The Empire's Corps: Book 03 - When The Bough Breaks

by Christopher Nuttall

  Once she was dry, she reached for a dressing robe and pulled it on, before stepping outside and accessing the Marine network. It seemed that the Civil Guard and Senate Security were having a political tussle over who got to take the lead on the investigation – or, reading between the lines, who didn't have to put themselves forward as the prime investigator. That made a certain kind of sense, Belinda knew; the organisation that got the blame for exposing Roland to danger might be punished by the Grand Senate. The leadership would have preferred to ensure that they avoided all blame, rather than learning from the experience ...

  Someone was quite incompetent, she thought. The aircars had flown back to the Summer Palace in a straight line, the shortest distance between two points – but also an extremely predicable path. All the assassins had needed to do was lie in wait along that line and open fire when the Prince’s aircar came into view. Roland – and Belinda – had been spared by the incompetence of their enemies, something she knew better than to count on in future. Besides, twelve good men had died to save Roland’s life. It wasn't something she took lightly.

  Absently, she checked the palace’s security network and relaxed slightly when she realised that it was still in place. One advantage of being the Prince’s liegeman was that she had near-complete access to the third security network, the one intended for the Royal Family and its closest servants. She had been astonished to discover that there were more hidden passageways and rooms in the Summer Palace than she’d seen on the original set of plans she’d downloaded, all very well hidden from prying eyes. She’d wondered how they’d remained unknown even to most of the security staff, before deciding that the original designers and builders had probably been quietly memory-wiped – or murdered – after they’d completed their work.

  She looked up as Roland stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. “I feel strange,” he said, shaking his head. “Excited and fearful at the same time. Is that normal?”

  “It can be,” Belinda said. Survivors of disasters often found themselves feeling horny, she knew; it was something to do with the thrill of remaining alive when others had died. “Under the circumstances, why don't you go for a massage?”

  Roland grinned, brilliantly. The girl who provided massages to the Prince specialised in working kinks out of the body, yet she also provided erotic massages and outright sex. Belinda had stopped Roland playing with the maids – it was a dangerous habit, she’d told him – but she hadn't done anything about the massages. Roland needed some relaxation after everything he’d been through ... and besides, it would keep him out of trouble for thirty minutes or thereabouts. Just long enough, Belinda decided, for her to visit the two commanding officers.

  “You should come with me,” Roland said. “Miss Yang is very good.”

  Belinda chuckled. She’d watched the woman working her way over Roland’s body and had to admit that she knew her stuff. But then, she should have known what she was doing; whatever she looked like, she had over fifty years of experience in her field. It was astonishing just how young a person could look with the right application of rejuvenation treatments. She wondered if Roland knew – he did have access to the files – before deciding that it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the woman being competent and trustworthy.

  “I have something else to do,” she said. “Besides, too much luxury and I will go soft.”

  “So you keep saying,” Roland said. He donned a dressing gown, then headed towards the door. “I’ll see you in my suite.”

  Belinda watched him go, then logged onto the network and issued an order for Colonel Hicks and Captain Singh to meet her in the guardroom. Both officers had been conspicuously silent ever since Prince Roland had returned to the Summer Palace, as if they were busy getting their stories straight before the Grand Senate appointed an investigating committee. After all, the assassins had come alarmingly close to murdering the Crown Prince; they couldn't assume that it would be business as usual in Imperial City. And someone was going to have to take the blame.

  Shaking her head grimly, she walked out of the room and down towards the guardroom, part of her mind following the progress of the investigation. The Civil Guard had searched a quarter of the CityBlock so far, turning up plenty of evidence of illegal activity but finding nothing that seemingly related to the assassins. So far, they'd captured over two hundred illegal weapons, mostly makeshift devices built by the gangs for their petty wars; there had been some excitement, the report noted, until it was pointed out that the assassins had had access to military-grade weapons. A ramshackle pistol that was likely to explode in its user’s hand wasn't in quite the same league.

  Maybe they’ll scare a few people straight, she thought, although she knew that it was unlikely. Or maybe they will just make themselves even more unpopular.

  The security alerts on the Marine network were far from reassuring. Imperial University seemed to be simmering with resentment, even though there had been no response to the student demands; the Civil Guard had searched for the elusive Freeman, but failed to find him. Outside, there were small confrontations between the Civil Guard and the city’s residents, each one threatening to blossom into another riot before slowly fading away into nothingness. The parents of the arrested students were demanding their freedom – and, as so many students had fled and dropped off the grid, many of them didn't know what had happened to their children. Most of them seemed happy to assume the worst.

  No one even seemed to know what should happen to the arrested students. Standard procedure was to exile them, just as almost every other criminal arrested on Earth was exiled to one of the colony worlds. They certainly wouldn't be given a trial – but with so many people under arrest, how could the Grand Senate avoid giving them a trial? Earth’s Grand Senators had been secure in their power and positions for generations, with elections little more than a joke, yet now they felt the ground shifting beneath their feet. Who knew what would happen if a mass movement arose to challenge their position? Earth was one of the few worlds where upheaval could make the whole Empire shiver.

  And what would the Grand Senators do in response?

  Belinda scowled as she stepped into the guardroom and discovered that she was the first one there. Angrily, she took a seat and forced herself to wait, even though she wanted to send demands for the two COs to present themselves to her at once. It took nearly seven minutes before Singh arrived, looking harried, and took a seat facing her. Hicks arrived five minutes after him, his face expressionless until he saw Belinda. He glared at her, as if the whole affair was her fault.

  “I have work to do,” Hicks said, shortly. “The cordon around the Summer Palace ...”

  “Sit down,” Belinda said, putting as much command into her voice as she could. She might not have been a Captain, but she knew how to take command. Besides, a Pathfinder ‘Specialist’ outranked anyone below a Major, if they saw fit to assert themselves. “We have much to discuss.”

  “This is outrageous,” Hicks snapped. “I ...”

  “Sit down,” Belinda repeated. She met Hicks’ eyes and held them, daring him to look away. “I will not ask again.”

  The Colonel sat down sullenly.

  “Good,” Belinda said. She looked over at Singh. “Do you want to make any objections too or can we proceed?”

  Singh scowled at her, but said nothing. He, at least, had been doing something relatively useful before she'd summoned him, although there was very little of his close-protection team to recover. Both gunship aircars had been blown into atoms. Still, Senate Security had done better than the Civil Guard ...

  “There was a massive security breach,” Belinda said, flatly. She held up her thumb and forefinger, holding them close together. “Prince Roland came this close to death. And if he died, we would have a succession crisis at the worst possible moment.”

  She saw them grimace, although she doubted that the succession crisis was their prime concern. Even if they had been personally blameles
s, their careers would have died with the Prince; their superiors would have ensured that they took the blame. Not that they would have been completely blameless, Belinda had decided; a quick scan of the records had confirmed that Roland’s aircar had always followed a predicable path on his few journeys outside the Summer Palace. She was mildly surprised that the assassination attempt hadn't taken place as Roland flew to or from the Arena.

  But I stopped him going twice, she thought, in the privacy of her own head. Roland hadn't always managed to beat her at tennis – or, rather, she hadn't wanted him to get used to winning. They might have felt that they couldn't have counted on him going to the Arena on a specific weekend.

  But the implications of that were worrying.

  “Let me be clear on this,” Belinda said. “The decision to have the Prince visit the hospitals and Imperial University was taken barely a day before he actually went. In that time, an assassination team found out what was going to happen, got into position with military-grade weapons – and fired missiles towards the Crown Prince’s aircar. We had a massive security breach and our charge came very close to death.”

  She wondered if either of them would dispute it. Roland’s schedule should have been a closely-guarded secret, but too many people had known something, enough to put together the rest of the details. It was highly unlikely that the assassination team had acted on the spur of the moment. Belinda had carried out assassination missions herself and knew just how hard it could be to get a team into position at the right time. No, they’d had at least a day’s warning to plan their operation, prepare lines of retreat and then get into position.

  The investigation team was trying to locate the source of the HVMs in the hope that would lead to the assassins, but Belinda didn't hold out much hope. Chances were that they’d been stolen from a Civil Guard or Imperial Army weapons dump; so many weapons went missing that it was unlikely that the loss would ever be noticed. Hell, there was so much paperwork involved with securing weapons and ammunition that the army bureaucrats might just have allowed them to slip through the cracks. The whole system sounded insane to Belinda, but it was astonishing how logical illogical thinking could sound when done by a committee.

  “I am the Prince’s liegeman, charged with his safety,” she added. “I will not tolerate another security breach on such a scale.”

  Hicks went purple. “And who are you to talk to us in such a manner?”

  Belinda smiled. “The Prince’s liegeman,” she said, simply.

  She watched their faces closely, wondering if they knew what that really meant. It was quite possible they didn't; Belinda herself hadn’t known until she’d researched the issue, after Roland had accepted her oath of loyalty. Technically, as his oath-sworn liegeman, she outranked both of them. Even if they swore their own oaths of loyalty, she would still have precedence Roland – deliberately or otherwise – had given her a weapon she could use against them.

  “I will spare you the details,” she said, calmly. She accessed her implants and transmitted a brief outline of her position – and the legal precedents from prior Emperors – to the two men. “Suffice it to say that I am assuming control over the palace’s security. Any attempt to obstruct me will be considered a de facto attempt at threatening the Prince’s safety – and thus treason. I have included a précis of legal cases for your edification in the datadump.”

  Hicks started to splutter. “But ...”

  “But nothing,” Belinda said. “You may wish to refer to the case of Travis V. Establishment or Jalap V. Establishment. In both cases, the precedence of the Emperor’s liegemen was upheld by the Grand Senate.”

  She had to smile. Lawyers all over the Empire specialised in digging up precedents from the past – and there were so many precedents that they could point in any direction, depending on which particular precedents were exhumed. And the Emperor’s powers had been chipped away over the generations ... and Roland was the Crown Prince, not yet crowned Emperor ... but would they dare to oppose her? If they tried and failed, their careers would be over.

  “In any case, I also have authority to take more ... direct measures if you appear to threaten the Prince’s safety,” she added. “There are precedents that allow for the summary execution of known traitors.”

  Hicks went pale. Legally, starship commanders and military commanders did have authority to execute their subordinates if they believed they had cause, even though it was rarely used in the field. A CO who did execute one of his subordinates would certainly face a hostile Board of Inquiry at the very least, as well as a lawsuit from the dead soldier’s relatives – and most of the officers who deserved execution had powerful families or patrons. Belinda might not get away with executing Hicks, but that would be no consolation to the pitiful man.

  “I see where this is going,” Singh said. “You are asserting control over the entire security edifice.”

  “That is correct,” Belinda said. If she had the authority, she was going to damn well use it to carry out her primary mission. “I will be bringing in outsiders who will bring a fresh approach to the task of protecting the prince. Until then, you will cooperate and coordinate your operations. I understand that both of you have secrets you wish to protect – and I don’t give a damn. Your task is protecting the Prince. If either of you wish to resign now ...”

  “You cannot force us to resign,” Hicks protested.

  “Actually, I can,” Belinda told him. She cut off a renewed protest with a glare. “And you will not be issuing any more orders. You will remain in your quarters and not interfere with my operations. Your second can serve as my deputy.”

  She looked over at Singh. “You’ve done marginally better than Colonel Hicks,” she added. “Cooperate – or be relieved too.”

  “I will cooperate,” Singh said. He hesitated. “But who do you intend to bring into the security team?”

  “People I can trust to know what they’re doing and work together,” Belinda said. She wondered if she could convince Singh to transfer to the Civil Guard – Senate Security’s team could be dismissed, but she needed the Civil Guard to man the perimeter – before deciding that it was probably unlikely. “And that will be my decision.”

  She scowled at Hicks. “Go directly to your quarters and stay there,” she ordered. “You will remain in nominal command of the Civil Guard detachment, but I will issue instructions that any orders from you are to be disregarded. If I hear that you have been attempting to interfere with my operation, I will execute you on the spot. Do you understand me?”

  Hicks lowered his eyes.

  “Yes,” he said, so quietly that Belinda barely heard him.

  Ass, Belinda thought, coldly. If he’d done his job properly, right from the start, she wouldn't have had to break him. But he’d left her no choice.

  “Go,” she said.

  She watched Hicks shuffling out of the room and down towards the living quarters for the security staff. He had a small apartment suite to himself, thankfully. It would serve to keep him out of trouble, at least until she could have him transferred to a different unit.

  Good, she told herself. Now all I have to do is find a few good men.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ... But they were not the only ones. Countless other radical groups arose on Earth. Some of them believed that the only way to mend the Empire was to force the Grand Senate to impose changes, even if those changes happened to be profoundly against the Grand Senate’s interests. Others just wanted power for themselves ... and still others were puppets of shadowy factions that thrived on chaos. And still others were centred upon apocalyptic religions that were growing up in the Undercity. All of them made demands that the Empire could not meet.

  -Professor Leo Caesius, The End of Empire

  The Imperial Palace had been designed as more than just the Emperor’s residence, back when the Empire was young. It was intended to serve as the nerve centre of Empire, playing host to the officials who translated the Emperor’s in
structions into action. Now, Jeremy knew, the Grand Senate used it as a meeting point, rather than the Senate Hall. Their control over the Imperial Palace was an unsubtle reminder of their control over the Empire.

  When he'd first visited the Imperial Palace, he had been impressed by the colossal pyramid that made up the base of the Palace. Now, he couldn’t help thinking that the Palace was not only ugly, but a metaphor for the Empire itself. The base held a small army of bureaucrats who were not allowed to do anything – particularly thinking – without direct orders from higher up, while the upper levels held the Emperor and his immediate family. Or they would have done, if there was an Emperor. Roland would not take up residence in the Imperial Palace until he was crowned Emperor. Until then, the Grand Senate had free use of the structure.

  His aircar drifted down towards the landing pad. The summons had probably been meant as a surprise, but he’d been expecting it ever since the unauthorised protest march had turned into a riot. Media coverage had been very hostile to the Marines – and that, Jeremy knew, would only have happened with the express permission of the Grand Senate. There was no such thing as an independent media in the Empire, except on a very small scale. The big media corporations were all owned by the Grand Senators. Untangling the network of shell companies and hidden bank accounts was tricky, but doable – if one cared to look. Most citizens sucked in the news without wondering who benefited from pushing a particular viewpoint while burying others.

  There was a faint bump as the aircar touched down, followed rapidly by a hiss as the door opened. Jeremy climbed out, feeling as if he was walking towards his own execution. The politicians who had summoned him ruled the Empire, their positions effectively unassailable – and yet they knew nothing of honour, or loyalty. Jeremy was ruefully aware that he’d spent much of his career cleaning up messes the Grand Senate had – directly or indirectly – caused, but none of the battles he’d fought had been more than short-term victories. The factors that caused the rebellions often remained in place, ensuring that the war would be refought at some later date.