The fences were formidable, built from modular sections of clear ‘plast slid into place between plasti-steel posts. Almost ten meters high and topped with razor sharp barbs, they stood strong and defied the efforts of anyone imprisoned within to escape. Positioned around the fences were watchtowers, manned day and night, and atop each was an auto-gun, pointing inward, covering the prisoners. Around the towers were bunkers, heavy plasti-crete emplacements, strongly armed and facing outward, daring any from outside to attack this gloomy complex.
Inside the daunting perimeter, surrounded by the towering walls, there were multitudes milling about in a confused mass. They’d been coming all morning, marched from trains arriving at what had been, until a week before, the Stillwater Magline Station. Now it was a nightmarish debarkation point, where a human cargo was offloaded and led to an uncertain fate within the gates of the camp.
Arlen Cooper had been watching all morning, sitting behind his desk, a satisfied smile on his face. There were cameras everywhere at the camp, and he switched between them, watching the columns of stunned prisoners marching through the gates. It was his idea, the camp…a way to strike back at these rebel brigands who had so roughly handled his troops. They had frustrated him and made him look foolish, and Carlisle Island was so heavily fortified he didn’t have nearly enough troops and equipment to attack it directly.
It was only a matter of time before Alliance Gov would tire of his grim reports of defeat and his constant requests for reinforcements. They would demand results, and if he failed to deliver he’d find himself back on Earth, disgraced. Or just as likely, dumped in a hole somewhere. He had to find a way to break these traitors, and he was hopeful this would be it.
The terrified captives huddled miserably together, without shelter in the cold, stinging rain. They were there for many reasons. Some had been suspected of aiding the rebels; others had gotten into altercations with his troops. But many had done nothing themselves; they were families of those suspected of serving with the rebel armies. Cooper had never been one to allow concerns about collateral damage to interfere with his plans, and he wasn’t going to start now. Let these rebels out there pretending to be soldiers think about their families paying the price for their treason.
“Well, governor, are you satisfied with the results?” Cooper had been focused on his screens, and he hadn’t noticed Colonel Karn come in. Karn was the senior Federal Police officer and Cooper’s commander in the field.
“Ah…Colonel.” Cooper looked up, smiling. “Yes, indeed. I am very satisfied, and I must commend you on holding to a very tight schedule.” His smile faded somewhat, worry creeping into his expression. “The rebels will probably attempt to liberate the occupants of the camp. Are you adequately prepared?”
Karn looked right at Cooper, a businesslike expression on his face. “If the rebels attack the camp they will walk into a death zone. They do not have enough heavy weapons to assault our bunkers, and they will be seriously constrained by the need to avoid causing casualties in the camp…a mission priority I trust does not bind us as it does them.”
Cooper grinned but didn’t answer. He didn’t need to answer – Karn knew that everyone in the camp was expendable as long as the rebellion was crushed. “I also have a report from Colonel Wren in Hampton. The camp there will be complete in four days.”
“Excellent. It is essential that we secure total control of the mining district. We have an export schedule to maintain, and those resources are vital to the Alliance economy.” And if exports slow any further, he thought, I’m going to be in someone’s crosshairs.
The Hampton area was sparsely populated, mostly just miners and their families. The rebels there were fewer in number than those near Weston and organized more as a guerilla force than an army – Cooper called them terrorists. Their efforts were more limited, mostly aimed at disrupting operations. Almost all of the miners had taken up arms, but Alliance Gov had sent replacement personnel to keep things functioning. Now it was a contest between the Feds trying to protect the mines and the rebels attempting to interdict production. It had been a stalemate, with the rebels slowing shipments but failing to shut down the mines entirely.
Karn cleared his throat and continued his report. “Major Simmons has orders to commence construction of a camp at Southpoint.” Southpoint was the largest community in the southern polar region, the hub of a smaller, but still valuable mining sector. “He has less heavy equipment available, so I anticipate it will require two weeks, possibly a few days more to complete construction.”
Cooper leaned back in his chair and nodded. “That will be all, Colonel. You may get back to your preparations. We want to be ready if our rebel friends make a move against the camp.” He paused for a few seconds then added, “I think we should move an additional regiment to support your forces near Stillwater.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I want a rebel attack not only defeated, but destroyed. Utterly crushed. You may transfer whatever forces you need to achieve this, but do not fail.” He looked up, glaring at Karn. “Understood, Colonel?”
“Yes, Governor.” Karn was a little unnerved by Cooper’s increasingly manic demeanor, but he didn’t let it show. “Understood.”
“You know it’s a trap.” Anton was not usually the voice of caution, but he was worried about this attack.
“Yes.” Marek’s voice was calm, deadpan. “Of course it’s a trap.”
“And you still want to do it?” Anton trusted Marek with his life, but he couldn’t figure out what his friend had in mind.
Marek looked over, his eyes focused on Anton’s. “How can we not do it?” He took a short breath, exhaling loudly. “Lucius, the people in that camp are ours. They are the families of our troops, their friends and neighbors.” His face wore the usual impassive mask, but Anton could see the stress hidden behind. “How can we not try? How can we ask them to fight someplace else while we let their loved ones rot in that godforsaken camp?”
Anton didn’t answer - he didn’t know what to say. Marek was right; morale would plummet if it looked as if he didn’t care about the captives in the camp.
“Look, Lucius, I’ve thought about it from every angle. There’s just no way around it.” Marek’s voice was tired, resigned. “I just need to make sure we can withdraw. It’ll be a bloody day, but if we let our retreat get cut off it could be the last day.”
“You’ll need to leave a fresh force on the coast. Something to cover the withdrawal.” Anton realized there was no point arguing against an attack. Marek was right – they had no choice. So he might as well help plan it.
“I agree.” Marek sighed and looked up at Anton. “And I have another idea too. A way to hurt the Feds.”
“An idea? Another operation?”
“That’s where you come in.” Marek had an odd look on his face, anger and frustration about the camp mixed with a small grin. “I have a mission for you. You’re not coming along when we attack the camp.”
Anton looked startled. If they were going to march into a trap, he’d be damned if he was staying behind. He almost started to argue, but he hesitated, waiting to see what his friend was going to say.
Marek saw the reaction; he’d been expecting it. “Relax, my friend. I’m not talking about leaving you behind.” His fingers moved across the large ‘pad on the table, pulling up a map of Weston and the surrounding area. “The Feds expect us to attack the camp. They’ve got heavy emplacements all around the facility – I can’t find any area of approach that isn’t covered and double-covered.” He looked up from the map. “They’re hoping we’ll attack, of course. They figure we’ll wreck ourselves assaulting those bunkers. And you can be sure they’ll hit us while we’re still disordered and licking our wounds…unless they’re in disarray too.”