Two reckless skimmers raced almost on top of the enemy. They landed. The security teams jumped out and charged, pumping shots. It was suicide. It was crazy. But maybe their recklessness favored them today. About a quarter of the security teams flopped onto the cold ground. The rest ran up to prone enemy and shot them at pointblank range.
With Omi and Marten acting as snipers, the short battle turned hard against the surviving SU soldiers. There had only been a few of them to begin with.
The victory was costly, however. And the terrible casualties left the Rebel Unionists in an ugly mood. The last Social Unity personnel tried to surrender. Major Diaz personally shot each of them in the back of the EVA helmet.
Later, Marten walked through the wreckage of the hangers and counted fifteen jets. He set demolition charges on any that looked in good shape.
The living were elated at their victory. The wounded with torn EVA suits had already died from exposure. Counting himself, there were thirty-one effectives left.
“These EVA suits are crap,” Marten told Omi.
The grim Korean grunted agreement.
Major Diaz poked into the barracks ruins, with a gyroc pistol ready. He was likely hunting for SU survivors. Five of the men were with him.
Marten collected everyone else and went down a hidden portal. As he’d suspected, it was an underground barracks. He found three men in a communications room. They were white with terror and begged for their lives.
Marten whispered to Omi, “If Diaz tries to shoot them, take him out.”
“Kill him?” Omi asked.
“Fast,” Marten said. He turned to the three shaking men. They were pale, wore PHC patches and had sweat-soaked tunics.
Before Marten could ask his first question, the PHC captain said, “You know the Battlefleet has attacked, right?”
Marten stared at the man. The PHC captain had gray sideburns, curly gray hair and looked as if he was ready to start crying.
“It-It’s on all the channels,” the captain stammered. “They stormed Phobos and Deimos.”
The door opened and Major Diaz entered the room. His brown eyes blazed. “Good,” he crooned. “There are more.” He lifted his gun.
“Do it,” Omi said, “and you’re dead.”
There were six other Unionists in the room. They looked up, surprised. Omi had a needler pressed against Diaz’s back.
Major Diaz scowled at Marten, who sat on a chair.
“Put away your gun, Major,” Marten said.
“I see vermin in the room,” Diaz said coldly. “I crush vermin to remove the infestation from Mars.”
“You took out the airfield,” Marten said. “Now we gain intelligence. You do know about that, right?”
Diaz laughed. “Then we kill them?”
“No,” Marten said. “There’s been enough killing today.”
Major Diaz had a crazed look. “There you are wrong.” He lifted his gyroc, aiming at the PHC captain.
Omi clutched Diaz’s elbow and made a sharp motion. Major Diaz cried out as the gyroc dropped from his hand and hit the floor with a crack.
“Take him outside,” Marten said. “Let him cool down.”
Omi put a hand on Diaz’s shoulder. The major tried to shake it off. Omi rabbit-punched Diaz in the solar plexus and Diaz groaned, going limp. Omi turned him around and pushed him into the next room.
“Stay here,” Marten told two of Unionist raiding party who had risen to follow Omi and Diaz.
They glanced at Marten and they must have seen something in his face that frightened them. They hurriedly sat down.
“Finish your story,” Marten told the visibly trembling PHC captain.
“Y-You’re not going to shoot me?” the captain whispered.
“I’m no murderer,” Marten said.
The captain gulped as a tear leaked from an eye. In a quavering voice, he told Marten what had come in over communications.
Marten knew the truth when he heard it. He told Squad Leader Rojas. “Watch these three, but let them live. That’s an order.”
“I understand,” Rojas said.
Marten motioned the other Unionists into the next room, leaving Rojas with the three enemy communications men.
Diaz glared at him. This was a central command room with vidscreens and a small cooler to the side. Many of the other Unionist raiders were piled in the room, their manner ugly and angry as they stared at Omi.
“You have dared lay hands on me,” Diaz pronounced. “You have shamed me in front of Social Unity swine. I will have my revenge, I promise you.”
“You had your fun,” Marten said, “blowing holes in men who wanted to surrender.”
“It is a war to the death!” Diaz shouted. “They sought to make us slaves. Now they pay the price for their arrogance.”
“The Battlefleet has moved,” Marten said.
Major Diaz shook his head as if to shake off a fly.
“Space commandos have stormed Phobos and Deimos,” Marten said.
“PHC lies!” Diaz spat.
“Not this time.”
Diaz’s eyes narrowed. “Are you suggesting we scamper home with the mission only a quarter completed?”
Marten took his time answering. They were under a communications blackout so no eavesdropping equipment could pinpoint them. Social Unity would know about them now. Marten debated radioing Chavez, and he saw how the other Unionists listened intently. Several fingered their weapons as if thinking about turning them on him. Marten debated with himself on how to do this. Diaz was a man of rage. So shouting and raging at him likely wouldn’t work. Likely, nothing would work with Diaz but determination and the upper hand. Marten realized he had to win the other Unionists to him. They had to realize he was right and that Diaz had horribly compromised the mission.
Marten let a sneer slide onto his face. He spoke contemptuously. “Scamper home, Major? I wish to abort the mission before you kill the rest of the men the Secretary-General gave into my keeping.”
Diaz’s head swayed. “I only killed Social Unity swine.”
Marten sneered. “You were like a teenager with his first woman. You did everything in a rush. What might have been beautiful, you spoiled by finishing before her clothes were even half off.”
Livid, Diaz shot to his feet.
“I was still firing missiles when you led a madman’s charge at the airfield,” Marten said. “You pulled everyone with you. You lead unarmored skimmers straight into enemy fire. I lost a third of my men because of that. Did you count them, Major? Five skimmers lost out of twenty and thirty-one effectives left. We barely have a little over half our raiding force intact. Do you think I can hit each airfield in turn while losing almost half my men? Do you think I’m going to return to Secretary-General Chavez with handful of men left?”
“I killed no one—”
“Bah!” Marten said. “A third of our force was wiped out because you hunted for glory.”
Major Diaz blinked in shock. “I want to kill the enemy.”
“Good,” Marten said. “So do I. But this isn’t an assassin’s mission where we nerve ourselves up to face the cops, blow them away and run. This is a military strike. You do it by the numbers, not through heroics. You charged this base like a white knight on a mythical horse. The men followed you, forgetting everything I taught them. Because of that, a third of them are dead. Can you understand that? They are dead and we are too weakened to continue the mission.”
“Next time—”
“There won’t be a next time, Major. I’ve lost faith that you and your men want to learn how to fight like soldiers.” Marten began to stride back and forth, gesturing angrily. He had to drive this lesson home. “Not only do you act like a heroic fool, but you butcher those who could have given me important information. You even tried to kill those communications officers. We could have used those soldiers you killed to help us gain entrance onto the next airfield. I can appreciate that you’re a fighter Diaz. I like your hot-blooded courage. What I can’t abide is that you lose all sense while your bloodlust consumes your better intelligence. A good soldier has to stay cool-headed. That’s how he keeps his men alive for the next fight.”