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

by Christopher Nuttall

  She looked up, straight into the camera. “These are hard times for Earth,” she said. “But we will overcome. We will emerge stronger than ever before. And those who try to stop us will pay.”

  “Really,” Brent said. He grinned at Jacqueline, mischievously. “Not a word about us, or the mutinies. You want to bet that we’re still marked for death?”

  “No bet,” the Civil Guardsman said. He seemed to have drawn new resolve from the broadcast. “It won’t be long before they come for us.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  As the Emergency Committee panicked, others started to react. The Grand Senate was, in effect, a power-sharing exercise; the Grand Senators had been reluctant to cede so much power to the Emergency Committee, regardless of their worries about the future. Their natural reaction was to try to take the power back. But by then, the Emergency Committee was desperate. Failure would mean absolute disaster.

  -Professor Leo Caesius, The End of Empire

  “I'm afraid the news is true,” Chung said. “The Civil Guard is mutinying.”

  “Revolting, you mean,” Jeremy said, deadpan. Discipline was largely a joke among some of the Earth-based Guardsmen, but even the most disciplined unit would have probably mutinied if it believed that it had been deliberately poisoned. “How many are lost to the Emergency Committee?”

  “It’s hard to be sure,” Chung admitted. “Thirteen units seemed to have either gone over to the students or simply dissolved into chaos. Plenty of others are sitting on their hands, waiting to see what will happen. I’m not sure if any of them can be considered loyalist.”

  Jeremy nodded. Standard practice when dealing with a unit that might be disloyal was to isolate it from any other mutinous unit and then disarm the soldiers – at gunpoint, if necessary. But the remaining loyalists – or the units that the Emergency Committee had raised to support them – might not be capable of carrying out such a mission. He was mildly surprised that the Grand Senator hadn't ordered orbital bombardment to settle the matter ...

  But then, Earth was hardly Han. Even a precisely-targeted KEW strike could cause minor earthquakes; on Earth, the shockwaves might start weakening the foundations of Imperial City. The hullmetal and Reardon Cement that lined the cityblocks might be difficult to break, but the rest of the structures weren't so solid. Earthquakes might start bringing the entire city down. And besides, the bureaucrats who kept the Empire going had to be protected. If the Grand Senate destroyed Earth, it would take years to rebuild.

  If they could rebuild. The reports from the Core Worlds were not encouraging. Earth had lost Orbit Station Seven, which meant that there was a smaller market for foodstuffs from the Core Worlds on Earth. Demand might not have fallen – that was unlikely to happen – but the amount of material that could be transported to the planet most definitely had. The knock-on economic effects were crippling the Inner Worlds, as well as threatening even the larger shipping lines with financial trouble. After Terra Nova’s bankers had seized a dozen independent freighters in lieu of debts, many independent shippers had simply vanished into the underground community or headed out to the Rim. Their absence would only weaken the local economies further.

  Few people really understood the true size of the Empire. If it took four days in Phase Space to reach Terra Nova – the closest inhabited system - it could take upwards of a month to get a message from Earth to the Inner Worlds. Assuming that everything went well, it took at least two months to get a message to the Inner Worlds and receive a reply. The Grand Senate might not have realised it, but the information they received was already outdated by the time they received it. A threatened uprising on Clarke might have become an outright rebellion, complete with a declaration of independence, by the time the Grand Senate even knew that it was a possibility.

  They hadn't really realised it because it had never truly mattered before. The Empire was colossal. Local problems rarely became sector-wide problems before the Grand Senate could slam the lid on tight, if only because local Imperial Navy detachments could at least prevent problems from spreading. But now problems would spread faster than the Grand Senate could issue orders to control them, let alone compromise with rebellious factions.

  “So they can't stop the mutinies,” he said, dragging his attention back to the here and now. “What else can they call on?”

  “Imperial Army detachments from Mars Training Ground,” Chung said. “Or Civil Guardsmen from Mars and Luna ... and there’s a couple of platoons of Marines left in the solar system, based on the Chesty Puller. We actually picked up a request from Admiral Valentine for the Billy Butcher.”

  Jeremy blinked. It had been hard enough to keep the Marine Transport Fleet active, given all the cuts the Grand Senate had instituted over the last two decades. Billy Butcher didn't even have any Marines embarked, merely an auxiliary crew who were preparing to transport a number of vital supplies to Safehouse. She couldn't do anything to support the Civil Guard.

  “The Admiral appeared to believe that she still had her assault boats,” Chung explained, when he asked. “He seems to be trying to collect all the atmosphere-capable shuttles in the solar system.”

  It took Jeremy a moment to figure out the reasoning. “He wants to move troops to Earth,” he said, finally. He doubted that it would work, at least not quickly enough to matter. “How much luck is he having?”

  “Not much,” Chung admitted. “The independent shippers are clearing out of the system as fast as they can go.”

  “And the corporate-operated starships rarely carry their own shuttles,” Jeremy said. He shook his head, bitterly. “And to think that they insisted on chasing us out of the system.”

  “I don't think we could do anything,” Chung admitted. “The disaster on Earth has gone too far to stop.”

  Jeremy would have preferred to believe otherwise, but he’d been taught never to indulge in self-deception.

  “So it would seem,” he said. “And Specialist Lawson?”

  “We’ve lost all trace of her and Prince Roland,” Chung said, ruefully. “The Summer Palace was apparently occupied and searched by the Grand Senator’s personal guards and then abandoned. If Specialist Lawson is still alive, chances are that she’s a prisoner.”

  Jeremy grimaced. The reports had suggested that Roland had finally been starting to man up, but it was too late – and in reality, it had been too late long before Roland had been born. He had never been anything more than a puppet. Even if they did manage to escape – assuming that the Grand Senator’s personal guard hadn't managed to kill Lawson – they couldn't save the Empire.

  “Keep watching for her anyway,” he said. “And keep moving supplies out of Luna Base. We won’t be staying here much longer.”

  The intercom chimed. “Commandant, we picked up a message from Grand Senator Devers,” the dispatcher said. “Her personal yacht is approaching Luna Base; she wishes to speak with you personally.”

  Jeremy exchanged a glance with Chung. “Understood,” he said, finally. “Clear her to land, but warn her to leave her security team behind.”

  Chung snorted. “She won’t like that,” she said.

  “I don’t care,” Jeremy admitted. “Right now, the Grand Senate is losing control. The Empire is doomed.”

  ***

  It was unusual to have a female Grand Senator – a fact that Margaret’s male cousins had pointed out to her time and time again as she grew up. She might have been her father’s only legitimate child, but she was a girl ... and could therefore expect to be traded off in a marriage alliance, rather than allowed a chance to reach for power. They hadn't realised just how formidable Margaret could become or how determined her father had been to pass his chair onto a child of his own body. By the time he had resigned and gone into retirement on Summer Isle, Margaret controlled enough of the family’s holdings to make resistance futile.

  She smiled coldly as she saw her reflection in the dark metal walls. As a young girl, she had been stunning; her gene-engineered bea
uty yet another weapon to use against her rivals. Now, she was old enough to allow her hair to grey, to give the appearance of age without the weaknesses. She’d said that her own children were not yet ready to take her chair, but the truth was that she enjoyed exercising power too much to give it up. Besides, she was still the sharpest mind in the family. If her sons managed to unseat her, they’d be fine heirs.

  But now she was coming to Luna Base as a supplicant. The thought gnawed at her, reminding her of all the mistakes the Grand Senate had made, all the mistakes that had seemed right and logical at the time. She hadn't realised the dangers either, even though she’d hedged her bets as much as she could. The Emergency Committee had seemed a good idea at the time. And yet, the Committee members had pulled a fast one. They’d managed to secure far more power than she’d considered possible.

  That alone would have been bad enough. Given time, the Emergency Committee might have forced the remaining Grand Senators into permanent subordination, although absolute control would have been impossible. But now Earth was dissolving into chaos. If the Emergency Committee lost control of Earth, they would soon lose control of the rest of the Empire. And then chaos would sweep across the stars. All of her family’s holdings would be destroyed.

  Perhaps my son was right, she thought, as she was ushered into the Commandant’s office. I have been a Grand Senator for too long.

  The Commandant smiled at her, although – with the experience of a practiced politician – Margaret could tell that he was more surprised than pleased to see her. She’d never quite trusted the Marines; everyone said that they were incorruptible, but in Margaret’s experience everyone had their price. And there had been a handful of rogue Marines over the years.

  “Grand Senator,” he said, as he rose to his feet. “What can I do for you?”

  Normally, Margaret would have made small talk first – but her patience was limited and the Commandant would be unimpressed with bullshit. Instead, she went straight to the point.

  “The current situation on Earth is intolerable,” she said, flatly. “It is the considered opinion of a majority of the Grand Senate that the Emergency Committee has gone too far.”

  “I would not disagree with that,” the Commandant said, calmly. “Why have you not acted to strip the Committee of its powers?”

  Margaret pressed her lips together. Her father had taught her that admitting weakness was always a bad idea, particularly in front of men. They might help, but they would also never forget that she had needed that help. Men could be very stupid that way.

  “I think you know as well as I do that the Emergency Committee holds most of the reins of power on Earth,” she said, tartly. “The Civil Guard is either mutinous or under its direct control; the Imperial Army has been subverted ... and they have their own troops as well. They have effectively launched a coup and taken control of Earth.”

  “And your liberty died with your thunderous applause,” the Commandant said. It sounded like a quote from somewhere, but Margaret didn't recognise it. “And to think that it was all perfectly legal.”

  “We need their control broken before the situation grows worse,” Margaret said, pressing onwards. It was also important, her father had said, never to become discouraged. The ones who won were the ones who refused to just give up at the first hurdle. “The problem is that we cannot meet in sufficient numbers to make a quorum.”

  The Commandant looked vague, so she explained. By tradition, all Grand Senate meetings had to be attended in person; she couldn't cast her vote over the datanet. It was also traditional that all important debates had to be held in the Imperial Palace or the Senate Hall, but neither one was realistically possible with at least a third of the Grand Senators off-world. There was no law preventing them from meeting on a starship, yet it was quite possible that the Emergency Committee would refuse to recognise it as a legal meeting – and as they controlled most of the power, their opinion counted.

  “It seems to be very complicated,” the Commandant pointed out, when she’d finished. “I would not dare to suggest which way the lawyers would jump.”

  “The lawyers would come up with an answer that suited the winners,” Margaret snapped. His bland attitude was irritating; if she hadn't needed his help, she would have stormed out by now. “And we would be the winners.”

  “So you might,” the Commandant agreed. “However, I am not a legal expert. What does all of this have to do with me?”

  Margaret suspected he already knew – he wasn't stupid – but was pretending not to understand what she wanted. Fine; she’d be as blunt as possible.

  “A quorum of the Grand Senate wishes the Marine Corps to remove the Emergency Committee from power,” she said, tartly. “You are to assault the Imperial Palace and capture or kill the Emergency Committee and their supporters. Their placemen in the military and the Civil Service are to be arrested and replaced by loyal officers.”

  “It sounds,” the Commandant said, “as if you want me to launch a coup on your behalf.”

  “On behalf of the Empire,” Margaret snapped. “How long will it be before the Emergency Committee disposes of the rest of the Grand Senate – and yourselves? There is already a bill before the Grand Senate to thoroughly investigate the supplies you draw from the Logistics Corps. What happens if they use that to shut you down completely?”

  “They could not do that without agreement from the Emperor,” the Commandant pointed out.

  “The Emergency Committee has the Prince under their control,” Margaret said. “How long do you think it will be before they turn him into even more of a puppet? It isn't as if he has the bloody-mindedness of one of your Marines. Maybe he has implants intended to keep his thoughts from being forcibly rewritten, but there are plenty of ways to break someone without rewiring his brain.”

  “True enough,” the Commandant agreed.

  “So do it,” Margaret ordered. “You have clearance from the Grand Senate ...”

  “I could claim that the clearance was not actually legal,” the Commandant said, interrupting her. “By law, an Enemy of the Empire must be formally declared an Enemy of the Empire by the Grand Senate. The vote must be open and the results declared to the entire system – and the target has to be given a chance to respond. You cannot pass judgement on anyone in secret session.”

  “And exactly how often,” Margaret demanded, “has that rule been honoured?”

  “But in any case, it doesn't matter,” the Commandant said. “You see – the mission is impossible.”

  Margaret stared at him, honestly shaken. “Impossible?”

  “Yes,” the Commandant said.

  He explained before she could say anything. “Counting myself, there are currently thirty-one Marines in the solar system,” he said, flatly. “If we bend procedure and include auxiliaries, I would have seventy – most of which would not have proper armour or weapons. That is nowhere near enough to hit the Imperial Palace, even assuming that the Imperial Navy or Earth’s orbital defences refuse to get involved. The Emergency Committee has - effectively –two divisions committed to protecting the Imperial Palace and the Senate Hall. A forced landing against such a heavily-armed target would be suicide.”

  Margaret took a long breath. “And how,” she demanded, “would you go about it?”

  The Commandant smiled. “I wouldn't,” he said. “You see; Earth is simply too heavily defended to be hit, even by a full Marine division. The high orbitals are controlled by the Imperial Navy and Earth’s defence forces. We would need to clear the way, either through taking those defences out or subverting them – and we can do neither.”

  He looked her right in the eye. “You agreed to send the Marines off Earth, after the Grand Senate blamed us for a crisis some of your number deliberately created,” he said. “But that wasn't the start of it. You starved us of funds and backing we desperately needed to keep in fighting trim. Bases and regiments we needed desperately have been closed down or disbanded. The results were inevitabl
e.

  “Right now, the Marine Corps can do nothing to solve your problem – or save the Empire.”

  Margaret wanted to look away, but he somehow held her attention. “The Civil Guard was allowed to become utterly corrupt,” he said. “You controlled promotion in the Imperial Army, ensuring that your lickspittles were put into command positions regardless of their competence – and then you started wondering why your tools broke in your hand or turned on you. Those you stepped on grew to resent it; now that the Empire is weakened, some of them will make their own bids for power.”

  “No,” Margaret said.

  “You cannot hold your position,” the Commandant told her, simply. “Your only chance is to flee Earth with as much as you can carry. The Grand Senate has neglected the planet so much that it is unsalvageable.”

  “You must be able to do something,” Margaret protested.

  The Commandant laughed. For the first time, Margaret looked at him – and wondered just how long he'd wanted to say that to one of his superiors.

  “You don’t understand,” he said. “We might be able to pull in troops from the Slaughterhouse – that’s where the closest division is based. Maybe we could get through Earth’s defences and take out the Emergency Committee. But it wouldn't matter. Whatever you do cannot repair the damage caused by centuries of neglect. Earth is completely unsalvageable.”

  Margaret stared at him for a long moment, then bowed stiffly.

  “I was told that you were always honourable men,” she said, as she rose to her feet. “And here you are, forsaking the Empire you swore to serve.”

  “The Empire is doomed,” the Commandant said. “I have spent years trying to shore it up, watching good men and women die to protect their civilisation, only to see my best efforts ruined by my lords and masters. There is no longer anything I can do.