Of course it did, he thought. The bar wasn't set very high.
“I’m sure Douglas will like it,” he said. “A farm will be a very good place to grow up.”
“That’s because you’ve never grown up on one,” Gaby said. “It has its advantages and disadvantages.”
She met his eyes. “Are you going to join me?”
Ed hesitated. He’d never really anticipated leaving the Marine Corps. The Corps had given him a life, one he didn't intend to waste. He’d always expected that he would eventually be retired from active duty and reassigned to the Slaughterhouse, where he would spend the rest of his days teaching new recruits how to avoid his mistakes. Assuming, of course, that he survived. The risk of a violent death had overshadowed his life from the moment his mother had brought him into the world.
And yet ... he had a son now. He couldn't just leave his son, could he? How many boys in the Undercity might have been saved, if they’d had a strong male figure to guide them as they grew into adulthood? How many little barbarians would have been kept from turning into monsters, if they’d had someone to look up to? Douglas was his son, not a random child ... Ed had a duty to him, even if his own father had forsaken it. He couldn't go off on a deployment that might last months, if not years ...
But other families had the same problem, he thought. They coped, didn't they?
“I should,” he said.
Gaby touched his hand. “Make your choice,” she said. “But stick to it, whatever it is.”
Ed nodded. He loved the corps. It was his family. And yet, he had another family now.
Gaby can’t restore the farm on her own, he thought. She’ll need help.
He’d never really imagined living on a farm, even though marines joked all the time about buying farms. Hell, retired marines often took land packages from colonial development consortiums, using their military experience to support their new homeworlds. But this was different. He was more than just a simple rifleman. He was the uniformed commander of the Commonwealth’s armed forces. He was ...
And we need to know if they can survive without me, he thought. He’d worked hard to avoid the problems that had bedevilled the Empire in its final years, but the only way to know if he’d succeeded was to take a step back and see what happened. And if it doesn't work, we’ll have time to fix it.
He swallowed. “When the war is over,” he said, unable to escape the sense that he was about to jump into the unknown, “I’ll go on detached duty.”
Gaby leaned forward. “Be very sure,” she said. “I don’t want you to resent it.”
“We’ll see,” Ed said. He liked the military life. But ... he had a son to raise. “I can always reapply when Douglas reaches adulthood.”
“Yeah,” Gaby said. She tapped her belly. “By then, he may have some brothers and sisters too.”
Ed nodded, ruefully. He’d had four siblings and a single mother, all crammed together in an apartment barely large enough for two grown men. The sheer lack of privacy, of space, had threatened to drive him mad. He’d certainly never considered having more than one child, particularly when there were no benefits for growing families. But Avalon had plenty of room. A farmhouse large enough to house ten kids - to give each kid a room larger than his apartment on Earth - wouldn't cost that much. And the kids would be safe ...
This isn't Earth, he thought. Dangerous criminals are not coddled here.
“After the war,” he said. He took a breath. “If we win, of course.”
“If we lose, we’ll just have to launch another insurgency,” Gaby said.
Her voice was casual. But Ed knew it wouldn't be easy. Admiral Singh would be a more dangerous opponent than the Civil Guard or someone who wanted to keep the planet reasonably intact. She might just decide to scorch Avalon clean of life as a drastic example to everyone else. Why not? Obliterating all the advanced technology - and all the workers who produced it - might just work in her favour. She’d certainly be in a position to control how the new technology flowed into galactic society.
And if she wins the war, there will be no one left to extract revenge, Ed thought. The Empire had shied away from mass planetary bombardment, while Wolfbane knew that the Commonwealth would retaliate in kind for any such attack. But if the Commonwealth lost the war, Admiral Singh would have a free hand. Everyone will be too cowed to fight back.
There was a knock at the door. “Come!”
He looked up as Command Sergeant Gwendolyn Patterson entered the room. “Colonel,” she said. “The remaining troops have been off-loaded and given liberty for the next two days.”
Ed nodded. The troops - the survivors, his thoughts mocked him - would have a good time of it. None of them, even the ones who hadn't seen direct action, would have to pay for a drink for the next few days. They’d certainly have no trouble getting laid. But then, they’d had very little to celebrate over the last year or so. Corinthian was the first unambiguous victory the Commonwealth had enjoyed since the war had begun.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” he said.
Gwendolyn looked at the baby. “He has your eyes, sir.”
Ed eyed her, suspiciously. In anyone else, he would have suspected flattery. Douglas’s baby eyes didn't look anything like his. And yet, Gwendolyn was not one to flatter anyone. She had never hesitated to tell him when he was on the verge of doing something stupid, particularly after they’d been cut off from the Empire. He’d learned to value it as he’d grown into his role.
“Thank you,” he said, resisting the urge to suggest that she have her eyes checked. “Did the Council have anything to say?”
“You’re expected to give a preliminary briefing in two days,” Gwendolyn said. “They wanted to summon you earlier, but I pointed out that you were meeting your baby for the first time.”
“Very good,” Ed said.
He grinned at Gaby. “Order the Strategic Planning Cell to be ready for a meeting in three days,” he added. “We have an operation to plan.”
Chapter Three
“It’s hard to imagine the colonel having a baby,” Brigadier Jasmine Yamane said, as she walked towards the command complex. “He ... he never seemed to have any life outside the military.”
Emmanuel Alves gave her a sidelong look. “I imagine he would have needed some pretty odd modifications to carry and bear a child,” he said. “Inserting a womb into his body would be tricky ...”
Jasmine elbowed him. “You know what I mean,” she said. “It’s a change in his life.”
“It happens all the time,” Emmanuel countered. “People have babies; the babies grow into children and then adults and then the whole cycle repeats itself. And then people grow old and die.”
“And end up as worm food,” Jasmine said. She’d noted, in her will, that she wanted to be buried on her homeworld, but she knew that might not be possible. Her homeworld was lost somewhere in the darkness that had fallen over the Empire. “I still can't quite get my head round it.”
Emmanuel looked at her. “Do you want children of your own?”
Jasmine hesitated. In truth, she’d never really given it much thought. She’d had eggs removed and preserved when she’d entered the Slaughterhouse, just in case something happened to render her sterile, even though she’d assumed that her sisters would bring the next generation into the world. And yet ... the Slaughterhouse was gone, if reports were to be believed. Her frozen eggs might have been destroyed or lost forever.
And my sisters might be gone too, she thought. I might be the last of my family.
“I don’t know,” she said. She made a mental note to have more eggs removed, if it was still possible. Some of the enhancement treatments she’d had over the years might have damaged her reproductive system. “Pregnancy does tend to put an end to a female marine’s career.”
“I suppose,” Emmanuel agreed. “But you could always hire a surrogate or use an artificial womb.”
“I could,” Jasmine agreed. Artificial wombs were rare, outside Hig
h Society. Or at least they had been rare. Now, she supposed the Commonwealth could put them into mass production if it wished. “Or I could give up on the idea altogether.”
“Adopt a few orphans,” Emmanuel teased. “You’d have the children without doing the work.”
“Prat,” Jasmine said.
It wasn't a pleasant thought. The insurgency had created hundreds - perhaps thousands - of orphans, some of which had never found homes. God knew the former government hadn't had any real interest in helping the poor children, although some of the oldest had been sent out to various farms as indentured labour. They’d deserted after the end of the war, claiming all kinds of abuse. Far too many cases were still working their way through the courts.
She kept her face expressionless as they reached the guards on the door, who scanned and searched them before allowing them to step into the entrance. The guards looked professional enough, she decided, although they’d be foolish to show any signs of unprofessional behaviour on Castle Rock. Jasmine and most of the other guests had a duty to report careless or unprofessional guards, particularly when they were posted outside the most sensitive buildings on the island. No one, absolutely no one, had a right to enter without permission. The guards would have arrested her at once if she hadn't been on the guest list.
The inner door opened, revealing a long corridor leading to a small briefing room. Jasmine took a breath, tasting the faint scent of oily newness in the air, then led the way down to the entrance. Colonel Stalker, Command Sergeant Gwendolyn Patterson, General Crichton Mathis, Colonel Kitty Stevenson, Commodore Mandy Caesius and a handful of others she didn't recognise were seated around a table, chatting quietly as they waited for the other guests. Jasmine cursed herself under her breath as she took her seat. Avalon wasn't as ultra-formal as Earth, thankfully, but being the last to arrive rarely looked good. People would notice, even though the meeting wasn’t due to start for another five minutes.
She nodded to Mandy, who smiled back at her. The young redheaded girl had advanced by leaps and bounds since they’d first met, moving into space and climbing into command rank with nary a bump. It was the sort of advancement that would have been flat-out impossible in the Empire - unless one had excellent connections - but now, merit played a far greater role in determining who was promoted. Jasmine couldn't help hoping that it stayed that way, particularly as memories of the Empire faded. The younger generation might not understand just how easy it would be to fall into the trap that had doomed the Empire.
“Seal the room,” Colonel Stalker ordered. He cleared his throat. “It is my duty to remind you that this meeting is classified top secret. Security protocols are now in effect. You may not discuss it with anyone without prior permission from myself. If anyone has any objection to invoking the security protocols” - his gaze lingered on Emmanuel for a long moment - “please leave the room now.”
There was a long pause. Jasmine kept her expression under tight control. Emmanuel had proved himself, time and time again, but she knew that old habits die hard. Reporters were the natural enemy, as far as the military was concerned. The Empire’s reporters had been more interested in scoops than anything else, sometimes even putting troops in danger or accepting enemy propaganda without question just to make sure they were the first to publish. Emmanuel was only tolerated because he had proved himself. Even then ...
The Colonel will want full disclosure, eventually, she thought. And Emmanuel will be the one who’ll write the story.
“Very good,” Colonel Stalker said. He glanced at Colonel Kitty Stevenson. “Kitty?”
Kitty tapped a switch, displaying a familiar starchart. Jasmine stared at it, comparing to the one she’d seen two days ago. Nothing seemed to have changed, as far as she could tell; the enemy’s advance seemed to have been stalled. But she knew, better than any civilian, that the map could easily mislead the unwary eye. Anything could have happened out amongst the stars and no one would know, until the courier boat arrived. The green stars along the front might have been invaded and occupied by now. There was no way to be entirely sure.
“The current state of play,” Kitty said. She’d lost most of her accent, Jasmine noted, but traces of Earth still shone through her speech. “As of the last set of reports, Wolfbane has stopped all offensive operations beyond a handful of raids directed at our industrial nodes and convoys along the front line. Our own raiders have reported that the enemy appears to have assumed a defensive pose, although - naturally - we’re not sure how long this will last.”
“And it could have finished by now,” General Crichton Mathis inserted.
“Yes, sir,” Kitty agreed.
“Intelligence has been doing its best to assess what we’ve been told by defectors and POWs since the Battle of Corinthian,” she continued. “Our current conclusion is that Admiral Singh’s position has been weakened by the defeat, although we have no way to know how this particular crisis will be resolved. Obviously, our ideal solution would be an enemy civil war that weakens them badly, but we cannot be sure that this will happen. Given the ideological threat we represent to Wolfbane, it is quite possible that the corporations will rally behind Admiral Singh. They may feel that she is a lesser threat in the long term.”
Jasmine nodded, curtly. She’d never met Admiral Singh, not face to face, but she had a certain admiration for her opponent. The woman had built an empire of her own and, when she’d lost it, had somehow managed to get control of another. Her record was sparse, but Jasmine had enough practice at reading between the lines to suspect that Admiral Singh had made powerful enemies. They hadn't been powerful enough to keep her down.
“Our overall assessment is that Wolfbane will be unable or unwilling to resume the offensive for at least six months,” Kitty concluded. “They will, if nothing else, have to come to terms with the scale of the defeat. It will not be easy for them, particularly as we’ve been slipping our own propaganda into their planetary computer networks. They will not be able to conceal upwards of a hundred thousand soldiers dead or captured on Corinthian.”
“There's never been anything to suggest that Singh worries about casualties,” Mandy said, quietly.
“Her subordinates will,” Kitty countered. “They’ll certainly have to rebuild the shattered or destroyed military units before they can resume the offensive.”
“Unless they decide to bypass planetary targets and resume their drive on Avalon,” Mathis put in. “They don’t have to crush resistance to the last man.”
Jasmine was inclined to agree, but she suspected that Admiral Singh wouldn’t. Resistance, even a low-level insurgency, looked bad, even when it was strategically valueless. Someone like Colonel Stalker - an experienced military officer - might ignore it, but someone without such experience might insist that all resistance be smashed flat. Admiral Singh couldn't afford to give up an occupied world, even when it was militarily useless, for fear of appearing weak. Her enemies wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of it.
“Perhaps,” Colonel Stalker said. “Kitty, if you will continue ...?”
Kitty nodded. “We believe that we will have a brief window of opportunity to take the offensive ourselves,” she said. “Despite our recent victory - and technological development - they still have a fairly major advantage. However, if we take the offensive now, we will rock them back on their heels and hopefully crack their foundations.”
“Risky,” Mathis observed.
“Correct,” Colonel Stalker said. “This one is for all the marbles.”
Kitty sat down. Colonel Stalker rose, adjusting the display. Jasmine leaned forward, despite herself. Normally, a junior officer would make the presentation. A senior officer doing the legwork meant that matters had already been decided. And that meant ...
“Our window of opportunity is narrower than it seems,” Colonel Stalker said. “They do, as Kitty said, still have a fairly major military advantage. And, on the other hand, they will have time to duplicate our new weapons and put them into ma
ss production. We’ve certainly given them enough incentive to try!”
“Each of our ships is worth two of theirs,” Mandy protested.
“Yes, but they have three ships for every one of ours,” Colonel Stalker pointed out. He sounded oddly amused. “At the same time, however, they do have weaknesses. Their society is held together by force. Wolfbane grabbed every star within a hundred light years as soon as Governor Brown died and just kept expanding. If the defectors are to be believed, most of those worlds are either rebellious or a drain on their resources.”
“Meridian certainly was,” Jasmine agreed. The Wolves had put a POW camp on the first-stage colony world, but little else. There hadn't been much point. Meridian simply hadn't had anything worth looting. They’d conscripted a handful of people with technical skills, but otherwise they'd simply left the planet alone. “Do you think we could convince the other worlds to rise in revolt?”
Wolf's Bane (The Empire's Corps Book 14) Page 3
