The Empire's Corps: Book 04 - Semper Fi

by Christopher Nuttall

  The display sparkled with angry red icons, each one blazing towards the planet. “Missile separation,” Cassie said, remembering her training. “We have thirty-one missiles incoming!”

  “Fucking amateurs,” her supervisor said, as alarms started to howl. Cassie shot him an inquiring glance. “Those missiles will burn themselves out before they reach engagement range.”

  He tapped a switch. “Planetary defence grid armed and ready to fire,” he said. “Missile tracking systems online; uploading targeting data now. Fire as soon as they enter range.”

  Cassie nodded, calming down. The missiles would burn out their drives and go ballistic, flying along a perfectly predictable course. They’d be picked off before they had any hope of actually hitting anything, even the nearest target.

  Her console bleeped another alarm. “Sir, the missiles are activating ECM,” she said, puzzled. All of a sudden, there were hundreds of missiles racing towards the station ... she knew that most of them were sensor ghosts, but it was hard to separate them from the real missiles. “I ...”

  “Don't panic,” her supervisor said, although he sounded more tense himself. “They’re still going to burn themselves out before they reach engagement range.”

  More and more sensor systems came online, burning through the missile ECM through sheer power. Many of the sensor ghosts simply vanished, allowing her to see the real missiles as their drives started to burn out. One by one, they went ballistic ... just as they entered engagement range. The point defence network picked them off with ease.

  Her supervisor’s wristcom buzzed, once. “The Admiral is sending a squadron of ships out to see if they can find the missile carrier,” her supervisor said. “They won’t have gone too far away ... concentrate all of our sensors on the approximate location and see if we can pick anything up. This is your best chance to impress the Admiral.”

  Cassie smiled. She’d heard that junior officers and crew – even trainees – who impressed the Admiral were promoted upstairs as a reward. It would mean more money for her family, even though they hadn't been keen on her volunteering to work for Admiral Singh. But the alternative was being conscripted – and conscripts had little control over where they were posted. Some of the rumours she’d heard made lecherous superiors sound like nothing.

  “I’ll do my best, sir,” she assured him.

  “See that you do,” her supervisor said. “The world is watching.”

  ***

  “Captain, they’re launching sensor drones,” Montez said. “I think we alarmed them.”

  Layla nodded. The brief attack had been harmless; as she’d expected, all of the missiles were destroyed before they reached engagement range. But Admiral Singh would have to assume that the Greenland Liberation Front really existed and that it was capable of mounting attacks on Corinthian. She would have to do everything she could to hunt them down before the next attack slipped through the defences.

  “Take us back,” she ordered, as several enemy starships broke orbit. They’d reacted with commendable speed, she noticed, although keeping their drives and sensors stepped down had slowed their reaction time. The next attack would find a far more prepared enemy. “We don’t want them to get anything from us, even a brief sensor contact.”

  Admiral Singh’s forces swarmed around the planet like a mass of angry bees, pinging every hint of a suspicious contact with their sensors. Layla watched with grim amusement as they stumbled over one of the probes, only to have it explode in their faces before they could recover it. The other probes seemed to be intact and undiscovered, even though they were beaming data out of the system, back towards the two hidden freighters. By the time the day was over, she told herself, they should have a rough order of battle for Admiral Singh’s fleet.

  Not that it really matters, she thought, sourly. We don’t need precise figures to tell us that we’re outgunned.

  She shook her head, then mentally said a prayer. The Marines were on their way in now.

  ***

  Corinthian changed rapidly as they approached, moving from a distant orb hanging against the darkness of space to something that was truly massive. Jasmine’s perspective shifted as the suit’s thrusters hummed silently, just before they started to drift into the planet’s atmosphere. There was no sense of motion as they drifted through interstellar space, but her suit seemed to bump and creek the moment they touched the upper edge of the atmosphere. Seconds later, the antigravity systems took hold and they started to drop towards the planet below.

  It was rare for a stealthy combat drop to be even attempted, at least outside training. Normally, if they had to hit a well-defended planet, the Marines would be escorted by missiles, KEWS and sensor jammers designed to make it difficult for the planet’s defenders to target individual Marines. This time, they dared not attract attention. Even leaving a trail of fire as they fell out of the sky would be dangerous.

  The suit rocked again as it fell further, the ground coming up towards them at terrifying speed. It was strange to feel so vulnerable, even though she knew they were sitting ducks if they were spotted. Slowly, bit by bit, the signs of civilisation came into view. Her suit’s sensors were hardly the best, but they had no trouble picking up towns, villages and roadways connecting the settlements together. Corinthian’s population had invested heavily in their infrastructure and it showed. Now, Admiral Singh was collecting on their investment.

  Jasmine had assumed that they would be blown off course and so she was pleasantly surprised to discover that they were heading towards their target. She turned slightly, twisting the suit, until she could see Landing City in the distance. The city’s lights broke through the darkness, an ever-present glow that was unmatched on Avalon, even in Camelot. It would ruin their night vision, Jasmine told herself, before shaking her head in amusement. People who wanted to see the night sky rarely lived in cities.

  A dull chime ran through the suit as the fall slowed still further. The ground was coming up now, covered in trees; Jasmine had a moment to brace herself before she crashed through the canopy and fell through the trees, right into a bog. Her suit started to sink into the mire before she started to reverse the antigravity flow, levitating herself up and out of the mess. Moments later, the remainder of the platoon crashed down beside her.

  “What a mess,” Blake commented.

  “It could be worse,” Sergeant Harris said. “We could be back on Han.”

  Jasmine nodded in agreement as they staggered towards the edge of the bog. That hadn't been included in the maps they’d studied before picking their landing spot. But then, detailed maps of every planet in the Empire weren't considered vital information, at least unless one happened to be living there. It wouldn't be the first time that the maps of a world they’d deployed on hadn’t matched the reality. Han had been particularly bad for that.

  “It could be,” she grunted. The suit’s night vision wasn't perfect in the trees; it was difficult to see just where she was putting her feet. An enemy ambush would probably have killed them all. “Or it could be better.”

  They reached the edge of the bog and sat down, using the trees as cover. If someone had picked up a hint of their descent, orbital sensors would be focused on the region, looking for someone – anyone – who was remotely suspicious. Her suit’s passive sensors weren't picking up anything, but she knew better than to assume that meant that they were safe. The suits themselves would be far too revealing if they were seen from orbit.

  “Wake up the sleeping beauties,” she ordered, once the Marines had recovered from their ordeal. “We need to dig a pit.”

  None of the non-Marines looked happy at being awoken, although they were all stunned to realise that they’d made it down to the planet. Jasmine ordered the Sergeants to help them out of their suits while the rest of the Marines dug a deep pit, then sealed the suits and dropped them into the Earth, finally covering them with a jammer mesh. The enemy would actually have to dig down to recover the suits, if they stumbled acros
s the pit. By the time the Marines had finished, it was difficult to tell that there had ever been a pit at all.

  Jasmine glanced at her terminal, then started to lead the way towards the nearest road. The trees seemed to close in on them as they walked, leaving the Marines glancing around nervously, watching for possible enemies. Owls hooted in the distance as they moved, nearly drawing fire; Jasmine shook her head in disbelief, then moved onwards. It was nearly an hour before they reached the road and found a vantage point they could use to spy on traffic.

  “Lights,” Blake muttered, nodding towards a small building in the distance. “You want to go take a look at it?”

  “Yep,” Jasmine muttered. If it was a farmhouse – or an enemy guardpost – she wanted to know about it before dawn broke. “Sergeant Harris, stay here and watch the road; Blake, Carl, you’re with me.”

  They followed the road, careful to remain hidden in the undergrowth, until the building came into view. It was a small checkpoint guarding a crossroads, forcing anyone who wanted to use a vehicle to stop for inspection. Jasmine doubted that they could prevent people on foot from simply evading them, but anyone who wanted to use a vehicle would probably have to be checked – more than once, she suspected. The Knights had used a similar system on Avalon.

  Not that it prevented Blake’s kidnappers from smuggling him out of the city, she thought, ruefully. But then, it hadn't been the Marines who were responsible for providing security at the time.

  Up close, she could see three buildings; a small office and a pair of makeshift barracks. It seemed excessive to her; as far as she could tell, there were no actual advantages from having three separate buildings. She motioned for Blake and Carl to remain in reserve and slipped closer, trying to get into a position where she could stare into the windows, then sucked in her breath sharply when she spied four girls inside the closest barracks. They didn't look happy at all.

  The second barracks held at least five men, she decided, after listening carefully. Their Imperial Standard held a faint accent that reminded her of Canada’s, suggesting that they were collaborators; their chat about the latest football game held very little useful information. If there was a sixth man in the office, he was being very quiet; Jasmine started to slip back into the shadows, cursing mentally as one of the men strode out of the barracks. If he’d carried a light and shone it around, he might well have seen her ...

  Instead, he strode into the second barracks and barked a command, ordering one of the girls to come to the other barracks. Jasmine gritted her teeth as she realised what was happening; the girls had been kidnapped and pressed into services as drudges, perhaps even sex slaves. The Civil Guardsmen had been fond of the tactic, little caring that it provoked intense hatred among the girls and their relatives. They were paid too little to care. Jasmine was surprised that Admiral Singh tolerated it, but she had a feeling that the farmers simply weren't that important to her. Keeping the collaborators sweet might be more important to her than the farmers and their feelings.

  She gritted her teeth as the guard re-emerged, dragging one of the girls with him. It was easy to see the signs of mistreatment, from starvation to outright beatings; Jasmine wanted to lunge forward and break the man’s neck. But then they would have to kill all of the guards and that would attract attention from the rest of Admiral Singh’s forces. Unless they’d forgotten all common sense, the guards would probably be expected to check in every so often ... and when they didn't, reinforcements would immediately be dispatched to investigate.

  They didn't dare attract attention, she knew. It didn't make the decision not to intervene any easier.

  Jasmine crawled backwards, watching helplessly as the girl was pulled into the barracks and the door was firmly shut. It was easy to hear her protests as the guards molested her ... Jasmine cursed silently again, then blinked in surprise as she saw one of the other girls slipping out of the building and heading for a trench behind the barracks. They didn’t even have a toilet!

  She motioned for Blake and Carl to watch the guardsmen, then slipped after the girl. As soon as she had finished her business, Jasmine came up behind her and covered the girl’s mouth with one hand, preventing her from making a sound. She had to hold the girl tightly; her captive no doubt believed that one of her captors had decided to have some fun. Under other circumstances, she would probably have been right.

  “I’m from the Empire,” she whispered, as she girl struggled helplessly in her arms. “Look at me.”

  The girl turned. Jasmine had her hair cropped close to her skull, but she was unmistakably feminine, not someone working for the guards.

  “We’re working to free your planet,” Jasmine said, as the girl relaxed. “Can you get away from them?”

  “They know who we are,” the girl said, her voice just above a whisper. She had the same accent as the guards. “If we flee, our parents will be punished.”

  Jasmine nodded. “Then we will have to make them think that you’re dead,” she said. “What do they make you do for them?”

  “Cook, clean and ...”

  The girl’s voice broke off. “Other things,” she added, after a moment. Tears started to trickle down her face. “They’re horrible.”

  “I know,” Jasmine said, giving the girl a hug. “Listen, I’m going to be back here tomorrow night with friends. What do you have inside your barracks?”

  “Beds and a food processor,” the girl said, puzzled. “Why ...”

  Jasmine grinned. It was easy to make a food processor explode.

  “I’ll take care of it,” she promised. “Don’t tell your friends. If the guards find out, it will not be easy to get you out.”

  She watched the girl walk back to her barracks, then slipped back to join Blake and Carl. It was easy to hear the girl who had been dragged into the male barracks, but Jasmine felt a little better. They’d be back tomorrow night and, hopefully, they could bury all traces of their presence.

  “Hellishly risky, Lieutenant,” Carl muttered, as the three Marines walked back into the darkness. “You could have been caught.”

  “The risk was worth taking,” Blake muttered, before Jasmine could say a word. “Besides, we need intelligence.”

  Jasmine mulled it over as they reached the rest of the group, then headed into the forest. It hadn't been that long since they’d been exercising in the Badlands of Avalon, ordered to build shelters and forage for food and drink. From what she’d seen, hiding in the forest here during daytime would be much easier.

  “Start building the shelters,” she ordered, once they’d reached a place she was confident they could defend, if necessary. A makeshift shelter wouldn't last for long, but it would give them a place to rest up before they headed towards Landing City. “Elliot, I need to talk to you.”

  Canada looked over at her, puzzled. “Lieutenant?”

  “There’s a guard post down there,” Jasmine said, and explained quickly. “Do you know anything about what sort of guards they put out here?”

  “No,” Canada admitted. He sounded rueful, as if he believed that he hadn't been very useful. “I lived in the city.”

  Jasmine wasn't too surprised. “We’ll gather more intelligence tomorrow,” she said. She’d had to ask. If Canada had heard something that might be useful, it could have given her an additional advantage. But she would just have to make do. “And then we can start making our way towards the city.”

  The shelters were primitive, rough ... and far better than some of the places she'd slept in the past. She assigned Sergeant Harris and Blake to take the first watch, then bedded down under the mesh of sticks and leaves they’d used to camouflage their presence. For a long moment, she considered the best way to get the girls out – and use the food processor to cover their tracks – and then closed her eyes and went to sleep.

  They’d landed on the planet’s surface. Tomorrow, the real fun would begin.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Worse, few humans are capable of tamely accepting, of
their own free will, that they are among the ignorant. They may come up with lists of deserving candidates for the vote, but they will rarely exclude themselves, even when it is clear that they have no actual need to have a say in events. In short, almost everyone will be vain enough to believe that their say in events will never be taken from them.

  -Professor Leo Caesius, Authority, Power and the Post-Imperial Era

  “So,” Rani said, very coldly. “What happened?”

  There was no point in penalising her subordinates for matters that were outside their control, she’d knew. They’d just hide matters from her if they thought that they were going to get the blame, a common problem in the Imperial Navy. On the other hand, if someone had screwed up, she wanted to make damn sure that person was not in a position to screw up again.

  “Someone emplaced a missile pod outside the defence grid and fired a number of missiles towards the planet,” Vice Admiral Jubal Birder said. He was the CO of the planet’s fixed defences, which made him Sampson’s rival. They kept an eye on each other for her. “The missiles had no hope at all of actually hitting anything; they burned out before they could reach their targets. We picked them all off and then swept local space in hopes of discovering the enemy ship. We found nothing, apart from a single recon drone. It self-destructed, of course.”

  Rani nodded. She would have liked to have someone to blame for the brief crisis – if nothing else, it had exposed a number of weaknesses in the defence grid – or for the failure to engage the enemy starship, but she knew that would have been difficult, if not impossible. One ship, even a civilian freighter, could have slipped into the depths of the system long before the missile pod went active and started launching missiles towards the planet. The crew had probably watched the whole affair, including her starships swarming around like angry ants, from a safe distance.

  “The drone suggests that we are dealing with more than just terrorists,” Sampson said, into the silence. “Pirates don’t often dare to confront an armed destroyer, let alone an entire planetary system.”