Martian Balance
Copyright© 2025 by rlfj
Chapter 4: Consequences
Flag Admiral Office
Triad Naval Base, Mars Orbit
Wednesday, March 11, 2235
“Boss, we have a problem,” said Captain Hallee Berry
Henny Bongwater looked at her adjutant. “Hallee, the last captain who brought me problems is now an ensign.”
“Saturn Voyager is missing.”
That made Bongwater sit up. “Missing how?”
“We lost radio contact with Saturn Voyager yesterday afternoon, at 1405. We haven’t been able to reestablish communications through any means or frequencies.”
“Wasn’t she due here this week?”
Berry nodded. “In two days. She was to begin her deceleration burn this morning and we haven’t seen any sign of a burn either.”
“I don’t fucking like this, Hallee. I don’t like this at fucking all! We lost Fart Bomb last month. One ship is a tragedy but two is a pattern. What the fuck is going on?” She thought for a second. “She should be still approaching, just too fast. I want a goddamn screen out there looking for her.”
“I’ll order Task Force Orgasmo to sortie. They can be moving in fifteen minutes. By then we can have Traffic Control determine where to search.”
Bongwater added, “Order up a spare tanker or two. I want that ship found and stopped and examined. I don’t fucking like this, Hallee. I don’t fucking like it at all.”
“Yeah.” Hallee didn’t like it either.
Bridge
MSS Hard Bargain, Mars Orbit
Wednesday, March 11, 2235
Commodore Jason Orgasmo looked at the orders coming through his console. A second missing ship? Something was wrong! He tapped an icon and passed the message to his flag captain, Annie Hall.
Captain Hall reviewed the message from her command seat before looking over at Orgasmo. She was the captain of MSS Hard Bargain, a Harbaugh-class battlecruiser, one of the deadliest warships in the Solar System. Hard Bargain was also the centerpiece of Commodore Orgasmo’s task force. She was currently in orbit around Mars, near Phobos but not docked. The rest of the task force, three Belting-class anti-stealth ships, five Raptor-class stealth ships, and a Gigantic-class support ship, floated near her. Hall said, “We’re ordered to do a search-and-rescue.”
“And right away.” He tapped a comm link and said, “Meet me in my Flag Bridge now!” He had just sent out a comm to his flag staff. Turning back to Hall, Orgasmo said, “At least we aren’t docked. We don’t have to fucking wait to get people on board.”
“Probably why we were tasked,” commented Hall.
Orgasmo nodded and walked over to his Flag Bridge, above and behind but with a view to the main Bridge. Inside was a small conference table bolted to the deck, half a dozen tactical seats also bolted to the deck, and a repeater for the navigation, tactical, and communications screens from the regular Bridge. Captain Heller, his chief of staff, came in followed by two other advisers. He outlined the problem and said, “Contact the rest of the task force immediately. Tell them to pull their dicks out and get serious. I want to be on the way inside of ten minutes. Make it happen.”
Orgasmo left his staff contacting the other ships in his task force and went back to Hard Bargain’s Bridge. Hall looked over at him. “I’ve ordered Action Stations. I also sent a message to the rest of the task force, alerting them to a probable message from you.”
“Good enough. I’ll tell you what I just told my staff. I want to be hauling ass in ten minutes or less.”
“We’ll be ready. Is Carmen working on the fleet course?”
“Should be.” He jerked his head towards the Flag Bridge and made a ‘come along’ motion. “Let’s ask her.”
Commander Carmen Hunter already had a red dot on the flag navigation screen, and a group of white dots were pointed toward the red dot in an inverted cone. She tapped a few more icons and passed the information to the task force. Then she turned around to tell her commodore but stopped when she saw Orgasmo hold up a finger and turn away. Captain Hall spoke to Hunter instead.
The commodore spoke into his microphone. “Orgasmo here.”
It was Vice Admiral Bongwater. “Jason, it’s Henny. How are you doing?”
“Getting ready to launch. I told my homies I want to be underway in ten minutes or less. As soon as we can, we are launching, standard search and rescue drill. Anything new?”
“If we come up with anything, I’ll pass it along. I don’t fucking like this, Jason. This is the second fucking ship we’ve lost in as many months, and Saturn Voyager isn’t a Navy tanker. She’s a goddamn cruise ship with two thousand passengers and a thousand crew!”
“If anybody can, we’ll find her,” Orgasmo said.
“I have a tanker sortieing to join up with you. Spend the fuel.”
“Affirmative!”
“I’ll let you get to it. Comm me either way. Bongwater out.”
“Orgasmo out.”
The commodore looked at his chief of staff. Heller nodded and said, “All ships have reported in. We’re ready, boss.”
“Pass the word to buckle up and prepare for acceleration. Let’s find out what the fuck is going on. We launch in one minute ... mark!”
“Roger, one minute.”
Bridge
MSS Hard Bargain, Saturn - Mars Transit Approach
Thursday, March 12, 2235
Task Force Orgasmo discovered Saturn Voyager twelve hours after beginning the search. They were aided by the fact that until two days before, Saturn Voyager’s path was known precisely. She had been in touch with Triad Naval Base from the time she left Rhea, and without her engines burning, she was coasting along a carefully defined orbital path. The task force had adopted a widely dispersed formation, with each ship in a mathematically optimized position so their passive and active sensors had the maximum probability of finding the cruise ship. One of the Beltings, Sugiyoto, found Saturn Voyager at 0346. The Raptor-class Happy Vulture was sent ahead of the task force at high speed for a reconnaissance run. She would be refueled when the rest of the task force caught up to her.
Captain Hall was sitting next to Commodore Orgasmo and Captain Heller when the skipper of Happy Vulture called. Commander Joe Walters commed the flagship and asked to speak to the commodore. “Orgasmo speaking.”
“Walters, Happy Vulture. It’s Saturn Voyager.”
“And?”
“She’s dead.”
It was what the entire Flag and Bridge staff feared. “How?” asked Orgasmo.
“We’ll need to dock and check. I did a flyby in order to check first, and we’ll need to reverse course to catch up. Regardless, she took a shitload of laser hits, heavy lasers. Bridge and Engineering are gone, and at least one laser hit Life Support. She’s doing a slow roll, and the thermal sensors show temperatures are dropping. We couldn’t contact her by radio or laser. We’ll need to rendezvous and send in the MEF,” reported Walters.
“Shit! Reverse your course and rendezvous with the task force and Saturn Voyager. I’ll pass along the news to Triad.”
“Sorry, boss. It’s not what we wanted.”
“Orgasmo out.”
“Walters out.”
The commodore looked around. As soon as he was off the comm, the room erupted with questions, all related to who would have fired on a Martian cruise ship. Orgasmo waved them to silence. “Send a message to Triad. We have located Saturn Voyager and are maneuvering to rendezvous. Nothing else. Nothing about laser blasts. I am not putting Mars on a fucking war footing until we know more. I want every ship in the task force on high alert. Before we rendezvous, we are going to be at General Quarters. I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but we will be ready.”
“Yeah,” said Hall. The rest of the room echoed the flag captain moments later.
Bridge
MSS Hard Bargain, Saturn - Mars Transit Approach
Friday, March 13, 2235
Friday the Thirteenth was considered as unlucky on Mars as it was in WestHem. Commodore Orgasmo couldn’t laugh it off. His task force had rendezvoused with Saturn Voyager and was travelling in formation with her. A team of engineers had been sent over, along with every Martian Expeditionary Force soldier available. The wreck of Saturn Voyager was lifeless.
In the decade following the Revolutionary Wars, there was an intense though polite discussion about the future of the Martian Planetary Guard. The Martian Constitution specifically stated that the MPG was a defensive force only. During the wars, MPG Spec Ops troops were stationed on every Martian Navy ship, along with Martian Planetary Intelligence operatives. After the Wars, as it became apparent that the cease fire was holding and peace was at hand, questions were raised. Why were MPG soldiers flying around the Solar System when they were defensive only? And why did Mars even have an army, when the Navy could defend them just fine?
These were considered legitimate questions. When it was created after the Jupiter War, the MPG was a small defensive militia designed to back up the WestHem Marines in case EastHem came back. Special Operations was a small element of the MPG, Special Forces troopers whose training included how to capture ships. Spec Ops proved invaluable during the Wars, both on Mars and while attached to the new Martian Navy.
Once the Wars were over, the MPG found itself much, much larger than what was needed to defend Mars. The Martian Navy was decades ahead of Earthling technology and moving even further ahead. The MPG was almost completely absent in the final war, Martian Vengeance, with ninety-nine percent of the WestHem casualties caused by the Martian Navy. The only ground combat action was the capture of Marine survivors near New Pittsburgh, with zero casualties in the MPG.
What did Mars need an army for? For several years there was a vigorous discussion about what form the MPG should take. It was decided to go back to the origins of the Martian Planetary Guard, a part-time defense force with a small full-time cadre. And what about the Spec Ops troops assigned to the Navy, which still wanted the MPG on their ships? It was decided that the Spec Ops troops assigned to the Navy would be split from the MPG and become the Martian Expeditionary Force. The MEF would recruit from the MPG special forces community, and they would be full-time, not reserves.
This was thought to be a sensible solution for the future of the MPG and was quite popular throughout Mars. The MPG was a popular institution and in the first two wars were critical in keeping Mars free. Reserves would train weekly, larger groups would train monthly, and every year there would be a total call-up and major training exercises would be held. Meanwhile, the Navy would keep their MPG soldiers, just called the MEF. If an MPG soldier wanted to serve full time and get off planet, all they needed to do was qualify for Spec Ops and apply. Everybody considered this a good common sense idea; good common sense was a high compliment on Mars.
Now the MEF was suited up and searching the Saturn Voyager. Every compartment was broken into and checked, but it was hopeless. When life support on the stricken ship failed, any survivors slowly died of cold and lack of oxygen. Now they were reduced to taking DNA samples of the bodies they could find. When bodies were absent, such as in the areas the lasers had ripped through, there were mostly just blood stains; blood samples were taken. They also took any Bridge, Engineering, and personal recordings that could be recovered, and portions of the ship were cut off and transferred to Humongous, the Gigantic-class support ship filled with fuel, ammunition, and spare parts. Martian engineers back at Triad and Phobos could analyze what had happened.
Then, finally, the decision had to be made as to what was to be done with the lifeless hulk. The engines were destroyed, and she was still headed towards the inner Solar System uncontrolled. Nothing short of a fleet of space tugs and tankers could bring it back. After discussing it with Admiral Bongwater, four nuclear warheads were offloaded from Hard Bargain and attached to Saturn Voyager. The task force refueled and then headed back to Mars, blowing the warheads and atomizing the cruise ship and her dead passengers and crew.
Martian Capital Building, Room 3141
New Pittsburgh, Mars
Friday, March 13, 2235
James Bonghit looked around the table. He was the Governor of the Republic of Mars, the highest elected official on Mars.
As always, he wondered how the hell he ended up as the Governor. He started out as a boy in Fort Laura, one of the newest Martian cities, created during the second Revolutionary War. He’d like to brag that he knew the founders of the city, built following the destruction of the bridge over Chasm 268, but even he wasn’t that much of a lying shit. His family had moved to Ironhead when he was only two and Fort Laura began long before he was born.
When he was a teenager, James Bonghit became interested in politics. He started a protest blog about job training for immigrants, that they needed more training to be capable of meeting Martian standards of education. It was well written, and several politicians replied to him and engaged in an intelligent discussion. He was invited to join several different political groups and joined several when he turned seventeen. He continued writing his blog as he graduated from high school and went to Eden University, where he met his wife. Karen was a good-looking brunette who ran around naked, and he really thought that was just a wonderful thing. She looked damn good without any clothes on!
Meanwhile, he stayed involved in politics and was more than a little embarrassed when Karen found out what he was typing on his tablet late at night. She had wondered if he was looking at porn and laughed when he admitted it was political. She gave him a fast blowjob and told him to keep writing. They had four children by the time he had worked his way up through the Legislature and ran for Governor.
Bonghit’s political views were very much middle-of-the-road. As far as he was concerned, if it wasn’t broken, don’t fix it. Mars had worked out a system that seemed to give people the best chance of achieving their personal ambitions. He had no interest in screwing that up. Now WestHem had messed that all up. What the fuck were they up to?
Karen gave him a blowjob before he went to the office that morning and promised him another when he got home. “Then we can have some real fun!” He had laughed before heading to the Capital Building. He did a little work in his office before heading to the conference room.
Seated around the table was the Planetary Security Group, or at least those currently in New Pittsburgh, the capital. It was a relatively small group and while it had members of the Cabinet, it was oriented solely to discuss security-related items. Many considered it the ‘War’ Cabinet. It consisted of the Governor and the Lieutenant-Governor, the commander of the Martian Planetary Guard, the Director of Martian Planetary Intelligence, the Planetary Security Adviser, and the heads of the lower and upper chambers of the Martian Legislature. The commander of the Martian Navy was also a member of the PSG, and her presence was virtual. She was in her office in Triad Naval Base, and she was attending the meeting via comm screen.
“How definite is this threat, Henny?” asked Waldevar Hummingbird, the Lieutenant-Governor. “Why would fucking WestHem do this?”
Vice Admiral Henny Bongwater replied, “That’s two different questions. I think this is a damn serious threat. I have already issued orders to the entire fleet and given them as much information as I am giving you. No tanker, freighter, or cruise ship is to travel fucking anywhere without an armed escort! Rear Admiral Haynes in Whiting City even had to issue a recall to several ships already boosting for Mars. They had to return to Saturn, and refuel, and he then ordered them to convoy back to Mars with a heavy escort of Raptors and Beltings.”
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