by positioning the troops in groups behind planters, MP carts, and other obstacles facing all of the known egress points of the enemy. This seemed like it would keep the men safe from deadly crossfires. On the surface the defensive plan looked good; underneath, it was a deadly mistake.

On a given signal the two steel doors adjacent to the main gate were breached by primacord charges and came crashing to the steel floor. The MPs opened fire into the holes trying to drive the invaders back in, trying to pin them down as they'd pinned down the main battalion. The MPG troops inside held their rifle fire, returning fire only with short bursts from their SAWs while the men armed with grenade launchers on their M-20s crept forward as far as was safe on their bellies. They marked the position of the flashes and aimed targeting lasers towards the obstacles.

Horishito, one of the grenadiers under Lon's command was among the first to fire. Bullets pinged all around him and tracers from the friendly SAW behind him streaked less than two feet over his head as he concentrated on the MP cart in the main foyer area where the flashes were emanating from. His body was flooded with adrenaline and he was seriously wondering if he would live through the next two minutes but he went forward nonetheless. He pointed the targeting laser on his M-24 at the cart and sent it out. The reading flashed before his eyes, seeming to float in the air courtesy of his combat goggles. 93 meters.

He flipped the selector switch on his weapon to the grenade setting. A red targeting recticle appeared in his goggles. He centered it in the air about a meter above the cart.

'Ninety-three meter air burst,' he said into his throat microphone, which was set to computer command mode. When his instruction was logged, he spoke a single word and switched it back to communications mode.

'Hoary, taking a shot,' he told Lon.

'Weapons are free,' Lon replied. 'Get the fuckers.'

He pushed the fire button on his weapon and it kicked harshly against his right shoulder as the 50mm high explosive fragmentation grenade was shot out of the stubby barrel below the M-24s main barrel. The grenade exploded precisely over the top of the cart and the weapons firing behind it went instantly silent. He inched forward some more, focusing on a planter where another group of flashes was emanating from. He pushed the target laser and began setting up the next shot.

From all three locations where MPG troops were facing the MPs from tunnels or corridor entrances, grenades