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.
SIX
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?”
“We get along fine if planetary forces try to mess with us,” Desjani pointed out. “And when there’s a mission to carry out.”
“What about in bars?”
“That usually doesn’t go so good. Unless there’s planetary-forces types in the bars, too.”
“Just like in the past,” Geary agreed.
“Captain?” Lieutenant Casque called. “The database says those things are called Persian Donkeys because of some really ancient story. These people called Persians invaded some other place and got trapped by an enemy that was more mobile, so they had to get away at night without the enemy realizing they were going. The Persians had these things called donkeys that the enemy hadn’t seen before, and these donkeys made a lot of noise, so the Persians left all the donkeys behind to fool the enemy into thinking all of the Persians were still there. I guess these donkeys were some kind of primitive deception device.”