"Roger that, DeathRay. Hey, you think after today we might get a few days' leave?" Demonchild laughed.
"I was thinking of sleeping on a beach somewhere for a few days," Fish added.
It sounded good to Jack. Hell, he had been up since way before daylight taking care of a high-risk mission and barely had time to eat before being thrust into an even bigger shit storm. As CAG he had a lot of letters to write. It was going to be hard to write the ones for Bigguns and Rabies, they were good pilots, good friends. Hell, it would be hard to write all of them.
Shit, this has been one long fuckin' day.
Yes, sir.
"Gyrene, that is one mean son of a bitch hot shit metal machine you got there, but the damned pilot is the ugliest sorry sock full of shit I ever seen!" Army M3A17 Transfigurable Tank Mecha Commander Lieutenant Colonel Mason Warboys shook his longtime friend's hand, bumped his shoulders, and patted his back.
"Well, you Army puke, that tank mecha ain't so bad either, but goddamn if you ain't rough on the eyes." Marine FM-12 Strike Mecha Commander of Cardiff's Killers Lieutenant Colonel John "Burner" Masterson laughed. "How bad are your boys?"
"Lost a bunch of good tank drivers, John. And you?"
"As far as we know we lost our entire supercarrier. The Killers, well, we lost a lot of good Marines, Mase." Burner looked at the Starlifters dropping in behind their mecha. As soon as they were reloaded they were going to help out with the cleanup of the domes. Normally, other soldiers would step in, but they had lost so many that they were the only seasoned soldiers available. More were on the way from Luna and Earth, but they were reserve units still mustering in North Carolina. It would be hours before they got there and some of the Seppy stragglers could get away by the time reinforcements showed up.
"Your boys okay for more work?"
"We're tired and down, but we can hang with you jarheads. Damn, I'm glad you made it, Burner. When I heard about your boat . . . "
"Yeah, thanks, Mase."
"Warlord One! Lieutenant Colonel Warboys," one of the Starlifter crews was calling him. "Sir?"
"Duty calls, Burner."
"See ya soon. Watch your six!"
"Roger that. You too."
"Chief of the Boat Command Master Chief William Edwards!" Captain Sharon "Fullback" Walker called across the hospital room at her COB. The corpsman working on her leg was finishing up with the instacast. Once the young hospital corpsman first class had shot her full of pain meds and immunoboost, she placed the instacast around her leg and pulled the string. The cast expanded antibiotic gel into the compound fracture wound and then expanded until it forced the bone back into place. Then the gel material hardened enough to support her leg but still give with muscle tissue movement.
"Captain Walker, ma'am!" Bill snapped a salute with his right hand. He had a gelbandage on his left shoulder and his back. Something had impaled him, it appeared. "You've looked better, ma'am, if you don't mind my saying."
"You don't look so hot yourself, Command Master Chief." Fullback smiled at her COB. He single-handedly had saved the Martian city by getting the propulsion back online. "Good work, Bill. Hell, excellent work. I don't know how you did it but I'm putting you in for the medal."
"Captain, I was just doing my job."
"A brilliant leader once said, 'Look at a day when you are supremely satisfied at the end. It's not a day when you lounge around doing nothing; it's when you've had everything to do and you've done it,' " Fullback said. "I think that sums up what you did today, Bill."
"I think it fits us all, the entire crew, ma'am. Who said that?"
"Former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher." The captain smiled at her COB as he nodded in agreement. "Now, shouldn't you be tending to my crew?"
"Aye sir!"
"Sergeant Clay, PFC Kudaf, Second Lieutenant Washington." Alexander shook the AEM's hands. Of the squad that was deployed to bring him, his wife, and daughter to safety they were the only three that had survived. "Thank you for what you did for us today. Semper Fi."
"Semper Fi!" They nodded to the senator.
"If either of you men ever need anything . . . seriously . . . if y'all need anything all you have to do is have your AICs tag mine and you will get to me directly. Any time," Moore told the Marines.
"We were just doing our jobs, Senator. You take care of yourself." The second lieutenant paused and then saluted him. "Major!"
Moore returned the salute, nodded, and then closed up the hatch of the Starlifter and banged on the door three times with his fist. The AEMs were being transported into various domes of the city to help with mop-up and search and rescue. Moore turned and walked back toward the elevator of the hangar of the giant supercarrier as the Starlifter lifted quietly off the battered flight deck of the ship. The large transport ship along with several other vehicles passed through the airseal force field at the open end of the hangar. A flurry of rescue and resupply vehicles continued in and out of the hangar deck. Medical crews had set up emergency triage units along the bulkheads, and wounded were being attended to there. The walking wounded were unloaded from the rescue vehicles and then directed to other decks.
"That was a very touching moment, Senator. The networks have been running our footage of you fighting to protect your family and the details of your story. They would love to go live in an interview with you." Gail Fehrer stood in front of him at the elevator shaft.
"Can I change clothes first?" Moore looked down at the blood-splattered and dusty e-suit. He had tossed the helmet aside an hour earlier but hadn't had time to change as he was making rounds to see soldiers and civilians and was shaking hands every chance he could. He even had helped carry some gurneys for a while. He was tired and he let out a long sigh.
"It might be more authentic if you didn't." Gail cocked her head sideways and raised her left eyebrow in thought. "Whatever you prefer is fine by me. But they would like to go live as soon as you are ready."
"Gail . . . uh." Moore paused for a second and reached over to the cameraman pushing the camera down. "Turn that off for a minute."
"What?!" Calvin gasped.
"Go ahead, Calvin. Seriously." Gail knew when to turn the cameras on and when not to. And sometimes it was that trick that got you the real story.
"Calvin, stay here a minute." Moore held up a finger at the cameraman. Then he grabbed the reporter by the wrist and led her a few meters to a tool room with a big window in it overlooking the hangar. He pulled her through the doorway to it and then closed the door behind them.
"What's this about, Senator?"
"Gail. There is a story here, a story that could make both of us if we played it right. Oh sure, you are a big correspondent now, but I'm thinking much bigger than that." Moore paused to see if there was any reaction, but the reporter had a good poker face.
"What is this story?"
"Hell, just look out the window at all of that! Look how many wounded are pouring in here and to the hospitals across the city and at the Navy base. It will last for days. Then they will have to start moving the dead. That will take even longer!" Moore thought about how to say what needed to be said.
"Yeah, it is horrible. I get it."
"Oh, you get the fact that this is a horrible thing that happened, but the bigger story is how did this happen. How did America allow this to happen? How did President Alberts allow this to happen? How did the Democratically controlled Congress allow this to happen?" He paused again and pointed at the streams of wounded that continued to pour into the hangar deck. A smile started to grow across Fehrer's face. Moore knew she would get it. A reporter isn't a good reporter if they can't find somebody to make a hero and if they can't think of somebody or many somebodies to crucify.