"Sexton copies all. I'll be out with Loba for overwatch."  Scott matches action to words as he swings the Suburban's door open (and leaves it open - no sense in delaying re-entry) and steps out.  As he does so, he flips his AV/PVS-7 down again and does a slow 360º scan for movement or muzzle flashes.

"Shee-it!" Watkins curses the short round under her breath. Dropping the spent 40mm casing as she moves, she trots over to the parked J-LTV and rummages around in the cargo space for another banolier of 40 mike-mike, as directed. Slinging a full one, she calls over to Anderson, "Where do you want me, Sergeant?"

Cleveland
Razorback dismount team
M79 (0/1 + 9 HE rounds in bandoliers); M870 combat shotgun
Picking up more ammo, checking in with the tactical commander

-
This message was last edited by the player at 02:03, Mon 27 Aug 2018.

Jackson hears the resounding clang of the round impacting against the right side of the J-LTV's turret armor. He's more irritated than startled by the sound. He rotates the turret to bring it roughly in line with the road, searching for the source of the incoming fire. If/when he spots it, he intends to blast it with a short burst from the Ma Deuce.

Chef
Razorback turret
M2HB 75/105 .50 BMG
Searching for targets, preparing to return fire (aimed 5-round burst)

-
This message was last edited by the player at 22:07, Sun 26 Aug 2018.

Shit. Mike’s expression is grim when he sees the look on the face of the kid that’s been sent to help him. The medic would sorely like to get his hands on one of the bastards outside that’s responsible for this fucking mess and beat him to death with the baseball bat that’s secured to the back of his plate carrier vest. Slowly.

”OK, Jamie.” he says with a smile as he pulls on a pair of latex gloves. Somewhere in the distance he can hear the sound of outgoing fire. ”I’m going to clean this up then put a proper dressing on it for you. You just lie back and take it easy, and we’ll get you out of here as quickly as we can, OK?” Carswell exhales, opens up one of his MLBE pouches and begins to extract a wound dressing. He can clean her up, administer something for the pain, but he reckons that she really needs surgery to get the bullet out and he’s not sure that she can wait the time it’s going to take for the relief force to get here and evacuate her back up to Little Rock.

Carswell
Administering first aid to Jamie
Glock 22 Autompatic Pistol (15/15) holstered on right thigh
Unknown pistol (?/?) in plate carrier vest
HK416 (24/30) propped against wall

Whatever Lauren is about to say to Lieutenant Reeves dies off in her throat as the Corrections Officer hurries back to the front of the house. Instead the Air Force officer turns to the Lieutenant’s wife. ”OK, Mrs Reeves, I need you to get the women and kids ready to move. If you can, get one of the ladies who’s not got a gun to organize them. If not I’ll need you to do it. We’ll go out the door that we just came in.” In other words, if one of the women who’s not shooting is able to take charge of the others do it. If they’ve both lost it then Mrs Reeves will need to do it.

The next part is harder. In its own way it’s a form of triage. ”I can try and fit all four kids in the JLTV, along with the wounded woman that my medic is treating. It will be a tight squeeze.” Maybe too tight. They’d find out soon enough. She’s judging that inside the JLTV protected by its armor is the safest place to be. The youngest kids get those seats. The adults will have to take their chances in one of the other vehicles. Somewhere outside she can hear another rattle of gunfire. ”Everyone else goes in one of the other vehicles. Non combatants and the wounded girl* first, then your shooters, then my team. Make sure you do a headcount as your people leave, OK? That is critical.” Accidentally leaving someone behind doesn’t bear thinking about.

Provided Mrs Reeves is happy to take charge of organizing her own people Lauren will then key her radio. ”Sexton, Falcon. We’re prepping for evac here. Let me know when you’re six zero seconds out. Over.”

*Jamie
This message was last edited by the player at 14:10, Mon 27 Aug 2018.

"Alright, I'm tired of reacting to these assholes.  We need to regain the initiative and force them to react to us," Cole said.  He was already near the back of Razorback when Watkins asked where she needed him.  "With me and with these,"  Anderson said, grabbing the ammo can that was spray painted with the words: "40MM UTILITY".

Anderson took a knee, sat the SAW down briefly, then opened the can and pulled out two 40mm CS gas grenades passing one to Chevelle.  "Load,' he said as he pulled his own M320 he carried and replaced the APER round in it with a CS grenade.  When Watkins was ready, he passed her the remaining three from the ammo can, along with one IR paraflare.

"I want a CS grenade through the window of every house next to this one.  We'll start with the ones across the street.  IR is for when we pull out, so we can blast anyone who wants to run after us.  Let's make it happen!"

Cole grabbed the SAW handle with one hand, carried his M320 in the other, and made for the best available cover that allowed them to engage the houses across the road.  With hand signals, he communicated that he wanted Watkins to aim for Shooter 7's house, while he'd be putting his round through a window in Shooter 6's.

Anderson knew the grenades would take a few seconds to activate and start penetrating the houses with significant gas.  He'd sling his M320 and revert to the SAW once his one round went down range, so he could watch for targets emerging.

Cole Anderson
Moving between Razorback's cargo area and Cover
M-320 GL [1/1 CS] & M-249 [65/100]
Distributing 40mm Utility grenades, loading one and firing it into shooter 6 house.  Shifting to M-249 afterward
This message was last edited by the player at 19:43, Mon 27 Aug 2018.

Tori waited briefly, then fired a probing shot toward the most likely concealment in the area where the two runners disappeared at.  She was ready to follow that up if any target presented itself.

Tori Rios
Top of the SUV, prone
Wilson Combat Super Sniper .308 [5/10]
1 shot at likely cover, 1 follow up if any target emerges nearby

"Yes, ma'am. Can do, will do. I'll get right on that," When Cao is finished with her, Betty Reeves immediately gets down to work completing her taskings, "Alright ladies, listen up..."

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:10, Tue 28 Aug 2018.

Chevelle loaded the M79 with a CS round. When Anderson indicates that her target is the house to the northeast, Chevelle immediately notes that a high hedge is blocking her LOS from her current position (NW corner of the Alamo). From where she now stands (next to Razorback) she could easily lob the CS grenade over the high hedge and into the target house's front yard, but putting it through a window- firing blind- would be nearly impossible. She needs a better angle. To get it, she's either going to have to crawl down the road about 40m, climb on top of the J-LTV, or circle around to the southeast corner of Alamo. Under the current circumstances, none of these options is particularly appealing- it's really a matter of picking the least bad one.

"Hey girl," she says, addressing Carissa Noble, "care to give a sister some covering fire? I'm about to climb up on top of this thing."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 03:10, Tue 28 Aug 2018.

"Ask and you shall receive," Carissa says to Chevelle, quoting her father.  Rawhide moves to her feet and shoulders her M4.  Eyeing the situation, she faces the same decision and evaluation as Watkins.  Namely, where to be to lay down effective fire.  She probably doesn't need to be as high as the roof of the J-LTV, maybe sandwhiched into an open door would suffice to lay down some cover.  "Okay, I'll go on three.  Once I open up, make your move."

With a grunt and deep breath, Carissa spits out a quick "1-2-3" and breaks what cover she has, climbing only as high on the J-LTV as she needs.  As soon as her rifle is up, she begins to lay bursts of fire into the target building windows, taking volume over accuracy.

Rawhide
Cover fire (bursts) from the J-LTV
NVGs
M4 with Reflex sight and foregrip
30/30 6 mags remaining

While Anderson distributes CS rounds, another round pings harmlessly off of Razorback's thick hide. This time, the Ma Deuce thunders a curt reply. Taking advantage of the HMG's fire, Anderson moves quickly forward, taking cover behind a smallish tree at the northeast corner of the Alamo. Meanwhile, Carissa Noble and Watkins both climb atop the J-LTV. Crouching behind its armored turret, they can see over the hedge that blocks LOS- at ground level- from the Alamo to its northeast neighbor (across the street). Carissa opens up first, laying down a burst of suppressive fire; Watkins takes her cue, lobbing a 40mm CS grenade towards the house's right, front window. As Carissa squeezes off a follow-up burst, Watkins watches the smokey trail of the gas grenade disappear into the darkness. Her gut instinct the moment it leaves the barrel is that she aimed too high. Moments later, she hears the thunk of the grenade's impact, but she doesn't he see where it landed. As she waits and watches, no tell-tale plume of pale gas appears, suggesting either that the grenade came to rest in the target house's backyard, or that the round was a dud. Whatever the case, there's no reply from the northeast house. Perhaps C. Noble's fire did some damage.

Anderson watches as his grenade sails cleanly through the open window of his target. In a few seconds, the house will start filling with the caustic, irritant gas.

Inside the Alamo, Carswell dresses Jamie's wound. While he's cleaning it, he notices a distinct, roughly bullet-shaped lump protruding from the posterior trapezius muscle near the base of the girl's neck. Gently, the medic presses against it with his finger.  Carswell's found the bullet. It's so close to the surface of the skin that he could probably remove it relatively quickly with little more than a small incision.

Betty Reeves efficiently gathers the Alamo's non-combatant women and children in the back room. Her calm competence seems to rub off on them. Although they're clearly very scared, and quite eager to leave their predicament, there's no panic or hysterics. "The women and children are assembled and ready to move," she reports to the Sierra Captain.

Grady militia volunteer Ed Armstrong's rural Arkansas drawl breaks in over the team net. "Sierra Six Actual, this is Golf One. We're comin' up on the pig farm. I want to make sure we don't miss our turn. Is it the first or second right after crossing the causeway? Also, did y'all light a signal fire or something? I see flames at the north end of Cummings Village. Over."

In the open field to the southwest of the Alamo, Rios hunts the inmates on the road to the west. She sights in on a likely bush, aims low, and squeezes the trigger. Flash, bang, delay. The bush slowly falls over. This does not provoke any additional movement. Guillory, scanning the surrounds through his NVGs, notices the flickering glow of a fire at the north end of Cummings Village, he also spots the headlights of the two Grady pickup trucks to the northwest; he sees nothing else of note.


Carswell +1 S&W M&P 40 pistol (magazine x/15)
-5 rounds .50 BMG
C. Noble -10 rounds 5.56mm
-2 rounds 40mm CS
Rios -1 round 7.62mmN


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:19, Wed 29 Aug 2018.

The kid’s got the flashlight trained on the lump where the bullet is. Outside the light it’s casting the bathroom is dark, shadowy. It’s scarcely ideal conditions to be removing a bullet. Granted the whole thing is fucked up. He’s treating a teenage kid for a gunshot wound while a pre teen who has every chance of ending up mentally scarred for the rest of his life acts as his ‘assistant’. The medic shakes his head softly. At least the morphine seems to be kicking in.

”Captain Cao!” Carswell turns his head, yells in the direction of the hall to attract the Air Force Captain’s attention. Once he’s got it he continues. ”Kid still has a bullet inside her. I can try and get it out now. Probably take about five minutes. Your call.” If he gets it now it’s done. If they move her with it still inside there’s no saying what might happen. Maybe nothing. Or maybe it might move, which might make it harder to get later. Or it might end up pressing against something.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:55, Wed 29 Aug 2018.

”Thank you.” Lauren smiles briefly in Betty Reeves’ direction as the Lieutenant’s wife assembles the first people to be evacuated. Even the experienced Air Force Captain is reassured by her calmness.

With that job under control and Anderson managing the defense outside Cao is about to move to the front of the house and check in with Mr Reeves when her radio crackles to life with the Grady volunteer driver’s transmission. There’s a brief moment of confusion as she realizes that she’s not sure whether it’s her or Guillory that’s Sierra Six Actual. She swiftly decides that this is a military operation and she’s the Commanding Officer. If there’s a problem they can discuss at the debrief. Worst case scenario two people are going to reply.

There’s another pause as she visualizes the roads in her head before a gloved finger depresses the PTT switch on the PRC148. ”Golf One from Sierra Six Actual. Take the first right after you pass the pig farm. I say again first right. Head down that road until you rendezvous with Sierra Two. They’ll guide you in. Over.”

She can hear Carswell yelling her name, sticks her head round the bathroom door after she’s finished the radio conversation with Armstrong. Another decision to make. There’s a lot of balls in the air. Maybe too many. And there’s still a battle going on outside.  Five minutes. It will probably take that long for the vehicles to get here. She nods decisively. ”Do it. But she needs to be ready to move in five minutes.”

”You got it.” The medic replies with a nod.

Carswell
Attempting to remove bullet
This message was last edited by the player at 11:16, Wed 29 Aug 2018.

Cole stayed kneeling at the small tree, bracing his left forearm against his knee as he pulled the M249 into his shoulder.  He scanned for targets emerging from the house he'd just gassed, along with any that might be moving through the side yards on either side.

Cole Anderson
Kneeling beside small tree
M249 [65/100]
1x5-rd burst at each enemy target spotted near houses #6 & #7

"Coming down," Tori called.  She couldn't spend all night trying to shoot at scrubs (both literally and figuratively).  She pulled the mag from the precision rifle, cleared the chamber, collapsed the folding stock and put the weapon on safe.  The long dashboard of the Suburban wasn't going to be the best place to store the rifle, but with knuckleheads somewhere out there in the dark, she wasn't going to screw around with putting it back in its case in the trunk.

"Should we head back and get the civilians out of here?" she asked Guillory as she returned to the driver's seat.

"Dud round," Carissa hears Watkins say at a volume loud enough to be heard over the barking M4 in Rawhide's hands.  The Arkansas native can hear the agitation in the driver's voice.

Well yeah, we're up here strutting around like a horny rooster, bullseyed for any jag-bag who comes around and wants to shoot us.  Decision time.  Stay or go?  The exposed duo hasn't drawn any fire yet.  That could be luck, that could be damn fine shooting.  Hard telling, not knowing.

"If you can reload, do it," Carissa says grimly, "I do not want to come back up here."  She starts looking for likely spots for someone to shoot her country ass and begins dropping bursts into them.


Rawhide
Kneeling on Razorback
NVGs
M4 SOPMOD with reflex sight and foregrip
20/30 6 mags remaining.

Scott pauses, fairly certain that anyone checking for Sierra Six Actual is watching Cao rather than his own unranked self.  The silence stretches just long enough that he's about to key up anyway when he hears the captain respond.  He releases the radio's hand mic and returns his support hand to his rifle.

"The local guys' trucks are on the way in," he says to Rios, still facing out rather than turning toward her.  "Let's get ready to mount up and guide them in.  If we take any fire, let's be the obvious target.  They're squishier."

"Shit, I only had the one gas round," Chevelle confesses. "Let's get our damn-fool butts down off of this big-ass target." She bangs on the turret and yells, "Kabua, cover us!" then climb-slides down just far enough so that she can safely jump to the ground.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 03:22, Thu 30 Aug 2018.

Using a sterile razorblade, Carswell cuts into Jamie's flesh, just above the trapped bullet. A rivulet of blood runs from the incision, but the bullet doesn't budge. Jamie moans in pain, but the morphine precludes any serious struggle. Placing his fingers on either side of the lump, Carswell gently squeezes. Like a massive, lead blackhead, the bullet pops out, followed by a brief pulse of blood and a trickle of puss. The medic examines the bullet- it looks like a .40 FMJ round, slightly deformed by its impact with teenaged flesh and bone. After administering a dose of antibiotic and cleaning the incision site, Carswell quickly sews up the small incision, then expertly bandages both entry and exit wounds. The whole procedure takes just under 5 minutes.

-1 dose morphine
-1 PMK (bandages, local anticeptic)
-1 dose intravenous antibiotic
-1 length of suture thread
(razorblade and suture needle can be sterilized and reused)

While the Sierra medic is successfully completing minor surgery, Rios and Guillory mount up, and head north to meet the Grady trucks. A flash of Bourbon Street's police lights confirms the Sierra SUV's identity. The armored Chevy Suburban leads the way, guiding the civilian pickups to the Alamo's backyard. The fire at the north end of Cummings Village is growing- flames are leaping up above the roof line. Arriving at their destination, Rios pulls Bourbon Street around into a position to take up the rear of the rescue convoy when it rolls out.

Whisps of CS gas are languidly leaking from the shattered windows of the house directly east of the Alamo. At the northeast corner of the Alamo, Anderson is waiting behind his M249 PIP, in anticipation of catching any runners evacuating the structure, but none appear.

As Watkins and Carissa climb down off of the L-LTV, the M2HB thunders again as Kabua fires a preventative burst into the house to the northeast. A faint halo of pale gas is slowly forming right above said structure. Apparently, Watkins' round was just long, not a dud.

With the entirety of the rescue convoy now on site, Cao (assisted by Betty Reeves) directs the evacuation of the Alamo. As the non-combatant women and children are herded out the back door and towards the idling J-LTV, a string of bullets-seven or eight- tears through the hedge separating the homestead from its neighbor to the south. It sounds like rapid pistol fire. Most of it goes high, evidenced by the jarring metallic sound of rounds impacting the tin roof of the tractor shed. No one is hit. (All of this indicates that the shooter is likely firing blind; he can't really see the defenders, and they can't currently see him.) A shotgun blast answers from the Alamo's south-facing window.

As the nearby gunshots ring out, the lead woman and her two children, now shrieking in fear, pick up the tempo and keep moving towards the promised safety of the armored J-LTV. The trailing woman gasps, stops short, and reverses hard into the house, bulldozing the two kids backwards into cover with her ample rump, and blocking the way for Carswell, who's currently holding Jamie in his arms, waiting his turn.  All of the Alamo's shooters are still inside the house, holding their positions while the non-combatants are evacuated.

M2HB -5 rounds .50 BMG


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:56, Thu 30 Aug 2018.

When bullets fly over her head and rattle off the tin roof of the nearby shed Cao turns towards the direction the shots came from, bringing her rifle up to her shoulder as she goes down to one knee. ”Shooter at six o’clock, behind the hedge! I need suppressive fire now!” The chances of hitting the shooter are probably fairly remote but hopefully they can discourage further aggression.

”Keep moving! I’ll cover you!” Her finger is already squeezing the trigger of her own weapon, the barrel of the carbine arcing from left to right to a succession of short bursts into different parts of the hedge as she yells to the woman that has gone back into the house. Lauren reckons that the inmates have probably realized that their prize is in danger of eluding them so may well decide to stage one last full on assault. They don’t have time for any hold ups. They have to get out of here. Now.

Lauren Cao
On one knee in backyard
Calling for suppressive fire / firing 3 x 3 round bursts into different parts of the hedge
M4A1 w/ reflex sight (21/30)

”Shit.” The expletive slips from Carswell’s lips as the civilian heads back into the house in a hurry, making an already chaotic situation feel even more so. His teenaged patient stirs fitfully in his arms, a morphine induced stupor descending on her. ”Lady, you gotta keep moving!” Southern manners are noticeably absent as the Albany, New York native tries to encourage the woman to move forward.

"Darla, get your ass out here and into that armored car RIGHT NOW!" Betty Reeves hollers, punctuating the imperative with a string of single shots from her semi-automatic civilian AR-15 (fired through the southern hedge).

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:31, Thu 30 Aug 2018.

Cole laid down two bursts toward the hedges as he shifted to adjust to enemy fire.

Cole Anderson
Moving to engage
M249 [65/100]
2x5-rd bursts at the source of enemy fire.

Darla, prompted by the insistence of Cao, Carswell, and her AR-toting neighbor, pulls her kids out the door and runs as fast as she can towards the waiting J-LTV. Carswell, carrying the very drowsy Jamie, is next. He exits the house and moves as quickly as he can to the J-LTV without jostling the wounded teenager too roughly. From the backyard, the Captain and Mrs. Reeves provide the remaining evacuees with covering fire, Anderson joining in with a five-round burst from the northeast corner of the house. This fusillade of 5.56mm/.223 Remington rounds seems to discourage the formerly brash pistolero from interfering further in the evacuation, at least for the time being.

Next up are the Alamo's six shooters. The teens exit first, then the adult female,  the ex-con/volunteer C.O., and last, appropriately, the Alamo defenders' erstwhile leader, ADOC Sergeant Dan Reeves.

At the back door, Sgt. Reeves pauses, slings his AR, and removes a traffic flare from his [unarmored] tactical vest. Igniting it, he tosses it back inside. The accelerant he'd just splashed around the central hallway ignites with a throaty whoosh.  "They ain't getting' nothin'!" he says, turning on his heel and running to the waiting pickups. Cao, joined by Anderson, brings up the rear. The former aerial gunner fires a parting burst through the hedge before jogging to the waiting vehicles.

Razorback, packed to the gills with women and children (Jamie wouldn't fit without being painfully contorted) is already pulling out of the yard and on to the road out of town. Jamie, Carswell, and three of the Alamo's six shooters occupy the bed of one of the civilian pickup trucks (a fifth rides shotgun). This leaves the bed of the second truck and the rear passenger seats and cargo area of the armored Suburban for the Sierra dismounts and the Reeves. The Sierras pile on board, their heaviest firepower bringing up the rear. Headcounts completed, everyone accounted for, the rescue convoy rolls away from Cummings Village, now unevenly lit by several burning buildings.

Flames are already emerge from the Alamo's shot-out windows and open back door.  Its neighbor across the street to the northeast is even further along. The house at the northwest  end of the village is fully engulfed, on the verge of collapse.

The convoy's speed is somewhat limited by the J-LTVs punctured run-flat tire. As Razorback approaches the first turn, the convoy receives some desultory fire from several points east, none of it particularly accurate. The  gout of return fire* from the moving vehicles probably isn't any more effective, but it's good for passenger morale. The convoy makes the next turn (southeast of the pig farm) without coming under attack.

Cao -9 rounds 5.56mm
Anderson -10 rounds 5.56mm
*I'll let you decide if your PC contributed to this, and how many rounds he or she fired.

Saul Noble and Xandra Murray (in Ace Hardware) meet the returning rescue force just west of the fortified causeway. The rest of the drive back to Grady is quiet and uneventful. The reunited convoy pulls into the Grady police station parking lot just before 2300 hours. Captain Franks is there to greet them. After inquiring as to its mission status and individual wellbeing, he gives the returning rescue team a quick rundown of recent events.

"Been pretty quiet here. Sent a team down to Choctaw Farms just after you left- to check in on the folks down there. The property manager told 'em a couple of strangers came looking for help late last night; wife ran 'em off with shotgun. Found two prison jumpsuits hidden in a tractor shed the next morning- I reckon it was the two jokers you brought in. They've been behavin' themselves. Team's still down there. Other than that..."

Franks turns to Guillory, "Governor's office called, left a message for you. Wants you to call his direct line soon as you get in… guess that means now."

Guillory calls Governor Ralford on the Grady PD's landline telephone, is reassured that the ASDF reaction force will be rolling out of Little Rock by 9am. Steve (the governor and Guillory have always been on a first-name basis) then confides in his longtime friend.

"Scott, when the reaction force goes in, you know that the inmates who don't get killed or run away are going to start surrendering. I'm struggling with what we're gonna to do with recaptures. We can't spare ASDF people to guard them- the Guard's spread too thin as it is. From what you're telling me, ADOC's been gutted, and  I don't see many folks volunteering to become corrections officers after word of this mess gets out. On the other hand, I'm not comfortable signing 100, 200 death warrants. The legal system, as it stands now, is just not equipped to deal with this scale of incident. In terms of precedent, 'grey area' seems a rather generous description. This sort of thing didn't even cross my mind back in '26 [the last gubernatorial election year]. I'm not trying to put this on you ol' buddy- the buck stops here with me- but I've got a meeting with the company commander in the morning to go over the ROEs and I'm not sure what to tell him. I could use your advice."

The local Methodist church has been prepped to house the Cummings survivors. The STAR Team is put up in the Post Office just off Business 65. The furnishings are spartan, to put it generously, but someone set up a camp shower out back, and there's a plastic 50-gallon barrel of clean water there to fill it with. An ad hoc committee of town ladies lays out a late dinner of barbecued chicken, corn bread, and sun tea (with or without mint).


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:41, Fri 31 Aug 2018.

Scott pins the handset between chin and shoulder while he tries to open his water bottle with one hand and scrawl notes with the other.  "Chain gangs," he suggests, the thought half-formed.

On the other end of the line, Ralford, accustomed to Scott's conversational gambits, makes a prompting noise.

Scott looks up as Cao passes through the room, apparently heading for the cleaning bench in the weapons locker with her M4 in hand.  "Captain.  Your timing is impeccable.  Hang on a second."  He mouths the word governor in response to Cao's interrogative look.  "Steve, Captain Cao just walked in.  I'm gonna drag her under the bus with us because this looks more like a military POW problem than a civilian arrest problem, and I think she's got some training along those lines.  Hang on, lemme put ya on conference."

He sketches the problem for Cao while he hunts for the appropriate button, then kicks the door closed and puts Ralford on speaker.  "Okay.  Couple of things here.  First, we have a workable solution for the first couple of days.  We sketched that out as soon as we realized the scope of the problem."  He scrawls open field, .50 on his notepad in case Cao needs a reminder.  "As soon as we start processing them, we start getting IDs.  Note to you, send me a bunch more fingerprint cards and see if anyone up there has a working laptop with a copy of Identi-Kit.  Realistically, we have no way to prosecute anything they might have done during the breakout, and it sounds like most of the ringleaders are already in the wind anyway.  So we pull the copies of their records that are in cold storage in the basement of the old courthouse.  That gives us enough to do a first sort."

"Classifyin' them on the basis of prior convictions rubs up against double jeopardy," Ralford says in a neutral tone.

"Yeah, but prior behavior is a strong predictor of future actions.  So the guys who were in for repeat non-violent or drug offenses," Scott makes a face at the wall, "are probably not the biggest threats to society.  They get first crack at work-release on reconstruction and salvage crews.  Deputize the ArDOT supervisors and tell them to bring their guns to work if they don't already.  After a year, anyone who hasn't been shot while escaping gets a parole hearing, with his boss sitting on the board."

"You realize the end result of that is putting a bunch of former drug dealers on state payroll if they turn out to be good workers."  The governor's tone is considering now.  "On the other hand, it's not actually worse than some of our legislators, and the North Texas-Southern Oklahoma crystal methamphetamine industry ain't what it used to be, so rehabilitation through vo-tech may be a better option than it was Before.  Okay.  What about the ones who don't make the cut?"

Scott winces.  "Yeah, the violent offenders.  I'll be surprised if we recapture any of the actual death row inmates but the guys we do pick up will be the ones we don't really want to put back on the street.  I'm with you on the unfeasibility of mass executions, generally," he pauses and the specter of New Orleans hangs in the air between them, "But I'm not sure what else to do with guys who are too dangerous to keep or let go.  Captain?  Any thoughts?"