Chapter 21A

Aboard the WSS Nebraska, Mars orbit

September 11, 2146

Major Wilde was once again observing the final flight briefing less than two hours from the scheduled launch time. Admiral Haybecker was explaining to the AA-71 pilots and gunners for the tenth time that no matter what else they blew up in or around New Pittsburgh on the coming strike they were not to touch so much as a hair on the head of the Alexander Industries ammunition plant.

"That plant is a vital part of the WestHem military supply apparatus and its destruction or damage would be catastrophic for us after we liberate this planet."

None of the flight crews questioned this reversal of their previous orders. They hadn't questioned it even when they'd been advised for the first time that the plant was now off limits. They were too used to abrupt and contradictory changes in their orders by this point. Most, in fact, were starting to wonder if they were ever going to go anywhere or blow anything up.

The scrubbing of the Alexander Industries plant from the frag list had come six hours before, this time not as an order from the Executive Council (although they had not opposed the order) but as an order from Admiral Wesley Brooke, supreme commander of the WestHem navy and, by default, supreme commander of the WestHem marines as well since the marines were technically part of the navy. The official reason for the scrub was the bullshit Haybecker had just spouted about the plant being vital to the military supply apparatus. Though the plant was important it was certainly not vital since there were other Alexander Industries plants on Earth that were capable of picking up the slack — those other plants had, in fact, supplied all of the shells and bullets for Operation Martian Hammer to this point since, of course, their Martian plant was now in Martian hands. No, the real reason had to be more political interference from lobbyists, accountants, and, undoubtedly, Robert Allen Trump II, Alexander Industries' CEO. Though he wasn't powerful enough to directly threaten the Executive Council as the other CEOs had, he did hold most of the joint chiefs of staff and WestHem's top military commanders in his pocket since his corporation was the only one capable of supplying all of the bullets, bombs, and shells the army, navy, and marines required in the numbers that they required. And Trump would want his New Pittsburgh plant to be still standing and operational once the marines liberated that city. If it were operational then it could produce the ordinance needed for the liberation of the rest of Mars without having to worry about shipping it across the solar system. Another military decision made in the name of politics and profit margins.

I should just go join the damn greenies, Wilde thought sourly as Haybecker told his crews that two of the New Pittsburgh rail junctions had been scrubbed as well. This, though he didn't mention it, was because they were within ten kilometers of the Alexander Industries plant and he didn't want to risk that a stray laser shot would accidentally hit it.

Wilde's PC began to buzz. He sighed, completely unsurprised. Neither, apparently, were the pilots or their commanders. The briefing came to a halt as they saw him pull it out and flip it open. Everyone in the room stared in his direction.

"Yes, General?" Wilde said. "Has there been another change in plans?"

"Why yes," Browning replied. "How did you know?"

"It just came to me," Wilde said.

"I see," Browning said, looking a little confused. He seemed to shrug it off after a moment. "Anyway, there has been another minor adjustment to the attack plan. Come to my office right away so I can brief you on it and you can start preparing a new press release for me."

"Are we standing down the space launches again?" Wilde asked.

"I would rather discuss that in person, Major. We'll go over it when you get to my office."

"Sir, I've got more than two hundred flight crews in here receiving their final briefing. Should Admiral Haybecker continue this briefing or will the crews need to stand down for a new frag list again?"

Browning pouted a little but answered the question. "They'll be stood down," he said. "The target list will need to be modified again."

The groan of disgust started near Wilde, by those flight crewmen who could hear his conversation. Within a few seconds it spread throughout the entire room, occasionally interspersed with some rather colorful profanity. Wilde simply muttered a "yes sir" and flipped his PC shut.

"We're standing down?" Haybecker asked him.

"Yes, sir," Wilde told him. "I'll go see what's been modified this time."

"What's been fucked up you mean," one of the nearer crewmen said.

"Yeah," Wilde agreed. "That about sums it up."

He left the briefing room a moment later, mumbling to himself about joining the fucking greenies again. At least they let their military leaders make the goddamn military decisions.

"Okay," he said when he entered Browning's office. "What kind of atrocity did the suits in Denver lay on us this time?"

Browning was not amused. "You're getting awfully mouthy with me lately, Wilde," he said. "I'll thank you to remember some semblance of military courtesy when addressing me. I am your commanding general after all."

"Forgive me, sir," Wilde said without the slightest trace of sincerity. "So tell me, sir, what are the good folks back in Denver requesting we modify now?"

Browning continued to glare at him for a few moments and then mellowed. "Well," he said, "it seems that Steve Carlson, CEO of AgriCorp, was a bit upset when we changed our targeted city from Eden to New Pittsburgh."

"Oh no," Wilde said, shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling.

"Well you can certainly understand his position, can't you?" Browning asked. "More than thirty percent of AgriCorp's crops are grown in Eden and more than forty percent of their prepared food products are manufactured and packaged in Eden. The price of AgriCorp stock has fallen by more than a third since the greenies seized Mars and there are people going hungry in WestHem because AgriCorp can't get their food there anymore. It's vital that we get those assets and that production and shipping capability back in Carlson's hands. It's for the good of all WestHem."

"Of course it is," Wilde said. "So we're shifting the focus of our attack back to Eden then?"

"Well... yes and no."

Wilde chewed his upper lip a few times. "What exactly does that mean, General?"

"The Standard Steel and Corrigan Industries point of view is quite valid as well. The ability to re-take a large portion of our mining and manufacturing base — as well as capturing the terrorist leaders — is deemed to be too important to disregard."

"So which city are we going to take?" Wilde asked.

"Both," Browning said with a smirk.

Wilde had thought they couldn't screw up his plan any further than they'd already screwed it. He was wrong about that it seemed. "Both?" he asked. "You mean divide up our forces and make two separate landings?"

"Yes," Browning said. "It's a stroke of genius really. I'm surprised you didn't think of this initially."

Wilde knew that the decision was already made, that his pleas and angry outbursts would not change anything. But he had to try! "General," he said, "that is not a brilliant idea. It's a very unwise idea."

"What's wrong with it? I suggested this compromise myself and the Executive Council heartily agreed with it."

"Well... instead of an eight to one advantage against a single city we'll have two four to one advantages. That negates the overwhelming numerical superiority that made my initial plan a sure success."

"So?" Browning said with a shrug. "It's still a four to one advantage on each front. Have you forgotten that it only takes a three to one advantage to overtake a position?"

"That's not an absolute, sir. It's only a guideline and it only applies to equally matched and equipped forces with all things being equal. Just because you have a three to one advantage or a four to one advantage doesn't mean you will take your objective. We started out with an almost four to one advantage on the first stage at all fronts, remember? And look what happened there."

"That was because of that incompetent boob Wrath," Browning scoffed. "Now those four to one ratios will be under my command and you can bet that little leaf on your shoulder I will plan this campaign to win and we will sweep into those cities quickly and painlessly."

Jesus, thought Wilde, he's spouting off to me like he's talking to the press. He really believes that just because he says it it's true. God help us. "Sir," he said, "the only way we're going to sweep into anything down there is by maintaining the highest attack to defender ratio as possible. The Martians have air superiority and have denied us the use of our artillery guns. Our companies, platoons, and squads are disjointed from the first phase, with poor morale, inexperienced leaders, and lots of green troops who used to be cooks and maintenance men and computer programmers — guys who haven't held a gun since basic training. The Martians we'll be facing are now battle-hardened veterans with high morale and a lot to fight for. With the situation as it is the only way we're sure to take our objective is with that eight to one ratio. With four to one... well... things aren't all that certain anymore. There's a good chance we could be repelled again on one or both fronts."

"Look, Wilde," Browning said condescendingly, "I know it's your job to try to anticipate the worse that can happen and to be conservative in your military recommendations but I think you're carrying that a bit too far here — almost to the point of being overdramatic. Give us some credit here. We know the mistakes that were made by General Wrath. We know how the greenies fight now. Between the two of us we should be able to come up with a lightening-fast landing ship to city campaign that will take the targets with minimal casualties."

"We can come up with a plan, yes," Wilde said, "but as for a plan that guarantees success in our objectives..." He shook his head. "No, we can't do that. Not with the numbers we have against an enemy as well-trained, disciplined, and, most of all, motivated as the Martians."

"Guarantee?" Browning scoffed. "Who can guarantee anything in this life? Now why don't you go let Admiral Spears and Admiral Haybecker know that they'll need to start planning to isolate New Pittsburgh and Eden by rail now. That will mean two separate alpha strikes, I'm sure, so I'll give them another eighteen hours to develop a plan and get the crew to launch."

"They're not going to like that, sir," Wilde said. "It they can't take out the Martian recon-sats it's possible they won't have enough spacecraft to pull off two missions."

"They're not paid to like their orders," Browning said. "They're paid to carry them out and you're paid to deliver them. Once you get done with that you can compose this latest press release. After that, get to my office and we'll start planning our two campaigns."

Wilde sighed. "Yes, sir," he said.

Six hours later the big three were still going on about this latest modification of the Martian attack plan. All three were of the opinion that it was a bold endeavor, showing the aggressive nature of General Browning in his task.

"At the completion of this two-pronged strike," said one of the more popular military analysts on InfoServe, "WestHem forces will hold the two most important cities on the surface. After that, the terrorist insurgency will most likely collapse for lack of leadership, therefore allowing the Martian populace being held hostage in the other cities to simply resume rudimentary control from the state of lawlessness and despair that currently exists. Though a second force of marines will still have to be sent out to Mars — it is quite obvious, after all, that the Martian people need a stabilizing force to oversee them — it is quite possible these marines will not have to do much other than occupation duties and restoration of basic infrastructure."

Wilde wasn't amused by the analyst's statement. He wished Browning, who was working at another desk across the room, would just shut the damn screen off so he could concentrate on formulating this fabled "two-pronged attack" in a manner that would allow success on both fronts. This was something that could be done, he instinctively knew. And he suspected that if it were done right it could even be done without horrible losses. The trick would be to examine the failures of the first attempt with a realistic eye, learn from them, and try to correct them. He looked at what he had put on his screen so far, reviewing it, hoping for some sort of inspiration.

Problem 1 — LZ's are too far out from target. This gives enemy special forces units, mortar teams, and, most significantly, air crews, far too much time to cause attrition of our armor and men which, in turn, causes degradation of morale, breakdown of command/control at small unit level due to deliberate targeting of officers and NCOs. Solution: Land closer in?? This does violate doctrine but why twice the distance of nearest artillery range? Why not just outside nearest artillery range? True, this puts units in range of enemy tanks if they choose to advance on the LZ but the Martians don't have that many tanks, certainly not enough to challenge a well-defended LZ as long as we get our own tanks out as quick as possible and stationed on the perimeter.

Problem 2 — Martian special forces units attempt to draw us outside our LZ perimeter so they can engage us, slowing us down further, causing further attrition and further degradation of morale. Solution: tight perimeter manned primarily by tanks dug into hull-down positions. Keep these positions within 500 meters of the landing ships, keep exposed troops to a minimum. Do NOT go beyond this perimeter no matter what the provocation.

Problem 3 — Martian air superiority. Solution: None. Not in this conflict. Hovers cannot stand up to fast-moving fixed wing aircraft with the ability to hug the ground and pop out at will. Any attacks made by hovers must be fast, short, and able to withdraw back to the perimeter before Martian aircraft can respond.

Wilde stared at this last paragraph for a few minutes, feeling like there was something significant there but not quite able to grasp what it was. "Fast, short, and able to withdraw..." he said to himself. "Hmmm."

His eyes flitted back up to Problem 1, to the line that read, Solution: Land closer in?? He then looked down at the bottom of the screen, to Problem 4, which read: Martian heavy guns have the ability to neutralize our 150mm mobile guns, therefore eliminating our ability to support ground forces with artillery — a staple of any ground campaign. Solution: Must find a way to take out these Martian fixed 250s. They are too small of targets for AA-71s to hit with accuracy and accuracy is mandatory to destroy large guns in thick, concrete bunkers. Hovers are the ideal attack platform for this task as they can close and make a direct shot with their high intensity lasers but the Martian air superiority precludes this.

"Or does it?" he whispered, looking back up to the solution for Problem 1. Land closer in?? The Martians had ripped through their hovers as they'd tried to move them up to the forward refuel point so they could undertake the mission against the heavy guns. But what if there were no forward refuel point?

He quickly opened another window in the planning software, this one a map of the Eden vicinity. He began to look at the terrain, his eyes searching for the perfect place. It wasn't long until he found it. He made a few notations and then looked up at Browning, who was reviewing something on is own computer screen.

"General," he called, "would you mind coming over here for a minute?"

Browning frowned but trudged his way over. "Yes? Did you come up with something?"

"I think I have," Wilde said. "I think maybe I've found a way to negate some of the problems we encountered in phase one."

"Good," Browning said. "Write them up and we'll go with them."

"Uh... but, sir," he said carefully. "Don't you want a preliminary review?"

"I'm sure whatever you come up with is fine," he said. "We have the numerical advantage after all. There is one other minor thing that has just cropped up."

Wilde winced at these words — he'd heard them far too many times now. "And what might that be?"

Browning told him. Wilde shouldn't have been surprised at this point, but he was. "Sir... Jesus. In light of this... minor change, we're going to need to get our people down on the surface as soon as possible if this is going to work."

"How soon are we talking?" Browning asked.

"Yesterday if we could," Wilde said, still trying to come to grips with what he'd just been told. "It's imperative we get our landing ships down before the Martians have a chance to start reinforcing."

"But you don't even have a plan for deployment yet."

"I know," Wilde groaned in frustration. "I was counting on at least a week after the space strikes isolated those cities, but now..." He shook his head. "Jesus Christ, sir. I need to get to work and go into hyperdrive. If I stay up all night I might be able to have preliminary landing and targeting areas complete. That will at least give us a starting point."

"I like the way you think, Major. You're showing some good old-fashioned WestHem gumption."

"Thank you, sir. Now I'd better get cracking on this thing."

"Of course," Browning said. "Right after you prepare a press briefing for me on this latest development."

"Press briefing? Sir, time is of the essence here. Can you get one of the other staff aides to put together the briefing?"

"Nobody does them as well as you do, Major," Browning told him. "You have a certain flair for that sort of thing. You know how to put military terminology into terms the ignorant civilians can understand. Besides, what's another couple of hours anyway?"

Wilde sighed, said his "yes, sir" and then went to work on the press briefing. As soon as it was complete General Browning delivered the "good news" to the big three.

General Jackson and Major Sprinkle watched General Browning's briefing live on the main terminal in Jackson's office. Like Major Wilde both men were simply beyond astonishment at the stupidity of the decisions being made by their adversaries and by the fact that they were announcing them in advance. This one, however, was quite possibly the stupidest of them all. They had just stood down the space strikes indefinitely.

"And so it is felt," Browning's image explained, "that since the liberation and occupation of both Eden and New Pittsburgh are now imminent, there is little point in destroying the vital rail linkages that provide access and commerce to those two cities. These rail lines, after all, are what will allow us to move our own troops and equipment to other Martian cities and to quickly resume commerce and transportation as soon as they are secure. In particular we will need to move military supplies, steel, and manufactured products from New Pittsburgh to Eden and we will need to move food and other agricultural products from Eden to New Pittsburgh. These intact rail lines will also help alleviate the starvation and famine that has been rampant on Mars since the terrorist elements seized control of it four months ago."