Jack Campbell - Guardian

Jamenson gasped a deep breath before she could continue speaking. “But it was abandoned because the weapon effectively destroyed the planet it was supposed to defend. The seismic impact of that many explosions that massive, the amount of material hurled into the atmosphere, the huge amount of nuclear contamination, it all combined to inflict massive damage and render a planet almost uninhabitable. That, and the target had to pass over the weapon, which was hard to guarantee.

“And there are several indications that senior security-force commanders have left the planet within the last few days. They and their families. Supposedly some expensive off-site gathering at what passes for a luxury resort on the largest moon of the habitable world, a moon that never orbits near the segment of land centered on that new camp.”

Geary wondered just how pale he looked. Iger had passed on the reports of the senior personnel leaving the planet, but that was common enough behavior for high-ranking Syndics when danger threatened and hadn’t aroused special alarm. The four small groups of Syndic warships, he now realized, were not positioned anywhere near a line drawn upward from the center of the prison-camp location. The hit-and-run attacks by those Syndic warships and their near presence had kept Geary’s ships in a tight defensive formation, and the tight Alliance formation would form a perfect target for a dense, wide field of particle beams as it swung above the prison camp to provide protection and orbital-firepower support as the Marine shuttles landed.

Landed on the center of a region rigged with massive nuclear munitions.

He was barely aware of his hand hitting the emergency comm overrides. “All units, this is Admiral Geary. Immediate execute, abort the landing operation. I say again, abort the landing operation. All shuttles are to return and be recovered as fast as possible.”

Can I alter course before the shuttles get back? How long do I have? I can see that damned camp. Will the Syndics trigger that continental shotgun if they see us aborting the landing so they can get as many shuttles as possible, or will they wait and see if we’ll come back?

They need to think we’ll come back.

“Emissary Rione, immediately contact the Syndic authorities and tell them we have to postpone the landing and recovery operation because of… contamination issues. We think there might be an unknown disease among the prisoners and need to recheck the test results before conducting the landing.”

Rione watched him, obviously surprised by Geary’s anxiety and frantic words. “Immediately? I’ll send the message now and ensure they receive it. How serious is this?”

“About as serious as it gets, but don’t let them see that you’re worried . Make it seem like a bureaucratic holdup.”

“I’m a good liar,” Rione said. “Consider it done.”

“Tanya, how hard would it be to… double the size of this formation? Increase the distances between ships by that factor?”

Desjani had already been focused on him, not having heard what Lieutenant Jamenson said but well aware that something had badly rattled Geary. Now she didn’t hesitate. “Not hard at all,” she said, her hands already flying across her display. “Done. I can transmit the modified formation whenever you ask for it. Let me know what’s going on when you can.”

“We underestimated them,” Geary said, his eyes on his display. The shuttles were turning around and coming back, some of them having already entered atmosphere and having to climb out. Another urgent message came in, this one from Carabali.

“What’s going on, Admiral?” the Marine general asked. “Why did we abort the landing?”

“I’ll give you the details when I can. Just get those damned shuttles recovered as fast as you possibly can.”

Rione was back. “CEO Gawzi has been informed. She wants to know how soon we will carry out the recovery operation.”

He checked the orbital data. If the fleet held its current path, it would swing over the prison camp region again in… “One and a half hours. Tell her one and a half hours, then we’ll conduct the recovery. Make sure she feels confident we’ll go through with it.”

Victoria Rione also knew when not to ask questions but just do as he asked. “Yes, Admiral.”

What else could he do? “We have to look like everything is routine except for aborting the landing operation,” Geary said out loud. “Until we get the shuttles on board. Are there any orbital changes I can make that won’t mess up the shuttle recovery but will alter our track over the planet?”

“What are we trying to avoid?” Desjani asked.

“A region about seventy kilometers across centered on the prison camp.”

“Seriously? Swing our orbit a couple of degrees toward the planetary equator. That will actually assist recovery of the shuttles and allow us to skim the edge of that region you’re worried about.”

Geary gave the order, then sat staring at his display, watching the shuttles approach, the closest wave nearly back among the fleet.

“Admiral?” Desjani prompted.

“Admiral!” Rione said, as her image reappeared. “That Syndic CEO is more nervous than she’s been before. Very nervous. But she said they would expect us to conduct the recovery in one and a half standard hours. If I know why I’m lying, I can do a better job for you,” she added pointedly.

It would take half an hour, a very long half an hour, to get the shuttles recovered. Geary keyed in Carabali and Rione, then spoke so Desjani could also hear as he described what Lieutenant Jamenson had found.

“The entire landing force would be wiped out,” Carabali said grimly, “and every prisoner down there would be blown to atoms as well.”

“We’d take a lot of damage,” Desjani said. “It’s hard to say how many hits they’d score, but with our ships in this tight a formation encountering a dense field of powerful particle beams, we’d very likely lose dozens. Not to mention damage to ships that weren’t a total loss.”

“And they would blame us,” Rione said. “Count on it. The Syndic rulers on Prime would announce that we had bombarded that planet, causing all of that damage. No wonder CEO Gawzi looks so nervous. Her planet is about to be shaked and baked, and most of the remaining population killed.”

“An expendable planet in an expendable star system,” General Carabali agreed. “It’s logical enough if you’re cold-blooded enough. When will we be clear of this threat?”

“When we get the shuttles aboard and take a course away from the planet,” Geary said.

“What about the prisoners in the camp?” Rione asked.

“If Lieutenant Jamenson is right, the only way to keep those prisoners alive is to stay away from the trap. We either get the Syndics to lift them out to us, or we leave them.” The words had no sooner left his mouth than Geary felt bitterness fill him. Leave them. Leave Alliance military personnel taken as prisoners, who might have been held by the Syndics for several decades, who knew Alliance ships were here because of the Marine surveillance drones, who might have seen some of the Alliance shuttles high above them turn about and head back for space. “We’ll do everything we can to get them out of there.”

It sounded weak. It sounded bureaucratic.

I’m getting too good at saying bureaucratic things.

“Ten minutes to complete recovery of all shuttles,” Lieutenant Yuon reported.

“Admiral,” Rione said, “CEO Gawzi is on the planet. Do we know where other senior Syndic personnel are?”

“We know the senior internal-security officials have gone off planet.”

“Do you remember Lakota? Where a Syndic flotilla was ordered to destroy a hypernet gate at close range?”