“They wanted to run a protest march against the rise in food prices,” Richard said, “so they filed a formal request through their liaison officer. You do know that the Civil Guard has to approve protests, right?” They nodded. “Permission was not granted. The PCC was so surprised – apparently, they thought the whole getting permission thing was just a formality – that they made the mistake of protesting loudly.”
He scowled. “The entire PCC was expelled from the university yesterday,” he concluded. “They’re gone.”
Amethyst stared at him. “They can't do that ...”
“They can and they did,” Richard said. “Do you know that the university contracts you all signed give them blanket authority to expel you at any moment?”
“... No,” Amethyst said. The contract had been over four hundred pages – or would have been, if it had been printed out. There had been so many clauses that her eyes had glazed over and she’d signed it without reading it through. That, clearly, had been a mistake. “But surely there will be protests ...”
“They were escorted off the campus by the Civil Guard and taken directly to a holding pen,” Richard told her. “By now, they may be on their way to a Rim colony world as indentured colonists. Their families may also have been exiled.”
He tapped the table. “Do you understand just how far they will go to preserve their power now?”
Amethyst nodded, mutely.
“What the government doesn't know is that there is going to be a protest march anyway,” Richard said. “A handful of agitators have been organising one to take place in two days, a protest demanding a freeze in food prices and immediate debt relief. The PCC may be gone, but there are others willing to take its place. You may already have heard whispers that something has been planned.”
He looked from face to face. “But the government is likely to simply ignore a peaceful protest,” he continued. “We have to show them that they can no longer take us for granted. The protest has to be ... violent.”
“Good,” one of the others said. “That’s why you’ve been giving us weapons training, right?”
“Right,” Richard said. “The day before the protest march begins, you will be issued with weapons and a handful of devices that might come in handy. Several protest organisers are going to be handing out makeshift weapons too. When the Civil Guard comes to push the protesters back into the university, they will be greeted with live weapons. We will show the government that we will no longer remain quiet as they drive the Empire towards destruction.”
Amethyst felt an odd flash of excitement spreading through her body. She'd known that she would be called upon to do something ever since they’d started training with live weapons, but this was the first true call to action. She could finally do something effective – and if the government realise that their population was prepared to demand something, they might just give in and grant debt relief. And lower food prices and everything else the protesters wanted.
“This is what we have been preparing for,” Richard warned them. “It will be dangerous – if you are caught with a weapon, you will certainly be exiled from Earth, after they’ve made you talk. But it’s too late to back out now.”
I know, Amethyst thought. The thought of being interrogated scared her – on the entertainment flicks a person could be injected with truth drugs and they’d start giving up everything they knew – but she told herself that she could live with it. Besides, she knew very little; she didn't even know the names of her comrades. Richard had told them that they would eventually take on codenames, but they hadn't been assigned yet.
“We won’t let you down,” Amethyst said. “I’m looking forward to it.
The others echoed her sentiment.
“Good,” Richard said. He pointed to three of the girls, including Amethyst. “I want you three to stay behind so I can brief you on your part of the operation. The rest of you will be called in tomorrow, where you will get your briefing. Operational security has to be maintained.”
Amethyst nodded. He’d told them that right at the start and she'd taken it to heart. She hadn't even told Jacqueline where she was going when she met the rest of the team, allowing her roommate to assume that she’d met a new boyfriend. There had been a time when that would have been true ...
But now she had much more serious concerns.
“All right,” Richard said, as soon as the others had gone. “Here is what I want you to do.”
Chapter Seventeen
What this meant, in practice, was that the Civil Guard was poorly trained to deal with problems that required anything other than a very firm hand. The concept of protecting the local people was alien to the guardsmen, at least partly because it was not a major concern of the Empire. All that mattered to the Grand Senate was keeping them under control.
-Professor Leo Caesius, The End of Empire
“You’d think that they could find someplace better for us,” Private Theodore Lowell muttered. “I hate Earth.”
Sergeant Yang snorted, rudely. The Mars-born found Earth’s vast cities to be smelly, overpopulated and claustrophobic. Mars had been terraformed long ago and the planet’s government had managed to prevent much of the surface from being covered in cities – or, for that matter, the kind of pollution that had killed Earth. In many ways, Mars was a paradise, although it was colder on average than the homeworld. Yang himself didn't know what the fuss was about. He'd grown up in Earth’s Undercity.
415th Battalion (Civil Guard) had been assigned to Earth for centuries, but this was the first time in living memory that it had been deployed to Imperial City. Yang and his men were used to East-Meg Two, where the megacity’s population spent most of their lives in their apartments, eating slop and watching entertainment on their display screens. There had been little trouble there, apart from the ever-present trouble in the Undercity. Yang was silently grateful that he'd been offered the chance to join the Civil Guard, rather than simply being exiled when they’d caught him with the shipment of illegal nanites. It had given him a life out of the dull hopelessness that pervaded the Undercity.
But now they were in Imperial City. The destruction of the orbital station – Yang didn't know the truth about just what had happened, but he could see food prices going up with his own eyes – had caused rioting in dozens of cities, including East-Meg Two ... but they’d been sent to Imperial City. None of his men were familiar with the city, or the more restrictive rules of engagement governing the Civil Guard’s actions. And they’d been dumped in a half-converted warehouse because the regular Civil Guard barracks were crammed full of other guardsmen.
Imperial City was ... strange. Parts of it were bright and open in ways East-Meg Two was not and could never be. Many of the people seemed happier than the easterners, although others looked as if they were running forward, too scared to look over their shoulder for fear of seeing their approaching doom. The students, in particular, seemed happy, despite the food shortages. Yang felt cold envy pervading his mind whenever he looked at them. They just didn't know how lucky they were to live in Imperial City.
The Undercity had been hellish. Yang had no idea who his father had been – and his mother, a prostitute, had been knifed to death when her son had been five. He’d grown up scavenging in the lower levels of the grimy CityBlock structures that made up East-Meg Two, struggling to survive against all odds. The price he'd paid to become a rat runner for one of the gangs still haunted his dreams, as did the moment he’d been struck by a jangler and sent falling to the ground when the Civil Guard had caught him. If they hadn't recruited him ... no, the students definitely didn't know how lucky they were.
His wristcom buzzed. “Alert,” the dispatcher said, tonelessly. “All units, alert. Unauthorised protest march forming along the Avenue of Good Hope. Unit designations and orders follow ...”
“Grab your gear,” Yang barked.
The Civil Guardsmen had been poorly trained when he’d assumed effective command of the unit; t
heir Captain, the one who was nominally in command, had gone on leave and hadn't returned. Yang had insisted on going through everything they needed to know, even though he’d had to invent most of the procedure for himself. Earth’s Civil Guard received very limited training in the camps before being unleashed on the population. The guardsmen had also argued with him at first, before he’d beaten the crap out of two of them to make his point. They could hate him as much as they liked, as long as they feared him too.
He donned his body armour and tied the straps, silently cursing the procurement division under his breath. No specially-tailored armour for the Civil Guard, no matter how many small injuries it would prevent; his armour had been handed down from someone who had died in the line of duty years ago. He’d done his best to get a set as close to his size as possible, but it wasn't perfect. At least he’d managed to do the same for most of his men.
As soon as they were ready, he led them into the armoury and started passing out weapons. It had been harder to convince the clerks that paperwork was a waste of time – threatening them with violence merely made them cry – but he’d finally managed it. Normally, he would have had to sign for every stunner, shockrod and jangler his men took out onto the streets. The elite of his unit were also allowed to carry assault rifles too, just in case. There was so much paperwork involved in taking out lethal weapons that most units simply left them behind.
The command network updated itself automatically as he pulled his helmet down over his head. Students were protesting – without permission. The protesters were to be boxed in and pushed back to Imperial City as gently as possible. Yang rolled his eyes at the ass-covering from someone with no experience on the streets. Stopping a protest was not easy at the best of times, nor was it bloodless. People always got hurt.
But these are students, he thought, as he led his men out of the building. They deserve to get hurt.
***
Amethyst had to admit that she was impressed with whoever had organised the protest. They’d managed to get most of the popular students onside without giving many clues to anyone who might have alerted the authorities. A number of events had also been scheduled at the same time, just to allow the crowds to gather without raising suspicions. Finally, a leader had appeared, made a brief and stirring speech and led the way towards the edge of the university campus. The other organisers had followed, dragging the rest of the crowd in their wake. Word spread quickly through student handcoms and the datanet, inviting others to join. The more, the merrier – and the harder it would be to single out and expel the guilty.
They can't expel the entire university, she thought, as she walked at the front of the crowd. Like the other girls, she’d deliberately worn something that showed off her chest – and a mask that half-concealed her face. The ever-present cameras would be scanning the crowd now, looking for people who seemed to be in leadership positions, but Richard had told her how to fool them. From what he’d said, even something as simple as a hat could obscure her identity. The protest organisers had clearly learned the same lesson. They’d had students handing out multicoloured hats as the protesters marched past them and out onto the streets.
The organisers started a chant demanding debt relief and the students joined in, creating a deafening sound that echoed through the streets and towering city blocks. Amethyst had read more of the Professor’s book while waiting for the protest to begin and knew that debt relief was something that would appeal to almost everyone, even the highly-paid professionals who lived in the middle districts of Imperial City. She’d envied them when she’d started trying to choose a career – they seemed to have no problems at all in their lives – but she knew now that they were just as indebted as everyone else. Debt relief was a cause that everyone could get behind.
She'd been told that the plan was to march all the way up to the Imperial Palace and the Senate Hall, demonstrating outside both buildings. Richard had warned her that they would almost certainly not be allowed to get that far. She couldn't help feeling a shiver of fear as she thought about the Civil Guard’s reaction to the protest. They’d have to show the students that they couldn't mount a protest without permission or they’d have more protests on their hands than they could handle. She glanced back at the crowd following her, noting the handful of onlookers who had joined the march. The more, the merrier.
A set of police drones flew overhead as the marchers reached the corner and turned onto the Avenue of Imperial Supremacy, the road leading up to the Imperial Palace. The Civil Guard was waiting for them.
***
Yang felt his mouth drop open as he saw the protesters for the first time. He’d never seen a student protest before, not in East-Meg Two. Students went to Imperial City if they qualified, Brit-Cit or Hondo City if their qualifications were less stellar. And they rarely returned to East-Meg Two afterwards. He couldn't quite believe his eyes; the students looked healthy, without a care in the world, and yet they were protesting ... ?
“I’d like to show that girl what’s what,” one of his men muttered. “Look at her!”
It was hard to blame him for staring. The front row of protesters was composed of girls – it was hard to think of them as young women – and most of them were topless, their breasts bouncing as they walked forward towards the Civil Guard. He wasn't a stranger to women – in East-Meg Two, women would often trade sex for favours from the Civil Guard – but this was something different. The women in his home city were ... reluctant to show more than necessary, even when spreading their legs for him and his men. But the students ... they didn't seem to have a care in the world.
“Concentrate on your duties,” he snapped, tearing his gaze away from one particularly nice set of breasts that bounced invitingly. The girl was beautiful, studying so that she could earn qualifications that would get her a job in the corporate universe; what the hell was she protesting for? “Mount shields and stand at the ready!”
The network kept updating as other Civil Guard units moved into position. Some would block off side-streets, others would reinforce the picket line if necessary, or stand ready to pick up the stunned if the protest turned really nasty. Yang found himself hoping that the protesters wouldn't turn around and go home, even though he knew that any confrontation would lead to a bloodbath. The smug faces the students were showing to the world made him burn with envy and contempt. There were people in the Undercity who would sell their souls for half of what the students took for granted and yet the students were not content with their lot! What would he have made of himself if he'd been born outside the Undercity?
There was a dull series of clicks as the riot shields linked together, forming a wall that the protesters should find impassable. Yang had once spent a punishment duty beating his fists against the plastic shields, discovering that it took an astonishing amount of force to break them down. Rioters in East-Meg Two generally carried improvised weapons when they confronted the Civil Guard, but the student protesters didn't seem to have thought of it. If the girls wanted to press their breasts against the transparent plastic, that was fine by him. Their deafening chant sounded intimidating, but he knew better than to be scared. After what he'd done to earn his place in the gang, little else could actually bother him.
The protesters didn't slow; they just kept coming. And coming.
***
Amethyst swallowed hard as she walked towards the Civil Guard barricade, feeling the pressure from the thousands upon thousands of students and local citizens behind her. She couldn't stop now, even if she had wanted to stop. They would keep pushing her onwards until she hit the wall and was crushed against it. People had been killed in protests before, she’d been warned, particularly when they turned violent.
Part of her mind wondered if Richard had planned it that way. Either she carried out her part of the plan or she was crushed against the barricade, the massed force of thousands of students knocking it down. But he'd told her that it would be dangerous and she’d accepted it, partly to
impress him and partly because she was angry. Who knew what would happen when the debts were called in and she couldn't pay? She’d never heard of anyone being sentenced to involuntary transportation, even indenture, for failure to pay debts, but Richard had assured her that it did happen. Colony development corporations loved indentured colonists. They didn't have to be given political rights to settle on the new worlds.
The weapon Richard had given her didn't look like a weapon, nothing like the pistol or assault rifles they’d practiced with during training sessions. It looked more like a heavy drumstick than anything more lethal, only really dangerous if it was rammed into someone’s eye. Richard had explained that it was an assassination weapon, intended to remain unnoticed until it was far too late. It carried three bullets, all of which could be fired in quick succession, after which it could simply be dropped on the ground. Bracing herself, Amethyst pointed the stick at the Civil Guard barricade and pushed down on the trigger.
She winced in pain as the weapon jerked in her hand, firing three shots towards the barricade. A moment later, the other girls fired as well, sending several Civil Guardsmen staggering backwards. The barricade started to fall apart, the plastic shields falling to the ground like a row of dominoes. For a long moment, the students seemed to come to a halt before the pressure from the rear pushed them onwards towards the suddenly undefended Civil Guardsmen. Cursing her own hesitation, Amethyst dropped the weapon – she didn't think that anyone had realised what had happened, but Richard had warned her not to keep it after she’d fired it – and started to scramble towards the edge of the crowd. She had to get out as quickly as possible.
***
Yang barely registered the shots before two of his men staggered backwards. One of them had been hit in the mouth, the bullet – or whatever it was – almost certainly killing him. The other had been hit in the leg, his body armour deflecting most of the impact. Even so, he might well be out of the fight for the moment. The ill-fitting body armour was far from perfect.
The Empire's Corps: Book 03 - When The Bough Breaks Page 16
