The commanding MP was talking on his radio at that very moment.
"Lieutenant Beal," barked the confused voice of Lieutenant Smack back at the barracks. "I've just received a report that the main freight access platform is under attack by greenie troops. Expect trouble at your position, take up defensive positions."
"Greenie troops? But..." It was then that the announcement to get down boomed across them.
Beal was young and inexperienced at his job, only recently having been promoted to officer. He had no idea how many troops the MPG was throwing at him and did not consider the fact that they would have the advantage of sight on their side.
"We're under attack by the greenies," he yelled at his men. "Defensive positions, now!"
His men scrambled in the darkness, training their M-24s outward, unable to see a thing but able to hear the stomp of steel-toed boots and the clank of raising weapons. There were screams from the civilians trapped on the platform, the cries of children.
"MPs!" The voice boomed once more. "You're surrounded and your position is hopeless. Drop your weapons and move to the center..."
It happened fast and was over in seconds. One of the MPs unleashed a blast from his M-24 at the general direction of the voice. The bullets arced out and hit several civilians, putting them on the ground. Fortunately most of the civilians had taken the first piece of advice and gotten down. The other MPs opened fire also, Beal included. The darkness was filled with the thunder of automatic weapons and the nightmare strobe-light effect of the flashes.
The point platoon of the MPG reacted in less than half a second. Through their goggles they saw each MP and the flashes emitting from their weapons. They saw the white streaks of the hot shells flying at them. Thirty-six M-24s and four SAWs opened up as one, drowning out the roar of the MPs weapons. The Martian soldiers were trained well, each knowing what their field of fire encompassed. Eight of the fifteen MPs went down with the first bursts. Of the remaining seven, four of them tried to return fire and were cut down with the second burst. The remaining three, one of whom was wounded, threw down their weapons and cried surrender.
"Hold your fire," the platoon lieutenant barked over his command channel. The Martian guns fell silent at once, their thunder replaced by the hysterical cries of the civilian and military personnel that had been caught on the platform between the two groups of soldiers. He flipped on his intercom system again. "Civilians on the platform, remain where you are and do not move. MPs, walk unarmed to the center of the platform and lie down. NOW!"
The remaining MPs stood and, with hands raised, walked towards the center.
"Objective Green is secure," came the voice of Captain Evers, the commander of that section, over the command channel. "We had contact with the MPs and there are wounded enemy and civilians on the platform."
"Copy that," Shaw replied. He was a kilometer away, at the south tunnel with bravo company. "Are any of your men wounded?"
"Negative, sir."
"Get your medics in action once everyone is in the tunnel."
"Yes sir."
He then addressed all of his company commanders. "Okay Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta companies," he said. "All tunnel entrances are secured. Move forward now and quickly. Heads up on the other side, the WestHems have been alerted. Weapons free but use your discretion. There are a lot of civilian and non-combatants in that base."
He received four acknowledgements and the next phase was begun.
At each of the three tunnels leading to Triad Naval Base the primacord was placed on the security doors that guarded the entrances that the trains used. The explosive material formed half ovals two meters wide by three meters high and detonators were attached. The troops stood back as safe distance from the doorways and the detonators were fired, exploding the cord and blasting neatly through the three-centimeter steel. In all three tunnels, at virtually the same instant, sections of doorway clanged to the ground, allowing entry to the MPG.
The commands to move came and, at each of the three tunnels, nearly two hundred troops rushed forward and through the newly created holes in the doors. A squad of infantry stayed behind at each platform for security and prisoner guarding. At the main entrance a squad of medics went to work on the wounded civilians and MPs.
The tunnels were two kilometers in length and thirty meters in diameter, each of them with two side-by-side magna tracks. The MPG special forces troops moved rapidly forward at not quite a double-time pace, weapons ready, infra-red enhanced eyes peering forward. Though complete surprise had been hoped for it had not been achieved. The WestHems knew they were coming and were probably scrambling troops to try and stop them. When they reached the other end of the tunnels, the fun would really start.
Commander Gravely was in command of the Triad Naval Base MPs. He was at his desk in front of his Internet terminal, supposed to be going over some budgetary figures but actually watching the Internet coverage of the events in New Pittsburgh with growing rage. What the hell did those greenies think they were doing? Firing on federal officers. Refusing to honor a valid arrest warrant. Holding all of the workers in the Martian Capital building hostage. There were even rumors that they were engaging WestHem marines down at the barracks entrance. The green bastards had gone too far this time and he relished the thought that the WestHem federal system was soon going to land on them with both feet. And about damn time too.
Things had gotten very bad since that bitch Whiting had been sworn in. What had once been simple animosity between Martians and WestHem had turned into vicious hatred that was often punctuated with violence. The naval personnel on the base were afraid to even go into Triad or down to the Martian surface for fear of being attacked by angry Martians. And now Whiting actually had MPG troops, which were under federal control for Christ's sakes, firing upon FLEB agents and holding hostages. He hoped that when this was all over they lined every one of those traitorous bastards up against a wall and...
His Internet terminal cleared, showing the face of Lieutenant Smack, the dispatch CO. "Commander," he yelled frantically, his faced flushed. He was obviously excited about something. "We need you in here right now. A serious situation is developing."
He almost asked for information right then, would have if not for the petrified expression on the Lieutenant's face. He acknowledged the request and stood, leaving his office and entering the dispatch center less than thirty seconds later. Five dispatchers sat at computer terminals, Smack included. Normally their jobs were to take calls from base personnel regarding matters that required an MP response and to route those calls to their available MP units. They weren't doing that now however. On all of their faces were expressions of disbelief mixed with fear.
"What's going on?" he demanded.
"Sir," Smack reported, "five minutes ago we received radio reports from the access tunnel stations on the Triad side. All three reported that the lights and Internet had gone out and not come back on. Shortly after that, the main freight squad leader reported that he was under attack by greenie troops and surrendering his position. We then..."
"What?" Gravely yelled loudly enough to make everyone in the room jump. "Greenie troops? Attacking our MPs? And they surrendered?"
"Yes sir," Smack nodded rapidly. "And that's not all. A minute or so later the main gate on the Triad side reported they were under fire by the MPG. We haven't heard from them since. The north gate then reported they were overwhelmed and surrendering too. While we were trying to figure this out we received breach alarms on all three Triad to TNB tunnel doors."