Chapter 3: Railroads

Martian Capital Building

New Pittsburgh, Mars

Wednesday, June 17, 2150

“General Jackson, Admiral Belting, and Colonel Slackass it is good to see you again. I assume you have seen the latest pronouncements from WestHem.” Governor Tesla asked. “It’s been roughly three months since Martian Justice. What have you learned since then?”

The meeting was in a secure room in the Capital. It consisted of the Planetary Security Group, composed of the Governor and Lieutenant-Governor, the Commander of the Martian Planetary Guard, the Director of Planetary Intelligence, the Planetary Security Adviser, and the heads of the lower and upper chambers of the Martian Legislature. Technically Admiral Matthew Belting, as head of the Martian Navy, reported to General Kevin Jackson, commander of the MPG; realistically he operated as a coequal. Colonel Marcus Slackass was the DPI.

The three men looked at each other briefly and nodded to each other. “You first, Matt,” said Jackson.

Belting nodded and looked at the Governor. “The Navy is in relatively good shape. As you know, we lost one of our Owls in the main convoy attack during Martian Justice. That brings our count of stealth ships down to eight. All eight have been able to dock and refit since the war. We currently have Bastard in Earth orbit monitoring WestHem and EastHem shipping and communications. Middle Finger is in space dock preparing to transit to Earth to replace Bastard. The other six are in Mars orbit doing squadron maneuvers and working up against our Seattles. All eight have been upgraded to Improved status and have received the Mod Two torpedo packages. The packages have received improved stealth treatments, both to their exteriors and their interiors. A standard WestHem Owl carries twelve torpedoes. An Improved-Owl Mod Two carries twenty-nine.”

Around the table several low whistles sounded. Governor Tesla smiled and said, “Very impressive. And the Seattles?”

“We went through the WestHem wish lists and created an Improved package for them as well. Because of their size and their grav plates, we can’t hide them all that well, but they have received what stealth improvements we could apply. More importantly, the anti-torpedo lasers have all been doubled, and their fire control has been massively increased. They are a defensive asset; we’ll keep them in orbit and use them with our space fighters and attack craft. Two have been sent to Rhea to be part of the defense there. The other six are doing workups with the I-Owls here in Mars orbit.”

The Lieutenant-Governor, the former mayor of Procter, Hardass Wallenby, asked, “Are the Earthlings aware of what we’ve done with their Owls and Seattles?”

“That’s more a question for Colonel Slackass,” replied Belting. “Colonel?”

Slackass made a waffling motion with his right hand. “Yes and no. We had two small convoy actions where the basic I-Owls simply destroyed the WestHem defenders, and as far as we can tell, they haven’t a clue as to what happened to them. With the main Martian Justice convoy, they know something happened, but not what. For instance, they know the count of torpedoes was greater than what six Owls could launch, but they have several different theories. Maybe the count was wrong or maybe we had more than six Owls in the attack. Also, they believe they destroyed more than just Vibrator. The original torpedo packages weren’t completely stealthed, and they hit several of those. Because of the need to continue their transit, they couldn’t investigate and look for debris.”

“Huh.”

“What about EastHem? Do they know what we are up to?” asked Tesla.

Slackass made another waffling motion. “Maybe. For one thing, they have assets in Denver, more than we have by far. By now they must certainly have learned what WestHem thinks. I am also sure they have assets here that we haven’t caught. They send some every month in their immigrant shipments. Some we catch and send back, a few we’ve caught and turned, and others are doing what they do. We have a natural protection in that we don’t let any Earth-born residents join the MPG or the Navy or any of the defense contractors. Still, they probably know something, but not in the details.” Then he added, “We are working up a program with the Navy to tap EastHem’s mail like we did with WestHem’s. We might find out more from that.” Admiral Belting nodded.

“Thank you. General, your turn. What’s with the MPG?”

“The Guard is in good shape. For instance, though our casualties were higher in Martian Justice than in Martian Hammer, we didn’t have any instances of troops or units retreating, which we did have in the first war. Morale is very high. The same goes with the air units. They had new and improved Mosquitoes and a new Hummingbird bomber, and we had total air superiority from the start. WestHem had a few new tricks, but we were able to work around them.” He looked around the table. “What’s with MarsTrans? How long before the railroads are back to work?”

Tesla and a few of the others grimaced and looked like they were eating a spoonful of waste effluent. “It’s not great, General. WestHem really did a number on the railroads. I’ll have the head of MarsTrans contact you, but the main equatorial line was cut in innumerable places. The New Pittsburgh - Eden line was virtually destroyed. Current plans are to reroute traffic from New Pittsburgh through Dow to Eden when those lines are rebuilt. In the long run, they plan to build additional lines between the cities and not rely on the main equatorial line for everything. That will take years.”

“Understood, Governor. Have Bill Hightower call me. If we can help, I want to know.” Hightower was the manager of MarsTrans, the intercity Martian railroad system.

Chasm 268

New Pittsburgh - Eden Rail Line

Friday, June 19, 2150

Walker Stevens walked down the ramp from the Hummingbird followed by Marty Mickelson, along with their pilot. Stevens was a reporter for MarsGroup news and Mickelson was his cameraman and editor. Everybody on Mars knew that Walker Stevens had been a dissident in EastHem sentenced to involuntary emigration to Mars and had started out cleaning ghetto apartments before getting a job with MarsGroup. He had climbed the ranks at MarsGroup doing some excellent reporting during Operation Martian Justice and was now considered a rising star at the Martian Internet company.

Less than a handful of Martians, all in Martian Planetary Intelligence, knew that Stevens was a WestHem intelligence operative who had been sent to Mars via EastHem, and that for three years he had been reporting back to Denver what he had learned on Mars. At the end of the war, the MPI had picked him up and turned him. Walker much preferred the idea of staying on Mars as a reporter and occasional double agent versus spending the rest of his life in Dow prison.

“Déjà vu all over again,” commented Marty. The two men had done a major reporting piece during the war about what had happened at Chasm 268. During the first days of the war, WestHem AA-71s had been launched against the Martian rail system to interdict ground transportation and isolate the Martian cities. Although it turned out to be almost a suicide mission, the attacks worked, and the railroads were cut across Mars.

The worst attack occurred on the New Pittsburgh - Eden line, where the WestHem attack planes arrived at the instant a passenger train was crossing a bridged chasm. The train was destroyed, killing everybody aboard, and the bridge collapsed; eight-hundred-forty-six passengers and MarsTrans people had died, the greatest civilian death toll since the Jupiter War in 2131.

“What goes around, comes around,” replied Stevens. “On the other hand, when we were here then, it was a story about loss. Now it’s a story about rebuilding.”

“And that’s the slant you are going for?”

“Maybe. I don’t like going into a story with the ending already written. I’ll need to talk to some people first. We’re probably going to be here a few days.”

Marty nodded. Working for Walker Stevens was an interesting job. They worked out of the New Pittsburgh office of MarsGroup but traveled and reported from all over Mars; both men had well-used go-bags.

They looked around and sorted themselves out. On their first visit, back in March, they had landed on the south rim of the chasm, the Eden side, and had only been there long enough to do a few interviews and shoot some vids. A few hours later they flew back to New Pittsburgh. At the time the site was very bare bones, with an MPG platoon brought in for security and to retrieve bodies, and a MarsTrans element to determine what would be needed to repair the railroad. Now the site had taken on a permanent look, with biodomes on the north rim, heavy equipment brought in, and a landing pad built. They planned to be onsite for several days and broadcast from Chasm 268.

The two men stood at the edge of the landing pad in their biosuits and looked around. “Not seeing any taxis coming around looking for us,” said Walker.

“What’s a taxi?” asked Marty, who was born on Mars and had only experienced the public transport system of Martian cities.

“Sort of a private transit car you can hire on Earth. Never mind. I think we need to hoof it from here, Marty.”

“Probably so.” Nobody seemed to be around with any sort of transport. “It can’t be more than half a kilometer.” Marty grabbed his bag and picked up the camera bag.

Walker picked up his own bag and the rest of their gear. “Hey, there’s goes our pilot. She must know where to go.” The two men headed towards a group of Martian biodomes between the landing zone and the rim of the chasm, following their pilot.

Biodomes were temporary structures that could be quickly set up in the thin Martian atmosphere. A grader flattened the soil and a gigantic roll of four-layer plastic was unrolled on the site; two layers would become the floor and the other two would become the dome. Finally, a tank of liquid polyfoam was connected to a valve built into the plastic, and pumped between the layers of the plastic, inflating a dome fifty meters across and fifteen meters high. It wasn’t a permanent structure; the severe ultraviolet of the Martian surface would break down the plastic of the dome after four or five years, but a dome could be erected by an engineering team in less than a day, including cutting in personnel and equipment airlocks.

Walker and Marty cycled through the airlock and found themselves in a locker room. “Hi, guys. Come on in,” said the pilot. She was short, busty, and quite pretty. She was also naked. Like most Martian locker rooms, the one off the airlock was unisex. She was carrying a towel and headed towards the shower. “We weren’t really introduced before. Marcy Statin. There’re some empty lockers in the next row where you can stash the biosuits. Then you can clean up and change.”

“Thank you.” Walker and Marty went down the row of lockers and over to the next row where they found a pair of empty lockers. They quickly stripped down and rooted through their bags for clean clothing. They found Marcy rinsing off in the shower.

“I’ll stick around after I get dressed and show you around.”

“Thank you. We need to check in with the site administrator,” said Walker.

Marcy nodded and began drying her hair. “That’s Joe Bongman. He’s two domes over. I’ll take you over.”

“Is that where we can find a place to stay and work out of?” asked Marty.

Marcy laughed and reached over, groping him briefly. “You can always stay with me. I have a room here for when I stay over.” Then she winked at Walker. “You, too. It’s a big room.”

Walker laughed. “I’ll let you know after meeting the boss.”

Marcy nodded and headed to her locker. When Walker and Marty were clean and dressed, they found her lounging by the door into the dome. She pushed the door open and led them into the interior. “Welcome to Fort Laura.”

“This is Fort Laura?” said Walker.

“Technically it’s MarsTrans Reconstruction Facility Forty-Two-Bravo. Or you can just call it Fort Laura, which everybody does anyway. The MPG was pretty pissed about what happened here and having to clean up the mess. They stationed some troops here to prevent it happening again. They named their little enclave Fort Laura and it stuck.”