“No thank you ma’am. And sirs.”
Jethro floated out of the room. Conrad and Bronte didn’t need to ask if he had passed.
“Good luck Bronte and Conrad. Thanks for your help and advice. I hope we meet again at Dartmouth.”
Jethro Tull left the selection centre.
I have just been selected to train as a Space Marine officer.
chapter 9
“First Contact sir. What do you think the aliens want?” asked Jethro.
“I don’t bloody care,” said his boss, Major Misere. “As long as they leave me alone.”
“And what about the defence cuts sir?”
“There are always defence cuts after a war Jethro. Governments want to spend money on voters so they can get voted back in. They think nobody will vote for more military spending because the war is over.”
“Do you not think First Contact might cause the government to pause on the cuts for a while?”
“That’s your biggest problem, Second-Lieutenant Tull. You think too much. I am a grunt. I accept that I am a grunt, and grunts are not paid to think. OK so you’re a triple S grunt but we’re still grunts and we’re paid to obey orders. Talking of which, have you test fired the ship guns this week?”
“No sir. I’ll get on it now.”
Major Misere wasn’t that bad, as long as you never expected him to be cheerful and as long as you were a grunt. He hated Space Pilots. It was kind of understandable. Scuttlebutt suggested his wife had divorced him for a Space Pilot.
A chest full of medals, some for bravery and not just the attend medals one gets, and the rank of Major in the Space Marine Corps suggested he was a bloody good officer. It made Jethro wonder what the Major was doing on this godforsaken Earth Mining Vessel (EMV).
After Jethro completed Space Marines bootcamp at Britannia college Dartmouth in England and completed Space Marines final training at Fort Bragg in the USA, he was asked to try out for the Special Space Service (triple S).
He passed selection and training successfully and was now a triple S officer, but he was still bottom of the pile. Supposedly, he was attached to a Space Marine company on an EMV to gain experience of command in the field. But Jethro knew why he was on the EMV; he had no senior friends. That’s the way the military works in the 24th century.
The EMV was the Blackbird; a mining survey vessel, touring uncharted Asteroids looking for useful minerals to determine if they were retrievable. Earth had long ago run out of easily obtainable minerals.
Down in one of the crew rooms the troops were moaning.
“I fucking hate officers,” said Trooper Walker. “And in particular, I hate sprog officers who think they’re better than everyone else.”
“I’m sure sprog officers fucking hate you too,” said Trooper Peck to laughter. She was doing one arm pullups on the resistance machine.
Gunnery Sergeant Akoni Brown entered the crew space. “What are you lot bitching about?”
“Sprog officers Gunny,” said Walker.
“Thought so. My philosophy,” said Gunny, pausing until he had everyone’s attention. “Is that I hate all officers until they earn my respect. I was a Sergeant on the training staff when Second Lieutenant Tull was in bootcamp and he saved my life. And not only that, he also saved my face when he had every right to shit on me from a great height. So I won’t hear a bad word said about him. Is that clear?”
“Yes Gunny,” The entire crew room of Space Marines agreed. None of them would ever disagree with Gunnery Sergeant Brown even if he wasn’t a Gunnery Sergeant; his broken nose, scarred face and scarred knuckles gave him a certain amount of persuasive clout in a discussion.
“But he’s a triple S,” said Peck. “What’s he doing on this crate?”
“Yeah Gunny,” said Walker. “He must have done something wrong.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Gunny. “And Peck?”
“Yes Gunny.”
“Can you hide those legs away when you’re exercising? The men might get the wrong idea.”
“Don’t worry about that Gunny,” said Peck still doing one arm pull ups. These legs are real man crushers.”
Gunny shook his head and left the crew room.
“Gunny?” Jethro had found him.
“Sir?”
“Can you get one of the men to come with me to test fire the ship’s guns?”
“I’ll do it myself sir.”
“Gunny?”
“I like to keep my hand in. Just in case sir.”
“OK. Come on then.” Jethro would have considered Gunnery Sergeant Brown as a mate, if he was allowed to. He had met Gunny on the staff at Dartmouth during his bootcamp training. But as an officer Jethro was not allowed to be friends with a non-commissioned-officer.
They went to the Bridge to request permission from the Officer-of-the-Watch (OOW). It wouldn’t do to start firing the ship’s guns without informing the Space Pilot.
“Permission to come on the bridge sir?”
OOW was First Lieutenant Conrad, a Space Fleet pilot. He was on the same bootcamp as Jethro at Dartmouth, before he had gone on to do his Space Fleet training in Beijing and then on the Moon. Conrad was a university graduate before joining the military, which is why he outranked Jethro.
“Morning Jethro.”
“Morning sir. We’d like permission to test fire the ship’s guns.”
“No problem. Granted except for the Bow gun. Engineers are refitting some heat tiles on the Bow.”
“All except the Bow gun. Thank you sir.” One repeated an order to make sure it was correctly understood.
“Jethro. Bronte sends her best wishes. She’s on the Constitution.”
“The Constitution. She’s done well for herself. Thanks sir.”
The Constitution was one of three Superstarships in the Earth Fleet.
“Unlike us stuck on this wreck.”
“Copy that sir.”
Jethro was more than fond of Bronte, but even though they were good friends after what happened at Dartmouth, he knew she was way out of his league.
Jethro and Gunny started at the turret gun. They rotated it aft facing so as not to disturb the engineers, although the engineers would have been told by the bridge what was going on. The guns fired a varying frequency laser beam which cut through almost anything. Jethro let Gunny sit in the gunners seat whilst he went through the pre-firing checks.
Luckily in the asteroid belt there are always rocks to blast and Gunny powered up the guns. There are two guns per turret and six turrets in all on the EMV Blackbird, named after a famous mine. The latest EMVs only have 4 turrets to save money.
“Ready to fire sir.”
“Fire at will Gunny.”
Jethro could see Gunny enjoyed shooting at rocks. Watching him reminded Jethro of his youth, sitting in his bedroom at his parents’ farm shooting at alien craft on his games console, often with his best friend Maddy.
Maddy’s parents were farmers in the next farm but they emigrated to Mars after the war because land was going cheap. Jethro wondered what happened to Maddy as they had mostly lost touch since she emigrated. He had promised to go and visit but when he joined Dartmouth for officer bootcamp he had met Bronte, and Maddy kind of faded in his mind.
He occasionally messaged Maddy when he was bored during his current appointment on the EMV. She appeared happy to hear from him and replied almost instantly, but he hadn’t messaged her recently. He made a decision to attend to that when he got off shift. It would give him something to do that didn’t involve thinking of Bronte or home.
The test firing was completed for all gun turrets except the forward one on the Bow but he could do that tomorrow. He wrote up his actions in the report log and retired to his cabin. But when he got there, he saw that Maddy had messaged him. This was unusual. Either she was telepathic. Or bored. Or Jethro had waited too long between contacting her. Or something was wrong.
chapter 10
The Speaker banged her gavel on
the sound block on her dais and continued banging until finally the House regained some order and became silent.
“Ladies and gentlemen please. This is a government debate, not a children’s playground. I have already had to replace my gavel and block once this month and I don’t want to have to do it again. We will hear all of the submitted questions and all of the answers in full and without interruption before we have the vote, even if we are here until next Christmas. Don’t come complaining to me you want to leave the House because it is you, collectively,” she opened her arms to indicate the whole house were guilty. “Who are wasting your own time.”
She had the attention of everybody in the House and announced, “The Vice President of the World Government.”
Madame Cordelia Lupin stood up and adjusted her papers then cleared her throat. “To answer the gentleman’s question. We have received no communication from Mars for forty eight hours. In that time fifteen trade vessels from Earth have been sent to Mars and we have received no communication from them.” She sat down.
The Speaker stood again and read out another name, “The right honourable Abebe Awumba.”
A gentleman stood up. “Thank you Speaker. Can the honourable lady confirm whether or not we are at war with Mars?” As he sat there was again uproar in the House as members shouted both in agreement and disagreement at the question.
The Speaker gained order and invited the Vice President to answer.
“I can confirm that we have raised the operational state of the Earth to code Orange but this is only a precautionary measure. No, we are not at war with Mars. Not yet.”
The word ‘yet’ caused a near riot in the House and the Speaker had no choice but to suspend proceedings for two hours to allow the House to “relieve the tensions and come to your senses.”
Vice President Lupin informed her party there would be a meeting of the Space Security Council at the White House.
Lytton groaned. He would have to cancel dinner with his daughter which was annoying because Bronte had to report back to her ship tomorrow and he might not see her again for some time. She was a Space Marine officer. Her appointment was with the boarding assault team on the Earth’s newest large Starship, the WSS (World Space Ship) Constitution.
Lytton went through the security scans at the White House metro entrance and was lucky enough to be able to jump on a service wagon going his direction through the maze of tunnels beneath the White House. Otherwise he would have had to wait for the official transport. Lytton believed it always paid dividends to be nice to the staff in these places.
“Here you are sir. Just walk fifty metres along that service tunnel. Cabinet Room security will be on your right.”
“Thanks John. And congratulations to your daughter for securing her place at college.”
“I will, and thanks for the advice sir.”
Lytton enjoyed helping people break through the barriers that might otherwise prevent them from getting a good education. Life wasn’t fair and he always made the effort to make it as fair as he possibly could.
The Vice President and her staff had rounded up the usual suspects for the Security Council meeting. Around the table seated were Secretaries and Directors and some top brass representing the five military arms of land, sea, air, space and special forces. Lytton was an Assistant Secretary of Defense without portfolio from the United Kingdom, currently working on security for the Asteroid mines. Secretaries without portfolio were appointed from within the party in power in the World Government to help with the massive workload in military and defence management that had escalated since the war with Mars ended five years ago.
Normally Lytton was not senior enough to attend a World Government Space Security Council meeting but because of the strategic value of the area he was working on, he was asked to attend.
Lytton took his seat against the wall and not actually at the table as he wasn’t important enough for that privilege.
When everyone was assembled a suited lady with biceps left the room and fetched the Vice President, Cordelia Lupin. She was in post as head of the World Government because the President, Jose Trian had suffered an accident whilst playing golf and was temporarily disabled.
“Let’s get straight to the question,” the VP asked, before she even sat down. “Should we declare war with Mars? Yes or No?”
This was the one thing Lytton liked about the VP. She hated preamble and obfuscation.
The senior military officer, Five Star General Patton Cloud the seventh, Space Marine Corps, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Earth, began, “Ma’am we've sent a strongly worded message via the hotline to the Chairwoman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Mars asking her to get in contact with us immediately. Code Red.”
“You have not answered my question General. Yes or No?”
“No Ma’am.”
The VP stood up. “Let’s have a show of hands. All those who say we should declare war now raise your right hand.” She turned to one of her aides, “Count them and make a note please.”
“All those who say we should not declare war now raise your right hand.” She nodded to her aide who counted the hands.
Apart from the aides and security presence in the room Lytton was the only person not allowed to vote. From what he could see the vote was fifty fifty with almost all the military voting no and almost all the civilians voting yes for war.
The aide passed a piece of paper to the VP. She looked at it and her mouth headed towards a smile without actually reaching one, not indicating pleasure or displeasure. It was difficult for an observer to gauge her reaction.
“It appears ladies and gentlemen, that we have a near tie.” She didn’t read out the numbers. “I need a much clearer result than that so let’s discuss the issues. Usual rules apply. John can you chair?” The VP asked one of her aides to chair the discussion.
This was the second thing Lytton liked about the VP, her “usual rules apply.” It meant that they would go around the table and each speaker was only allowed two minutes on an egg timer to state a view. Most hated this but Lytton thought it a great idea. It meant no waffling and cut down the endless repetition of the same points as speakers tried to wear down their opponents by boring them into submission. It also meant they might actually get finished in the time; otherwise the meeting could last hours even days. And they might get a second vote.
The VP nodded to John and he turned to his left, “Admiral Yuan Kang?” As he spoke he turned the egg timer over.
“I voted no,” the Admiral said. “We need to collect more intelligence first.”
Lytton was impressed. The timer had barely started by the time the Admiral stopped talking.
Unfortunately not everyone was as brief and many had to be stopped mid-sentence, with some not actually saying anything before they were cut off mid waffle, to their great annoyance. But the discussion advanced around the table and as far as Lytton could understand most of what needed to be said, was said. He suspected had they gone on for another few hours many more words would have been spoken but very little extra would have been said. Such is the nature of twenty fifth century Earth politics.
“Madame Vice President?” John stood up and handed the chair back to the VP.
She sat in the chair and cogitated for a while. Lytton noticed they only had ten minutes left before the House resumed. They would not start without the VP present as it was a session of President’s Question Time that she was attending and she was the President for the current session.
“Right. I’ve listened to all the arguments and I’m going to ask one more question before I make my decision.”
Lytton could see some of the Security Council squirming uncomfortably in their chairs because they clearly felt they had a lot more to say and they wanted to say it. But no one dared question the VP as she had a reputation for no nonsense.
“Assistant Secretary Lytton. Do we have any military capable ships operating in the Asteroid Belt close to Mars?”
W
hat? You’re asking me?
Lytton felt a gentle nudge from one of the security guards standing next to his chair.
“We only have one ship in close proximity to Mars, Madame Vice President.”
“We have the EMV WSS Blackbird…” began Space Admiral Chantel Lace, First Space Lord of the Earth Space Fleet, before she was interrupted by the VP.
“I asked Lytton.”
Lytton continued, “The EMV, Earth Mining Vessel is currently only a few hours away from Mars, Madame Vice President.”
“Does it have weapons?”
“It is lightly armed for defending itself.”
“And can it travel at hyper speed?”
Lytton was impressed. She was well briefed. “Yes Madame Vice President.”
The VP stood up. “Right that's settled then. We’ll send the EMV WSS Blackbird on a mission of peace to engage with Mars and find out what’s going on.”
Lytton’s heart sank. He had just sent his son, Conrad into a potential war zone in a lightly armed old crate.
chapter 11
The message from Maddy was simple.
“Being attacked by aliens. Ma and Pa dead, Snoopy gone. Hiding in bunker. Help.”
Maddy had a weird sense of humour at times. But this wasn’t humour. You don’t make jokes about your parents being dead. And Maddy loves her dog Snoopy. This was serious. Jethro messaged back.
“Maddy. Confirm ‘aliens’. Describe if possible. Take care. Jethro.”
It would take a couple of days to get a reply because the message was relayed to Earth then Mars and the return would come the same route. Jethro was going to tell his boss. One of things he had learnt in training was that all information was valuable and early information, even if uncorroborated, could be very valuable in preparing the mindset.
Major Misere was in the bar. He was on duty so not drinking alcohol, which made him even more miserable because everyone else was drinking. He was also alone. Jethro would get a non-alcoholic drink so as not to irritate him even more.
Red Dust of Mars Page 5
