And you’re dating a Marine, he reminded himself, sharply. Just how does that tie in with your neutrality?
He pushed the thought aside as he entered the building and allowed two guards to search him thoroughly, confiscating everything from his datapad to his wristcom. There was no point in protesting; he wasn't allowed to take electronic devices into a secure room, no matter how much he complained. Once the guards had finished their search, leaving him feeling uncomfortably as if they had explored every last inch of his body, they showed him into a barren meeting room. There was nothing inside, but a pair of chairs, a tiny table and a coffee machine.
“Please, be seated,” a voice said. Emmanuel turned to see a redheaded woman, entering through another door. “Thank you for coming.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Emmanuel lied. He had a feeling that prisoners weren't searched so thoroughly before being shoved into a cell. “May I ask to whom I’m speaking?”
“Kitty,” the woman said. She didn't offer any surname or rank, leading him to suspect it was a false name. His sole contact with Imperial Intelligence had taught him that they used false names as a matter of course. “Please, be seated.”
Emmanuel sighed, but obeyed as the woman poured them both cups of coffee. His eyes narrowed as he realised that she’d prepared his perfectly, in line with his preferences, then recalled that his tastes might have been noted during the disastrous mission to Lakshmibai. But for anyone else, it might have seemed like a disconcerting hint of CI’s omniscience, its ability to see all. They would find it more than a little worrying.
“I was surprised to be called,” he said, trying to take control of the meeting. “Does this have something to do with Jasmine ... with Brigadier Yamane?”
“No, at least not as far as I know,” Kitty said. She sat down facing him and crossed her long legs, then settled back into her chair. “There has been no word about her or any of the other POWs, I'm afraid. We know nothing about their current status.”
Emmanuel nodded, bitterly.
Kitty gave him a brief sympathetic look. “I need to pick your brains, Emmanuel,” she said. “If you agree to keep it to yourself until the investigation is completed - and we do have ways to get at the truth - you will have an exclusive.”
“I understand,” Emmanuel said. “What do you want from me?”
“I understand that you attended a party at the Governor’s mansion last week,” Kitty said. “Tell me about it.”
Emmanuel blinked. He’d expected questions about Jasmine, or about reporters being embedded, not ... not this. “Can I ask why?”
“Not yet,” Kitty said. Her voice was calm and composed, but there was an undertone that bothered him. “Tell me about the party.”
“I can try,” Emmanuel said. “The former Governor has been arranging ... ah, meetings, places for people with up and coming business or political interests to meet their fellows in a neutral setting. Quite a bit of business is supposed to be done there, away from the lights and cameras of the media. There’s also a great deal of social networking among partners and others ... and a surprising amount of fun, too. Last week, he hired a team of acrobats to put on a display for the guests.”
Kitty frowned, as if a thought had struck her. “Where does he get the money?”
“I believe his wealthier guests pay a small stipend for their invitations,” Emmanuel said, slowly. It wasn't something he had ever considered, but ... in hindsight, he should have at least considered the question. “I don’t think he has any other source of income.”
“Sounds a little rude,” Kitty said, although her eyes were hard. “Asking your guests to pay for cocktail weenies and whatever else they get served at the parties.”
“I think they consider it an investment,” Emmanuel said. “There have been quite a few business agreements made at the various parties that are worth millions, literally, to their investors. Just one wealthy guest - Gordon Travis, for example - could pay for everything and never notice the loss. And it would work out in his favour.”
Kitty shrugged. “I shall have to check up on that,” she said. “Does he even own his mansion?”
“One could claim that he owns it by squatters rights,” Emmanuel pointed out. The laws intended to deal with the disposition of the Old Council’s money and property had granted ownership to whoever lived on it. A mansion was a little larger than a small apartment in one of the giant apartment blocks on the edge of Camelot, but the principle was the same. “Or no one has the heart to take it from him.”
“Perhaps,” Kitty said. She looked down at the ground for a long moment, as if she were making up her mind about something. “Do you have an open invitation to his parties?”
“The office has one,” Emmanuel confirmed. “I can use it if I wish.”
“Then I would like you to take me as your date,” Kitty said. “I believe they’re held every Saturday, right?”
Emmanuel blinked. “Yes, but ...”
“It’s quite simple,” Kitty said. She rose to her feet and started to pace. “No one ever looks twice at the arm candy. I will be on your arm, wearing a low-cut dress and a short skirt and they won’t take me seriously.”
“Some of them will try to lure you into bed,” Emmanuel said. “And they will be staring at your assets.”
“But they won't notice the brain housed inside this body,” Kitty said, placing a finger between her breasts. “They will think of me as nothing more than a sex object, perhaps someone you hired for the night. I don’t think they will consider me a potential threat.”
“Thank you,” Emmanuel said, sourly. He’d never lowered himself to hire anyone for the night, even though it was perfectly legal on Avalon. “You do know I’m in a relationship?”
“I know, but how many others know?” Kitty asked. She went on before Emmanuel could say a word. “And this is important, Emmanuel. I need you to cooperate.”
“I’ll charge you for it later,” Emmanuel said. “Now, what exactly is going on?”
Kitty smiled, then started to explain.
Chapter Fourteen
Like so much else, this harks back to the age-old problem of enforcing the laws.
- Professor Leo Caesius. The Empire and its Prisoners of War.
Meridian, Year 5 (PE)
“I cannot say that I am pleased at the agreement you made,” Clarence said, a day after the station had been captured. “Those bastards should be put on trial, then executed.”
“I understand how you feel,” Jasmine said. “But they surrendered and should be treated decently. More to the point” - she held up a hand before he could say another word - “Wolfbane will return to the system and you don’t want to be responsible for something they will see as an atrocity.”
Clarence scowled at her, then sat down. “Very well,” he said. “We will - reluctantly - accept the agreement. They can be dumped somewhere well away from the rest of the settlement and remain there, at least until the end of the war.”
Jasmine nodded, relieved. “The POWs present another problem,” she said. “You liberated all the camps?”
“Yes,” Clarence said. “But can you lift all the prisoners?”
“It depends on what ship we capture,” Jasmine said. “But unless we get very lucky and they send a whole fleet of colonist-carriers, probably not.”
She looked down at the datapad in some irritation. The Wolves had kept fairly good records of just who they’d locked up on Meridian, but most of them were largely useless to her, at least when it came to plotting the next stage of their escape. There were former CEF personnel mixed with political prisoners like Stubbins and hostages like Kailee. Some of them, she was sure, would be useful in the later stages of the war, particularly if they could be secretly reinserted onto their homeworlds, yet for the moment they were merely a logistic headache.
“I think most of them will definitely have to be hidden here,” she said, finally. “Can you provide hiding spaces?”
“They’ll have to
work,” Clarence said, “but we can hide them. Unless, of course, the entire planet is turned to ash. That would kill them.”
Jasmine smirked. Only an idiot - or a Grand Senator - would suggest searching an entire planet for a handful of fugitives. Meridian might be a grain of dust in the everlasting cosmic sea, but on a human scale the planet was still incomprehensibly huge. As long as the former POWs kept their heads down and refrained from emitting any betraying signatures, they should be effectively impossible to locate. They could stay on Meridian until the end of the war, if they chose.
“There are places they can hide,” Janet Livingstone said. She was a former Imperial Army officer, someone who had remained out of sight until the station had been taken. Jasmine had had the impression she was actually quite senior in the resistance’s ranks, but no one had bothered to either confirm or deny it for her. “We do have quite a few camps that are completely primitive, without anything that could attract attention.”
“They’ll hate it,” Clarence predicted.
Jasmine smiled. She’d had plenty of experience roughing it and she had to admit it gave one an appreciation for the wonders of modern civilisation. Who would want to live, permanently, without hot and cold running water, or modern medicine, or any of the other marvels of technology? The former POWs would have no choice, however; they didn't dare let any of them be recaptured. It would prove disastrous.
“They can like it or lump it,” she said, flatly.
She sighed. “There’s a ship due soon,” she said. “By then, we have to be ready to capture her and then decide our next move.”
“That’s your call,” Clarence said. “Are you sure you can destroy all the physical evidence?”
“I think so,” Jasmine said. She shrugged. “As far as anyone will be able to tell, Kailee accompanied us to the city, then made contact with Gary ... all without any help from the rest of you. The destroyed camps will suggest we smashed everything we could before we left, along with the prisoners. They won’t be able to tell any different, as long as your people keep their mouths shut.”
“They will,” Clarence assured her. “They know the score.”
Jasmine hoped he was right. In her experience, civilians could be remarkably stupid about keeping their mouths shut all the time. They might have largely avoided notice in the city - or so she hoped - but flying so many shuttles to and from the station could not have gone unremarked. All it would take to betray the secret would be to have one person open his or her mouth at the wrong time. And then Wolfbane would wreak a terrible revenge.
“Good,” she said, instead. “I hope you don’t mind us borrowing Gary and Kailee.”
“They wanted to go with you,” Clarence said. He smiled, rather dryly. “Not everyone can hack it down here.”
“I know,” Jasmine said. “But that doesn't make them bad people.”
“Not elsewhere,” Clarence said. “But here it could make them a burden.”
Jasmine rather suspected that wasn't particularly fair. Gary would have gone far, with the proper education and support, while Kailee had never really had a chance. Given the help they needed, they might have grown into something remarkable; hell, Kailee could certainly have had children, to help the next generation of settlers grow. But she also understood Clarence’s attitude. Meridian simply didn't have the resources to tolerate freeloaders, or useless mouths. Few stage-one colonies did.
“They will be fine with us,” she said, shortly. She took a final look at her datapad, then rose to her feet. “Do you have any other volunteers?”
“I will come, if you need me,” Janet said. “But I would prefer to stay.”
Jasmine nodded, making a mental note to have a proper chat with Janet when they were alone. Being a female Marine was hard - she had no illusions about just how many women washed out during Hell Week alone - but being a female soldier in the Imperial Army could be a foretaste of hell. And yet Janet didn't look either broken or useless. If she’d lived on Meridian for five years, at least, she had to be tougher than she seemed.
“We’ll see what we have,” she said. The CEF had never anticipated having to fight in space, let alone repair a space station and prepare to grab a freighter. If she had, she would have insisted on more of her people collecting space-capable MOS badges. “We may just have to patch together the station with spit and bailing wire.”
“I can provide the lemons,” Clarence said. Jasmine looked at him blankly. “To provide lots of saliva.”
Jasmine snorted. Blake Coleman would have made the same joke, she was sure, and probably added something about blood, sweat, tears and semen. But she didn't really feel like laughing.
“We’ll see,” she said. “I have to go back to the station in an hour, anyway. Is there anything else before we go?”
“Just wishing you good luck,” Clarence said. “And asking if any of your people want to stay permanently.”
“Wait until after the war,” Jasmine said, tartly. She might have liked to retire to Meridian, but she had her duty. Besides, if the war came to an end, she might even be able to return to her homeworld, if her family was still alive. “I think a few of us might like to settle here.”
***
“It feels strange to be here, doesn't it?”
Gary looked at Kailee, sharply. She’d been acting oddly ever since they’d been flown to the station, alternatively being the girl he remembered and a stranger who eyed him with fear in her eyes. He hadn't dared touch her, knowing she might react badly, but he couldn't help wanting to take her in his arms and hold her tightly. She’d been put through hell merely for daring to fall in love with him.
But was she in love with him? He’d clung to her, at least in part, because he had known that no local girl would be interested in him. What was he compared to Austin, or even Darrin? But would Kailee have stayed in love with him when she’d endured five years in a POW camp, just to keep him under control? He could understand why she might have decided to hate him, now. If it hadn't been for him, she would never have been imprisoned.
“It’s different,” he agreed, finally. “This is a modern station.”
He opened a hatch and peered inside, then pressed the diagnostic tool to the installed components. The Wolves hadn't been keen on basic maintenance, he’d discovered, not when they’d considered the station a temporary home. So far, he’d encountered a number of components that would have to be replaced, if they wanted to keep the station operational for a few more years. It was sheer luck the life support systems hadn't suffered a catastrophic failure. Cleaning out the vents wasn't a pleasant job, but it had to be done.
“No trees,” Kailee said. “No insects. No animals. No smell.”
Gary wrinkled his nose. It was true there was no natural smell in the air, but he could smell everything from overheating components to a tangy metallic scent that bothered him, if only because he didn't know where it was coming from. Stewart had told him to be grateful - he’d claimed that pirates defecated everywhere, when they crewed ships - but he wasn’t sure he believed the Marine. Who would be stupid enough to think a ship would remain operational when they were knee-deep in human waste?
“It’s different,” he said, again. “I might have liked staying here.”
Kailee frowned, fastidiously. “Are you going to stay here?”
“I think I will be going with them,” he said. “It won’t be safe to stay here.”
He gritted his teeth in bitter helpless rage. Darrin and Austin understood he’d had no choice, but to collaborate ... but somehow he doubted everyone else on Meridian would feel the same way. They might kill him for collaborating and then kill Kailee too, just for daring to be close to him. He’d always been picked on at school and he saw no reason that would change, not now.
“I don't know,” Kailee said. She stared down at her long fingers, tanned after spending so long on the planet. “It won’t be safe anywhere.”
“I know,” Darrin said. “It never was, was it?”
/>
He sighed. As a child, he’d envied the men and women who had earned enough money to create their own safe environments. They’d lived on giant space stations or asteroid colonies where anyone who caused trouble could be evicted, without a second thought. He’d hoped to earn that much money himself, once, before he’d been sent to Meridian. Now ... all he could do was keep his head down and hope not to be noticed.
“No,” Kailee said. “It wasn’t.”
Never Surrender (The Empire's Corps Book 10) Page 14
