Report!" Fisher knocked on the oak door in front of him, cradling his helmet.
"Come in!"
Fisher pushed open the door, and was immediately met with a rising cloud of smoke and the pungent smell of cigarettes.
Fisher coughed twice, then fanned away the smoke with his hand before he could clearly see the person sitting in the lounge chair opposite him.
His shriveled skin was like tree bark, and on this bark, a crimson mechanical eye scanned everything in front of it. Below the electronic eye was a prominent aquiline nose and a crooked mouth with a cigar dangling from it.
He was wearing a red and black spacesuit, with a pair of crossed golden swords and oak leaves at the neck, and more than a dozen medals Fisher didn't recognize pinned to his left chest.
"Sir?" Although his subconscious told him that the man in front of him was very familiar, Fisher still asked cautiously.
"Hmm, it looks like the food on Earth is pretty good!" The old general sat up straight, looked Fisher up and down, and nodded approvingly.
"Uh, that's certainly true!" Because Mars' terraforming was not yet complete, agricultural development was very slow. Crops produced by hydroponic farms were fortified with various trace elements and then made into nutrient paste, which tasted like soap, with only a slightly salty flavor. Real food was only available to the upper echelons, but officers studying on Earth could enjoy natural, pollution-free specialty dishes every day. As a result, there were even cases of Martian officers defecting because of the food.
"Heh heh, how was your study on Earth? Tell me your feelings!"
"The military discipline is strict, and society is prosperous. A quick victory is impossible!" Fisher knew what General Lefrancois wanted to ask. He paused, then continued, "Currently, Earth's internal affairs are highly unified due to the aggressive stance of the Eighth Fleet, with both military and civilians united. Once war breaks out, if we cannot achieve a quick victory, Mars will fall into an abyss!"
"Haha, even an aviation officer understands this truth now, but Salen Koch just doesn't!" Lefrancois disdainfully spat a thick wad of phlegm on the ground, then ground it with his military boot, making a creaking sound.
"One month, fourteen provocative incidents, mutual shootings, brawls, multiple casualties. He is provoking war! Mars cannot withstand the attrition of a prolonged war!"
In fact, he was already preparing for war. Fisher looked at the grumbling old man opposite him, thinking, if you saw the tragic state of the war's opening day, you'd probably die of anger. Salen Koch was like Zhao Yun, traveling a thousand li alone to defeat the Earth fleet, but the problem was that the Eighth Fleet also lost more than a dozen warships, dozens of air squadrons, and a large number of ground landing troops in the surprise attack, suffering nearly a hundred thousand casualties without gaining any strategic advantage. Fisher didn't even know what to complain about first.
The lurking agents controlled the AA guns, but they were taken back by the enemy, so even though the Martian Eighth Fleet almost completely annihilated the Solar System Alliance fleet, they still dared not enter Earth's high orbit.
Meanwhile, the Punisher had already made a thousand-mile detour, making a sweep through Mercury, Titan, and Pluto, throwing Martian logistics into chaos. The Eighth Fleet was systematically wiped out in guerrilla warfare, eventually leaving only the Mount Olympus. As a result, Salen Koch lost the ship when he made a desperate surprise attack on UNSA headquarters on Earth.
Such a poor performance reminded Fisher of Chuichi Nagumo. Hmm, Infinite Warfare is an allusion to the attack on Pearl Harbor in World War II, that's right!
After cursing for a while, the old man stopped and looked at the rigidly standing Fisher, saying, "I'm going to send a batch of excellent officers from the home fleet to the Eighth Fleet!"
"To sideline Admiral Salen Koch?" Fisher wasn't surprised by this appointment. He had just chatted with the civilian adjutant on the transport plane, and the adjutant had listed the affiliations of the officers the general had met in the past few days. Coupled with his own identity as an aviation officer who had just returned from Earth, and a top talent in the fleet, Fisher easily deduced the other party's intentions.
"Yes, and no!" Lefrancois revealed a confident smile.
"I understand!" Fisher nodded. It was simply hedging their bets. If the Eighth Fleet successfully dealt with Earth, then the home fleet would also get a share of the spoils. If they didn't succeed, then these junior officers in the Eighth Fleet would control Salen Koch, making him a scapegoat to negotiate with Earth. Being a double-crosser was fine; it would only muddy the waters, allowing them to fish in troubled waters. If the factions were clearly separated, how could Fisher benefit?
"Oh, by the way, you just returned from Earth, so you'll undergo a few days of adaptation training first. I assume you still remember how to fly a Tornado!"
"Uh, maybe!" Fisher was embarrassed. Perhaps the F52 equipped by the Titans and the Tornado's control procedures should be similar!
"Alright then, you have two weeks to recover and train, then report to the Mount Olympus!"
"Mount Olympus?" Fisher was a bit puzzled. Shouldn't this ship still be undergoing sea trials?
"Yes, Salen Koch's flagship, the Mount Olympus. It embodies all the hard work of our Martian scientists, and it will definitely open your eyes!"
"Then I look forward to it, sir!"
...If you want to become a pilot on Earth, you have to go through 300 to 500 hours of ground simulation training, then spend hundreds of hours in the back of a trainer aircraft, and finally fly from the front. On Mars, however, all of this is greatly compressed. Flight cadets go directly to the ship after less than 50 hours of ground simulation. As a certain Martian general once said, the least valuable things on Mars are equipment and people. If they break, they break; just replace them with new ones!
And they had the confidence to do so. With abundant titanium ore from Phobos and Deimos, Mars had shipyards on Phobos, Mars itself, Pluto, and Titan, producing equipment like dumplings. Earth, however, had to transport all its resources from distant colonies, so its production progress was far behind Mars.
"Sir, this is the robot assigned to you!" Fisher, who didn't wait for a plane at the airport, instead received a tin-headed robot.
"IR15 robot. It will be your weapons officer!" The logistics officer, dressed in white, pointed to the robot behind him.
"Weapons officer?" Fisher feigned surprise, but inwardly sneered, because due to the harsh environment of space exploration, both factions had a large number of complex robot soldiers in service, including the multi-functional C6, the combat-specialized IR15, the heavy assault robot C8, and the robot main battle mech C12.
Among these robots, the C6, due to design issues, could perform some warship control and flight assistance tasks. As for the IR15, if you gave it a Volk energy assault rifle, it might be able to take out a squad in thirty seconds, but to have it assist Fisher in controlling a fighter jet? Fisher would rather do it himself.
Not only Fisher, but all pilots and officers transferred from the home fleet to the Eighth Fleet received a robot attendant.
"Masters of infighting!" Fisher could only give a silent thumbs-up to the Eighth Fleet in his heart. This would make his future poaching efforts even more justifiable.
However, Fisher didn't mind, but other native Martians might not. A nearly two-meter-tall bald man grabbed the logistics officer's collar in dissatisfaction.
"What do you mean by this? Are you guarding against us?"
"How could that be? We are all comrades, we are all Martians, brothers from different fathers and mothers!" The logistics officer was also helpless. He was just an ordinary ground crew old man, usually responsible for repairing planes and such. The bald man was a major and an aviation officer, a definite first-class person. He really didn't want to get involved in this matter!
"Our own people sending a tin can to monitor grandpa, do you want to die?" The bald man was clearly not satisfied with the explanation and immediately swung his arm, delivering a resounding slap.
The logistics officer covered his face, spun in a wide circle, and then collapsed to the ground, looking at the bald man with hatred.
"You dare to glare at me? You're asking for death!" The bald man tried to go for another kick, but after only two steps, the side door of the hangar was ripped open with a crash.
"Attention!" A furious shout rang out, and from the red dust swirling in from outside, a colonel in a red uniform emerged. On his chest hung a golden eagle medal, a mark of an ace pilot with 20 kills.
"Sir!" The previously arrogant bald major immediately wilted. The Martian military was a place where strength dictated respect, and the appearance of an ace pilot colonel naturally suppressed a group of troublemakers.
"We are assigning robots to you because we are about to undertake dangerous missions. Pilots are valuable assets to the fleet, and assigning combat robots to you is for your protection. Furthermore, many of you studied on Earth, and who knows if there are any spies among you!" The colonel said, specifically glancing at Fisher.
"?" Fisher slowly made a question mark. Leaving aside the loyalty review after returning to Mars, there were a dozen pilots in this group alone who had returned from Earth. Why are you staring at me? Trying to mess with me?
Fisher made up his mind: don't let me catch an opportunity on the battlefield, I will definitely shoot you in the back, and even scatter your ashes into space.
"Lieutenant Colonel Fisher, right? I heard you studied ship command at Kilimanjaro International Academy, but currently, we are short on ships and don't have a warship to assign to you, so you can only fly a fighter jet. I hope you don't mind!"
"Not at all, not at all. Serving the country, being able to fly a fighter jet is already excellent. Moreover, the Admiral also started as a pilot after graduating from Kilimanjaro. I am very honored to be able to follow in his footsteps!" Fisher finally understood. This guy was using him, the highest-ranking officer, to assert authority and make an example. Well, if he wanted to make an example, he would cooperate!