Free Warzone: Nemesis: A Novel of Mars by Morris Graham

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