wife. That confusion came to an end when they scanned through the radio frequencies and happened across the MP force's tactical channel. Upon discovering that Martian troops were invading the base, their grumbling had turned to rage that had quickly been turned upon the six members of the off-load crew. Guns had been pulled and Brett and his people had been ordered into the crew quarters.
'Sit the fuck down there!' Ordered Braxton, pointing at the floor next to the folded-up sleeping racks. 'If any one of you green motherfuckers so much as twitches I'm gonna kill you!'
Braxton kept the two security men with him, putting the three of them between the Martians and the hatch. Their guns remained in their hands while they monitored the developing situation on their com-links. Brett was able to overhear enough information to gather that the MPG had attacked the base in force and were overwhelming the base security teams.
What the hell was the meaning of it? he wondered silently, trying to figure things out. Obviously the attack was related to the events going on in the capital but what was the purpose of attacking TNB? Whatever it was he was very fearful as he watched the faces of his captors. They were scared stiff and they were holding guns on them. As reports of company strength incursions moving towards the docks surfaced, they became even more nervous.
Finally came the order for all WestHem forces to surrender.
'Surrender?' Braxton yelled in disbelief. 'What the fuck are they talking about? Surrender the base to greenies?'
'What's gonna happen to us now?' one of the security men enquired. 'Are the greenies gonna kill us all?'
'What about the ship?' asked the other one. 'What about the torpedoes on board?'
Braxton ignored their questions, fixing his eyes on Brett and the others sitting next to him. His gaze was murderous as he raised his pistol and pointed it at them. He began to walk forward.
'Your fuckin' people did this,' he said, his finger firmly on the trigger of the gun. 'Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill every fuckin' one of you green bastards!'
To Brett the 3mm hole at the end of the pistol looked as big as the tunnels the MPG had used to infiltrate the base. He swallowed nervously, staring back into the furious madness of Braxton's face.
'Sir,' he finally said, fighting to keep his voice calm and reasonable. 'We are WestHem naval personnel. We are not MPG members. If you kill us you'll be committing cold-blooded murder and you'll be court-martialed for it when this is over. Don't do anything rash. We didn't attack the base. We're spacers, just like you are.'
'You're fuckin' greenies!' Braxton yelled, stepping closer and training the pistol directly on Brett's forehead. 'How dare you say you're just like me! You are lowlife pieces of shit and your people just killed
'Commander,' Brett said, 'we may be of Martian descent, but we are WestHem naval personnel. We are not enemy soldiers. We are not terrorists. If you kill us you will not be a hero, you'll go to prison for the rest of your life. Think this through, sir!'
'Commander,' said one of the security men, who looked even more nervous than Brett felt, if that were possible. 'He's right. They may be greenies but they're spacers in our navy. You can't kill them.'
'C'mon, commander,' The other security man chimed in. 'Put the gun down. Think about what you're doing.'
Braxton took a deep breath, his hand trembling a little on the barrel of the pistol but not wavering in its aim. 'You're the little green prick that's always making me look bad in front of the captain,' he said. 'I bet you just love what's going on here, don't you? I bet you just love that your terrorist buddies have taken over this base.'
'Sir,' Brett said, 'I'm just as appalled by what's going on as you are.' This was not exactly true, he was more confused than appalled, but it seemed that a little white lie was appropriate under the circumstances.
'Yeah, right,' Braxton said, but he seemed a little calmer now. Slowly he lowered the gun down, not holstering it, but at least not pointing it at anyone anymore.
Brett let himself exhale a brief sigh of relief, aware that he had come within a bare inch or so of death.
Just then an announcement was paged across the ship's intercom, which had been accessed by the main control computer.
'This is Admiral Rosewood,' a voice said. 'Greenie troops have attacked this base in large numbers and we have been forced to surrender it to them. All ships in dock will remain sealed for the time being. We will delay allowing the terrorists access to them as long as we can. The highest-ranking officer on each vessel carrying nuclear weapons is ordered to disable those weapons as quickly as possible using the computer scrambling procedure. I repeat, the highest-ranking officer on each vessel carrying nuclear weapons is ordered to disable those weapons as quickly as possible. These weapons must not fall into the hands of the greenies in a state in which they can be detonated. Scramble them immediately! When the greenies do gain access to your ship, you are instructed to surrender peacefully to them and to obey their instructions. Do not attempt to fight or flee them. God help us all in this dark hour.'
There was no further from the admiral or anyone else.
Braxton left the six Martians under the watch of the two security personnel and headed up the ladders to the torpedo room. It took him less than ten minutes to permanently destroy the detonation computers on the weapons.
Brian could not believe the day he was having. He had awakened early that morning expecting nothing more than another day on the streets of Eden, answering calls for assistance and taking crime reports. Now, with lunchtime barely passed, he was in a completely different uniform, sitting in the cockpit of a Mosquito, and circling two thousand meters above the MPG deployment area on the edge of the city. His laser cannon was set to wartime charging level and his wing pods were each holding a 1000-kilogram free-fall penetration bomb. Mars was rebelling against WestHem. He still couldn't believe it, was still not quite sure just how he felt about it.
The surrender and cease fire had taken place less than an hour before. Down below he could see the rows of MPG tanks and APCs that were forming up. The call-up was still underway of course but better than seventy percent of the Eden division soldiers had already reported for duty. More than a hundred armored vehicles were now poised and ready for action, their task to march on the marine barracks and gain entry to it. The APCs each contained a squad of heavily armed and bio-suited infantry troops. The tanks would support them at the entrances. Brian and his gunner were but one of more than thirty aircraft that were circling above in tight formations. Their task would be to support the breach from the air, which meant that they would bomb the living shit out of the barracks if any harm came to the troops trying to enter it.
'I feel like a sitting duck up here circling like this,' said Colton, his gunner. 'Those anti-air emplacements on the edge of the barracks have probably got a lock on us right now. Those are heavy caliber guns. If they hit us, we won't have to worry about ejecting. There won't be anything left to eject.'
'There's only four emplacements,' Brian said soothingly, although he was a little nervous as well. 'They may get four of us but they'll be dead before they can recharge. I don't think even marines are that stupid.'
'I think maybe you're giving them too much credit,' Colton replied.
They circled in silence for a few more minutes, the engine humming at only a few RPMs above idle, the fuel and oxygen gauges steady. They could stay up nearly five hours at this rate of consumption.
'Where's this all gonna lead, Brian?' Colton said softly, breaking the silence. 'Did Whiting just dig herself a hole and pull us in after her?'
Brian made a quick check out the cockpit window, checking the position of the Mosquito on his wing. He then scanned his eyes over his instrument panel, checking the readings. He then returned his eyes forward, looking out at the armor that was assembling below. 'She might have,' he allowed. 'But we all got the speech before we suited up today, didn't we? We all had the opportunity to back out of this thing. If we're going down a hole it's not because she dragged us in. We jumped in after her.'
The Martian troops began to move in a few minutes later. From the wasteland side of the marine base, the tanks and APCs rolled across the sand at half speed, their treads kicking up a huge cloud of dust that was slowly blown east by the prevailing winds. The Mosquitoes moved even closer to the base, circling virtually right above it, where they could provide mass bombing and laser fire support if needed. The tanks held back a half a kilometer from the airlocks, their laser cannons charged, their eighty millimeter main guns locked and loaded with high explosive, penetrating shells. The APCs continued on, not coming to a halt until they were less than a hundred meters from the doors of the airlocks. Their ramps swung down and the troops off loaded, quickly forming up into
