Warzone: Nemesis: A Novel of Mars

by Morris Graham

  When a security leak to the Soviets compromised the personal information of many of my men’s families, the Soviets used the threat of harming them to break our morale. I recommend to ASDC Command that all personnel who serve on frontier posts use call signs only.

  COL Darrel Cavender

  Black Dogs Battalion, Luna

  A dark shadow crept over the colonel’s face as he digested the report. The idea that they were losing because of the alloy-x freighters he was packing for his post on Mars cut him to the quick. He could do the math. They weren’t ready and wouldn’t make it there in time to defend Eagle 1. COL Wycoff put down the paper.

  “What are your orders, sir?”

  “How soon can your team be ready to leave for Luna?”

  “One week, sir.”

  “You have three days. Even so, Eagle 1 may have fallen before you get there. You’ll direct your landing team to reinforce Eagle 1 on Luna. If the post has fallen by the time you get there, dig in and establish a new post. I cannot stress enough the importance of this mission. There is no more alloy-x to supply another team should you fail, and failure is not an option. If Eagle 1 has fallen, you must establish your landing zone at Landau Crater, which will give you ample time to dig in and build a post before you have visitors. The distance between the Soviet post at the Fabry Crater and the Landau Crater is 3,933 kilometers. Make the landing zone at the beginning of their satellite blackout window to gain an additional hour and fifty minutes before the Soviets know you’ve landed. You never know when the extra time may be critical. Speed in setting up your recycler, defensive grid, artillery, armory, and factory is imperative. If you can’t raise anyone alive on radio at Eagle 1 when you arrive, don’t attempt to go there. Any questions?”

  “None, sir.”

  “Here is the file on your mission,” he said as he handed him a file stuffed with documents. “There will be only a small window for you to construct your post and get prepared to defend her. Once the Soviet satellite blackout is over, you have approximately thirty-nine hours before all of the tanks the Soviets possess will come knocking at your door, followed by their artillery pieces approximately three days later. You must have your defensive grid in place, and enough tanks built by the time the Soviet tanks get there to hold them off. You must have your own artillery constructed before theirs arrives.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “I believe COL Cavender was right. From now on, all personnel on these frontier posts will be referred to by call signs only. What will yours be?”

  COL Wycoff thought a moment, and then showed his teeth. “Red Fangs, sir.”

  “Very good. Launch time has been moved up to three days from now, at seventeen hundred hours.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Rising to his feet, the general shook COL Wycoff’s hand and wished him luck. He had every confidence in COL Red Fangs as he was now called. He was a hard charger and had filled his team with hard chargers and the best technical people he could find.

  The Americans worked around the clock to ready the expedition of sixteen ships for the trip to Luna. They would sleep on the sixteen hour trip, then hit the ground running and work sixteen hour days until the Soviets arrived. The men had endured grueling training to learn how to function with little sleep or food when the need called for it. It was time for their training to pay off.

  COL Red Fangs couldn’t bring all of his personnel on the first trip. His priority, on the first trip, was to transport vital equipment and supplies. The equipment included electronic and surveillance equipment, the recycler, heavy equipment for the oxygen extraction and steel mill, meager medical equipment and supplies for a sick bay, food, water and fuel.

  His personnel would be his command staff, the construction crew, one doctor, one clergyman who was cross-trained as a nurse, a few support staff, and three shifts of tactical operation technicians. All but five of the pilots of the transport freighters were also his combat pilots. CPT America, who had the lead ship, the pilots of the two fuel tankers and the two water tankers weren’t part of his crew. His pilots who would remain were all cross-trained to work in the oxygen extraction and steel mill or the factory they would construct to build artillery pieces, work and combat vessels. The construction process used a lot of fuel and water, so as soon as one water or fuel tanker was empty, they flew back for a refill at top speed. His construction crew was cross-trained as his artillery battery. More personnel, food, supplies, and equipment would be would be arriving with each vessel returning. One small vessel was left behind for shuttling any emergency spare parts for equipment breakdowns. It was faster and lighter and could make the trip from Earth to Luna in only twelve hours. A total of one hundred and twenty men would be on the first trip. His construction battalion was ready to lift off.

  July 13, 1970—Seventeen Hundred Zulu

  “Colonel, all preflight checks are complete. All systems are go: all cargo loaded and accounted for, and all personnel ready to embark,” reported his executive officer LTC Judgment Day.

  “Very good, load up.” His XO gave the order for all personnel to enter the ships.

  Luna was a sixteen hour trip. The first one hundred and twenty men would sleep most of the way there. This would get them ready for the grueling pace of setting the new post up before the Soviets attempted to lay siege to it. Six of the freighters would be unloaded and return quickly to pick up more equipment, supplies, and another one hundred and twenty men. It would be another thirty-four hours after they landed before they were relieved.

  The American fleet of sixteen transport freighters, one by one lifted off from their secret post in Utah. They were painted sky-blue to limit the amount of possible UFO sightings. It was imperative civilians didn’t see their ships. All civilians had been removed from a one hundred square mile area, under the pretext that the EPA was checking for radiation leakage from some old uranium mines. It was good to be connected, thought the colonel.

  “Captain, get us there ASAP,” COL Red Fangs ordered.

  “Aye sir, full speed it is.” So it was on the third day, at seventeen hundred, the American fleet left for Luna, unsure of what they would find there.

  CPT Walker recently had undergone a name change as per orders. He was now referring to himself as CPT America, and his transport freighter the America was the lead vessel. COL Red Fangs regarded the name as a good omen. The colonel hated this part of any assignment. The waiting was unsettling, especially knowing his good friend COL Cavender and all hands may be dead by the time he arrived.

  LUNA—July 13, 1970

  Nineteen Forty-Two Zulu

  COL Red Fangs was reading the file’s documents for the tenth time. The summary on the last page contained the physical parameters that defined how they would conduct their mission.

  Summary… ‘Luna has no atmosphere. Its gravity is 16.6% of Earth’s. To keep their cardiovascular system healthy over a long period of time, the men were required to exercise by carrying weights to overcompensate for the weak gravity. The Lunar month is 27.225 Earth days, half of which has around the clock intense light and heat, reaching temperatures up to 265 °F/129 °C, while the dark period gets as cold as -170 °F/-112 °C. Because daylight and dark periods are nearly two weeks long, post operations will keep Earth Zulu time and date, and operate on twenty-four hour days, seven day weeks to keep the men on the bio-clock they’re used to. Time zones are irrelevant on Luna, so we refer to time in relation to how much light or darkness is left until the state changes, and regard marking time for records by Earth Mountain Standard Time, Zulu. Whenever possible, Sunday will be observed as a day of rest and church services will be available for all men. Luna has roughly three trillion craters. The far side is more heavily pockmarked with craters than the near side. The hoverdrives on all vehicles use antigravity technology for hovering and use conventional liquid carbon-based fuel for propulsion.’

  “Your coffee, sir, hot and black.” COL Red Fangs looked up from his reading.

&
nbsp; “Very good, Corporal.” He blew on the hot liquid to cool it, and took a sip, refocusing his attention to the file he’d been reading.

  ‘Luna has no water, but some ice is on the poles. Luna only has igneous rocks, rich in oxygen, formed from molten rock. Oxygen will be supplied by these rocks in an oxygen extraction process, key to the post’s survival. The men’s flight suits and ships had rebreathers, but there wasn’t enough room to bring enough oxygen tanks to fill all of the buildings. The moving line of darkness is called the terminator. The edge of the terminator that separates light from darkness advances about ten miles per hour. Should the American post have fallen at the D’Alembert crater, then you’ll construct the new American post at the Landau Crater, on the far side of Luna for security reasons.’

  He would have liked more time to put his team and equipment together, but if there was any chance of saving the American post and his old friend it would be worth it. He had the best team on Earth. He had confidence that his team would get the job done if they had to help reinforce Eagle 1 or set up and defend a new post. He smiled slightly when he considered that the men could carry heavier weight due to the weaker gravity. The weaker gravity would be a bonus when they were unloading the ships.

  The lead ship picked up a satellite transmission from Eagle 1, six hours after lift-off. The transmission was laced with static, but the voice was understandable.

  “COL Cavender, we have Soviet tanks and bombers on radar, sir,” the voice cross-reference was identified as belonging to 1LT Westbrook.

  “This is COL Cavender. Form a line behind the east guntower, and in front of the post HQ. All noncombatant personnel report to the post HQ, where you’ll receive a rifle and side arm from Chief Higgins. The combat officers have elected not to surrender. I’m leaving the noncombatant personnel under the command of CPT Lacey. Should we fall in the attempt to defend our post, CPT Lacey will confer with you all to decide whether or not you’ll surrender. May God be with us all.” The colonel exhaled and steeled himself for the attack to come. He laughed at the irony of the situation. Four generations of military officers in his family and his end will have to be modified to show he died in Vietnam: to have a public funeral with military honors. None of his family would be told the real truth, but that’s the way this war was.

  Eagle 1 Post: Black Dogs Battalion, Luna

  Personal Log, CPT Neil Lacey

  July 13, 1970

  COL Cavender and all of the remaining combat officers have elected to fight to the death and not surrender. He’s left me the burden of leading the remaining noncombatants in the event they fall in the line of duty. I assembled the personnel under my charge and put the issue to them. I found there weren’t any noncombatants in the US Marines, and that none would surrender. The chaplains said they would neither fight nor surrender, but would stand with us, to give encouragement and aid. The mess crew in particular was adamant about not surrendering. I had to leave them to compose myself as I couldn’t stop from crying. In all of the time I’ve been here, I viewed the mess crew as simply kitchen help, a necessity to feed us and to wash dishes. Today I realized we were all marines, and if we die here, I count it as a privilege and an honor to make my last stand with these fine marines.

  “Men, it has been an honor to serve with you. Semper Fi,” said COL Cavender. The Soviet commander interrupted his last words to his men.

  “This is COL Glaskov. We wish to discuss the terms of surrender.”

  “If you leave your equipment behind, and leave Luna forever, we will spare you,” retorted Col Cavender.

  “I take it you will not surrender, then? Good! Have it your way. Prepare to die!”

  “CPT Lacey, we’ve gathered all of the paper records from all of the quarters and offices and my men are incinerating them now,” reported post security Chief Higgins. The rest of my security team is putting bullets in the hard drives of all computers save the one for environmental controls as per your orders. The greenhouse is wired so we can blow the whole affair, but we will wait until the last moment.”

  “Very Good. Mess SGT Muldoon?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It looks like we’re going out with a bang. Set up our best food and drink on the table in the officers’ mess. Today everyone is an officer.”

  “Sir, yes sir.”

  “Just outside of guntower range, the Soviets set up their artillery. They systematically pounded all of the artillery, the armory, recycler, factory, and tactical operations center into rubble. One by one, all buildings were destroyed. Only the post HQ and greenhouse remained. Once their artillery destroyed the guntowers and turrets, the Soviets sent in the first wave of twenty tanks. The Americans fought valiantly and destroyed ten enemy tanks, but the sheer force of numbers overwhelmed them. None of the pilots who ejected would surrender. In one last act of defiance, COL Cavender, CPT Smith and 2LT Baker pulled their service revolvers out and fired on the advancing tanks. They died with honor doing their proud duty as US Marines. I, CPT Lacey, bear witness to this. Our satellite tower has been destroyed, and I’m uploading this account to our satellite by shortwave radio. This will no doubt be my last transmission, as I doubt I’ll be able to recount our end. We remain steadfast. Semper Fi! Remember Eagle 1!”

  COL Red Fangs listened to the account with a mixture of anguish and pride. The men who were awake had been huddled close to the radio to hear the details. The men were silently pondering the reality of the final holdouts defending their post to the death. COL Red Fangs cleared his throat. Tears were starting to form in the corners of his eyes, and he knew he had to change the mood, lest his men regard his emotional state.

  COL Red Fangs shouted. “The Texans had their Alamo—we have Eagle 1!”

  “Remember Eagle 1!” echoed through the ship.

  “Captain America, take us to our new post.”

  “Aye sir, full speed ahead.”

  July 14, 1970—Zero Five Hundred Zulu

  “COL Red Fangs, satellite optical and thermal scans show no signs of life on Eagle 1,” reported CPT America. They were on radio silence to make sure the Soviets couldn’t hear them. He pulled up the satellite rendering of Eagle 1. COL Red Fangs silently surveyed the rubble that was once Eagle 1. Where the greenhouse complex had been was a gaping, ugly hole in the lunar surface. It would have been the last thing the Americans destroyed, to make sure the Soviets didn’t get any of their food or processing equipment.

  The colonel made no show of emotion, as he hadn’t expected any survivors. He entered the bridge of the transport freighter and addressed the captain. Looking at the video display of Luna before him, he asked, “Captain, where’s Landau Crater?”

  “Sir, just on the light side of the terminator line, right—down—there,” he said as he pointed to the spot.

  “Could you give me a ballpark estimate of how many hours of daylight we have until darkness if we landed now?”

  “I can give you a very close estimate, but it will take a minute.” COL Red Fangs studied the globe before him patiently while the captain did the math.

  “Sir, the terminator line will cross Landau Crater at zero nine thirty Zulu, July 18th. Sir, in relation to the terminator, I can put you down with roughly over four days of light just after the Soviet satellite passes over. The Soviet satellite passes over Landau once every two hours, has a good visual and can take instrument readings for ten minutes. You have a little less than two hours from landing until the Russkies leave their post to pay you a visit.”

  “Affirmative. Take us down, and try to avoid their satellite for the longest period of time you can.”

  “Aye, sir. I’ll send for you when we’re ready to land.”

  “I want all the build time we can get in daylight, but dark when the Soviet tanks arrive. One more thing Captain, I want all of the high-resolution pictures of the landing area I can get, along with laser imagery. I need a very clear 3D topographical map of the landing zone.”

  “Aye, sir.” They were still on r
adio silence. He opened up a laser digital pulse line-of-sight communication in Morse code to the other ships, advising them to fall in formation behind him in orbit. They would be sending their landing zone coordinates and time when ready. The captain completed the topographical survey for the colonel and sent it by way of his first officer twenty minutes later.

  COL Red Fangs thanked the young officer and sat down to a cup of coffee to study the proposed landing zone where he would build his post. He took a sip of coffee and opened the file…

  Landau Crater

  Coordinates-41.6 °N, 118.1 °W

  Diameter-214 km or 132.97 mi

  Depth-3.25 km or 2.02 mi

  Colongitude-121° at sunrise

  Frost Crater is overlaid on the center of the southern rim, seventy-five km in diameter. The inner wall is wider and heavier along the northern side where it has been reinforced by the former rim of Landau. Wood Crater is inside of Landau on the northeast side, seventy-eight km in diameter.

  The colonel considered the size of the crater, his mind exploring the possibilities for the best post construction. Given it was a hole approximately two miles deep and 133 miles wide, it was unlikely the Soviet hovertanks could scale the walls if they were steep enough. He quickly thumbed over to the topographical pictures CPT America had given him. The captain combined topographical laser imagery with other known satellite images, constructing a remarkably accurate 3D model of the crater. COL Red Fangs studied the walls until he found what he was looking for. The walls of the west side of the crater were extremely steep, with the exception of a pile of rock slabs. The rocks were overlapping one upon another from the bottom of the crater floor, winding up at a sixty degree angle overall from north to south, changing angles to as steep as seventy degrees in some spots and dropping downward to twenty degrees in others. He thought for a moment. That crater edge would be a great place to position the back of the post, effectively cutting off half a circle to defend. There was only one weak spot, the natural staircase. It would be easy enough to put a few gun turrets, and a guntower or two close to the place where the Soviets would ascend, but he genuinely didn’t want to deploy much defensive hardware there. If the Soviets saw the rim’s edge heavily fortified they wouldn’t come up that way, and the investment of their defenses, which were badly needed at the front, would be wasted. Unless…