Chapter 5: Proof of Concept

New Pentagon, Military Headquarters
Denver, WestHem
Tuesday, June 23, 2150

Major General Willister Finch looked across his desk at a young major named John Amos. Finch was the new director of WestHem Military Intelligence, appointed to the position after Martian Justice proved a disaster. The previous heads of WestHem G2 had all been replaced after it was discovered that one of the previous Intelligence commanders, Colonel Oliver Whitestone, had defected to Mars after Martian Justice collapsed.

General Finch had risen through the ranks of Military Intelligence in the WestHem Intelligence Department, focused on figuring out what EastHem was up to. His final assignment prior to his current promotion was trying to figure out what EastHem was doing regarding the Martian revolutionaries. After studying the subject for four years, the best he could come up with was that politics did indeed make strange bedfellows. Despite all the rumors and speculations that EastHem had to be assisting the Greenies, since how else could vermin beat the mighty Marines, all Finch had been able to determine was that the only assistance EastHem was providing the Greenies was three tankers of hydrogen a month. Otherwise, it was simply a matter of ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’

Finch looked across his desk at the young major. John Amos had done well in all his assignments so far, proving a genius at compromising potential EastHem assets. He was also a raving psychopath, as far as Finch could determine. He had gotten his informants and agents but left a trail of broken and compromised family members behind. More than a few had committed suicide after being used to break another member of their family.

“You have a plan to infiltrate Mars, Major? We’ve been sending agents there ever since EastHem started sending prisoners to Mars. We still have agents there, though they haven’t been able to do much in the way of collecting assets,” said Finch.

“Yes, sir. It came to me when I was reviewing the latest downloads from MarsGroup.” Finch nodded understanding. MarsGroup broadcasts were banned from WestHem broadcast but were avidly studied by Earthling analysts for information about Mars.

“And?”

“Allow me, sir.” Amos pulled out a thumb drive and passed it to the general. “I copied this from MarsGroup the other night,”

Finch shrugged and loaded the drive. It was an interview of some Marines captured during Martian Hammer and Martian Justice. “And?”

“We’ve been trying to create assets by the standard techniques - MICE - Money, Ideology, Compromise, and Ego. Unfortunately, we have no leverage on any Martians. Our money systems don’t mesh, our ideologies are klicks apart, we haven’t been able to compromise anybody, and ego hasn’t come into play.”

“That’s my understanding, Major,” agreed Finch.

“That’s because we have been focusing on the wrong Martians.” Amos pointed at the four captured Marines. “We need to focus on these guys. The captured Marines. They’re our real assets.”

“I’m not following you. We cut our ties with these guys. That came down from the Executive Council. It made for a better story if the POWs were all tortured and killed by the communist Greenie terrorists.”

“Yes, sir. There’s over a hundred thousand Marines up there. The Greenies aren’t letting them work anywhere useful, like in the Martian Navy or their Planetary Guard. Still, a hundred thousand trained Marines could cause an awful lot of mischief up there, especially if we time it for when we go back,” said Amos.

“A fifth column?”

“Leave it up to me, sir.”

“I’ll want to see a proof of concept before I greenlight this.”

“Captain, I want you to find out everything possible about these four men. They are all ex-Marines, captured on Mars. I want their complete history in one hour,” said Major Amos.

“Yes, sir.” Captain Wallace Highsmith took the list of names from his boss.

“Dismissed.”

“I have the information you requested, sir,” said Highsmith.

“And?”

Highsmith threw a photo onto the wall monitor opposite Major Amos. “Private John M. Armstrong, 445^th Armored Infantry, wounded in action and captured after the retreat from Martian Justice. Born January 17, 2130, St. Louis, Middle America. Enlisted 2148, good scores on all training tests. Survived by parents Jacob and Martha.”

A second picture went up on the screen. “Sergeant Henry E. Smith, 226 ^th Armored Regiment, abandoned in place when his unit ran out of fuel on the retreat in Martian Hammer. Born March 21, 2120, Los Angeles, West America. Enlisted 2138, reenlisted 2144. Mother died, father still alive and remarried, ex-wife remarried, one son who changed his name, one half-sister from stepmother.”

Highsmith flipped to a third picture. “Corporal Robert J. Williams, 124 ^th Armored Infantry, wounded in action after getting his tank to the second antitank ditch in Martian Justice. Abandoned when his crewmates retreated. Born December 24, 2126, Boise, West America. Enlisted 2145. Survived by parents and maternal grandparents.”

The final picture came up. “Lieutenant Timothy Allsword, 455^th Armored Infantry, trapped in his tank when it was disabled in Martian Justice. Born June 30, 2126, Chicago, Middle America. Enrolled West Point 2145. No family.”

“Very good. Have them all picked up,” said Major Amos.

“All of them? What about Lieutenant Allsword? He has no family,” replied Captain Highsmith.

Amos waved it off. “Find somebody. Grab some of the usual suspects. They are all going to die anyway.”

“Yes, sir.”

MarsGroup Building
New Pittsburgh, Mars
Friday, June 26, 2150

“Walker, get a load of this!” yelled Marty Mickelson. His putative boss, Walker Stevens, was heading out.

Walker looked over at his cameraman. “What? It’s Friday and I am taking Tasty out for dinner, drinks, and fornication.”

“You have to see this!”

Walker came over and looked at Marty’s screen. It was a feed from InfoGroup, but was also being broadcast on NewsSys, the Internet company that was the result of the forced merger of ICS and WIV.

BREAKING NEWS!
GREENIE SPY RING CAPTURED!

Walker scanned the story quickly and then hit the icon for the vids. “What the fuck?” he said.

“Those four guys you interviewed last week? Their relatives were all picked up yesterday. Half died resisting arrest. The rest are in jail awaiting trial for espionage and treason.”

“Fuck me! Has the Capitol said anything about this? This is bullshit!”

Marty shook his head. “Just the usual ‘We don’t comment on intelligence matters.’”

“There is no way this is a coincidence.”

“No. No way. You need to talk to somebody in the Capitol Building.”

Walker’s computer beeped and he glanced at it. “He turned it towards Marty. “I think they want to talk to both of us.” A second beep on Marty’s computer showed a duplicate request from Martian Planetary Intelligence.

“Shit!” muttered the cameraman.

Martian Planetary Guard Headquarters
New Pittsburgh, Mars
Friday, June 26, 2150

Walker and Marty took a tram from the MarsGroup Building to MPG Headquarters, Martian Planetary Intelligence operated out of MPG HQ, though it was considering moving to a nearby office tower. A woman in the red shorts and white t-shirt uniform of the Martian Planetary Guard was waiting for them in the lobby. “Mister Stevens, Mister Mickelson, thank you for coming. Please follow me.”

“Where are we going?” asked Marty.

The woman didn’t answer but simply repeated, “Please follow me.”

“Come on, Marty. I don’t think they’re planning anything sinister,” commented Walker.

Marty shrugged and the two men followed the woman into an elevator. They both noticed that the controls didn’t have any markings on it, so they didn’t know what floor they were being taken to. “Fucking spooks,” muttered Marty.

Walker simply smiled and shrugged. If Marty only knew what he knew.

Whatever Marty was expecting, a civilized question and answer period wasn’t part of it. They were escorted to an office and introduced to Joe Ducksass, the Assistant Director for Counterintelligence. “I would like to ask you a few questions about your recent interview with four ex-Marines at Fort Laura last week. Have you seen the latest from InfoGroup and NewsSys?”

Walker answered, “Just the one report. We were looking at it when you commed us. How can we help?” Walker knew Joe from his double agent life. Dollars to doughnuts, an expression which no longer made sense on Mars, he would be asked to stay after the joint meeting to talk to Joe and maybe a few others.

Ducksass asked, “I think we can safely say that WestHem arresting the family members of your four Marines was not a coincidence. Which one of you found them?”

“That would be me,”, said Marty, “but it was just pure happenstance I selected those four. They were all MarsTrans employees at Fort Laura. They were just construction and transport guys. They were sitting in the bar, and I was playing poker and they were drinking. After a bit, I cashed out and started talking to them. I asked if they would talk to Walker and agreed to buy them some beers.”

Walker snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, I will verify that. Check my bank balance. They put away a lot of beer that night. What’s this about, anyway? Were they running a spy ring? Here? Or on Earth?”

“Let’s get back to the four Marines. Did they say anything to you other than what you talked about on camera?”

“Not really?” said Marty.

“We’ll be needing all the footage, not just what you broadcast,” said Ducksass. “I’ll be happy to get a Planetary Judge to issue a warrant.”

Walker and Marty looked at each other and sighed. The Martian Constitution enshrined the freedom of the press, but it was a squishy freedom. A Planetary Warrant would trump that freedom; that was simply commons sense. “Yeah. Give us a few minutes and we’ll link in,” said Walker.

“I just grabbed these guys from a bunch of people at the bar,” said Marty. “There is no way I knew they were spies!”

Ducksass laughed at that. “Don’t sweat it, Marty. These guys are not spies. They aren’t WestHem spies and they aren’t Martian spies. Their relatives are not working for MPI. This is total bullshit. We’re not sure why, and we would appreciate you not pushing this in any future broadcasts.”

Walker and Marty looked at each other. “That’s not really going to work, Mister Ducksass. If we get asked, we won’t hide what happened. What do you think happened?” asked Walker.

“No idea. Now, could you give us all the vids you took that day? Believe me, we aren’t any happier about this than you are.”

Walker looked at Marty and shrugged. “Marty, you want to take care of that? I want to talk to Mister Ducksass for a bit. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Marty gave Walker a curious look. “We can talk more tomorrow.” He pulled up all their vid footage and sent it to the address Ducksass provided. Walker followed Ducksass out the door.

Once they were in the hallway, Walker asked, “Joe, what the fuck is going on? Those guys really were just random MarsTrans assholes. We didn’t know MarsTrans was even hiring ex-Marines.”

“Not here. Let’s take this up the line.” He led the way to an elevator and went up a few levels. When they got out, Ducksass led the way down a corridor to another office. He knocked and entered.

Walker saw who was in the office. It was Astor ‘Ass’ Blaster, Deputy Director of Martian Planetary Intelligence and Joe Ducksass’ boss. Like Ducksass, Blaster was one of the exceedingly few people who knew Walker Stevens’ history. “Thank you for coming in, Walker.”

Walker smiled and responded, “I wasn’t aware I had a choice.”

“Don’t be that way. You have as much of a problem with this as we do. Please, have a seat.”

Walker sighed and sat down. “What the fuck is going on, guys? I don’t know how much you know about this, but Marty just grabbed those four guys in a bar. Now they’re treasonous Martian agents running a Martian spy ring in WestHem? Did Marty and I just hit the jackpot or something?”

Ducksass snorted derisively. It was Blaster who answered, “No, you were right the first time. These guys are just four random assholes. We aren’t running spy rings on Earth, at least nothing like this. As far as we can tell, the people who were grabbed were the relatives of the four guys you interviewed. Even that isn’t accurate. One of them, Allsword, was an orphan without any relatives. He doesn’t know who the people were who are supposedly his WestHem parents.”

Walker cocked his head to the side and asked, “You’ve talked to them?”

“I had some people at Fort Laura pick them up and bring them here. They aren’t under arrest, but they are very shook up. It’s one thing to be abandoned here, but to have your family arrested and killed or jailed, that’s a whole new level of fucked up!” said Blaster.