On Mars, Doing So-So (Part 2)

Azure, Supreme General Staff of the Coalition. Fonseca, the newly appointed Chief of the General Staff hailing from a small South American nation, sat rod-straight at the end of the long conference table. Because this was the last major conference before humanity's expedition to Mars, the Azure Board of Elders was listening in. Fonseca had been explicitly briefed on this in advance. Of course, those old men would most likely not intervene directly in the meeting's agenda or voice their opinions. All the concrete decisions and operational plans for the expedition still fell to him and the General Staff. According to Azure's traditions, the elders rarely meddled in the day-to-day operations of the coalition's various branches, and so far, they had seemingly adhered to that practice... Fonseca, however, knew perfectly well that if deemed necessary, those old men could easily replace him as Chief of the General Staff without breaking a sweat. Even now, very few within Azure knew of this mysterious and immensely powerful Board of Elders. Furthermore, not even an officer of Fonseca's standing was entirely sure who sat on it. Over the years, the only universally confirmed elder within Azure's upper echelons was Xu Xiaohong, Chief of the General Staff of Huaxia's Sole Witness Legion. (He was likely the youngest among them, and currently the only one openly holding a post in Azure's military-political apparatus.) Beyond him, Speaker Kemore certainly was not a member, and even the peerless Chen Buer was generally considered doubtful by the top brass—in fact, most believed he probably was not. *So, we really have no reason to doubt their wisdom or foresight. Their loyalty and selflessness toward humanity have surely undergone rigorous selection and trials, and can be fully trusted.* *It's just that those people have lived far too long, held immense power for far too long, and made far too many agonizing and ruthless decisions with their own hands...* *With the future fate and hope of humanity as their ultimate—perhaps only—goal, they are likely a group of people so utterly rational that they are cold-blooded.* With these thoughts, Fonseca grew firmer in his conviction. "Are the fleet and provisions in order?" he asked, looking down the long table. Officers along one side of the table began rising one by one to report. "Yes, sir. Based on an operational cycle of one year maximum, double rations and combat supplies have all been loaded aboard." "Because a space combat research group had been established and maintained long ago, the issue of breathing during Mars operations can be largely addressed, even if the measures aren't perfect... Two-thirds of the one hundred thousand source-energy-powered dead iron breathing masks have been manufactured, and the remainder are being rushed through production. They will be ready before departure." "Three motherships, ten large transport ships, forty medium and small craft. The expedition fleet has assembled and is stationed across the continents, ready to deploy at a moment's notice." "Good," Fonseca acknowledged, nodding slightly. Then he looked up, his gaze turning solemn and severe. "For the expedition fleet, dispatch one more mothership and two more large transport ships." "...Yes, sir," the officer replied, momentarily confused. The others around the table wore similar expressions, unable to fathom the reason or significance behind adding three more ships. Was it to reach the number sixty-six? Because of Huaxia's superstitious logic of lucky numbers? Because Probe 066 was the craft that had intercepted Pegmont's distress transmission? "These three vessels will serve as a second echelon. They will not participate in the landing, nor will they support combat operations under any circumstances," Fonseca continued. "Have them hover indefinitely at an undetectable distance from Mars, and then..." "Then, if the expedition's defeat becomes inevitable, have them bring Major The Qing and Major General Pegmont—if he's still alive—back to humanity, at any and all costs." "When I say at all costs, I mean that everything else can be abandoned. Do you understand? That includes having the two non-carrier vessels ram pursuing Great Spike craft during the retreat to buy time for the sole carrier." At these words, everyone in the room understood. The unknown perils of the Mars expedition were simply too immense. If the battle turned hopeless and salvation was impossible... those hundred thousand Azure veterans could be abandoned; everyone else could be abandoned; sixty-five of the sixty-six ships in the fleet could be abandoned. Yet Major Qing and Pegmont—if he still lived—had to be brought back. Because those two names ranked first and second on humanity's Hope List. In a sense, their survival determined whether mankind would retain even the faintest glimmer of hope should the battle on Mars end in defeat. It was logically sound, yet... emotionally, it was hard to stomach. The room fell into a heavy, sustained silence. No one spoke. "Report!" An anxious young officer appeared at the door, shattering the quiet around the table. Fonseca turned his head. "Speak." "Sir, General Bochen demands to replace Major Qing and lead the Mars expedition..." "Refuse him," Fonseca answered unequivocally before the officer could even finish. "B-but he came in person. He is General Bochen..." the officer emphasized. Given General Bochen's standing and influence, even Fonseca could hardly throw his weight around as Chief of the General Staff before him. The General Staff had never snubbed General Bochen so brazenly. Yet Fonseca remained unmoved. "I know he is General Bochen... Refuse him." He paused, then added, "If he tries to force his way in, have the entire guard detachment step up to block him. He won't harm you." "This..." "Fine. If you truly cannot stop him, tell General Bochen straight to his face: barring him from replacing Major Qing on Mars is not to protect him, but because I believe he no longer has decisive battlefield power," Fonseca said coldly. A murmur swept the room after a few frozen seconds. Fonseca's words were nothing short of driving a dagger straight into the chest of an illustrious super-warrior like General Bochen. Amidst the hushed commotion and murmurs, Fonseca remained unshaken. "If he stays behind and focuses on nursing his injuries, he might still have a chance to recover or even reach higher. If he goes... it holds no decisive meaning whatsoever. Go. Relate my words to General Bochen." The officer at the door departed. Facing the silent room, Fonseca looked around slowly. "The Mars expedition requires at least one decisive combatant. If we had any other option, we would never put Major Qing in harm's way. But we don't. Humanity doesn't. That is why we need him to go, to fight for that last shred of hope on our behalf. "And no matter what, we must bring him back—at any... and all costs. "This is the reality humanity faces today. In the face of our future and the collective fate of mankind, the common folk can afford to be sentimental, prioritizing morality and gratitude. But as policymakers, we must remain rational, even if that rationality borders on cruelty, and even if we must bear the guilt of it for the rest of our lives. "Lastly, I believe that if it truly comes to that, the Azure veterans embarking on this campaign will agree with and support my plan. They will make the exact same choice as I have." Fonseca stopped there. True to his own words, deep guilt showed in his eyes, yet his gaze remained utterly resolute. "All right, that concludes this topic. You have all heard my orders. If necessary, I will stand before a court-martial for it in the future." Fonseca flipped a page in his folder and continued, "We will now begin the final simulation. The research department has the floor first..." After the meeting, Fonseca received private feedback from the Board of Elders. It was a single, concise sentence: *Very good. You are doing the right thing.* *** Nepal, Stream Blades base. He Tangtang stormed into the conference room clutching a stack of newspapers. "Hey! Did you guys know about this?! Veterans—a hundred thousand veterans! Everyone going to Mars with us this time is a retired veteran! What the hell is Azure thinking?! If we can't bring them back..." Everyone in the room looked at him in silence. He was the only one present who had just learned of it. The decision was already finalized and set in stone; from both a realistic and rational standpoint, it could not and should not be overturned. No one in the room wished to dwell on the matter anymore. "Hello, Mom?" To the side, Han Qingyu picked up another incoming call. "Yes, it's Mom! Son, listen to me, Master Longchi is gone!" The voice over the line was frantic, tinged with sobs as she spoke in panicked guilt. "When he went missing at first, we thought he'd come back on his own. Every time before, he always returned to Fenglong'ao by himself, but this time..." "It's all right, Mom. I know where General Jiang is," Han Qingyu hastily cut in. "He's at the Azure Huaxia base right now. He's safe, so don't worry." "...Really?!" "Really. Would I dare lie to my own mother?" Han Qingyu adopted a lighthearted tone, then looked down at the telegram in his hand. The message reported that Jiang Longchi still suffered from severe amnesia; he couldn't even remember his own name, and felt nothing when others told him who he was... Even so, the old man had found his way to the veteran mobilization office on his own. Deep down, Han Qingyu desperately wanted to strike his name from the roster, yet he found it almost impossible to bring himself to do so. Just as Rusty Sister could not bring herself to strike Shen Fengting, her grandfather, from the list. These elders had once been the pillars of Azure and humanity. For the survival of mankind, they had fought almost their entire lives... Now in the twilight of their years, time was running out for them anyway. Rather than quietly fading away as time marched on, the generals probably wished to burn out their remaining days dying on the battlefield. "That's good, that's good. Why don't you have someone bring him to your base then? Your father and I were planning to head over to your place anyway." Zhang Jiexia finally sounded relieved on the other end. "What? You're coming over?!" Han Qingyu panicked. His parents had visited the base before, dropping by a few times under the guise of "sightseeing." The problem was that in three days, Han Qingyu and the others were departing for Mars—something his parents had deliberately been kept in the dark about. "Yes, we're already boarding the transport. At first, we were so scared out of our wits that we thought we'd go wandering around looking for Master Longchi. But now, I just decided we might as well visit you. All right, I'll stop talking now, your father and I need to board." Zhang Jiexia hung up decisively. "..." Han Qingyu's brow furrowed. He turned around to find Wen Jifei standing before him. "My parents are coming. What am I supposed to do?" "Your parents are coming... what the hell does that have to do with me?" Wen Jifei said deadpan. "I'm here to notify Major Qing: Azure has dead iron masks that supply oxygen, as you well know. I'm going to Mars." "No way," Han Qingyu said, shaking his head resolutely. "Whether it works or not isn't up to you. Don't forget, the Chief of General Staff in charge of all internal and external affairs for Stream Blades is me." Wen Jifei smirked. "The departure roster for Stream Blades was made public ten minutes ago." With that, he turned and walked away. After a dozen paces, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "I suggest you hurry up and figure out how to handle your mom and dad! Hahahahaha... Humanity's Strongest Mama's Boy!" Humanity's Strongest Mama's Boy—that was the nickname the world had given Han Qingyu after word of his matchmaking adventures spread. Of course, the proper parsing was not "the strongest mama's boy," but "Humanity's Strongest—a mama's boy." *** October 25, 1996, 9:30 a.m. While Han Qingyu's parents were still aboard the transport flying toward the Stream Blades base, virtually the entire world had learned that their son was heading to Mars. Stream Blades' three remaining top combatants, along with Second Lieutenant Wen Jifei, were all going. (Technically four, though Second Lieutenant Shen Yixiu was still listed under the name of Azure Major General Yang Tieyu.) And joining them were the one hundred thousand recently mobilized Azure veterans. The public broadly understood why retired veterans were being recalled for this expedition. Thus, when the confirmed departure date was announced, a pervasive wave of guilt, worry, and sorrow swept across the globe. Before long, this sorrow gradually widened in scope, turning people's thoughts toward the fate of Pegmont... By now, most of the world had come to accept the conclusion that Pegmont had died fighting alone on Mars. In such an atmosphere, exacerbated by media coverage, it was as though his death were an established fact. On that day, across numerous corners of the world, people lit candles to mourn Pegmont... Of course, The Refusers' transmissions had not ceased. "Hello, Major General Pegmont? This is The Refusers. We still have not given up." "Please respond." "Our expedition force is about to set out to find you." "Please respond." Despite the repeated calls, the other end remained silent. And since yesterday, the automated signal from that communicator seemed to have grown weaker... Its power was likely on the verge of running out. By this point, even The Refusers' communications operators had begun to feel despair. They continued transmitting solely out of duty, unwilling to let go just yet. "We hear you. We have located your communicator. Major General, are you there?" "Please respond." "We're afraid the battery is dying..." "Please respond." *Kzzz, kzzzt...* "Fuck, it really is running out of juice." Static crackled across the channel. "Hello, hello, can you guys hear me?" "This is the Human Mars Source Energy Legion. Commander Pegmont speaking." "Yeah, I'm on Mars. Right now, things are... pretty so-so, I guess."