My Sister Changed
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GreeniesChapter 5B free porn video
Lieutenant Glory Bongwater was as confused as the rest of them, though her information was a little bit better. She stood before an Internet screen at the command post, a block away from the main entrance to the capital. Beside her was Special Agent Waxford, the highest-ranking FLEB agent left from the field office besides Corban Hayes himself. Waxford knew exactly what he wanted done but otherwise didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. Bongwater detested him immensely and longed to slam the butt of her pistol across his mouth.
"When can your people rush the building?" he demanded of Bongwater. "I have agents in there, some of them wounded."
"I know that," she said for the fifth time. "We're following our standard hostage situation procedures. We've made contact with General Jackson inside and we'll work to try to end this thing peacefully. We only rush the building when we're given no other option."
"My wounded might die in there while we're waiting!" Waxford yelled. "Don't you understand that?"
"Jackson offered to let the dip-hoes take the wounded away," she reminded him. "It's you who ordered that that not be done, remember?"
"I don't want to give them more hostages!" he said. "You can't let a bunch of dip-hoes go running up to the door to take people away. They'll be shot down!"
"It would be our SWAT team that approached the doorway," Bongwater said. "And I believe they would be safe. Those are MPG troops in there holding that building, not criminals. They wouldn't fire on them."
"They fired on our agents didn't they?" he countered.
Bongwater took a deep breath, fighting to control herself. "Perhaps that is because they figured that your men represented a danger to Governor Whiting," she said. "Perhaps they felt that your warrant and your indictment were fabricated."
"Ridiculous," he spat. "You don't actually believe that, do you?"
She held his gaze. "What I believe doesn't really matter now, does it? My point is that we can safely remove your wounded and get them assistance if you'll allow it. I was once a member of the MPG myself. They won't fire on us for doing that."
"Request denied," he said icily. "You just start formulating a plan to charge that building. I want this situation brought under control within the hour."
"And I want there to be peace in the solar system," Bongwater said. "But we don't usually get what we want now, do we? If your agents want to rush the building, that's fine. Go rushing in. We'll even lend you the primacord and the AT lasers. But as long as my people are involved in this thing, we do it my way. And my way is to negotiate with the people in the building to try to end this peacefully."
"Maybe I should talk to your superior about this," he said in a threatening tone.
Bongwater knew an empty threat when she heard one. "Maybe you should," she returned.
Waxford muttered something under his breath and then stormed away, back to the crowd of agents that were standing around in their armor, waiting for someone to tell them what to do.
"Goddamn FLEB fucks," Bongwater said to herself.
She looked down at her command computer, which had been set up on the hood of her cart. It showed a schematic of the building and the location of all the friendly forces. There were more than eighty police officers, not including the SWAT team, now deployed around the building. That was still somewhat less than the 120 to 150 MPG troops that were rumored to be inside the capital. And the MPG were better trained and better equipped as well. No, even if she did feel that a crime of some type had been committed, something that she had serious doubts about, she never would have ordered her forces to go head to head with those kind of numbers.
"Priority communication from Deputy Chief Winston," her terminal suddenly spoke up. "Would you like to answer?"
"On screen," she told it.
The screen flashed briefly over to the communications software main screen and then was just as quickly replaced by the middle-aged face of Winston, a twenty-two year veteran and, until the Laura Whiting reforms had taken place, one of the brownest nosed people that the department employed. "Bongwater," he said. "Are you with any FLEB people right now?"
"No," she told her. "My friend Waxford has gone off to stew somewhere. What's up? Any news?"
"Big news," Winston told her. "Direct from Chief Sandoza himself."
He began to speak, giving a series of orders. Bongwater smiled in satisfaction as she heard them. "I'm happy to comply," she said. "Thanks, chief."
"My pleasure," Winston said and signed off.
Duran looked over to the crowd of FLEB agents and got Waxford's attention. He came trotting over.
"What is it?" he asked, seeing the smile on her face and assuming it was good news for his team. "Did Jackson decide to give up?"
"No, even better news than that," she said. "We're pulling out. You're now on your own."
He looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I've just received orders to cease cooperation with the FLEB. I'm pulling my cops out of here and breaking down the perimeter."
"You can't do that!" he yelled loud enough for everyone within thirty meters to hear.
"I can and I will," she said. "Direct orders from Chief Sandoza. Pull back and resume routine duties. Do not interfere with operations at the capital and do not respond to any calls for assistance from FLEB personnel. You're gonna have to take this building by yourself."
Veins began to poke out on Waxford's head as he heard this. "What kind of shit is..."
"It's the kind of shit that's a direct order from the Chief," Bongwater told him calmly. "And it's an order I'm happy to obey. Have fun fighting your way in, Waxford."
"I have federal authority," he told her. "I demand you follow my orders! If you don't, you'll stand trial in federal court for..."
"You have no authority over me or my people," she said. "This is a federal matter and we're local law enforcement. Cooperation with the feds is simply a courtesy and it's just been revoked." She turned to her Internet terminal. "Command channel."
"Command channel activated." The computer replied.
"This is Lieutenant Bongwater," she said. "All New Pittsburgh Police Department personnel on the capital building perimeter will immediately demobilize on orders from Chief Sandoza. Return to previous patrol assignments. SWAT personnel return to training stations. No further assistance will be given to federal personnel including calls for assistance in the future. All members of the force that are MPG members are hereby released from duty to respond to their military assignments. I repeat, all New Pittsburgh Police Department personnel...
In the governor's office Jackson turned to Laura. "All NPPD personnel have pulled back and returned to their routine duties. All we have out front now in terms of opposition are about forty FLEB people, damn near the entire compliment for New Pittsburgh"
Laura sighed in relief. "Thank you Chief Sandoza," she proclaimed. "That certainly makes this next step a little easier, doesn't it?"
"Indeed," he replied, raising his pocket computer to his face. "Get me Major Dealerman."
The 2nd Battalion of the 8th armored infantry regiment had been called up as part of the initial preliminary forces the day before. Major Dealerman had been initially very confused by the "special training" order that had brought him and the 836 troops under his command to the base in the middle of a weekday, both because he knew that special training of that sort was unheard of and because only his battalion had been requested. Upon arrival at the base however, he had been briefed in by General Jackson himself over a secure Internet line and told the real reason for the call-up.
"The feds have a warrant for Governor Whiting's arrest," he'd been told. "They're going to try to take her into custody tomorrow morning."
Dealerman had of course been shocked by this news and more than a little outraged as well, but he'd still had no idea what that had to do with he and his battalion. He'd said as much and Jackson had then laid the biggest shock of his life upon him.
"We're going to fight them," Jackson said. "The security force at the capital building is going to capture the agents that arrive to arrest her. They're capable of securing the building itself and preventing her arrest, but we're going to need additional troops to secure the outside and the surrounding blocks."
"You're ordering me to do this?" he'd asked, just for clarity. "To engage WestHem federal officers?"
"I'm asking you to do this," Jackson had corrected. "The MPG is a volunteer outfit. If you don't want to do it, we'll find someone else. The same applies to your men. If you accept this assignment, I expect you to brief your command in advance and give all of them the opportunity to decline."
"I understand," he'd said.
"Then you'll do it?"
"I'll do it," he'd said without hesitation. "Tell me the plan."
The plan had started the night before with the briefing by Dealerman. He had been honest with his men about the ramifications of their actions and, unsurprisingly, not a single member of the 1st of the 6th had elected to forgo participation. They were ready to do or die for Mars.
Charlie company had been separated out the night before for a couple of different tasks that had to do with the capital itself. Two of the platoons had been moved to the capital in the early morning hours and placed under Warren's command. It was they that had hidden in adjoining buildings and taken the outside FLEB agents. The other half of this company was performing its mission now. Since 0700 the eighty men that consisted of third and fourth platoon had been mounted in their APCs awaiting their movement orders. These orders had come and the movement was now under way.
The column of eight APCs clunked noisily through the streets of Eden, working their way towards downtown, their treads riding over a surface that they were never meant to be upon. Pedestrians, many of whom had no idea what was going on, scrambled to make way for the monstrous machines as they passed, staring in confused awe at the heavy weapons and the helmeted, goggled heads of the commanders. The ground rumbled beneath and long after the armor had passed the vibration and noise could still be heard and felt.
Lieutenant Presley, a ten-year member of the MPG infantry, was sitting in the commander's seat in the third APC from the front, far enough forward that he could see what was going on, but far enough back so he wouldn't be easily identified and taken out by the opposition. Not that the opposition in this case had much of a chance at that. He kept his hand resting upon the butt of the 4mm machine gun mounted just outside of his port and his eyes upon the tactical display that showing through his combat goggles.
"Presley," a voice said in his earpiece, which was tuned to the command channel. "Dealerman here. Do you copy?"
"Go ahead, Major," Presley replied.
"I just got word from Jackson," Dealerman told him. "The New Pittsburgh Police Department have pulled back. Opposition is now only about forty feds equipped with light weapons. Move in and secure a perimeter for two blocks around the capital building, including the two tram stations. Hold until relieved or ordered to withdraw. Weapons free but a little tight. Don't smoke them unless they ask for it."
"Yes sir," Presley told him without hesitation. He was a building maintenance technician in his civilian life and had spent his entire working career being looked down upon by rich corporate Earthlings in the Kendall-Brackely building. He was ready and willing to take the planet away from such people and proud to be involved in the first conflict. He switched to the tactical channel he used to command his men. "All right, guys," he told them. "NPPD has pulled back. All we have opposing us at the objective are about forty feds with light weapons. We're going to secure a radius of two blocks centered on the capital. Fourth platoon, break off at 23rd street and maneuver around to the south side. Come back down to 5th at 18th street. We'll hold back over here and then box them in when you're in position. ROE is weapons free but a little tight."
"Copy that," said Lieutenant Carmichael, commander of that platoon. "Let's go kick some fed ass."
The FLEB agents had redeployed their vans to the corners of the building and were using it as cover to watch the building from. Others were crouched behind the decorative planters that lined the middle of the street, their faces scared, their weapons trembling in their hands. Waxford, hiding behind the furthest van from the front of the building, was on the communications channel talking to a shocked and horrified Corban Hayes back at the main FLEB building. He had just given a report on the unbelievable events and they were still trying to figure out what there next move should be.
"We only have twenty more sworn agents in New Pittsburgh," Hayes told him. "That's not even enough to provide security for our own building, let alone take the capital building and free our captured men."
"How about the other cities?" Waxford asked. "We almost a hundred agents up on Triad. How soon can you get them on a surface to orbit and get them down here?"
"Not for at least three hours," Hayes replied. "I'll get them started though and I'll have fifty from Eden and Proctor get on one of the inter-city trains."
"Jesus, what a fuck-up," Waxford almost cried. "I knew we should have sent more agents for this arrest."
"They'll regret this sorely," Hayes assured him. "Have your men hold the perimeter until reinforcements arrive. Shoot anyone who tries to come out of that building. I'll try to call that prick Sandoza back and threaten him with some more federal statutes. Maybe I can get him to send those greenie cops back to help end this thing. If we shut off power and utilities to that building we can flush them out in a matter of hours."
"What about the MPG call up?" he asked. "What's the deal with that?"
"We've been hearing that over here as well," Hayes said. "I don't know what that's all about or if it's related. I've got Benson over at the Eden office looking into that one. It's probably just some sort of false alarm or a training mission."
At that moment the clanking of treads reached Waxford's ears for the first time. It swelled up from the north and the south simultaneously and grew louder by the second. The agents in their position all began to look around, searching out the source.
"Waxford," Hayes said, noticing that his underling seemed suddenly preoccupied. "What's going on? Are they trying to break out?"
"We have armored vehicles moving our way," he said softly, feeling fear gripping him.
"What?"
"A lot of them," he said. "Coming from both directions."
"Armored vehicles?" Hayes demanded. "What kind of armored vehicles? Tanks, APCs, what? Those things can't move inside of the city!""
"You might want to tell them that," Waxford said as the first of them came into view from around the corner three blocks away. Three others followed it. From the other direction, behind him, four more appeared. He recognized them as WestHem ET-40 armored personnel carriers. They were painted in the shades of red camouflage scheme and the Martian flag flew proudly from the communications antennas of each one. They spread out of their formation almost as soon as they became visible and took up positions on adjacent corners, hiding the bulk of their bodies behind the corner of buildings, their sixty-millimeter guns as well as their twenty millimeters pointing directly at the FLEB positions.
"Waxford!" Hayes yelled. "What the hell is going on?"
"I don't think that the MPG call-up was a coincidence," Waxford said softly.
As the terrified FLEB agents watched in horror, the ramps of the APCs swung open and out climbed heavily armed troops who immediately fanned out and took up firing positions, each squad of ten equipped with a light machine gun, three grenade launchers, and ten rifles. Weapons were trained upon them and they felt themselves start to sweat, could almost feel the targeting recticles from the MPG combat computers resting upon their foreheads.
Waxford, as leader of the FLEB agents, was perhaps the most horrified. He did not know what to do. In all of his training and experience he'd never been faced with a problem like this before. He'd never even conceived of such a thing. He was a federal officer! People were supposed to fear and respect him! There weren't supposed to surround him with armored vehicles and automatic weapons!
His Internet screen lit up before him, showing him the face of a greenie in combat goggles and a helmet. "Agent Waxford," the greenie addressed him politely. "I am Lieutenant Presley of the Martian Planetary Guard. Can you hear me?"
Waxford stared at the screen, wondering how the greenies had gotten access to his terminal. The communications frequency that they were using was supposed to be secure. It occurred to him for the first time that maybe they had been underestimating the greenies a little bit. "Yes," he finally replied.
"You are surrounded by two platoons of MPG troops with light and heavy weapons. You do not have a chance of defeating them. You will order your men to disable all of their weapons and then walk to the center of the street and drop them in a pile. They will then lie down and await being taken into custody. This is your first and final offer. If you do not do as I say in the next sixty seconds, our troops will open fire upon you and move in. I will reiterate the fact that you do not have a chance of defeating them. Do you understand me, Agent Waxford?"
He licked his lips nervously, his body trembling with adrenaline as he surveyed the massive firepower that was arrayed against him and his men.
"Agent Waxford," Presley said firmly. "Do you understand my conditions?"
"I do," Waxford said, near tears. "We will do as you ask."
"You have fifty seconds."
Waxford issued the order. "All FLEB agents. We have been betrayed and we are in the face of overwhelming opposition. Disable your weapons immediately and take them to the middle of the street. Drop them there and then lie down. Do this now or we will be fired upon. We will be taken into custody by the greenies. God help us all but there will be a reckoning for them and there will be justice."
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