“Everyone, please gather ‘round,” General Patrick said.
Patrick and his staff, along with the 12 company commanders, assembled in a briefing room at the eastern end of the Mars Base. There was a pall over their meeting. While they didn’t know the details, everyone knew as usual, the odds were against them.
Everyone at this briefing had lost men. And women. They knew their fight was uphill, all the way. They’d watched as the enemy had destroyed their assets and killed their comrades, almost with impunity, in engagement after engagement. The body count was high. Theirs was a true David and Goliath scenario. Only this time … Goliath was winning.
The general stared at his officers as he activated an ARI in the center of the room, and a three-dimensional, ethereal image of the planet Mars materialized before them.
“The enemy fleet has taken up position in orbit over Mars. They’re located here.” He manipulated the ARI, which zoomed in to a location above the planet southeast of Elysium Mons. “They’re just below the horizon from the Mars Base, which is here. So they’re safely out of range of its gun batteries.” Patrick manipulated his remote and the display expanded to include the Mars Base.
“What’s the composition of their fleet, General,” one of his officers asked.
The general hesitated for a moment before answering. “… At this point, 12 Leviathan class mother ships, supported by 23 Cetacean class destroyers.” A whistle went up from someone. “Sensors haven’t picked up any enemy assets anywhere else in the solar system, so we don’t know yet if more are on the way.”
The room was silent. The general peered around, a stoic expression on his face.
“Is this the bulk of their fleet, Sir?”
“We don’t think so. Commander Richardson of the Nautilus air wing managed to obtain sensor data of the White Whale during a recent mission. It was only a few seconds–”
“You mean the legend is true?”
“Yes. S-2 has examined Richardson’s sensor data and determined the White Whale appears to be a mother ship for mother ships. There wasn’t enough data to determine how many it was carrying. Suffice it to say if we manage to defeat the enemy fleet now in orbit above Mars, we’re not out of the woods. Not by a long shot.
“So, a lot is riding on what we accomplish here today, ladies and gentlemen.” His officers remained silent, considering his words. The general continued his briefing. “S-2 believes the enemy is using their bigger ships as troop and equipment transports. Two of the Leviathan class ships have descended to the surface, landed and off-loaded their package. They’re now on a return course to their fleet, and two more are on a descent vector to replace them on the surface.”
“Why only two at a time?”
“Probably because they don’t want all of their assets on the surface at once. It would leave them vulnerable.”
“The package, General?”
“Ground troops. Supported by armor and artillery.”
“How many?” Was the obvious question. “What can we expect to face?”
“Based on what the first two ships have expelled, if all 12 are carrying a consistent number, and no more show up, then their entire expeditionary force would consist of almost 40,000 troops.”
“And support?”
“At least 200 tanks, or the enemy version thereof, and 75 pieces of artillery.”
“That many, against only 12 Marine companies?”
“We can’t deploy our entire Marine Corps,” Patrick said. “Based on our strategic plan, 12 companies should be sufficient.”
“But Sir, our 6,000 Marines, against 40,000 of theirs? That’s almost seven-to-one odds.”
“Our position and the fact that we have a shield canopy should even those odds.”
“With all due respect, General, these aren’t men. They’re reptilians. They’re over seven feet tall, and weigh a quarter ton each, not to mention they’re bristling with fangs and claws.”
“How much support do we have, General?” another officer asked, redirecting the discussion back to the tactical situation.
“Sixty tanks and 30 pieces of artillery,” Patrick replied. “But as I said, since ours is a static position, the one thing we’ll have that the enemy won’t, are shields. Our combat engineers are installing the portable generators as we speak, and they’re also laying out a mine field in front of our position. They’re rigging it with remote detonators, so we can blow it at our discretion. But we’ll keep that in reserve if we feel we’re about to be overrun.”
“And what about air support?”
“Theirs or ours?”
“Theirs.”
“We don’t think they’ll have any. S-2 believes they’ll utilize all of their saucer squadrons to engage our fleet when it arrives. I tend to agree with them for two reasons. One, their arrogance. They believe they have overwhelming numbers on the ground, and even without air support, they think we’ll be no match for them.”
“And the second reason, Sir?”
“Any assets they put in the air above our position will automatically come under fire from our gun batteries here on the base. That’s one of the reasons we chose our position–it’s within range of this base’s guns. We can’t mount an effective defense from within Mars Base, and I don’t want us to try it just outside its walls. The position we’ve chosen provides us with the best chance to repel their assault.
“Even our secondary batteries would easily be able to deal with an air strike. I don’t think they’ll risk any kind of air support. As S-2 suggested, they’ll save them for the fight in orbit.”
“And where is our position located, General?” Major Cooper asked.
Patrick manipulated the ARI to zoom in on the base. “We’ll be dug in here, three clicks east of the base. They’re approaching from that side because the north and west are much too rocky and uneven to accomplish a disciplined assault, and the south is an open plain with no cover. The base’s guns could pick them off indiscriminately from a safe distance while we ate sandwiches and drank sweet tea.”
Cooper smiled at the General’s tea reference.
“We’ll be positioned along this low ridge here.” The ARI expanded once more to reveal the proposed location. “It’s about three quarters of a mile long, with a small arroyo that ends in a box canyon, situated at the north end. Major Cooper, that’s where your company will take up their position. On our left flank.”
“Aye, Sir.”
“Jim, I’ll be with your company in the center, here, and Bud, your company will cover our right flank.” Each time he noted a site, the general manipulated the ARI to show the positions indicated. “You’ll have the easiest job, Bud. The ground in front of the ridge slopes gradually to the south, so that at the north end, the ridge is only about 60 feet high. By the time we get to the south end, it’s over 180 feet. Also, the ridge itself has a gentler slope at the north end–you can easily walk up it. By the time we get down to you Bud, the slope is practically vertical, and you almost need mountaineering equipment to scale it. As Sandy can attest, these snakeheads are big, lumbering brutes. They won’t want to do any climbing. So that means, Major Cooper, they’re all going be headed in your direction.” He manipulated the ARI once more to focus on the north end of the ridge. “They’re all gonna want to come right-through-you.”
“That reminds me of Little Round Top,” one of the officers said.
“Exactly, and Major Cooper, you’re going to have to be our Colonel Chamberlain. You and your company will be the EDF version of the Twentieth Maine.
“The rest of the companies will be deployed thusly.” Patrick brought the names of the remaining Marine companies up on the ARI above the ridge. “Note your positions, each of you, and relay the information to your officers and platoon leaders. Jeff, your company’s going to be held in reserve, behind Major Cooper and her boys. If they start to feel the pressure, I want you to move in and support them. We’ll also position the bulk of our armor around you for additional support. The combat engineers are deploying a large bundle of ordnance right at the foot of your position, Major Cooper, so if we decide it’s necessary to blow it, you’ll be given the order to fall back to avoid any casualties among your men from the blast.”
“Roger that, Sir.”
Patrick eyed Cooper for a moment.
“How long do we have before we receive them, General?” another officer asked.
“Based on their physiology, they won’t be able to accomplish a forced march like we could. But we believe they possess more stamina than we do, so they’ll probably be able to march more slowly without taking as many rest breaks. If this assessment is correct, we estimate they will complete the off-loading of their troops and equipment in about six hours–”
“Forty thousand troops in six hours? That’s awfully optimistic.”
“The second set of mother ships has probably already completed their off-loading as we speak. When we observed the first pair, they opened every door, crack and crevice, and the scaly horde poured out.”
“That’s still mighty quick.”
“I agree, but they’re highly motivated. So to answer the rest of your original question, the ground troops began their march immediately after they’d completed off-loading, so they’ll come at us in waves. The first group is already on their way. It will take six to eight hours for them to reach our defensive position on the ridge. With our fleet on the way, the enemy will already want to be in position in orbit to receive them when our carriers arrive, so they’ll need to expedite the deployment of their expeditionary force as quickly as possible.”
“When will our fleet arrive, Sir?”
“They were scattered all over the solar system, so only about half of the fleet is at their rallying point behind Jupiter right now. The rest is en-route, but Oleander is returning on a speed course from Sirius B, and Ironclad is high-tailing it back from Proxima. They estimate they’ll engage the enemy fleet just before their ground troops reach us.” Patrick glanced around at his officers one more time.
“We have less than a day to complete our preparations and get your company’s into position. There’s still much work to accomplish, so I suggest we set our shoulders to the plow, and get it done.” He paused for a moment. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” he said as he glanced at Sandy and the other two female company commanders, “prepare your troops for an old fashioned, boots on the ground battle. May God guide you, and watch over each and every one of you. Semper FI, Marines.”
“Ooh-rah!” the group of Marine officers shouted in unison as they snapped to attention and saluted.
The general returned their salute, and while they filed out of the room, he turned and stared at the ARI, still displaying the tiny ridge upon which all their hopes rested. He manipulated the display one more time, focusing in on Little Round Top as he released a heavy sigh.