Jasmine nodded. In her opinion, the more minds that worked on a problem, the better – although it didn't seem to work so well in real life. Egos and personality conflicts got in the way. She waited until they were seated facing her and then began, starting with an outline of the problem as she saw it.
“We are going to have to build up rebel cells within the workforce,” she said, flatly. “They’re the ones most likely to rebel, particularly the ones who have been torn away from their families and brought to this world. On the other hand, we can expect them to be riddled with spies and informants.”
“A cell structure, then,” Sergeant Hampton said. “Very few of them will know anyone outside their own cells.”
Jasmine nodded. She had no illusions about how far Admiral Singh’s security men would go if they caught even a sniff of rebel activity, or how long civilians could stand up to a rigorous interrogation.
“We can start work in the apartment blocks used by new arrivals,” Carl added. “If we used our new connections to ensure that the rebels were hired ...”
“Good thought,” Jasmine said. She’d intended to start work among the ones who were already working for Admiral Singh, but Carl’s idea had merit. “We can also use them for manpower when the time comes to start the uprising here.”
She outlined the next part of her plan carefully, piece by piece. “Admiral Singh cannot use maximum force on the planet without damaging her own future,” she continued. “However, eventually she will start moving people to orbit permanently – including, I hope, our rebel cells. That will give us an opportunity to snatch control of the orbital infrastructure – or destroy it, if we don’t manage to cripple or capture those battleships. But ideally I’d like to take them intact.”
There were nods. It would be several years before Avalon could build battleships of its own, certainly enough ships to match Admiral Singh’s firepower – and there was no way to know what else lurked core-words of Corinthian. If they could take the ships intact, along with their crews, the Commonwealth Navy would be delighted. But if not, they would need to be crippled to prevent them from interfering against the rebels on the planet’s surface.
“The real problem will be taking the Admiral herself out,” she concluded. “We might have to storm the Governor’s Mansion ourselves.”
“Even if we had all of our equipment, that would be a bloodbath,” Sergeant Hampton warned. “The place is built out of hullmetal; we’d need heavy weapons to even blow through the doors. And it’s surrounded by heavily armed guards and automated weapons.”
Jasmine nodded. A single KEW would take it out, but it was unlikely that they would be able to take control of an orbital weapons platform without being detected. Briefly, she considered trying to slip a missile into planetary orbit, before deciding that it was unlikely to work. It was clear that the missiles they’d used as a diversion the last time had alarmed Admiral Singh’s people. They were determined not to let that happen again.
“Perhaps Danielle’s husband could help,” Blake suggested, nodding towards the woman. “He does work on the industrial platforms.”
“It’s a possibility,” Jasmine said. She'd assigned a pair of Wolf’s people to keep an eye on Trevor Chambers; they’d reported that he’d moved into a tiny apartment block and spent a great deal of time drinking. He was apparently due to report back to work in a week, if there was anything left of him by then. “But I want to get the rest of the selection process underway before then.”
She looked at their faces, seeing their own grim determination looking back at her. The Empire had had plenty of planets that had poor governments, or worse; Han, for example, had ripped itself apart. But this was somehow worse; the government was steadily sucking the life from the system’s population, taming them until they couldn’t rebel. Some of the records they’d seen on the entertainment screens would have provoked a revolt on Avalon ... hell, after some of the details of how the old council had entertained themselves, they’d had to provide an armed guard before transferring them to a penal island.
“There’s another possibility,” Hampton suggested. “We could probably assassinate some of her subordinates. If we got lucky, Admiral Singh would start thinking that they were fighting amongst themselves ...”
“Or use it to put one of our own people in a more useful position,” Carl suggested. He smiled at their disbelieving expressions. “Hey, these politicians are corrupt bastards, right? I bet you anything you care to put forward that some of them will have secrets that will shock even their friends.”
“Maybe one of them has been stealing from the others,” Hampton mused. “If we could identify him ...”
“If,” Jasmine said. “Wolf will have to work on it.”
She scowled at the thought. The crime lord wasn't quite clear on just who they were and what they were doing, but the more they used his connections, the more likely it was that he would put it together – and then ... what? As long as he believed that he had a bomb in his skull, he wouldn't want to anger them ... but what if he called their bluff?
“We may have to do other things for him,” she mused. Wolf wasn't the only crime lord in the city, but with a little help he might be able to scoop up part of a rival’s network. On the other hand, she had a feeling that would draw attention from the security forces. “I think we’d be better off using him as little as possible.”
Wolf had provided them with papers and ID cards that should pass casual scrutiny, but it bothered her, particularly when she’d realised just how often they were asked for their papers by patrolling guards. If the papers were ever checked thoroughly ... Wolf had told her that his people had inserted data into the files to confirm that the papers were real, but Jasmine knew how easy it was to make a mistake. And if he’d decided to sell them out ...
She pushed the thought aside for later consideration and stood up. “We will start recruiting as soon as possible,” she said. Perhaps it was better to work with the newcomers to the city first. It would be easier to get away if the shit hit the fan. “I want to review our precautions before we start, using some of Wolf’s contacts to identify probable recruits. And then we check them out as thoroughly as possible.”
“Of course,” Hampton said. “But vetting will be difficult on this world.”
Jasmine couldn’t disagree. But they had no choice.
Build up a network, she told herself, then start planning active operations. In the meantime, work on distracting the Admiral by plotting a series of insurgent attacks in the countryside – and hope that it’s enough to keep her busy. And pray.
She thought, briefly, of Mandy. Had Lightfoot managed to sign up with the other freighters or had she been seized, her friend and her crew dispatched to a penal colony? So far, there was no way to know. Wolf had been passing them data on orbital movements, but he claimed to have very few contacts up there.
“We will have to do the best we can,” she said. “But as long as we keep everyone nicely anonymous, we should be able to back off if we are discovered.”
And she hoped, once again, that she was right.
“Give me a nice honest battle any time,” Blake said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Carl said. “There is something to be said for tricking the enemy into defeating himself.”
Jasmine snorted. “But it would be much simpler with the battle,” she said. “Here, far too many things can go wrong.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
And yet we have an never-ending series of politicians and political leaders who believe that they can not only make choices for their population, but override the will of the population whenever they see fit. The justifications will vary – guns will be banned on grounds of public safety, for example, while drugs will be banned on grounds of personal health – yet the underlying motive will remain the same.
-Professor Leo Caesius, Authority, Power and the Post-Imperial Era
I wonder, Lukas Gath asked himself, if I’m making a mistake.
/> He was seventeen, on the verge of turning eighteen – and become eligible for conscription, even though his elder brother had disappeared after making the mistake of questioning the regime too loudly. It was a record that ensured that he would never have a chance to build a life of his own; no, his conscription period would be spent digging drains, cleaning out toilets and other disgusting work normally reserved for convicts. The only consolation, he’d been told, was that he hadn't been born female. There were worse duties for women who allowed themselves to slack rather than work to better themselves.
One of his teachers had warned him, more than once, about saying rebellious things too loudly. It was only a matter of time, he’d said, before he was overhead by someone who might report him to the regime. But Lukas had found it hard to care. His mother was a drunkard, his father a mystery ... and his brother missing, presumed dead. What could they do to him that was worse than watching his mother slowly drink herself to death?
And then he’d been given an address and told to report there, if he wanted to make a difference. And to tell absolutely no one.
He looked up at the apartment and hesitated. It was a moderate dwelling, no larger than the one he shared with his mother ... the one they might lose, if they failed to keep up with the rent. He had no idea what was waiting for him inside, but if the regime wanted proof of disloyalty, they didn't need to engage in an elaborate game of charades. They could just pluck him off the street without bothering to think of an excuse. Lukas had no idea how many people had vanished, but he was sure it was in the high thousands.
Bracing himself, he stepped forward and touched the door. It swung open at his touch, revealing a darkened corridor ... and a single light at the end. Lukas hesitated again, then walked forward, allowing the door to swung shut behind him. An instant later, strong arms wrapped themselves around him, holding his body so firmly that he couldn't even move his arms.
“Don’t struggle,” a harsh voice said. “We mean you no harm.”
Lukas held himself still – somehow – as a pair of hands ran over his body, searching him so thoroughly that he blushed. He’d been told to bring nothing, apart from his ID wallet; if he’d been caught without it, he would have had to have bribed the guardsmen who’d arrested him ... and he had almost nothing he could offer as a bribe.
“He’s clean,” a second voice said.
“Good boy,” the first voice said. His arms relaxed, allowing Lukas to start rubbing the bruised flesh where he’d been held. There was a click and a light came on, illuminating the barren corridor. “Just start walking into the far room.”
Lukas glanced up at his assailants. The one who’d held him was the biggest man he’d ever seen, his features concealed under a black woollen mask that hid everything. He glanced at the other man and saw someone smaller, but no less capable. They both wore working overalls that would have passed unnoticed almost anywhere in Landing City.
“Put this on,” the bigger man said, firmly. He passed Lukas a mask. “You don't want to be identified here.”
Lukas pulled the woollen mask over his face as he walked into the next room. There were five other people sitting there, their faces concealed too. One of them was a girl – he could make out the swell of her breasts, despite the loose-fitting garment she wore – while the others seemed to be young men, just like him. He took the seat he was pointed to, nodded when he was told to remain quiet, and waited.
It seemed like a hour passed as a handful of other masked figures were brought into the room, before the door was finally closed. He looked up as the smaller man sat down facing them, his half-seen eyes moving from face to face. Lukas felt a strange mixture of excitement and fear as he wondered just what the hell he’d gotten himself into. Were they criminals, intent on recruiting new blood, or ... rebels?
“You are here because someone believed that you might be ... dissatisfied with the regime and that you would have the courage to take a stand against it,” the man said. His voice was clearly masked by an electronic distorter, making it impossible to identify him. “We are determined to overthrow it and replace Admiral Singh with a government that is more representative of the people’s needs. All of you have lost someone to the regime. You know just how far the Admiral is prepared to go to get what she wants. We’re here to give you the chance to strike back.
“We know that you have lived in fear for the last two years,” the man continued. “We would understand if you chose to back out. If so, we will inject you with something that causes short-term memory loss and return you to your homes. You will be unable to betray us and you will never see us again. On the other hand, if you stay here, you will be committed. We need you to understand that, if nothing else. Future betrayal will be severely punished.
“The masks you have been given are for your protection. Should you doubt the effectiveness of our memory wipes, you need only consider how little your fellow prospective recruits actually know. We know who you are, of course, but we have taken other precautions to ensure that we cannot be interrogated. I’m afraid that you will have to take that on faith.”
There was a long pause. “I won’t lie to you,” the man added. “This endeavour is not without risks. It is possible that Admiral Singh’s security forces will catch you – and, if that happens, you will be brutally interrogated and then dispatched. The lucky ones will be killed quickly. If you happen to be unlucky, you will be sent to a work camp and worked to death. After you become involved, you will no longer be able to plead ignorance. The choice is yours.”
His eyes seemed to gleam. “Fight ... or withdraw now.”
Lukas hesitated, unable to prevent himself from glancing at the other potential recruits. His mouth was dry; if he were caught, whatever fate had befallen his brother might befall him as well. But if he accepted the memory wipe ... he’d just wind up being conscripted and then sent to slave for Admiral Singh. Or, if he managed to melt away into the underclass, he’d die young.
And he’d loved his brother. He wanted a little revenge.
“I’ll fight,” he said.
Most of the others agreed. Two, however, admitted in tearful voices that they didn't dare fight. The door opened, revealing two more masked men, and they were helped out of the room, the door shutting firmly closed behind them. Lukas watched them go, wondering just how effective the memory wipe really was. What if someone had recognised him? What if the wipe didn't work?
“Sit and wait,” the leader ordered. “In a moment, you will go, one by one, into the next room and take the oath. Once that’s done, you will be committed.”
He looked around at the remaining recruits. “This is your last chance to back out,” he warned them. “Speak now or forever hold your tongue.”
Lukas felt the butterflies in his stomach starting to expand, but he said nothing.
“Very good,” the leader said. “One rule, while you’re here. No names. Ever. You will be assigned code names, which you will be expected to use at all times. What you don’t know about your fellows, you can't betray to the security forces.”
“I won’t talk,” one of the recruits said. “I won’t ...”
“They will shoot you full of truth drugs and then interrogate you,” the leader warned. “You won’t want to talk – but believe me, it won’t matter. They have ways of making you talk.”
***
Jasmine watched through her mask as the first recruit came into the tiny office, his eyes – half-hidden behind the mask – looking around in surprise. She tapped her lips and pointed to the chair, waiting for him to sit down. The voice analysis software got better results when the subject was calm and unworried, but that wasn't likely to happen with the new recruits. She’d had awful nerves on her first day at Boot Camp ... and all she’d had to worry about was washing out and being returned home in disgrace. Her father might have been darkly amused, but he wouldn't have tortured her to death. The same could not be said of Admiral Singh’s goons.
“This is the oath,”
she said, through the voder. He started at the sound of her voice, but showed little other visible reaction. “You will answer either yes or no to my statements. No other answers will be considered acceptable. If you can't answer the question at all, raise your hand. Nod if you understand me.”
He looked shaken, but obeyed. Good. Nerves would make it harder for him to think of a lie.
“You understand that you are joining an organisation dedicated to overthrowing Admiral Singh,” Jasmine said. “Yes or no?”
“Yes,” the young man said.
“You will not willingly tell anyone anything about this without specific permission from your leaders,” Jasmine said. “Yes or no?”
“Yes,” the young man said.
Jasmine smiled inwardly. The telltale remained green. He wasn't trying to lie.
Unless he’s had proper training, she thought, ruefully. Fooling voice analysis software wasn't that difficult. It was a great deal harder to fool drugs, or direct mental linkage, but it was harder to use them without being noticed.
“You will follow orders at all times, unless specifically told to act on your own initiative,” Jasmine continued. “Yes or no?”
“Yes,” the young man said.
Jasmine sensed his impatience, but pressed onwards. “You will tell whatever you learn from us to the security forces,” she said. “Yes or no.”
“Yes ... no,” the young man said, catching himself. The sudden reversal had caught him by surprise. “I won’t tell anyone anything.”
“Yes or no answers only,” Jasmine said, coldly. “You will betray us to the security forces?”
“No,” the young man said, angrily.
“You are working for the security forces?”
“No,” the young man snapped.
“Remain seated,” Jasmine ordered. The telltales still agreed that the young man wasn't planning to betray them. “One final question. Are you willing to do whatever is necessary to liberate this world?”
The Empire's Corps: Book 04 - Semper Fi Page 23
