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

by Christopher Nuttall

  And they were questioning his orders. He'd been elected Captain, he’d been given command ... and yet many of his followers were debating his orders before carrying them out. It shouldn't have surprised him, he knew; he’d certainly seen what happened to commanding officers who demanded unquestioning experience. But it was irritating.

  There were no guards on the streets as the army advanced forward. Most of the Civil Guard had fled or joined the students; the Grand Senator’s personal soldiers had better things to do than guard the bureaucrats who lived in the heart of Imperial City. His scouts had reported that most of the Grand Senate residences were under heavy guard, even if the Grand Senators themselves were trying to flee. Anyone would think that their lives were in danger.

  He would have preferred to attack the Imperial Palace by hitting it from all sides, but his force barely had the training or coordination to move in a straight line. Half of the armed students didn’t have the slightest idea what they were doing; they’d had to be given clubs rather than actual guns, just to give them the illusion that they were doing something useful. The original Guardsmen had been warned to fire as carefully as possible. Once they ran out of ammunition, there would be no resupply.

  Bracing himself, he keyed his radio, wincing at the burst of static that echoed over the link. They’d tested the radios as best as they could and concluded that they were still useable for short-range transmissions, even if there was a shitload of disruption caused by the fighting in orbit. The radios would be detectable by the enemy, he knew, but there was no choice. If he didn't use them, coordination would be impossible.

  “All right,” he said, as they reached the turning onto the Avenue of Imperial Harmony. “Group One will head towards the Imperial Palace. Group Two will head towards the Senate Hall. Remember to watch your ammunition – and if they try to surrender, let them.”

  He suspected that his final words had fallen on deaf ears. Too many students had family in East-Meg Two, Sino-Cit or one of the other megacities that had been hammered by falling debris. The death toll was already in the billions and still climbing; they wanted revenge, even if it meant their own deaths. And those who hadn't lost anyone still wanted to tear the Grand Senate apart.

  This may be completely futile, he thought. The Marine had told him to distract everyone, rather than actually trying to take the buildings ... but he knew that might well have been lost on his subordinates too. If it had been entirely up to him, he would have advanced with just the remains of his former unit ...

  He smiled. At least this time he was fighting on the right side.

  “Mortar teams,” he ordered. He’d ordered them into position before the main body of the army started to move. “You may fire at will.”

  ***

  The Imperial Palace was, at base, a massive blocky structure that seemed to have become merged with a fairy tale castle. Jacqueline found herself staring as the army advanced towards the railings surrounding the Palace, unable to quite believe her eyes. The planet was coming apart at the seams, debris was falling down from high overhead ... and yet the Imperial Palace looked almost beautiful against the rising sun. There was no sign of any guards, but the gates were shut; they would have to batter them down to get inside.

  This is just a diversion, she reminded herself. Most of the students behind her seemed to have missed that point. We don’t want to break down the doors.

  It was funny how she was no longer afraid. She’d been terrified when the Civil Guard had tried to arrest her, then frightened when she'd realised just how vulnerable the student-controlled university actually was ... and yet now, she no longer felt fear. They might be going to their deaths – hell, they were going to die soon anyway – but she felt calm. Maybe she’d just seen too much to be afraid any longer.

  There was a dull thump in the distance, followed by ... something ... hitting the Palace’s walls. An explosion crackled out, leaving a nasty scar on the walls when it faded away. She couldn't tell if it had done any real damage – the Palace was supposed to be made out of hullmetal, the hardest artificial substance known to mankind – but she was sure that everyone inside had felt it. Other shells followed as the mortar team kept firing, peppering the building with direct hits. And yet none of them seemed to inflict any real damage.

  “Stop shooting,” she snapped at one of her students, who had started to fire on the Palace with his rifle. If mortar shells couldn't get through the hullmetal, what did he think ordinary bullets would do? “Wait for the order to shoot!”

  The student glared at her, but obeyed. Brent had insisted that the Committee take the lead when they’d advanced towards the Palace, if only to show the students and Civil Guardsmen that they were not going to be cowering in the rear when the fighting began. Jacqueline hadn't argued; the students seemed to have turned her into their inspiration, even though she really hadn't wanted any sort of fame. She couldn't let them down now.

  Something fell down in the midst of her students. Jacqueline’s first thought was that one of the mortar crews had made a horrific mistake, then she realised that a high explosive shell would have blown them all to bloody chunks before she even knew that there had been a deadly accident. Several students had been killed by the impact, but others seemed unwounded ... and then she saw the white gas cloud billowing up. Students started to push and kick at one another as they scattered, trying to get away from the gas. Foster had warned them that the different gasses were colour-coded; white gas disorientated anyone who took a deep breath.

  “Masks,” Jacqueline snapped. They’d all been issued masks from the Civil Guard armoury they’d overrun in the early hours of the uprising, but no one had put them on during the march. Some students were already staggering around like drunken idiots as the gas took effect. “Hurry!”

  She pulled her own mask up and over her face, silently grateful that Foster had forced them to practice putting them on. Breathing through the mask was unpleasant, but better than the alternative. At least the gas wasn't absorbed through the skin. Brent had asked Foster about that and Foster had admitted that most Civil Guard units were barely capable of fighting in masks, let alone full protective gear.

  Far too many students had been affected, she realised, as she surveyed the situation. Dozens were on the ground, rubbing frantically at their steaming eyes, or stumbling around in disorientation. The ones who did have their masks on seemed to be nervous, although it was hard to tell. Their masks hid almost all of their expressions from her view.

  A screech echoed over the street as the Palace doors finally began to open, revealing a line of men wearing body armour and carrying weapons. Jacqueline was no military expert, but she didn't have to be to realise what was happening. The Palace guard had used to gas to soften up the students and were now preparing to finish the job. She waved frantically to the rest of the masked students as she lifted her weapon, ready to fight. If they could kill the guards, they might just be able to break into the Palace ...

  She never saw the sniper who fired the shot that killed her.

  ***

  Foster swore out loud as the Grand Senator’s personal guard attacked with a staggering level of ruthlessness, thrusting out of both the Palace and Senate Hall to slash into the students. Several of them were even using flamethrowers, terrifying the students who had maintained the presence of mind to don their masks when the gas shells had landed amongst them. Unsurprisingly, the students were falling back; they’d never really imagined such violence, even after everything that had happened over the last few months.

  But he still had his Guardsmen.

  “New orders,” he said, switching channels. “Section One; advance and cut the bastards off. Mortar teams, drop shells on their heads ...”

  ***

  “No, don’t run,” Amethyst shouted, as her section panicked. She’d volunteered to accompany Prince Roland and Belinda, but Brent had insisted that she stayed with the rest of the students and fought beside them. “Pull your masks on and fig
ht!”

  She pointed her rifle at the advancing soldiers, visible through the gassy haze, and fired at their heads. Bode – she couldn't think of him as Richard any longer – had told her that body armour was very good, but it rarely protected everywhere. A shot in the face was almost always lethal, particularly if the target was wearing an armoured helmet. She had the satisfaction of seeing one of the oncoming troopers falling to the ground before someone grabbed her and dragged her away from the battle.

  “We can't run,” she protested. The student pulling her was too strong to easily resist. “This ...”

  “We’ll die if we stay here,” the student hissed. Behind them, the troopers were still advancing. They seemed to be pushing the students back everywhere. “We get into the residency block, hide there until they get past us than slip out again.”

  Amethyst swallowed the argument that came to mind as they slipped into the residency block. It was fancier than the one she’d grown up in; certainly much fancier than the ones Bode had used as hiding places ... was this where the bureaucrats lived when they weren't working? She looked around as the doors closed, cutting off the noise from outside. It was definitely better than her old home ...

  And then she heard the screams.

  They exchanged puzzled glances. What was making the screams? No, what was making the people scream? This was a high-class CityBlock with good security ... but the security was gone. A door crashed open, revealing a gang of men carrying makeshift weapons and half-crazed faces. They might have come from the Undercity, through the tunnels that illicitly linked Imperial City to the Undercity, or they might have been former bureaucrats, losing their minds as they lost their Empire. It hardly mattered.

  But we fought for them, Amethyst thought. We wanted to make their lives better.

  The newcomers didn't care. They spread out and began to advance, their faces becoming nightmarish combinations of hunger and lust. Blood stained their clothes; not their blood, she realised in horror. Perhaps the rumours of cannibalism were true after all. She lifted her rifle and pointed it at them, but they were too far gone to care. And when she pulled the trigger, it just clicked uselessly. She'd run out of ammunition.

  She threw the gun at them and turned to run, but she barely made it a few steps before they caught her and shoved her to the ground. Hands tore at her clothes, ripping away the mask and leaving her exposed; she caught sight of some of the newcomers actually chewing at the other student, ripping away his flesh and stuffing it into their mouths. Cannibals ...

  Mercifully, she fainted dead away.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  There were those who tried to put an end to the crisis at source. A scratch force of revolutionary students, mutinous Civil Guardsmen and others, led by none other than Prince Roland, attempted to storm the Senate Hall and the Imperial Palace, seeking to destroy the Emergency Committee – while, knowing that all was lost, the Emergency Committee prepared its final fallback position.

  -Professor Leo Caesius, The End of Empire

  “It’s big,” Roland said.

  Belinda nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Once, Marine HQ had been the linchpin of the Empire, the very core of the Terran Marine Corps that guarded humanity’s unity. But it had declined over the years as the Grand Senate whittled away at the Marines, until all that was left was a locked and abandoned building in the heart of the city. The Emergency Committee hadn't even allowed the Commandant to leave a guard.

  She touched the globe and anchor insignia on the solid metal door, feeling oddly melancholy as she remembered her history. The Marines had always stood up and fought for what was right, with honour towards all and malice to none; there truly was no better friend or no worse enemy than a Terran Marine. And yet all of that history was fading away into nothingness, along with the Empire the Marines had protected for thousands of years. If the Empire died, who would remember the Marines?

  “Belinda?”

  Belinda nodded, sourly, as Roland’s voice brought her back to reality. In the distance, she could hear the sound of gunfire; either the students had begun their attack or the last remnants of the city’s defenders were trying to keep the Undercity from breaking in. It didn't matter; time was not on their side. Quickly, she pressed her fingertips against the globe symbol and smiled in relief as it fell away, revealing a biometric sensor. A moment later, the door unlocked, allowing them to enter the building.

  She looked around as the lights came on, powered by the emergency generator the Marines had installed, deep under the complex. They had considered the dangers of losing the city’s power grid, even if no one else had. She led the way towards the nearest access point, thinking hard. Her implants should have automatically linked into the network and downloaded a full update – if there was a full update. Without them, she was dependent on terminals and datapads, just like everyone else. At least she should still have full clearance for data access.

  “This building is spooky,” Roland said, as he followed her. “It feels abandoned.”

  “Thousands of years of history are looking down at you,” Belinda commented, dryly.

  She found an access point and pushed her fingers against the sensor, activating it. There was a brief update from the Commandant, addressed to the retired Marines in the city, informing them that the Marine transports would leave the system in two days – if they wanted to come, they had to get up to orbit and signal for pickup. Beyond that, there was nothing. Quickly, she noted the location of the tunnel access point and shut down the terminal. Maybe, just maybe, one of the retired Marines would reach Marine HQ. It might just manage to ride out the coming apocalypse.

  “Let’s go,” she said. God alone knew how long it would be before the students were driven away from the Imperial Palace. “Hurry.”

  The First Emperor had fancied himself a designer of buildings as well as Empires – which explained the ugly Imperial Palace, Belinda couldn't help thinking. He'd had a hand in designing most of the buildings in Imperial City and taken advantage of the opportunity to link them all to a secret tunnel complex that ran between the different buildings. Very few people knew about the tunnels – Belinda had only been told when she’d been assigned to serve as Roland’s bodyguard – and almost none of them could use them. The Emperor, the Commandant, the Grand Admiral, the Grand Senators ... everyone else was simply denied access. Surprisingly, given how easy it was to leak information, almost nothing had gotten out to the media.

  But no doubt the Grand Senators saw the wisdom in keeping it to themselves, she thought, sourly. They could use the tunnels too.

  She’d hoped to pull weapons from the armoury, but the Commandant had ordered almost everything removed when the Marines left Earth, perhaps for the final time. There were no suits of armour or even basic protective gear. Belinda shook her head, unable to hold back a smile. The Civil Guard would have left behind enough weapons to outfit a small army. If the Marines had been less efficient ...

  The lowest level of the HQ had been off-limits the last time Belinda had visited Earth, even to relatively senior Marines. Some of the Marines she’d served with had placed bets on just what was hidden there, some claiming that there was an additional armoury or even a stasis tube holding the still-living body of the First Emperor concealed within the compartment, but it was disappointingly empty when Belinda stepped inside. She couldn't help glancing around – she’d played the guessing game too – yet she saw nothing apart from the bare wall and a single light set within the ceiling. Shaking her head, she walked over to the far wall and pressed her hand against a hidden sensor. There was a dull click, followed by a hiss as the door opened, revealing steps leading down into a darkened tunnel.

  “My ancestor was a very paranoid man,” Roland commented, as Belinda stepped inside. A single light came on, illuminating their position, but the remainder of the tunnel was still shrouded in darkness. “What was he thinking?”

  “If he’d been less paranoid, the Empire might not be in this mes
s,” Belinda said, quietly. “Maybe the Grand Senate wouldn't have gained such a stranglehold on power if the Emperor had been more trusting of his own subjects.”

  There were no signs inside the tunnel to tell them which way to go. Belinda had memorised the chart, but she still found it difficult to navigate their way through an endless series of unmarked passageways. There was no sound at all, apart from their footsteps and a faint hum from the lights as they came on to illuminate each new section. Belinda couldn't help feeling trapped as they walked further, knowing just how difficult it would be to escape if the lights failed altogether. She no longer trusted her implants to let her see in the dark.

  “Here,” she said, as they stopped in front of a solid metal hatch. If her calculations were correct, it led directly into the Imperial Palace. “After you, Your Highness.”

  Roland gave her a sharp look, then pressed his fingers against the sensor. The First Emperor had been very paranoid; no one could use the tunnels to get into the Imperial Palace without his direct permission, or that of his blood descendents. It was hard enough to break into the tunnels – sneaking into any of the buildings that had a link would be difficult – but even so, he hadn't wanted anyone to slip into the Imperial Palace without one of his family to escort them. There was a click as the sensor recognised Roland, then opened the hatch. Belinda slipped through, weapon at the ready.

  “Clear,” she reported, keeping her voice low. “Get up here now.”

  She glanced around, looking for potential threats. They were in enemy territory, like it or not. But no one was guarding their end of the tunnel. She couldn't tell if the Senator had been careless and assumed that Roland was dead, or if he simply hadn't known where to place the guards. Even a full scanning team, she'd been told, would have problems finding the door. Even so, Belinda would have placed guards on the lower levels or scattered sensor nodes around to watch for intruders. Maybe the Grand Senator was running out of men.