Desjani frowned, gestured to a watch-stander, then waited for the reply. “No, sir. The shuttle pilots prefer to use personal control. The Marines have a deal with them. As long as the shuttle pilots do a good job, the Marines let them fly their birds.”
“That’s a reasonable arrangement. And if any pilot screws up, then the Marines require them to use automated controls on the next drop?”
“Uh, yes, sir,” the watch-stander confirmed. “After any Marines who survived the failed drop catch the pilot and beat the hell out of him or her. Not that they’ve ever been caught doing that, sir.”
“Of course not,” Geary agreed, suppressing a smile. The lines of Marines were moving into the mining facility, dodging from cover to cover, moving in sections to provide covering fire for each other.
Not that the precautions seemed needed. Geary watched the display with growing uneasiness as clusters of enemy symbols fell back faster than the Marines were advancing. Leading elements of the defenders were already vanishing into some of the mine shafts littering the surface of the moon. “What the hell?”
A moment later, Colonel Carabali called him. “Captain Geary, the defenders aren’t really trying to hold. They’re falling back fast into some of the mine shafts.”
“I just noticed that. Any guesses as to why they’re not fighting?”
“Sir, I’d guess they want to evacuate the installation before something happens. We’d already speculated that this looked like a trap.”
The defenders are getting out of a blast zone? “What do you recommend, Colonel?”
“Sir, as much as I hate to do so, I think we need to pull back until we scan this rock atom by atom and find out what the Syndics have planted.”
Geary hesitated. How could they delay as long as that would require? And it would mean slowing down the main fleet even more, costing more fuel reserves. But he couldn’t send Marines farther into what was increasingly looking like a death trap. “Colonel-”
A sharp voice sounded behind Geary. “It’s a bluff.” He turned to see Co-President Rione leaning forward in her observer’s seat, her expression demanding. “Don’t any of you gamble? The Syndics have created a situation that looks like a trap. Yet they haven’t actually demonstrated any ability to blow up the entire facility, and in fact have left it intact behind them. If we run, they’ve saved their mining facility and we haven’t gotten whatever we wanted. If we slow down and take our time, it causes further delay in this star system. Either way, the Syndics come out ahead.”
Colonel Carabali appeared uncertain. “Co-President Rione’s assessment does sound logical, but-”
“Colonel,” Rione demanded, “do the Syndics routinely display high regard for the well-being of low-level personnel such as these miners?”
“No, Madam Co-President. They don’t.”
“Then why were the mine workers not ordered to die delaying your actual occupation of the facility, thereby also drawing more Marines into the supposed trap? Why were they withdrawn into the mine shafts where they cannot hinder us and in fact are now sitting ducks if we choose to fire weapons down into the shafts?”
Captain Desjani spoke in carefully controlled tones. “With all due respect, you’re not down there with the Marines, Madam Co-President.”
Rione’s eyes narrowed as she gazed at Desjani. “Lest you think I’m making this call lightly, I’ll point out that some of the Marines participating in this assault are from the Callas Republic. I would not place them in extra peril if I believed it existed.”
Carabali frowned. So did Desjani. Both looked at Geary. Yeah, okay, Rione believes in what she’s saying, but can I go with her belief? She’s not military, after all. She’s also not in command, which is why everybody is looking at me. It’s my call. I want to believe that Rione is right because if she is, it will make things happen the way I want them to. Am I too eager to believe she’s right because of that? What if she’s wrong? What if this isn’t a bluff?
We lose a bunch of Marines and everything we came to this facility for.
But why would the Syndics suddenly display such high regard for the welfare of low-level workers and then order them into a hopeless position?
I have to make this decision. If I’m wrong, I could see a lot of Marines die. Or if I’m wrong the other way, I could see this fleet needlessly delayed even further while the Syndics gather forces in surrounding star systems.
Ancestors, please give me a sign.