Geary studied the plan, nodding. “Does that leave enough time for the last shuttles to get clear if the Syndics realize what’s happening and pop their nukes right then?”
“I don’t know, sir. Probably not, but it’s my best option.”
“Wait a moment, Colonel.” He spun toward Desjani and explained the situation. “What do you think? Is there anything we can do with enemy troops armed with nukes that close to our people’s emergency evac?”
Desjani bent her head in thought for a long moment, then looked over at him. “There may be something we could try. I was only a junior officer, but as best I recall it worked at Calais Star System. A situation a lot like this, with the enemy coming right on the heels of the last shuttles out.”
“What did you do?”
She twitched a humorless smile. “We dropped a saturation bombardment timed to cross paths with the evac shuttles and hit the surface just as the shuttles got enough altitude to clear the danger zone.”
“You’re kidding. Dropping that many rocks through the same planetary airspace that your shuttles are traversing? What did the shuttle pilots think of that plan?”
“They screamed bloody murder. The evacuees weren’t thrilled, either. But we can do what we did then, download the bombardment pattern and planned trajectories of each projectile into the autopilots of the shuttles. In theory, the autopilots can weave a path between the rocks and make it up high enough before the rocks start hitting and blowing the surface sky-high.”
He thought about it. He didn’t like it. But . . . “You said it worked at Calais?”
“Yes, sir. Mostly it worked, anyway. Not every rock going through atmosphere sticks exactly to its preplanned trajectory. But at Calais we had a lot more shuttles lifting through the barrage than we’ll be worried about here.”
Mostly
it worked. Geary called Carabali again. “Colonel, we’ve got an option to support your final lift.” He outlined the concept Desjani had described. “It’s up to you whether we try it.”
It seemed that he’d finally managed to surprise Carabali. If that was surprise and not horror he was seeing. But the colonel exhaled and nodded. “If we don’t try that, sir, odds are we’ll lose all three birds and the Marines on them. At least this idea offers them all a much better chance. I’ll notify the pilots of the last three shuttles of what’s going to happen.”
“Let me know if none of them want to volunteer so I can canvass the fleet for other pilots.”
Carabali frowned slightly. “They already volunteered, sir. All three of those pilots are Marines. Please inform me when you have details of the bombardment, sir.”
“Will do.” Geary broke the connection with Carabali, leaned back, and took a deep breath. “All right, everybody. We’re going with Captain Desjani’s plan. We need the bombardment as finely timed as possible if those shuttles are going to have a chance.”
“It’s not exactly
my
plan,” Desjani muttered, then swung into action. “Lieutenant Julesa, Lieutenant Yuon, Ensign Kaqui, pull up the Marine evac plan as most recently amended by Colonel Carabali and run a bombardment plan through the combat systems. We need something that will saturate the area the shuttles have left, and coordinated with the Marine time line so that the bombardment hits within five seconds of the shuttles clearing the danger zone.”
“Captain,” Lieutenant Yuon asked, “what if one or more of the shuttles develops a problem, or gets delayed otherwise?”
“Assume no delays. All three of the last birds have to lift exactly on time, or they’ll die at the hands of the Syndics. I need that bombardment pattern five minutes ago.”
The watch-standers leaped into action while Geary watched his display. On the portion given over to the ground battle, he could see the sudden appearances and disappearances of enemy symbols as traces of the Syndic commandos were picked up by Marine sensors. The Marines were firing on every detection, but apparently not getting hits against the extremely difficult targets moving through an environment full of things to hide behind. As the Syndic commandos snuck ever closer to the landing field, the Marines were slowly falling back themselves, trying to maintain a screen between the Syndics and the center of the camp.
On the field itself, the last liberated POWs were being bundled into shuttles, and Carabali was calling in her other Marines. The two Persian Donkeys were visible on the display, busily churning out indications of large groups of people still near the landing field.
A lot of things were going to have to work right. He hated depending on that.
“Strange, isn’t it?” Desjani asked. “It’s just like at Corvus, dealing with Syndic Special Forces commandos on a suicide mission.”
“I guess it is sort of like that,” Geary admitted.
“You didn’t kill the ones at Corvus.” She turned a questioning gaze on him. “But we’re going to nail these.”
“Right. At Corvus I wanted to underline the futility of the commandos’ effort and deny them martyrdom. Here”—Geary waved at his display—“they’re going to get their martyrdom, but they still won’t accomplish their mission. We will accomplish our mission despite their best efforts, though, making their deaths meaningless. In any event, there’s no other way to stop these commandos except by ensuring they get blown away.”
“Captain!” Lieutenant Julesa called. “The bombardment plan is ready.”
“Shoot it to me and Captain Geary.”
Geary studied the result, fighting down qualms as he saw the trajectories of over a hundred kinetic bombardment rounds intersecting with those of the three shuttles, then saw the pattern hit just as the shuttles cleared the danger zone from the bombardment. “Well, Captain Desjani, let’s hope this plan of yours works.”
“You can call it my plan if it works,” Desjani objected.
Geary hit the commands sending the plan to Colonel Carabali to pass on to her shuttles and transmitting it as an execute order to the ships tasked with being in the right positions at exactly the right time to launch the bombardments. Within moments, the battleship
Relentless
called back. “Sir, is this plan right?”
“It’s right. We need it executed perfectly.”
“That’s putting it mildly, sir. The Marines are okay with this?”
“They’re okay with it.”
“Very well, sir. We’ll put the rocks where they’re supposed to go and make sure they hit at the right time.”
“Thanks.
Reprisal
, any problems on your end?”
Reprisal
’s commanding officer answered about ten seconds later. “No, sir. We’re loading the maneuvers and firing commands into
Reprisal
’s systems right now. We’ll do our part.”
Geary gazed bleakly at his display. Colonel Carabali was piling into one of the last shuttles on the POW camp’s landing field along with the last Marines on the field. The three platoons holding off the Syndic commandos were still falling back as they tried to slow the commandos’ infiltration toward the landing field. The momentary detections of the commandos showed them getting far too close to the landing field for comfort.
“Here come the last three shuttles,” Desjani noted.
The operations watch called out right afterward. “Final evac shuttles landing in five, four, three, two, one, they’re down.”
All of the Marines in the last three platoons seemed to bolt as one for the shuttles. Geary wondered how long it would take the Syndic commandos to realize what was happening.
“
Relentless
and
Reprisal
are launching the covering bombardment,” the combat-systems watch reported.
Geary sat, watching the rocks head downward to where the three shuttles sat, the Marines just now reaching the shuttles and hurling themselves inside. On one side of the display, two time lines counted down, one for the shuttles to get off the ground and the other for the moment of impact for the bombardment. The two sets of numbers were far too close together for comfort.
Dauntless
’s bridge was as quiet as he’d ever heard it, quiet in that unnatural way when people waited to see the outcome of a life-or-death gamble.
“The shuttles have to lift within the next ten seconds,” Desjani reported.
“Yeah. I see.” He could also see a few final Marines sprinting toward their craft.
“Shuttle one is in the air, climbing at maximum,” the operations watch reported. “We’re seeing ground fire aimed at the shuttles. The Syndic commandos are breaking cover to engage the last shuttles. Shuttle defensive systems are firing back and engaging protective countermeasures. Shuttle three is in the air. Shuttle two reports a problem sealing the main compartment hatch.” Geary felt his breathing freeze. “Shuttle two is lifting with the hatch open. Speed and protection will be compromised.”
He could see the action, the tracks of enemy fire reaching for the shuttles as they tore skyward, counterfire from the shuttles racing downward to strike among the indications of Syndic commandos, who still remained almost invisible in their stealth gear. And, from above, just over a hundred bombardment projectiles seconds from passing through the same airspace as the shuttles.
It was strange how very long a second could be.
THE tracks of shuttles and bombardment merged, then diverged, the shuttles clawing for altitude and the rocks hurtling down the final distance to the surface. Geary heard the shuttle pilots yelling over their command circuit. “One of those damned things almost took off my ear!”
“Severe turbulence! Trying to maintain control!”
“We lost the main hatch!” That was shuttle two. “Make sure those Marines are strapped in and their armor is sealed! That’s all that’s going to be between them and vacuum!”
Beneath the fleeing shuttles, the entire central section of the former POW camp blew skyward in a single huge blast as the impacts of all of the bombardment rocks merged. Debris and shrapnel shot upward, chasing after the escaping shuttles as if the planet itself were reaching to grab them and pull the shuttles back to the surface.
Then another explosion burst out of the destruction on one side of the camp, an even more massive blast mushrooming toward the heavens.
“One of the Syndic nukes detonated,” the operations watch reported.
“Come on,” Desjani urged the shuttles in a whisper as they raced upward with shock waves and debris still in hot pursuit.
“We’re hit! Damage to starboard lift unit. Continuing on track, maximum velocity reduced twenty percent.”
“Climbing clear of danger zone.”
“Multiple strikes on our underside. Two penetrations. Shifting to backup on maneuvering controls.”
Geary could never be sure at which moment the crisis passed, the instant in which the three shuttles outran the death of the POW camp and the Syndic commandos within it. But at some point there was no longer any doubt.
“All shuttles clear.
Colossus
is closing on shuttle two for an emergency docking. Shuttles one and three proceeding as assigned to
Spartan
and
Guardian
.”
“Okay,” Desjani said, grinning. “It was my plan.”
“Right,” Geary agreed, almost laughing with relief as he triggered his command circuit. “
Relentless
and
Reprisal
, excellent shooting. Every ship performed with distinction, and every Marine and shuttle in this fleet went above and beyond the call of duty. As soon as the final shuttle is recovered, the fleet will proceed toward the jump point for Padronis.” He closed his eyes for a moment after finishing the transmission, breathing heavily. “And I thought fleet actions were tough.”
Far beneath the fleet, the only movements within the remnants of the former POW camp were caused by debris falling back to the surface and the mushroom cloud still rising on one side. Desjani was smiling. “Those Syndics successfully carried out the suicide part of their mission, anyway.”
Geary thought of what those commandos could have done to his Marines, his shuttles, and the thousands of Alliance prisoners who had been liberated, and nodded in agreement.
The next half hour felt like a major anticlimax as the shuttles found their assigned homes on different ships of the fleet. Far beneath the fleet, parts of Heradao’s surface writhed as forces loyal to rebel factions and Syndic central authority clashed, but none of them tried to target the Alliance ships. “Do we need to provide cover for those withdrawing Syndic guards and their families?” Geary asked.
“There’s no sign of pursuit, sir. It’s likely most people on that planet think the guards went up with the camp.”
“Good.” After all the frantic activity, Geary felt fidgety waiting for the time when he could order the fleet into motion. While he waited, a postponed question popped back into his head. He bent a puzzled look at Desjani. “Why the hell do the Marines call their deception devices Persian Donkeys?”
Desjani replied with her own baffled expression. “I’m sure there’s a reason. Lieutenant Casque, you don’t have anything to do at the moment. See if the database can explain it.”
“And who the hell named those things hupnums? It makes them sound cute.”
This time Desjani just spread her hands helplessly. “I’m sure it was a committee. What did they call hupnums in, uh, the past?”
Geary wondered just what phrase Desjani had hastily avoided using to describe his time a century ago. “They called them PNWs. Portable Nuclear Weapons. Nice and simple.”
“But every nuclear weapon is portable,” Desjani objected. “Some may be carried by very large missiles or ships, but they’re still portable.”
He glared at her. “Did you ever work as an editor at your uncle’s literary agency?”
“A few times. What does that have to with anything?”
“Do you
like
the term hupnums, Captain Desjani?”
“No! In the fleet we usually call them NAMs.”
“NAMs?” Why couldn’t the future come with a glossary explaining common terms? Though come to think of it, he had heard sailors using the term a few times.
“Yes.” Desjani made an apologetic gesture. “Nuclear-Armed Marines. It’s shorthand among the sailors for something that’s a bad idea.”
Geary fought to keep a straight face. “I guess some things never change. Do you think there was ever a time when Marines and sailors got along?”