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"I doubt any pure Masadan ground force could stand up to our battle armor, but the Peeps may have given them modern weapons, and three-quarters of my people would be in skin suits. In this kind of environment—" He shrugged, and Matthews nodded.
"We also lack any detailed plans of the base itself," Ramirez went on. "The best we've been able to get from prisoner interrogation is some idea of how the immediate entry areas are laid out and where the blast doors are located. But the Captain tells me tying ourselves down in methodical operations isn't an acceptable option—that we can't allow ourselves to be drawn away from Grayson for any length of time—and we also have reason to believe our people down there are in danger if we leave them in Masadan hands. That rules out probing the defenses to develop tactical information.
"Bearing all that in mind, the best plan I can come up with is one the tactics instructors back home would bust me to civilian for suggesting. Visual and radar mapping of the base have identified three main entry points, including the hangars for their small craft. I intend to pick one of those entries—the hangar area—and use brute force to blast my way inside, then punch right through anything in front of us and just keep going until we find our people, the central control room, or the power plant. Finding the prisoners would be the best-case option and allow us to pull straight back out. Failing that, the garrison will have no choice but to surrender once we control their life-support systems—or put ourselves in a position to shut them down by blowing their reactors. I hope."
"I see." Matthews looked from Ramirez to Harrington and back again. "How can we assist you, Major?"
"I realize your people aren't trained Marines, Admiral, and your vac suits are a lot more fragile than Marine skin suits." Matthews' mouth quirked at Ramirez's diplomatic tone. "Because of that, using them to reinforce my Marines would represent an unwarrantable risk to your perso
"A diversion?"
"Yes, Sir. What I'd like to do is use your pi
"I see." Matthews sucked his teeth for a moment, then gri
He nodded again, but then he frowned.
"At the same time, Captain Harrington, this is going to be time-critical. Not only do we have to worry about the other Havenite's return, but any of your people being held down there aren't going to have vac suits. If the fighting depressurizes their area, they'll be killed. And if it occurs to the Masadans to use them against you as hostages—" His expression was grim.
"Agreed, Sir," Honor said quietly, "but your freighters have deployed our recon drones, and Troubadour and Apollo still have the gravitic sensors to read their transmissions. Should the other Peep return, we should have enough warning to get under way and intercept him with Fearless and Troubadour, particularly since he's most likely to be headed for Blackbird, anyway. As for the threat to Madrigal's survivors," the living side of her face hardened, "I'm very much afraid it's lower than the danger to them if we don't go in. Our information on their treatment is limited but disquieting. Under the circumstances, any reasonable risk to get them out quickly has to be considered acceptable. And, despite Major Ramirez's deprecation of his battle plan, I have great faith in him and in his people." She met Matthews' eyes squarely. "Given the information we have, I believe this is the very best we can do. I'd like your permission to try it."
"My permission?" Matthews smiled almost sadly. "Of course you have my permission—and my prayers for your success."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CAPTAIN OF THE FAITHFUL WILLIAMS PACED back and forth across the command room and gnawed his lower lip. He'd been picked for this post in no small part for his piety—now that very piety fa
But what? Williams didn't know, and ignorance shuddered in his blood like another layer of anger. That bitch! If she hadn't come back—back to a star system neither she nor her whore of a queen had any business in—Masada would have completed God's Work. But she had come back, she and her accursed ships, and smashed the entire remaining Navy except Virtue and Thunder in two short days. She'd set herself against God's Work and Will, just as women always had, and Williams cursed her with silent ferocity as he paced.
It wasn't supposed to happen like this. As Blackbird Base's CO, he'd known about Maccabeus, known all the military maneuvers were but window dressing for the real operation, and he'd wondered, deep inside, if perhaps the Elders weren't being just a bit too clever. Yet they'd spent decades creating the Maccabeans, and the Apostates' security had never suspected a thing. Surely that had been a sign God approved! And then the heathen Havenites had offered the final, crucial ingredient, the means to create the crisis Maccabeus needed. What better proof of the workings of God's Will could there be than the opportunity to use infidels against the Apostate?
Yet Williams had doubted, and in the nightmares which had haunted him since Jericho—and especially since the bitch's return—a fresh doubt had tormented him. Had his lack of Faith turned God's Heart from them? Had it been he who allowed Satan's bitch and her ships to thwart the Work?
Such thoughts could not be allowed, yet neither could he stop them. Even prayer and penance had failed him, but his sleepless nights had revealed another truth. Satan's servants must be punished, and so he had punished them, hoping to turn God's Wrath from the Faithful by proving his own Faith anew.
And he'd failed. God still turned His Heart against His Faithful. Why else had Thunder of God not returned to destroy the bitch? Why else had Blackbird's missiles failed to destroy even a single LAC? There could be no other answer, and as he paced and worried and fury knotted his belly, he prayed desperately for God to turn once more to His People and save them.
"Covington reports ready, Major."
"Thank you." Tomas Ramirez acknowledged the report and looked up. Sergeant Major Babcock stood beside him in the crowded pi