"Yes, sir," Zoloft said smartly. "The order is going out now."
"I'm going to address the troops," he said. "Computer, open a link on the main dispatch channel for Eden operations."
Jeff and Drogan were sitting against the backside of the agricultural truck their squad had been assigned, facing the city. They could see the high rises before them, the city buildings they were fighting to protect. Their topic of conversation, as always, was the uncomfortable and unresolved love triangle between Jeff, Xenia, and Belinda.
"Just wait until the fighting is over," Drogan was telling him. "You're not gonna be able to sort anything out with anyone until then. In that, Xenia is completely on the fuckin' money, you know? How can you make plans in the middle of this mess? How can you commit yourself to anyone or anything when any of us could be dead at any minute."
"I can't change how I feel, Drogan," he replied. "I know I'm stupid for imagining a life beyond this thing. I can't even imagine what Mars is gonna be like if we win, but..."
"All units in the Eden theater of operation," a familiar voice suddenly cut in. "This is General Jackson, talking to you from MPG operations in New Pittsburgh."
"What the fuck is this shit?" Drogan asked, actually grateful for the interruption. She was getting a little weary of hearing Creek drone on and on about Xenia all the time. Sure, she was a hot piece of quim, but was anyone worth all the fuss?
"I don't know," Jeff replied. "I think maybe the shit's about to hit the fan."
"For those of you who are monitoring the enemy positions on your command screen," Jackson said, "you already know what I'm about to tell you. For those who aren't, let me break the news. The WestHem marine units have completed their resupply operation and, as of ten minutes ago, they have begun to move in on the main line of defense. They are moving east at two-five klicks per hour in standard assault formation. The final battle for the fate of Eden is about to begin.
"Desertions have been high over the past few hours, mostly due to the pounding that the WestHem artillery inflicted upon our Jutfield Gap and Blue Line positions last night. I understand and I hold no ill will towards those who left. They simply decided the price of our freedom was a little higher then they expected. For those of you who have stayed behind, I salute you and I thank you for your faith in me and the other commanders who are leading this struggle. Allow me now to ease your mind a little bit about what is to follow.
"The WestHem mobile artillery guns are forming up as we speak. I expect they will begin firing on your positions soon. I wish I could tell you that you won't have to endure any artillery fire at all, but I can now tell you that we initiated a plan that will deal with those guns quickly and efficiently. We will neutralize the artillery threat in this battle and we will neutralize it swiftly. I cannot promise zero casualties before this neutralization takes place — after all, this is war and one cannot always predict everything when so many unknown variables are floating around — but it is my belief that we will silence those guns before they are able to compromise the integrity of most of the main line infantry and anti-tank positions.
"That is all I have to say for now," Jackson concluded. "I don't want to take up communication time that is best left to your field commanders. But I wanted to let all you know that when those shells start to fall on you that it will not last for long. Free Mars, people. You're fighting a just war."
Drogan and Jeff looked at each other.
"What do you think?" Jeff asked her. "Feel good bullshit?"
"He hasn't laid any of that on us yet, has he?" she replied.
"That's true," Jeff admitted.
"Did you hear how he termed that? He didn't say 'we're trying to neutralize the artillery', he said we will neutralize it."
"I sure the fuck hope he's right about that," Jeff said. "Because we're sitting out here in the open."
Lon and his squad were lying across two hills on the north side of the valley, directly across from where the WestHem resupply operation had been carried out. They had been out here all day, long enough to be resupplied twice with fresh charging batteries for the three anti-tank lasers they carried. Their orders had changed several times, seemingly against military logic, with no explanation of why.
When they'd first been dropped they had been tasked with going after the mobile artillery guns. For three hours they'd sifted through the massive collection of armored vehicles deployed from horizon to horizon, picking out individual guns and then targeting them, having to displace each time they fired in order to avoid the inevitable return fire from the marine mortar squads. And then, after the first supply drop they'd been told to ignore the mobile guns and to start hitting the APCs again. They had puzzled over this — there were still almost five hundred mobile guns out there, enough to cause the infantry troops at the main line quite a headache — but they'd obeyed. And then, just an hour before, after their last supply drop, their orders had changed yet again, and this time it was almost too much to take.
"Hold in place," they were told. "Do not engage any enemy units for any reason until further orders. Even if engaged, retreat without firing if possible. Repeat: Hold all fire until further notice."
"Are we surrendering?" Lisa asked. "Is there a cease-fire in place?"
"I don't think so," Lon said. "A cease-fire order would've gone out to all troops in the field at once. This came from Colonel Bright's office so it only applies to us."
They'd watched helplessly and angrily as the tanks and APCs started their engines and began to form up in lines for their march to Eden. They had a total of sixty charging batteries with them, enough to take out six hundred marines by themselves. Instead, they were letting them stroll out of here unmolested — or almost unmolested. The Mosquitoes kept making regular appearances and popping off two to four at a time.
And now, as the rear elements of the main army disappeared over the eastern horizon and as the artillery units began to form up into firing positions Lon suddenly wondered if the plan was for them to start engaging the artillery now. After all, it was all out in the open, right in front of them, with only a scattered battalion of tanks interspersed around the perimeter to defend it. Even the mortar squads were gone. But the minutes ticked by and no such order came.
"Goddammit," complained Horishito, "what the hell are those rear-echelon motherfuckers doing back at command? How the hell can they expect us to just sit here and watch the enemy start pounding on our forces without doing anything about it?"
"I agree, sarge," Lisa said, stroking the side of her AT laser nervously. "Maybe there's some kind of communications breakdown going on. Maybe we oughtta just engage anyway. If we don't start hitting them soon we aren't gonna knock enough of them out to make a difference."
"Wong's right, sarge," said Jefferson. "We been sitting here too fucking long. Let's start lighting up some guns."
"No," Lon said, looking at his time display. It had been ten minutes now since the last elements had disappeared. Even the dust cloud was slowly dissipating. "They gave us very clear and very precise orders. I'm not going to start acting on my own. Not yet anyway."
That pretty much ended the talk of dissension from their instructions. They grumbled a little more but no one else suggested opening up on the guns. Five more minutes ticked by, during which time the guns below finished their complex dance and seemed ready to unleash a barrage of 150mm shells any second.
"Message coming in, sarge," Jefferson suddenly reported. "It's decoding now."
"Finally," Lon grumbled. "AT teams, get your weapons charged up."