Chulak March 19 GMT 1900
"What are our losses this time?" asked Sanders wearily, tired from yet another skirmish with the Ori.
"Not so good sir. We have thirteen casualties from the last attack. We also lost another Bradley to enemy fire," reported Masters tiredly, his face smeared with a mixture of dirt and sweat.
For the last week and a half, the men of Bravo Company had endured relentless, non-stop attack after attack by the Ori. Bravo Company had almost been forced to retreat many of an occasion and only by the grace of whoever the hell was out there were they able to hold the line.
The only thing keeping the enemy from overwhelming their positions was the constant bombardment of the enemy by the artillery and the presence of Special Operations Forces units deployed behind enemy lines that were disrupting the Ori's efforts as much as possible.
However but the numbers that the enemy was swarming his position with, the Ori seemed to have so many troops that this seemed largely ineffective. Sanders shuddered, thinking about the number many enemy troops he would have to face if the artillery or Special Forces were simply not there.
Sanders had now lost twenty men from his company and four Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicles during the fighting and the Company was bound to loose many more in the coming days.
"Shit. Any word on replacements for both the Bradleys or for the men we lost?"
"Yes. Sir. I've got word on the replacements vehicles. You're not going to like this sir. They're sending us one Bradley and a Stryker to replace out losses."
"What? Don't they know the situation here? We need every fucking vehicle we got! Dammit!" roared Sanders, incensed at the lack of support. He was only going to get half of the vehicles that he requested and only one of the vehicles was what he needed.
The Stryker was a good vehicle and he would be of the first to defend its utility against its critics. It was more modern than the twenty-year old Bradley, being much more roomier and lighter than the older vehicle. However it was only armed with a .50 cal machine gun and lacked the 25mm cannon that the Bradley possessed, which had proved valuable beyond words in stopping enemy infantry charges.
The Stryker was designed to be more of a rapidly deployable Armored Personnel Carrier, transporting regular infantry soldiers to conflict areas quickly while the Bradley was a quasi-tank that was able to carry heavily armed mechanized infantry and kill heavily armed enemy troops and vehicles easily.
He sighed, "What about replacement troops? Are we going to get a replacement for Watkins?"
"We're getting twelve replacements for our losses and are getting a new Platoon Commander for First platoon. A First Lieutenant Shelia Roberts sir."
"What do we know about her?" asked Sanders curious about his new subordinate.
"According to copy of her personnel file that they sent us, she's a former MP that transferred into Infantry as soon as they opened up the combat arms. She's a West Pointer, class of 98'."
"Please tell she isn't a ring knocker," moaned Sanders. (1) He had served under West Point grads before and while some were great officers and brilliant leaders, others were spectacular stuck up and incompetent assholes that rubbed in their status as academy graduates to those who didn't get the opportunity to attend the Academy like Sanders.
"I don't know if she is or not. As far as I know, they don't write that sort of thing in one's personnel file."
"They sure don't." Sanders grinned, imagining opening someone's personnel file that contained such language. He sobered up, "What do her former superiors say?"
"She served in Iraq, the Sunni Triangle to be specific. Her former commanding officer reported that she was a good officer, however she tends to think inside the box too much and puts too much command responsibility on herself as opposed to delegating authority to her subordinates."
"Crap." Another know-it-all. Changing the subject, he asked, "When are the reinforcements going to arrive? And when is the supply convoy going to arrive. We're almost out of fucking ammo."
"Replacements are due to arrive tomorrow morning. The ammunition convoy should be arriving…" The sudden emergence of the boisterous sounds of motors running and pistons firing told Sanders and his Company that the convoy had arrived. "… About now," stated Masters.
"All right boys, the supply convoy's here. Lets get the ammo off of the trucks. Lets move people!" he told his company as he and Masters ran to the nearest truck.
A soldier wearing the single bar of a Lieutenant exited the cab of the truck and hopped down to the ground. "Which one of you is Sanders?" he asked.
"Right here," Sanders told him, raising his hand so the Lieutenant could tell whom exactly he was.
"Lieutenant Miller sir," the officer replied saluting.
"At ease. Where do I sign for these?" he asked eager to get his supplies.
"Right here sir," Miller told him, bringing out the requisitions form.
Sanders took and began to read it, making sure that he received the right supplies. Midway through reading the form, to the surprise to everyone present, he exclaimed loudly, "What the fuck this shit?"
"Sir?"
"Don't bullshit me Lieutenant. Where are the fucking the supplies that I asked for?" he said dangerously.
All around him the men tensed. Their Company Commander was a great officer, if Sanders ordered a bayonet charge against the Ori homeworld, wherever it may be, every member of his company would be right behind him charging alongside. However Sanders did have temper and when it appeared, God help those unfortunate enough to be caught under his wrath. Many a careless or lazy soldier in the Company had received a chew-out session from the Captain that they would not forget.
"I don't know what you mean sir."
"This convoy only contains half of the supplies that I requested. Where the fuck is the other half?"
"Sir. This is all I have. Can you please sign the form sir? I have to get back to base for supplies and the sooner you sign it, the faster I get back."
"Lieutenant I'm not signing a damn thing unless you give me what I need."
The Lieutenant sighed. "Listen sir, how about we make a deal? I've got four M312.50 cal machine guns and sixteen belts of ammunition that no one's spoken for."
The M-312 .50 cal light heavy machine guns were potent weapons. Although at first, one would believe that the descriptions of these weapons are somewhat of an oxymoron. It was actually the most accurate term used to describe them. Developed for the former US military, the M312 was designed to pack the firepower and reliability of the venerable M2 with the capability being carried easily along with ample ammunition by only two soldiers.
"Fine Lieutenant. Where the hell do I sign?" he asked, knowing that this was going to be the best deal that he was going to get. Besides, they would be very useful in stopping the enemy.
The Lieutenant pointed to the bottom the form. "Right here sir," he said as he watched the Captain sign the form.
"Oh Lieutenant can you do me one last favor?" he asked.
"Go ahead." It couldn't be that bad, the Lieutenant thought.
"Tell those….
Geneva, Formerly Switzerland Presidential Office March 20th 0800 GMT
"… mother fucking sons of bitches back on Earth to get their goddamn shit together. We can stop these Ori assholes dead cold if we could have some fucking ammo available," stated O'Neill emotionlessly, trying not to grin.
"Who said that?" asked Hayes curious to see who had that kind of nerve.
"A Captain Michael Dean Sanders, Company Commander of Bravo Company, Second Battalion, Ninth Infantry Regiment, First Heavy Brigade Combat Team, Second Infantry Division, I Corps, 8th Army."
"Well all that I can say is that this Captain Sanders has some serious guts," commented Hammond.
"He probably didn't know that his comments would get this high up," mused O'Neill.
"Let's get back to the situation at hand. Let me put this bluntly, Jack, George, what the hell is going on in Chulak?"
"Sir its plain and simple. We're running out of ammo."
"This is inexcusable! We're spending half of our GDP on the military and our forces are running out of supplies? After almost half a century of spending massive amounts of money, and resources, this is what the military can come up with?" asked Abarano incredulous.
"Allow me to explain Minister. Although we are devoting 50 of our resources to the war it is divided into several parts. Half of the budget is devoted to Research and Development projects aimed at modernizing our Armed Forces to that of galactic standards. Three eights is used to manufacture the ships, tanks and guns that we need in the field. One sixteenth is used to support our forces commencing peacekeeping operations across the globe. The last and smallest portion has been devoted to manufacture munitions such as bullets, artillery shells, rocket and the like," explained Egon Berlitz, the Minister of War Production.
"How bad is it?" Hayes was concerned. If the press or the Legislature found out, there would be hell to pay.
"Pretty bad sir. Right now we're almost down to raiding the ammunition stores of the local police departments and gun stores."
"Don't we have entire factories devoted to creating more bullets for our young men and women to use?"
"Yes we do. However the demand for ammunition, far outstrips the supply for it at the moment."
"Can you clarify that?"
"Right now, we have multiple fronts in this war. In addition to our presence on Chulak, we're fighting the enemy in the Dakara system, and we have Special Operations units operating across the galaxy on hundreds of different planets. Not to mention our forces stationed in Atlantis in the Pegasus galaxy. It does not help the situation at all that we have currently expended more munitions than entire planet did during the Second World War."
"How are we going to solve this problem?"
"In the next week or so, the retooling of five more factories that were formerly used to create civilian consumer products to creating ammunition for our troops will be complete. In addition, we're going to be building a munitions factory in the Alpha site to solely meet the ammunition demands of our Spec Ops units and are going to build factories on Langara and Pangara to meet and exceed the demand."
"Good. Get those factories completed as soon as possible," Hayes ordered. "Speaking about production what the status on the various research and development projects undertaken by the military."
"Our next generation integrated land combat systems developed jointly for the needs of both Army and the Marine Corps has finished development and is in production as of now. The First Infantry Division is the first unit to outfitted with the new equipment and will be combat certified in less than week," reported Lee.
"Our engineers are still laboring hard to complete Luna Base. We project that its completion will occur sometime in June. The two of the five orbital platforms to be placed in low Earth orbit are nearly complete with forty-five more ordered for further construction. The building of the first of ten defense fortresses is now underway and will greatly enhance our defensive capabilities," said Timoshenko.
"One question General, what's the difference between a orbital weapons platform and an orbital weapons fortress?" asked Hayes puzzled, wondering what the difference was.
"The difference between a platform and a fortress is equivalent to a comparison between a small cutter and a dreadnought. A platform has a complement of 150 to 250 personnel and is only eighty meters tall and twenty meters wide. A Type I fortress on the other hand has 3000 personnel manning it and is 100 meters wide, 500 meters tall and has more firepower than two battleships combined."
"Ah. I see. Where are you going to be putting it?"
"We have decided to place it in the Fifth Lagrange Point making our coverage of Earth nearly complete."
"What do mean nearly complete? I thought that you had a sensor net that covered the entire solar system."
"Pardon my language Mr. President. Yes we do have complete sensor coverage of the solar system. However we do not have to capability to immediately engage any ship that came out of hyperspace until it reached Earth Orbit."
"But isn't the Navy able to intercept enemy targets?" Hayes asked, wondering why in the hell, the expensive ships that the Navy wanted were good for.
"The Navy is currently patrolling the Space around the Solar system and they are doing a very good job of it sir. However they only have less than twenty ships and the Solar System is a big place with more area than a trillion square kilometers to cover. Even if we had the ships that we sent to Dakara and the lost Prometheus and Korolev with the addition of the Daedalus from Atlantis in the Pegasus Galaxy, we still couldn't have ability to engage the enemy right away. There is no exact place that a ship is going to emerge from hyperspace and we have no way of knowing where and when they will show up, ranging from the Oort Clouds (2) on the edge of the Solar System beyond Pluto to directly into Earth's orbit. Granted, if an enemy ship did come out of hyperspace, the Navy would be able to engage the enemy but it would take several minutes to do so since the fleet would have to execute a micro jump into hyperspace to reach the enemy's position quickly," explained Carter, in defense of the Navy's efforts.
"Thank you Generals Timoshenko and Carter for clearing that up with me. Alan, what's going on with the Navy?"
"We are about to commission the last five Daedalus-class Battlecruisers within the next two weeks. Supercarriers Elizabeth Tudor and Bernardo O'Higgins are under construction as we speak and we are going to be lay down George Washington in five days. The battleship Kashmir is also being built with California, Prussia, Normandy, Sudetenland, and Amazonas planned and are to be built once the five Daedalus-class units are commissioned, thus freeing up the dry docks to build them. We have ten Buenos Aires-class Destroyers in the yards as of now. Plans for the Johannesburg-class Anti-Spacefighter Frigate and the Marathon-class cruiser are going to be finalized in three months, one month ahead of schedule and production of the first fifteen frigates and six cruisers will begin shortly after at New Portsmouth. The Lionel Pendergast-class Battlecruisers are still under development and the final design plans won't be ready until August at the very earliest," the Chief of Naval Operations told the President.
"What about the fighters?" Hayes asked, according to the reports from Dakara, the fighters were the most effective resource against those alien bastards.
"The F-302A is now in mass production. We were able to put a squadron's worth of the A models in the supply convoy to Task Force 12 before it left. In a couple of months, the F-302A should completely replace the older model in our inventory."
"What about this new fighter under development that I've been hearing about?"
"The Kestrel?"
"Yes. That one."
"The S F/A-1 Kestrel is still under development at the moment. Our engineers at Sukhoi informs us that they won't have a working prototype until November at the very least."
"Crap. Is there any way that we can get that prototype faster?" Hayes had only served eight years in the military and had only risen up to the rank of Captain but he knew that the sooner that fighter got into production the more of an edge they'd get against the enemy.
"As of right now, our economy is nearly at its full potential. We are at the point where if we devote more resources to one project, we will delay the outcome of another. Mr. President, we just don't have the infrastructure at the moment to do any more."
"What about the Asgard technology, that we received? Surely the technology helped our economy somewhat."
"While the Asgard technology helped our technological knowledge and allowed us to manufacture advanced weapons in our factories, the advanced technology given to us by our allies base barely affected our infrastructure. What we have at the moment is a pre-war infrastructure with some minor technical improvements slapped on to it," stated Berlitz.
"Can you explain this in layman's terms?" Hayes was a politician by trade, not an engineer or a specialist.
"Mr. President. Let us say that you have a city, it's modern and fully functional with streets, mass transit and sewers and the like. Are you understanding me right now?"
"Yes."
"Lets just say that twenty years pass by and now the city is somewhat old, crowded and is not as efficient as it used to be. The city leaders decide to make some improvements such as redoing the sewer system, repaving the roads, adding a subway or trolley system, etc, etc. This is going to cost some serious resources and money right?"
"Of course." And a lot of political wrangling, contracts and a whole bunch of hoopla across the board, he thought ever the politician.
"To associate this with the current situation at hand, now image this at a global scale."
"Ah," he said, finally understanding what was happening. "When do you that we're going to have a modern infrastructure given current production rates?"
"At this rate we are going to have an Asgard-like infrastructure in the next ten to twenty years at the very earliest."
"That long?"
"Yes Mr. President. We have to tear down entire cities, rail lines, power grids and the like and then proceed to completely build new ones from scratch. It takes a long time. However it ensures that when we win the war, we'll have millions of jobs available for everyone."
"Well I will definitely not be around to see that. Once this damn war ends, I'm retiring and am going to be playing golf for the rest of my life and might do a book deal and write my autobiography. Elena what's the situation on our allies?"
"Joint negotiations between the Foreign and the Defense Ministries and members of the Legislature's Armed Services Committee with the Langarans and Pangarans about another technology transfer have been concluded."
"What are the Terms?"
"They want F-302s, eighty of them each to be precise. They also want six cruisers, three to each planet for a local defense fleet. The fact that the Ori have arrived in force in this galaxy is making them very nervous at the moment. They are very scared and want as much advanced technology as they can get their hands on."
"Excuse me? You want me to give up the use of six dry-docks? That makes up of exactly ten percent of our shipbuilding capacity!" Hastings asked the foreign minister indignantly. The Navy needed those yards for its fleet and wasn't going to give them up, although temporarily without a fight.
"Perhaps we can instead send two Task Forces of three Daedalus-class Battlecruisers each to both Langara and Pangara. Although they are classified as Battlecruisers they're about the same size or smaller than our next generation cruisers and could defend our allies until their cruisers are complete," mused Carter.
"You want us to commit six of our ships? That's a little less than one-third of home fleet!" Hastings objected.
"Yeah. I'm not so sure that General Landry would like that. He's been screaming bloody murder for more ships ever since we sent Task Force Twelve to Dakara," O'Neill observed.
Before everyone could begin arguing about whether or not to deploy more ships, the alarm klaxons began shrieking. A Space Force officer in her Class A uniform, a Major judging by her insignia ran in to the room. "Deep space sensors have picked up a very large object coming out of hyperspace. ETA is five minutes. Home Fleet is veering to intercept and fighters are scrambling as of now."
"Mr. President, we need to get you and the rest of the Cabinet to your bunker now," the Secret Service Agent in charge of the Presidential detail told Hayes.
Before Hayes could move let alone respond, a flash of bright white light appeared in his office, blinding all inside the room. When the light slowly faded away, it revealed Thor in all of his glory sitting in his chair. "Greetings President Hayes, General O'Neill, Major General Carter. We have much do discuss," he said nonchalantly, despite the fact that every uniformed military Officer and Secret Service agent was pointing his or her weapon at him, safeties disengaged.
"Jesus Thor," O'Neil breathed, lowering his pistol and reengaging the safety. "Next time let us know when you're coming. You almost gave every uniformed serviceman and woman in this Solar system a damn heart attack." He turned to the President. "Mr. President. Tell your detail to stand down sir. He's a friendly."
"Gentlemen stand down," he told his detail as he sat back down in his chair clutching his chest and reaching for a glass of water, he was definitely getting way too old for this shit. "Supreme Commander Thor. I do not believe that I and the majority of my cabinet have had the honor to meet you. On behalf of the Terran Federal Republic, what can I do for you?" he said in his most hospitable voice, well honed after many years of politics in the Beltway. (3)
"My apologies for the sudden arrival. I am here to convey an offer given to you by the Asgard High Council."
"Lets hear it."
"It has come to our attention that at the moment, your fleet is still somewhat small and is spread rather thin."
"Yes. In a matter of fact before your arrival, we were just talking about the issue."
"How would you like to receive thirty Beliskner-class warships transferred permanently to your forces to augment its strength?"
"What? Thor buddy are you out of your mind? If you guys want to give the ships to us, it's perfectly fine with us; we'll take them off your hands in a second. I can see that Alan over here is nearly wetting his pants about doubling his Navy," he pointed to the CNO who was having a wet dream in his mind that only a Naval officer could have. "But don't you guys need those ships for the war against the Ori?"
"Not anymore O'Neill. The Beliskner-class is no longer useful to our needs. The O'Neill-class Battleships along with the Daniel Jackson-class science vessels have since replaced the Beliskner-class. Given the fact the O'Neills and Jacksons have completely supplanted the Beliskner-class, we neither have the resources nor the personnel to operate them. We decided that since Earth is in the exact opposite situation, with more than enough personnel to go around but without the ships to command, it would be beneficial for both of our governments to facilitate this exchange."
"What's the catch?" Hayes knew that despite the goodwill showed to Earth by the Asgard, an offer of this magnitude always came with strings attached.
"If the Terran Federal Republic accepts this offer, we will expect that Earth will become a permanent force and presence in the galactic affairs of the Milky Way galaxy?"
"Commander Thor, are you saying that you are abandoning us and are giving us ships to assuage your guilty consciences?" asked Abarano.
"It is Supreme Commander Thor to you Health Minster. A word of advice if I may, one must always address someone with his or her full title unless directed otherwise. I do not know how one conducts one's self in your native region of Tuscany, but in many cultures around the Galaxy, formality is a must. No, the Asgard will not as you say 'abandon' its human allies. After this war and as long as we exist a species, we will still look after the interests of the Milky Way just as we have done for thousands of years. Instead, we expect that humanity take its rightful mantle as the Fifth Race."
"The Fifth Race?" the Foreign Minister asked.
"Many thousands of years ago, when humans were still learning how to harness the power fire, an Alliance between the four greatest races to ever exist from the galaxy, the Alterans, also known more commonly as the Ancients, the Nox, the Furlings and the Asgard was formed to provide stability and security across the Milky Way. However as time passed the Alliance began to fall apart with each race going its own separate ways; the Ancients moving to the Pegasus Galaxy for a time and eventually leaving this plane of existence, choosing instead to ascend to higher state of existence; the Nox, becoming more and more insular to the point where they have little or no interest in galactic affairs; the Furlings, having the most tragic fate of them all, exterminated to the last by the Goa'uld as they rose to power. As a result, only the Asgard remained to provide a counterweight against the forces of tyranny and chaos. When then-Colonel O'Neill and Daniel Jackson led a military team to the planet Abydos and killed the System Lord Ra, humanity achieved the capability and potential on its own to become the Fifth Great Race. Now we ask that humanity accept the responsibilities that come with becoming a galactic power."
"Are you saying that we're going to be the galactic peacekeeping force?" Hayes asked, police actions and peacekeeping duties were never very popular on this planet and such actions taken across the galaxy would be even less so.
"Yes. This situation of the galaxy is equivalent to your Wild West. The Ori are just the major threat at the moment."
"Just the major threat?" asked General Lee.
"Yes. The Ori are just the major threat at the moment. In this galaxy, there is the Lucian Alliance, left over System Lords and the everlasting presence of what O'Neill calls 'Hitler-wannabees' whatever that may mean, who wish to take over the galaxy. We ask that you assist us in our efforts to keep the galaxy stable and for the most part peaceful."
"And what if we refuse?"
"This will not damage the relations between our two species. However the ships allocated for transfer will be scrapped."
"Where are they now?"
"The ships are currently guarded by twelve O'Neill-class and Daniel Jackson-class vessels in the neighboring solar system of what you know as Alpha Centauri."
"As President, I can make deals with other powers. However any agreements made with any foreign power, allied or not have to be approved by the Legislature."
"I understand President Hayes. I shall return in four days to receive your answer," Thor said and beamed out.
"Jack, how the bloody hell did you get a ship class let alone a single ship named after you?" asked Hastings, envious of the General.
"Alan, I've got lots of friends in very high places."
"Is there anything else would you like to tell us General O'Neill?" asked Geng.
"Well in addition to having a ship class named after me, I've also done some other stuff. Like rapidly aging over a couple of days, dying and getting resurrected, getting the entire knowledge base of the most advanced race in the universe getting implanted in my mind, finding out that I have the ability to control such technology by a special gene in my genome, killed around at least five foreign heads of state (4) and have traveled back the year 1969 and borrowed $500 from my commanding officer when he was still a Lieutenant."
"Its been nearly forty years and you still haven't given me my money back O'Neill. I want it back with interest," groused Hammond, grumpily. When he gave O'Neill his money many years ago, he gave up of a sizeable amount of his monthly pay and had to eat canned beans for a month straight to save money.
"Is that all?" asked Suarez.
"Um… no. It isn't even half of what I've done and we haven't even gotten to Carter."
"Please forget that I even asked," responded Geng, not wanting to know any more details.
"Why is that every time I'm around you, weird things happen?" asked Hayes rhetorically.
March 19th Chulak 1000 GMT
"Ladies and gentlemen welcome Bravo Company. I'm Captain Sanders, your Company Commander. We're a tight unit here and I hope that you'll fit right in." He told the new troops assembled in front of him. "First Sergeant Masters here has your platoon assignments." He pointed to Masters who was standing beside him. "Fall out and get your platoon assignments and report to your respective units. Lieutenant Roberts please stay behind. I need to talk to you in private."
The assembled men and women fell out of formation and turned to the First Sergeant, eager to get their assignments and get settled in their new unit.
When the enlisted personnel, were doing this Sanders approached the newly arrived Lieutenant. "Lieutenant. Like I said earlier, welcome aboard to Bravo Company. You're going to be taking command of 1st Platoon."
"Excellent sir. I'll get started right away. As senior Lieutenant, when do you want me to begin my duties of Company XO?"
"That's what I wanted to talk about in private. Although you are the senior Lieutenant present, you will not be assigned the duties as XO."
"Sir?"
"Due to your seniority, you are officially the XO according to the chain of command and will assume command of Bravo Company upon my death, transfer or incapacitation. However you will not have the duties that come with the job. Due to your recent transfer from the Military Police branch to Infantry and your inexperience as an infantry officer, Lieutenant Hurst will still execute the duties of Company XO although he will not have the title."
"Sir. I've served as XO of a MP Company and am well acquainted with the running of a Company. I am capable of doing this."
"Lieutenant I am well aware of your experience as an XO. In fact, I would be more than happy to give the duty to you. However you're going to have enough trouble running an infantry platoon to be bothered with the duties as XO."
"Sir. I've seen combat before. I was in the Sunni Triangle."
"Commanding a Mechanized Infantry platoon is whole different ballpark compared to being in charge of a Military Police unit. This discussion is closed Lieutenant. Report to your platoon. Dismissed."
Grudgingly, she saluted the Captain and spun on her heel beginning to walk away.
"Lieutenant. I forgot to mention one thing," he said stopping her in her tracks. "Under standing orders on the battlefield, not under any circumstances are you salute myself or any other senior officer present. We don't want to provide targets to snipers," he told her.
"Understood sir," she replied gritting her teeth, angry at being chastised and walked to her platoon.
After Masters had completed handing out platoon assignments, he went up to Sanders. "How'd it go?"
"Not good."
"That bad?"
"Yeah."
"She a ring knocker?"
"It's too early to tell. I hope not," he sighed. The last couple of days had not gone well for him at all.
Author's Notes
(1)- Ring Knocker, a pejorative term used by US military personnel to describe those who graduated from the Service Academies and makes a very big deal about it to their colleagues.
(2)- Oort Clouds are a spherical cloud of comets that lie at the very edge of our Solar System.
(3)- Beltway, another term for the Capitol and the area around it.
The friction between Sanders and Roberts is more of a professional one than a personal one. Sanders doesn't put a lot of faith in Roberts since she just transferred into the infantry branch, despite her status as a First Lieutenant and she has no experience commanding an infantry platoon, treats her just like any newbie Lieutenant. Roberts on the other hand, doesn't Sanders in what she believes is patronizing since she thinks that she can command an infantry platoon in combat just as well as anyone else can. In addition Roberts resents Sanders because he is a Captain already and she is not, despite the fact that she has two more years than he does in service time and is four years younger than she is.
