“Sorry it couldn’t be more pleasant.” She gestured to the display. “Any good news?”
“Some. Commander Lommand called from Titan to say that he’s confident they’ll be able to get Incredible repaired enough to accompany the fleet. On the other hand, engineers inspecting Intagliata found a lot more structural damage had been suffered than we realized, so we’re going to have to scuttle that light cruiser, too.”
“And the fuel situation remains critical?”
“Yup. After we distribute every fuel cell the auxiliaries have and every one we could salvage off wrecked ships, the fleet will average about thirty-seven percent reserves. We’ll burn some of that slowing to orbit the third planet and accelerating away after we get the prisoners, so we’ll probably be down to the low thirties by the time we leave Heradao. Fortunately, fuel-cell use in Padronis should be minimal.”
“Can we get back with that level of fuel cells?” Rione asked quietly. Geary shrugged. “In terms of distance, yes, easily. We shouldn’t have to fight any more battles between here and Varandal.”
“And if we do have to fight more battles?”
“Then it’s going to get ugly.”
She gazed at the display. “I have an obligation once more to point out your options in such a case.”
“I know.” He tried not to get angry. “We can load up some of the ships and abandon others. I won’t do that. We need every ship. The Alliance needs every ship and every sailor.”
“The Alliance needs this ship, Captain Geary. It needs the Syndic hypernet key aboard Dauntless.”
“I never forget that, Madam Co-President. You know, we could save fuel cells by not going after the Alliance prisoners on the third planet.”
She gave him a long, hard look. “I suppose I deserved that. You know that even I wouldn’t suggest abandoning those people. All right, Captain Geary, use your best judgment, and let’s pray the living stars continue to look after us. I will contact the Marine colonel about my impressions of the Syndic guard force at the POW camp and let her know that I am at her service if she wishes me to attempt any other conversations with the Syndic guards.”
“Thank you, Madam Co-President.”
AN hour later, the virtual presence of Colonel Carabali stood in his stateroom, pointing to two images of the POW camp on the third planet, each bearing symbols displaying different plans for liberating the prisoners. Seen from overhead, the Syndic installation was an almost perfect octagon, each corner of its eight sides anchored on a substantial guard tower, with smaller guard posts spaced between them along the sides. A tall, solid wall of reinforced concrete joined the guard posts. Triple barriers of razor wire ran inside and outside the wall, the cleared areas inside the razor wire bearing every sign of being mined and doubtless under extensive remote sensor surveillance. Farther inside the wall, ranks of buildings filled most of the camp, many of them tagged on the images with probable identifications such as prisoner barracks, guard barracks, hospital, administration, and so on. The center of the camp was clear, a large open field that served as both a landing place for Syndic shuttles and a parade ground. Geary imagined being locked in such a place, with no hope of release. Until now.
“We’ve got two basic options,” Carabali began in her no-nonsense briefing voice, “both based on the fact that I’ve only got a little less than twelve hundred combat-capable Marines left in the fleet. That’s far too few to occupy a facility this size and defend its perimeter, even if we don’t end up facing any resistance from the guards inside the camp. I understand from Co-President Rione that our governing assumption has to be that the guards will fight.”
Her hand swept out, and a finger rested on part of the first image of the POW camp. “One option is that we can concentrate the Marines and roll through the camp sector by sector, occupying each portion, evacuating the POWs there, then moving on to the next. That has the advantage of keeping the Marines all within easy supporting distance and limiting their exposure to attack. The downside is that it will take longer on the ground, and once the enemy realizes what we’re doing, it gives them time to try either pulling out our POWs in sections we haven’t occupied yet or digging in among those POWs and using them as hostages. I don’t recommend this option.”
She faced the next map. “The other alternative is to drop the Marines along the perimeter of the camp, along with a force in the center of the camp to secure the main landing field. There aren’t enough Marines to secure the entire perimeter of the camp and the whole interior, but we can block all of the best angles of approach on the perimeter. Then the Marines on the perimeter will proceed inward, sweeping any resistance before them or bypassing strong points, and picking up POWs as they go, concentrating everything toward the center of the camp. We’d be lifting people out of the middle of the camp as fast as possible. This has the advantage of not allowing the enemy time to concentrate or pull out some of our POWs, and as time passes our own forces will concentrate and be able to respond better to attacks. The disadvantages are that our forces, especially initially, will be widely dispersed and unable to support each other. Many of the initial drops will also be more perilous for the shuttles since they’ll be spread out along the perimeter.”
Geary studied the maps and the colonel. He’d had some training on Marine operations a hundred years ago, but his actual experience with ground actions was limited to what he’d seen since assuming command of this fleet. That hadn’t included any operations on this scale, yet as fleet commander he was required to oversee the Marines and make the final decisions on their plans. Fortunately, he’d seen enough of Carabali to have a high degree of trust in her competence. “Despite the higher risks, the second plan is your recommended option?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you consider to be the odds of success using the first option?”
Carabali frowned slightly as she looked at that map. “If success is defined as rescuing all of the POWs, then my assessment is that option one would offer a maximum of fifty percent odds of success and probably substantially less depending on the Syndic reaction. That option leaves us very vulnerable to whatever response the Syndics choose.”
“And the second option?”
Carabali frowned again. “Ninety percent chance of success.”
“But the second option has higher chances of casualties for the Marines and damage to the shuttles.”
“Yes, sir.” Carabali faced him, her expression impassive. “The mission is to rescue the POWs, sir.”
That laid it out as plainly as possible. Geary looked at the maps again. To be certain of rescuing the POWs, to carry out the mission, he had to increase the risks to the Marines. Carabali knew that, and he suspected every other Marine knew it, too, on one level or another. And all of them accepted that, because that was what being a Marine meant. “All right, Colonel. I accept your recommendation. We will proceed with the second option. The fleet will provide the maximum level of fire support of which it is capable.”
Carabali flicked a tight smile at Geary. “There’s a lot of permanent buildings inside that camp. In an urban environment like that, there’s likely to be very small gaps between enemy and friendly forces.”
“How big a safety zone do you want?”
“One hundred meters, sir, but I don’t want that written in stone. We may have to ask for supporting fire a lot closer than that to friendly forces.”
“Very well, Colonel.” Geary stood up. “You may proceed with detailed planning and execution of the mission. Let me know if anything you need isn’t instantly forthcoming.”