Chapter 27A

Aboard the MSS Ballbuster (formerly the WSS Mermaid)

Mars orbit, 24 kilometers from Triad Naval Base

September 18, 2146

"We're in the departure corridor, Brett," said Ensign Mandall, who was in charge of the helm. "All set to align for our de-orbit burn once get a heading."

"I'm down with it," said the now official Commander Brett Ingram of the now official Martian Navy. The Owl-class stealth attack ship that had once been known as the WSS Mermaid had returned in triumph to Triad Naval Base two weeks before. Its battle damage had been repaired and its crew augmented with an additional thirty-seven recruits, bringing it up to more than two thirds of normal staffing. As the first captain of the ship, Brett had been given the honor of naming it. Most of the crew — especially those who had served aboard it during Operation Interdiction — felt he had chosen wisely. The MSS Ballbuster it now was and it was preparing to depart for its first mission under that moniker.

"The LRD is deployed and ready, Brett," said Zorba Frank, the communications technician. He had just raised the three-meter Laser Receiver Dish that would allow Naval Command to transmit their deployment orders via encrypted communication laser. For security reasons no one aboard — not even Brett — had been told Ballbuster's mission beforehand.

"Static," said Brett, who was wearing red MPG shorts and a red MPG t-shirt with the recently created Martian Navy emblem on the breast. He was velcroed into the command chair and sipping from a cup of tea. He hated tea but currently there was no coffee of any kind available on Mars at any price. "Lock our laser transmitter on NAVCOM's dish."

"Locking," Frank said. A few seconds later — "Done."

"Transmit our current position, speed, and alignment so they can send back our orders."

"Fuckin' aye, Brett," Frank said. He pushed a few tabs on his screen. "Sending. I've got an acknowledgment via encrypted radio link."

"Static," Brett said. A minute went by before Frank reported a com laser had been received. He ordered it shipped unencrypted to the terminal in his quarters and then activated the ship's intercom system. "Wassup, dawgs?" he said. "This is Brett, your lovable yet competent captain. Our orders have been sent from NAVCOM. Sugi, if you'll meet me in my quarters we'll decrypt and review them and then give everyone aboard a chance to refuse them. Is everyone down with that?"

There was no answer to his rhetorical question. He unstrapped from his chair and floated upward, electing to leave his tea behind. "Mandall, you've got the con."

"I've got the con," Mandall replied automatically.

Brett propelled himself across the bridge to the sliding hatchway that led to his cramped but private quarters. Before he could touch the panel Frank called to him.

"Sugi on the com, Brett," he said. "You want me to patch him into your quarters?"

"Fuckin' aye," Brett said. He touched the panel, opening the door, and floated into his quarters. He spun around and pulled himself down to a seat at one of the chairs before his desk. The computer terminal had lit up, showing an audio link with Lieutenant Commander Sugiyoto, his executive officer. He touched the link. "What's up, Sugi?"

"Hey, Brett," Sugi's voice replied. "I'll be about five minutes or so if you're down with that. Got a waste tube down here in the shitter next to the kitchen that's not sucking real well. Spilled little piss droplets all over the fuckin' place when someone tried to use it."

"Can't someone else fix it?" Brett asked.

"Nobody else aboard this ship has the experience with zero gravity toilets that I do," Sugi said with a chuckle. "Remember, I spent a lot of time fixing the motherfuckers before our people were nice enough to liberate us from the WestHem Navy."

"That is true," Brett said. "Come as soon as you can, and be sure someone is watching how you fix the damn thing. I don't need my XO floating off all over the ship every time someone clogs a relief tube."

"Fuckin' aye, Brett," Sugi said. "I shouldn't be long."

He signed off. Brett leaned back in his chair and fastened the velcro strap to keep himself from floating away. He was more than a little curious about their orders in this hastily assembled mission but he guessed he would have to wait a few minutes. Working toilets took precedence over orders any day.

"Computer," he said, "give me InfoServe prime bank. SNN feed."

"Coming up," the computer replied.

"Replay the last top of the hour update recorded."

"Replaying," the computer told him.

Not many Martians watched the big three channels. This had been true before the revolution and was even more true after it. Those who did watch it, particularly the news channels, usually did so out of amusement more than anything else. Brett was one such person. He got a perverse sense of enjoyment out of seeing the spin WestHem was trying to put on every defeat or setback they suffered. He had been too busy preparing his ship for deployment over the last three days to even listen to rumors about their "official" explanation for the ass kicking they'd endured by the MPG down on the surface.

The transmission — collected from a communication satellite in Mars orbit by one of the many receivers on the Ballbuster and then recorded — began. Kathleen Condor, the latest anchor for the popular Satellite News Network appeared before him. SNN was widely accepted by Earthlings as the epitome of integrity in news reporting and had enjoyed a greater than forty percent market share of the news audience for more than a generation.

"Good evening," Condor said, looking seriously into the camera. "This is Kathleen Condor, live in Denver to update you on the latest developments on Earth and throughout the solar system.

"Topping our news tonight is the latest from Mars regarding the shocking and surprising pullback of the troops from Operation Martian Hammer — Phase Two. For that we go live to Stephanie Campbell aboard the Martian Hammer flagship, the WSS Nebraska. Stephanie?"

Stephanie appeared a second later although she was not really live at all since it took radio signals almost fifteen minutes to make the trip from Mars to Earth. The SNN executives, however, tried to make sure that things looked live to their viewing audience. Therefore Stephanie had actually started her transmission fifteen minutes before the top of the hour in a carefully planned dance, the timing insuring she would pop onto the screen right when expected.

"This is Stephanie Campbell," she said, "reporting live from the WSS Nebraska where the naval personell, the marines, and the civilians accompanying the task force are still reeling from the news that our combat marines on the surface were forced to withdraw in both Eden and New Pittsburgh while they were within an hour of liberating those cities from the icy grip of the radical Martian separatists. It was confirmed yesterday that the reason for the abrupt pullback was a lack of ammunition and breathing air. The marines on the surface fell below critical levels in both operational areas while within sight of their objectives, forcing many to turn around and head back to their respective landing zones, forcing others — a thousand or more it is now reported — to surrender to the brutal Martian death squads because they did not have enough air to make it to safety."

"Ran out of ammo and air," Brett said with a chuckle. "Not bad. Simple but functional."

"Of course the big question," Campbell continued, "has been how could such an oversight have occurred? How could two complete armies have been allowed to deploy for combat operations with insufficient ammunition and breathing air? Well, over the past twenty-four hours we have been starting to get some possible answers to that question.

"General Douglas Wrath, who, as you are all aware, has been deemed largely to blame for the training and maintenance debacles that led to the failure of the first landings to achieve their goals, is considered a key factor in these latest failures. Investigators have discovered that General Wrath only ordered the bare minimum amount of ammunition and spare breathing tanks for deployment in this operation. The reasoning for this is undetermined at this time since Wrath is confined to the brig and refusing to answer questions until his formal court martial proceedings are begun, but is has been suggested that Wrath sacrificed critical storage space for these staples of combat in order to accommodate private suites for an oversized staff that consisted mainly of female 'secretaries' and 'transcription technicians'. In any case, the marines used up the majority of their ammunition and breathing air in the first phase of the operation, leaving a severe shortage for the second phase landings at Eden and New Pittsburgh.

"Of course the blame cannot be wholly placed on General Wrath for this most critical of failures. General Todd Browning, who replaced General Wrath after phase one and who was regarded by many as a military genius for his innovative plans to liberate two of the Martian cities despite the earlier failure of his predecessor, somehow failed himself to notice that he did not have sufficient supplies on hand to complete these ambitious missions. Browning, when interviewed earlier today, placed the blame for this oversight on one of his aides — a Major Thomas Wilde — stating that Major Wilde supplied him with inaccurate figures prior to the latest landings and vastly underestimated the minimum air and ammo consumption expected during phase two of the operation. Browning acknowledges that he was ultimately responsible for these figures and admits that he did not order a double-check of them before releasing the landing ships for the operation. Both General Browning and Major Wilde have been relieved of duties and confined to the brig pending further investigation by the JAG's office. General Dakota Dickenson, who commanded both futile attacks upon the city of Eden, has replaced General Browning. Interviewed earlier by one of our imbedded reporters, Dickenson expressed anger and frustration at the mistakes made by Generals Wrath and Browning, saying they were directly to blame for the loss of the hundreds of marines lives in both phases of the operation and for the capture of more than a thousand marines by the Martian insurgents. "It's our darkest hour" Dickenson was quoted as saying.

"In other developments on Mars, reports of the most brutal of atrocities against those marines that were captured due to lack of breathing air are starting to filter out. Martian citizens loyal to WestHem have reported that all of the wounded men captured at Eden were fed alive into the city's cremation furnaces feet first in order to extend their suffering. This has got to be one of the worst..."

The door buzzer to Brett's cabin suddenly sounded, interrupting the stream of lies and quarter-truths.

"Computer, mute SNN," Brett said. It did so without replying. Brett pressed the intercom tab on his screen. "That you, Sugi?" he asked.

"Fuckin' aye," was the reply.

"Computer, open door," Brett said.

The door slid open and Sugiyoto came drifting in holding something wrapped in a napkin. He propelled himself across the room, did an agile forward somersault in which he kicked off the ceiling of the cabin and plopped right down in the chair next to Brett.

"Nice maneuvering," Brett said.

"Thanks," Sugi said, taking a little bow. "You never lose it, you know?"

"Especially after only two weeks."

Sugi held out the napkin to his boss. "You gotta try this shit, Brett," he said. "The best fuckin' thing you've done so far is getting a real chef on this tub of bolts. That bitch found a way to heat oil in an enclosed container and she cooked up a bunch of chili verde chimichangas."

"No shit?" Brett asked, taking the deep fried burrito from his executive officer. It was still warm as he took a bite. It was delicious, up to the usual standards of Martian cuisine — which were quite high. "Mmmm," he grunted with pleasure. "The is fuckin' premo shit." He took another bite, chewing noisily.

"Yep," Sugi agreed. "No matter what kind of orders they got for us, at least we'll be eating like Martians."

"Speaking of which," Brett said, swallowing down his latest bite. "How about we see just what they have in mind for us?" He looked up at the ceiling. "Computer, myself and Commander Sugiyoto are both present. Decrypt our operation orders and display on the main screen."

"Commander Brett Ingram's voice is recognized," the computer said. "Lieutenant Commander Sugiyoto, please speak for the voice authentication process."

"Sugi likes erect clits," Sugi said.

"Voice authenticated," the computer said. "Orders decrypted and on the screen now."

They both looked at the screen.

TO: WSS BALLBUSTER, COMMANDER BRETT INGRAM

FROM: MARTIAN NAVAL COMMAND (NAVCOM), ADMIRAL MATTHEW BELTING

ORDERS FOR BALLBUSTER DEPLOYMENT ARE AS FOLLOWS:

PROCEED UNDER STEALTH CONDITIONS TO APPROXIMATE POSITION OF -010.000 x +087.300 x -240.000

DECELERATE TO SOLAR ORBIT VELOCITY AND CONFIRM WITHDRAWAL OF ALL WESTHEM SPACE VESSELS.

AFTER VERIFICATION PROCEED TO HIGH POLAR EARTH ORBIT FOR STEALTH OBSERVATION OF WESTHEM AND EASTHEM ORBITAL INSTALLATIONS UNTIL RELIEVED.

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT: WEAPONS TIGHT. FIRE IN SELF-DEFENSE ONLY.

STANDING BY TO EVACUATE ANY CREWMEMBERS UNWILLING TO GO ON THIS MISSION. PLEASE ADVISE ANY CREWMEMBERS ELECTING TO REMAIN THAT, FOR SHIP SECURITY, THEY WILL BE HELD IN ISOLATION UNTIL SUCH TIME AS BALLBUSTER RETURNS.

AWAITING YOUR REPLY, NAVCOM.

MESSAGE ENDS.

"Hmm," Sugi said, reading it over. "I thought it was gonna be something hard. It's just back to business as usual for one of these tubs."