Al Steiner: Greenies

"He will," he confirmed. "If they are brought here and if they are of high enough level to make a difference. Don't bring your low level lobbyist down here, bring the guy who can whisper in the ears back on Earth. Herald will be taking a pretty significant risk by talking. It doesn't take much in the armed forces to completely derail a career, believe me. So make sure the risk is worthwhile for him."

"Right," she agreed. "I'll get right to work on it."

They sat in silence for a moment, each contemplating the conversation that had just taken place. Finally, Laura said: "It's kind of ironic in a way, isn't it, Kevin?"

"What's that?" he asked.

"That I have to enlist the aid of the most powerful corporation in existence, that I have to utilize the very power of corruption I hate so much in order to save the planet they are desecrating."

He gave her a meaningful look. "The solar system is full of ironies," he told her. "The best you can do is use them to your advantage. Look at me. I'm utilizing the same process of manipulation of the military that has left us in this mess in the first place. Does that make it wrong?"

"No," she said. "Sometimes the ends really do justify the means."

"Sometimes they do."

April 2, 2132

Eden, Mars

The view from Riggington's Restaurant was impressive. The four-star facility sat atop the 230 story Emmington Group building in the heart of downtown Eden, right at the very edge of the city. From the picture windows near their table, Kevin Jackson and Laura Whiting could see the rolling red plains of equatorial Mars stretching off into the setting sun. The landscape was framed by the towering Sierra Madres foothills to the south and by the geometric squares of the greenhouse complexes stretching to the north. On the other side of the room, out the far windows, the other high-rises of Eden, including the Agricorp building, crowded the sky around them, their lights just beginning to shine. It was truly a commanding view and one that Jackson was sure to enjoy, Laura figured. That was why she had chosen this particular location for their discussion.

Martians, as a culture, did not stand too much on glittery displays of status. For that reason the dress code in Riggington's, as in most Martian facilities, was quite casual. The majority of the diners were dressed only in shorts and light cotton short-sleeve shirts of varying colors. This was the favored casual wear in a world where the temperature never changed and where weather conditions were never a concern. This was how Laura was dressed, though as a politician she usually pained herself to wear Earth-style business attire when out in public. It was expected of such a station in life. But today she did not wish to call much attention to herself; an endeavor she seemed to have been successful in.

The two friends had just come from the Eden Spaceport where they had been a part of the crowd greeting the returning POW's from the Jupiter War. The armistice had been signed nearly two months before and the first group of those naval and marine personnel who had been taken prisoner during the Callisto battles or the space battles had finally made it back to WestHem soil. They had emerged from the C-10 surface to orbit craft onto the tarmac of the spaceport's airlock where the Martian governor and two members of the executive council had greeted each one with handshakes and warm words of meaningless thanks for their sacrifice. The ceremony itself had actually been quite moving, even for a hardened politician like Laura or a hardened military commander like Jackson. After so much death and destruction during the bloody course of the war, seeing survivors, seeing those that had been thought lost returned was enough to trigger powerful emotions. There had been hardly a dry eye among the assembled crowds as wives, parents and children greeted their loved ones after all of those long months away. The ceremony was capped with patriotic speeches and flag-waving and horns blowing and a mass singing of the WestHem federal anthem. To see the portrayal, to feel the emotion of it, one could almost forget that the entire war had been for nothing.

More than twenty thousand WestHem marines had been killed in three separate attacks on Callisto. Twice that number had been wounded. More than ten thousand naval personnel had been killed and more than thirty front-line ships had been destroyed by enemy torpedoes. Though Mars itself had escaped invasion, thanks in part to the efforts of Laura and Jackson back at the beginning of the conflict, all of its cities had been bombed without let-up and more than thirty thousand citizens ultimately lost their lives. And despite all of this fighting and bombing and death, the EastHem fuel refining operation on Callisto was still there and was producing at high capacity. EastHem was now self-sufficient in fuel and the two major WestHem gas production corporations were in the midst of laying off tens of thousands of workers and mothballing dozens of their tankers.

Of course the WestHem government's position was not that it had lost the war. WestHem, the greatest democracy in the solar system, was incapable of losing a war. No, what WestHem had done was "negotiate a settlement" to the dispute. They claimed that the settlement reached was consistent with their original war goals. They had been misunderstood back at the beginning of the conflict when they stated those goals as being the unconditional withdrawal of all EastHem forces and civilians from the Jupiter system. All they wanted was to keep EastHem from attempting to expand their holdings in Jupiter and from attempting to impede WestHem fuel production. EastHem had agreed to this in writing so the war was over. The goals were met. Everyone was happy, right?

Laura had never been to Earth and did not know the extent of the Earthling's stupidity in such manners. Did they really believe all of the bullshit their government was laying upon them? She thought it entirely possible they did. But on Mars even the most common citizen knew the truth. WestHem had gotten its ass kicked and kicked royally. And Mars had been damn lucky to avoid a brutal enemy occupation.

"So what's the occasion, Laura?" Jackson asked her as they sipped from glasses of white wine imported from Earth (Mars had very little wine or alcohol production). "You didn't bring me up here to get me drunk did you? You seem too serious for that."

"I'm concerned about the pull-back of the marines from Mars," she said, nibbling on a piece of bread. "I understand the withdrawal will start next week."

"That's correct," he said. "The mechanized units will start loading up their equipment onto the landing ships for return to orbit. The troops will all be sent back to their bases on Earth after that."

"And we'll be defenseless once again," she said.

"Not completely," he corrected. "It's been decided by the powers-that-be that a division of marines will be permanently stationed at the training base outside Eden. Their heavy equipment will be stored in a group of heavy landing ships which will be kept at anchor at Triad Naval Base."

"So they're going to kick loose a little bit of funding for us huh?" she said cynically. "How rankin' of them. Will a division be enough?"

"It could potentially be enough if it was used correctly, but you have to understand that this division, though it will be stationed here, is not specifically intended for the defense of Mars."

She raised her eyebrows a little. "It's not?"

"No," he told her. "It will be a fast reaction force that is capable of being moved away from here in less than twenty-four hours. Its primary function will be to respond if there are any other problems in the Jupiter system. It has been suggested that the reason we were forced to 'negotiate a settlement' in the war was because we were unable to respond quick enough with enough troops and equipment to prevent the occupation of Callisto."