“Deploy additional units to cut off their line of retreat,” Gerald ordered. He doubted they’d snare anyone important, but he’d prefer to bottle up the enemy forces and deal with them before they had a chance to regroup and face the marines on even terms. “I take it there’s been no response to our demands for surrender.”
“No, sir,” Taggard said. “It isn’t even clear if the locals are hearing the demands.”
“And they might be unable to surrender safely, either,” Gerald agreed. He’d fought his way through enemy defences held by men who’d wanted to give up, but knew they’d be shot in the back by their own people if they tried. The locals wouldn’t believe the marines could protect them until the marines actually had people on the streets. “We’ll do what we can to give them a chance to surrender.”
He took a seat and pasted a calm expression on his face. “Signal the forward units,” he ordered. “They are cleared to begin the offensive.”
***
It was hard, Rachel decided, not to feel a very definite flicker of admiration for General Gilbert. His staff had been shattered, half the units under his direct command had been unable or unwilling to report for orders, but he’d still managed to put together a workable plan. It looked cowardly - she’d overheard a couple of officers muttering nasty comments when they thought no one could hear - yet it was remarkably practical. And it had survived her best efforts. She’d sent a handful of units in the wrong directions, and quietly deleted a number of messages before they reached their destinations, but the plan was still going ahead.
Perhaps I should take him out and run, she thought. She’d downloaded maps of the city into her implants, and she would have no difficulty avoiding the passive security sensors, but she doubted she’d get out alive. There were just too many soldiers swarming the complex, weapons at the ready. And if I stay here ...
She felt Commander Archer’s eyes burning into the back of her neck and scowled. The asshole didn’t know it, but he was being more effective than he’d been in years. She didn’t dare make any overt mistakes while he was watching. The irony burned as she spied a handful of corprat leaders speaking to General Gilbert. One of them looked as if she’d been in a real fight. She’d torn her dress so badly Rachel could practically see her buttocks ...
Ice washed through her as she recognised the corprat. Julia Ganister-Onge. She looked more ragged than Rachel remembered, when they’d last met face-to-face, but it was her. Rachel tensed, hoping Julia wouldn’t see through her disguise. She looked very different, yet ... Julia’s eyes washed over her without showing the slightest hint of recognition. Rachel breathed a silent sigh of relief as she turned her attention back to her console, just as alarms started to ring. The offensive they’d feared for the past two hours was finally starting to begin.
“Alright, everyone.” General Gilbert’s voice echoed through the chamber. “You have your orders. Evacuate to the buses and don’t look back.”
Rachel keyed a switch on her console, then stood and joined the throng. She’d programmed a small virus into the system - really, it was barely large enough to be called a virus - but she hadn’t dared use it until they were heading out of the chamber. General Gilbert’s crews would be wiping and then smashing datanodes, trying to make sure they didn’t leave anything behind that would help the marines. They didn’t have time for a proper clean-up, Rachel thought, but they’d do their best before they ran too. Unless they intended to stay behind ...
It might not last very long, if they do, she mused. She’d had a chance to take the measure of the population monitoring and control system. It was surprisingly robust, at least for the moment. Once we take command of the system, we can use it ourselves.
She kept her face impassive as they marched down the building and into the courtyard. A line of giant hoverbuses waited for them, their engines already humming loudly. She was mildly surprised the corprats hadn’t gone for something simpler, like most colony worlds, although she had a feeling it was yet another form of social control. She could fix a simple car from a stage-one colony world with ease, but not a modern system. The corprats didn’t want their people having any sense of independence. Bastards.
Commander Archer barked orders as the staff scrambled onto the buses. Rachel took a seat and watched, through the window, as the vehicle hovered into the air and then glided onto the streets. The pavements were lined with vehicles, a handful showing signs of recent damage that suggested their owners had suddenly realised they only rented them. The traffic control system had taken over and steered them out of the way, then parked and shut down the vehicles completely.
A voice echoed through the loudspeakers. “Stay off the streets. Stay in your homes.”
Rachel frowned. Here and there, she could see people defying the order. Fewer than she’d expected, really, but she supposed it make sense. The locals saw their government as an omnipresent monster, with eyes and ears everywhere. Big Brother, on steroids. She hadn’t even known that book existed until she’d joined the corps, let alone been allowed to read it. 1984 hadn’t been so much banned as comprehensively forgotten.
Commander Archer sat next to her. “I’ve got my eye on you,” he growled, as the bus picked up speed. “Don’t think you’re so great just because the general listened to you.”
Rachel shrugged and looked out of the window. Right now, she had other problems. The invaders would be surrounding the city, unless someone had decided to risk charging straight into unknown territory to seize the elevator. There was a very real chance they’d be intercepted, bringing her mission to an inglorious end. It would be embarrassing as hell. The others would never let her forget being captured by her fellow marines ... she wondered, again, what had happened to them. Were they alive? Or hidden away within enemy ranks?
She felt a hand on her thigh. It was child’s play to pretend to shudder, to make him think he was getting to her. She’d seduced people before, for the corps, but ... she made a silent promise that she was really going to kill him. Or ensure he got the blame for something ... she tossed ideas around in her head as the bus moved onto the motorway, heading west. A constant stream of cars was leaving the city. She couldn’t help thinking of rats leaving a sinking ship.
They can run, but they can’t hide, she told herself. And they know the corps is after them.
***
“Incoming!”
Haydn ducked as a missile flew over his head and crashed down somewhere to the rear of the platoon. The enemy defence lines were weak, but they seemed to be making good use of what they had. They fired a handful of shots at the approaching marines, then scarpered before the marines could pin them down and destroy them. He would have been more impressed if they hadn’t been slowing the advance down. The timetable was more than a little vague - the whole plan of attack had been thrown together on very short notice - but it was still frustrating. His peers would never let him forget it if his unit was the last to finish its mission.
The enemy town might have been a nice place to live, once. Now ... it had been converted into a strongpoint. He hoped - prayed - the local civilians had had a chance to escape before their dwellings had been repurposed. He couldn’t help feeling bad as he hurled a HE grenade into a small house, the kind of building that would have suited a young couple and their children. The defenders hadn’t really had a chance to pile up sandbags, remove the glass and do any of the hundreds of other things they needed to do to turn the house into a real strongpoint. The grenade exploded, blowing the walls away and collapsing the roof. He knew he’d destroyed someone’s hopes and dreams ...
He pushed the thought aside as they pushed through the town. There was no time to be gentle, no time to wrinkle the defenders out while leaving most of the buildings intact. They crashed through a school, hurling more grenades to take out anyone who might be inside before they could escape. A pair of tanks rumbled past, their main guns firing shells towards the distant megacity. Some bright spark on the other side had placed s
nipers in the towering buildings. The local population was going to pay the price.
The company reached the edge of the town and pressed on towards the power plant. The station had to be captured intact, before the enemy thought to destroy it ... or, worse, triggered a major explosion. It was supposed to be impossible to make a fusion core explode, but Haydn had seen it done. And the power plant was right next to the megacity. He tensed as bullets cracked through the air, one hand dropping automatically to the grenades at his belt before he caught himself. They couldn’t start hurling HE grenades around a power plant! They’d destroy the systems they needed to keep the power plant online.
He keyed his throatmike and muttered orders. The plant was huge, but - seemingly - a fairly standard design. The inner core would be completely sealed, unless whoever had put the system together was a complete lunatic. The outer layers were armoured too, but they weren’t anything like as solid. If they could take the command centre, they could take over the station and shut down the power to the city. It could be worse. They could be assigned to the water purification plant.
Bracing himself, he threw himself forward and into the enemy line. The defenders had no time to react before he cut them down. His men followed, rushing towards the main entrance. There were no convenient windows, not here. The power plant was designed to be as secure as humanly possible. Anyone who wanted to enter had to go through one of two entrances or give up. He eyed the door as reports flowed in from the other units. The power distribution centre was in their hands. If the power plant crew refused to give up, they’d find themselves isolated anyway.
Mayberry worked on the door, packing explosives into the hinges. Haydn felt uncomfortable, even though he knew it wasn’t as if they were going to crack open the reactor itself. The door shuddered as the charges detonated, then fell to the ground with an almighty crash. Haydn hurled a stun grenade into the chamber and waited for it to detonate, then hurried in. The plant’s interior was as standard as the rest of it. They had no trouble finding the control room.
“Get away from those consoles,” Haydn barked. The operators looked scared, but did as they were told. “Keep your hands on your heads.”
He snapped commands to the engineers, ordering them to take control. It wasn’t clear if the reactor control system could be isolated from the rest of the planetary network or not. The locals might just shut the whole system down, rather than let the marines keep the occupied city alive. Haydn dreaded to think about what might happen if they decided to screw around with the power systems. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of people would be at risk.
“Sir,” Lieutenant Packer said. “The system has been isolated.”
“Very good.” Haydn breathed a sigh of relief. “Are the follow-up crews on the way?”
“Yes, sir,” Packer said. “They’re having to take the long way around, but they’re on their way.”
Haydn nodded. The marines were steadily surrounding the city, but they hadn’t eliminated all the pockets of resistance between the LZ and the megacity itself. They’d have to be dealt with, if they weren’t already retreating. Haydn wouldn’t have bet against it. The enemy had been caught by surprise, but they’d reacted well. He suspected it wouldn’t be long before they started harassing the LZ itself.
“Once they’re here, hand over the prisoners and see what they have to say,” he ordered, curtly. It was unlikely the prisoners knew much, but they had to be sure. “And then try and get into their system.”
He smiled, coldly. It would be hard for the enemy to deny the evidence of their own eyes, once the marines started moving into the city itself. It was possible the locals would join the marines, or simply rise up against their government. It was also possible they’d stay on the sidelines and do nothing. It was the safest course of action, the best thing they could do until they knew who’d won the war.
“And then we’ll be heading onwards,” he added. “The city is waiting for us.”
***
“Sir,” Taggard said. He sounded pleased. “The city has been surrounded. The support systems are under our control.”
“Good,” Gerald said. He hadn’t expected to lose the string of minor engagements, but the enemy could have made him pay a far higher price for their facilities. “I take it there’s still been no reply to our demands for surrender?”
“No, sir,” Taggard said. “We cut off their line of retreat, but ...”
Gerald made a face. It was generally considered wise not to keep the enemy from retreating, unless one was sure one had an overwhelming advantage. The enemy would fight to the last if it thought it couldn’t surrender or retreat. And yet, he hadn’t seen any choice. They had to keep the enemy from rebalancing themselves as long as possible.
“Pass the word,” he ordered. “The assault is to go ahead, as planned.”
He felt his expression grow darker as he studied the display. The megacity was huge. He couldn’t afford to put boots on the ground everywhere, not if he needed to continue the offensive into enemy territory. He’d seize a few key spots, then leave the rest alone. He prayed, silently, that the local population would behave itself. The key to keeping unrest from turning into open resistance was to crack down hard, but he simply didn’t have the manpower. It was going to take far too long to bring down the rest of the mobile divisions ...
We could always try to make a few more dumpsters, he thought. He was relieved, and surprised, the plan had worked as well as it had. They’d come far too close to losing one of the dumpsters to enemy fire. But that would be just too risky.
Chapter Twenty
This makes a degree of sense. A large-scale barter economy simply doesn’t work. The cobbler cannot trade his shoes for food if the farmer doesn’t want or need shoes. Indeed, he cannot obtain leather from the tanner if he has nothing to offer in exchange. Why would the tanner give the leather for free? He wouldn’t.
- Professor Leo Caesius, The Rise and Fall of Interstellar Capitalism
“I feel almost human again,” Julia muttered.
The maid looked up. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”
Julia shook her head, silently dismissing the maid. She’d had a nap during the flight to the corporate HQ, then a shower as soon as she’d been assigned a room and an attendant. It would be a long time before she ever felt truly safe again - she’d never thought to see enemy troops tramping across the planet, let alone coming for her with blood in their eyes - but she felt she’d done well. She’d certainly saved the director from being captured and forced to order a surrender. Or being killed out of hand. She had no idea what the marines intended to do with the corporate elite.
She towelled herself down, then dressed. The maid had laid out a selection of dresses, most more suitable for the dance floor than a corporate boardroom, but Julia chose the suit and tie. It was not the time to appear as anything but a level-headed businesswoman. She’d saved the director, yet she knew that would only go so far. Too many corporate leaders wouldn’t thank her for saving their superior. They would never say anything out loud, but they’d think they could have stepped into his shoes. She finished dressing, tied back her hair into a tight ponytail, and headed for the door. A pair of armed guards fell into position beside her as she made her way down to the boardroom.
Her heart sank as she passed dozens of soldiers and operators running around the complex like headless chickens. None of them had ever expected to be facing a full-scale invasion either, not when the orbital defences should have delayed an enemy force long enough for the military to prepare itself - mentally as well as physically - for the task ahead. Hell, there’d been good reason never to expect a hostile landing. The corporation practically controlled large swathes of the former empire. What it didn’t control, it could bribe. Why would anyone expect the empire to launch an invasion? It would be literally killing the goose that laid the golden eggs.
Not that the empire was ever big on common sense, she reflected. She’d been taught how the empir
e’s elite would snatch control of profitable industries from their founders and drive them into the ground. It wasn’t malicious, although the founders probably couldn’t have told the difference. It was sheer stupidity. They might think that a costly invasion somehow made sense.
She walked past a row of terminals, manned by operators who were gabbling quietly into throatmikes. Holographic images flickered around her, some taken from orbital satellites and others from active sensors in the combat zone. She saw a row of tanks advancing along a road, escorted by armed men who constantly scanned the horizon for threats. Behind them, a flight of shuttles flew overhead and landed somewhere to the east. The marines were steadily landing their troops and spreading out. By now, they probably controlled both the anchor station and the planetary terminus. It was only a matter of time until they started sending their troops down the space elevator to the surface.
They don’t have unlimited troops, she reminded herself. They might find that occupying a whole planet is beyond them.
She composed herself as she passed a cluster of senior officers, speaking in low voices, and walked into the boardroom. A handful of senior directors glanced at Julia, then ignored her. Julia was almost offended, even though she knew she should have expected it. She’d been the most powerful person on the battlecruiser, outranking even the admiral in command of the fleet, but here ... she was somewhere below the maids. The maids were probably regarded as more useful. They, at least, were bringing coffee. She smiled at the thought, then took a seat next to the top chair. The director entered a moment later. Julia almost smiled at how quickly the others snapped to attention. The director was important.
“Be seated.” Thaddeus Onge walked to the head of the table and sat down. He’d clearly had a shower, a change and something to eat. “General Gilbert. Do you have an updated report?”
The Halls of Montezuma Page 19
