The Empire's Corps: Book 05 - The Outcast

by Christopher Nuttall

  Sameena nodded. The negotiations that had produced her government had resulted in an agreement to establish a space infantry force – they’d shied away from using the term Marine – but an absolute ban on a force capable of occupying an entire planet. Sameena had agreed, once the treaty had been revised to ensure that the signatory planets would provide ground troops if necessary. Besides, once someone took the high orbitals, a planet was effectively defenceless anyway. She didn't need a ground occupation force to make her mark.

  But there was a considerable shortage of equipment for her not-Marines. Most of the Marine supply depots had been emptied when the Marines had been called back to the Core Worlds - and Paddy had warned her that most of the remaining gear wouldn't be usable. They would have to build up their own sets of powered combat armour or protection suits from scratch, once the handful of untailored suits on the naval base ran out. Oddly, the suits were actually more complex than a destroyer and the more advanced versions were more expensive than a planetary defence gunboat.

  “The other odd point comes from Intelligence,” Jamie admitted. “Our networks were fragmented when the Empire withdrew, but the intelligence staffers have been putting together an odd report. Someone was buying up quite a few warships over the last three to four years.”

  Sameena scowled. “Pirates?”

  “Perhaps,” Jamie said. “But some of their purchases were for heavier ships than destroyers or light cruisers. It would be a rare pirate crew that could handle them. I think it’s more likely that they were purchased by a planetary liberation force, although such big ships would still be difficult for them to handle.”

  He shook his head. “It's possible that Intelligence was seeing something that isn't really there,” he warned. “They’ve seen patterns before that were really nothing more than coincidence. But it’s still odd.”

  Sameena nodded. One of the things she’d picked up quickly was that Imperial Navy starships required immense crews. They could have cut their crewmen by an order of magnitude, she knew, but if the ship ran into trouble they'd need the extra manpower to carry out repairs. Apart from a handful of planetary defence forces in the Core Worlds, the only force that could generate such manpower was the Imperial Navy. A pirate gang would have real trouble maintaining just one heavy cruiser.

  “They might have been buying them while training the crews,” she said. “It was what I did, in a sense. The ships could have been kept in cold storage ...”

  “I’d hate to have to rely on that,” Jamie said. He shook his head. “If someone in the sector had purchased so much firepower, I would have expected to see it by now.”

  “Pointed at us,” Sameena said, reluctantly. There were several worlds in the sector that might have tried to build their own empires, if they’d had a chance. “Or they could have offered us the ships.”

  “It would be years before we could absorb them, let alone bring them back up to full operational status,” Jamie admitted. He sounded rather doubtful. “Our manpower needs to be built up too.”

  Sameena nodded. The educational system needed trained manpower – and there were too many demands on their manpower elsewhere. Given time, she knew, they would overcome the bottlenecks. But it would still take years. Who knew what could happen in that time?

  She looked down at the datapad, then put it aside and reached for her husband. It was funny how she'd gone from being a little nervous of sex to demanding it all the time, but Jayne had assured her that was perfectly normal. It was when the ardour cooled, she'd admitted, that couples had to be careful of themselves. They needed to lay the foundations for real love or their relationship would break apart.

  And Jayne has a happy life with Paddy, she reminded herself. Perhaps I should listen to her.

  “I’ll be leaving to see Steve tomorrow,” Sameena said, firmly. Captain Hamilton could handle everything that was likely to crop up in the next few days. “And I’ll miss you dreadfully. I think I can think of better ways to spend the evening.”

  Jamie grinned at her. “Me too,” he said, as his hands started to work on her shipsuit. “I can definitely think of a better way.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Another example lay in food and entertainment production. The Empire could (and did) produce vast amounts of algae-based products to feed its population and even more entertainment to keep the population distracted. This caused a population boom – the cost of raising a child had fallen – that placed colossal stress on the social network.

  - Professor Leo Caesius. The Science That Isn’t: Economics and the Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire.

  “Welcome aboard, Captain.”

  Sameena smiled, accepting a somewhat sloppy salute from Commander Foxglove. He seemed absurdly young for such a position, but trained manpower was very limited. Besides, as Jamie had pointed out, Foxglove wouldn't be the senior officer on the convoy. Sameena outranked him in at least two different ways.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Foxglove’s enthusiasm was infectious, she realised, as he showed her around the Q-Ship. The small crew – mostly former Imperial Navy crewmen who had settled on various worlds, only to be called back into service – seemed to like him, despite his youth. Sameena had feared that there would be some doubt about serving under such a young officer, but it didn't seem to be a problem. Proven competence went further than age.

  Sneaky Bastard had been a standard medium freighter before Steve’s crews had torn out the cargo holds and replaced them with missile launchers and energy weapons. According to Foxglove, who chatted happily about the destructive power under their command, they could give anyone who came too close a very bloody nose, although he reluctantly admitted that there were some flaws in the design. The starship just wasn't designed for a long engagement with an enemy ship.

  “The internal transport system is inefficient compared to a standard warship,” he explained, seriously. “It actually takes us longer to reload the missile tubes than I’d prefer, which reduces our rate of fire after we shoot the tubes dry. Unfortunately, rebuilding the hull to include a properly automated system for missile transfer would have taken far too long.”

  “So short engagements only,” Sameena said, slowly. She’d never commanded a real engagement before, outside simulations. And Jamie had warned her that simulations were rarely as complicated as the real universe. “What about damage control?”

  “We have little more armour than the average freighter,” Foxglove confessed. “If we happened to take serious damage, Captain, we would be in real trouble.”

  He went off into a long stream of technobabble that Sameena had difficulty following, but the basic idea was simple enough. Battleships were built to soak up damage and keep going; freighters, as a general rule, were built as close to the margin as possible. Adding additional armour might have tipped off the pirates, if they happened to watch the convoy carefully before revealing their presence, as well as putting additional demands on an already overworked power plant. She would have given anything for Earth’s vast industrial base.

  And while I’m wishing, she thought sourly, I’d like the entire Imperial Navy too.

  The bridge had been extensively redesigned, she discovered as Foxglove led her into the compartment. Instead of the comfortable shambles of a trader bridge, there were nine consoles arranged in front of the command chair and a single massive holographic display. It looked very neat and precise; the consoles, Foxglove explained, would be manned at all times, even in Phase Space. If nothing else, Sameena told herself, it would provide time for training. Half the crew was rusty and the other half was composed of volunteers from the trader community.

  “The convoy is ready to depart,” Foxglove said, as Sameena took the command chair. It was surprisingly comfortable, but it was designed to prevent slouching. The Captain, it seemed, always had to look as if he were in charge. “All it needs is your command.”

  Sameena allowed herself a smile. It felt good to be out in spac
e again, even if she was leaving her husband and son behind at Madagascar. And it would ensure that she remained in practice, rather than watching her skills degenerate and her perceptions warp to the point where she started demanding the impossible. The Grand Senate’s distance from the rest of the population had distorted its perception of reality, she knew. It was something she didn't want to happen to her.

  The Grand Senate had plenty of margin for error, she thought. It took them thousands of years to grind the Empire into rubble. I don’t have that kind of time.

  “Set our course,” she ordered, “and then take us out.”

  Her smile widened as Sneaky Bastard shuddered into life, following the first destroyer as she led the way towards the Phase Limit. The freighter handled very poorly, she couldn't help noticing; Steve’s engineers had crammed weapons and sensors into the hull, but they hadn't been able to upgrade the engines without revealing far too much. She was silently grateful that this freighter wouldn't have to dock at an orbiting station, let alone land on a planet’s surface. It would be an immensely tricky task.

  She glanced down at her console as a private message popped up. Jamie wished her good luck and good hunting – and told her that he loved her. Sameena felt an odd sense of loss, finally understanding why so many Imperial Navy officers considered themselves married to the service, rather than to their husbands or wives. They might not see their families for months or years after they departed. Part of her wanted to turn the convoy over to the next senior officer and go back to Madagascar ... she pushed the thought aside, bitterly. She couldn't do that, any more than she could call Jamie’s ship to escort them.

  Command has a price, she thought, remembering Captain Hamilton’s words. He’d been lucky; he’d been able to take his wife with him. The Imperial Navy wasn't so tolerant; she’d discovered, to her amusement, that there was an entire series of regulations on intimate relationships between officers and crew. On paper, at least, relationships were either banned or hedged around with practical restrictions. Jamie had admitted, reluctantly, that well-connected officers were free to ignore the rules. And frequently did so.

  She wrote a quick reply, telling him that she loved him too, then sat back in her chair as the convoy crossed the Phase Limit. As always, the destroyers seemed impatient to zip into Phase Space, but the convoy waited until they were some distance from the limit before powering up their drives. Sameena – for the first time – felt uncomfortable as the freighter heaved and moaned its way into Phase Space. The drive, she realised grimly, wasn't properly tuned.

  “It’s a refurbished piece of junk,” Foxglove explained, when she asked. “The engineers swear that it’s reliable, but they haven’t been able to eliminate the uneven harmonics in the drive field.”

  Sameena scowled, feeling an unpleasant sensation in her chest. She’d always seen her complete lack of reaction to the transit into Phase Space as a sign that she was truly where she belonged; feeling a reaction now bothered her, even though there was a technical reason for it. Making a mental note to have the drive replaced completely at the next available opportunity, she stood up, passed command of the bridge over to Foxglove and headed out to find her cabin. It was only a short distance from the bridge.

  She had to smile as she stepped inside. Imperial Navy warships had large cabins for their senior officers – battleships, she’d been told, gave their commanders virtual palaces – but Steve and his design crew had largely been composed of civilians. The cabin was the largest she’d ever owned, yet it was smaller than her bedroom on Jannah or the rooms she shared with Jamie on Madagascar. She had no doubt that an Imperial Navy Captain would have complained loudly if he’d been given a space more suited to a Lieutenant. They probably thought that they’d earned more space, by the time they’d worked their way up from the shared quarters used by ensigns or crewmen.

  Idiots, she thought, as she sat down on the bed. Captain Hamilton had shared a cabin with his wife ... and she’d never heard either of them complaining about the space. Nor had Brad, come to think of it, or Sameena herself. No wonder the Imperial Navy ran into trouble.

  She picked up a datapad Jamie had given her and flicked through to the first page. He’d explained, reluctantly, that she had very little tactical experience – and she had to learn what her forces were capable of, before she sent them into battle. Paddy had seconded his words, pointing out that the Grand Senate’s more absurd orders had come from ignorance rather than malice or stupidity. They simply hadn't known what they were doing.

  The first set of tactical exercises seemed relatively simple, on paper. Sameena puzzled out the problems involved in running down another starship, attacking a planet and protecting a convoy, then read the next set of explanations and realised that they were actually quite complicated. Attacking a planet, according to the Imperial Navy’s tactical manual, actually offered an opportunity to bring the enemy’s fleet to battle. Their homeworld couldn't run away from combat.

  But if the enemy had even a short lead, avoiding engagement would be simple, she realised, grimly. So many of the Imperial Navy’s tactics were geared around forcing the enemy to fight that she had no difficulty in grasping that factor. Cutting them off from their supplies makes it impossible for them to keep going.

  She finished the first set of paper exercises, promising herself time in the simulator over the next two weeks, then headed down to the galley to eat. Unlike a trader starship, there was a single table at the head of the compartment for the Captain, even though the freighter wasn’t a proper warship. Sameena couldn't help feeling isolated as she sat down and ate a small meal, prepared from food stocks imported from Rosa. Everything on the ship, she realised sourly, was designed to both isolate the Captain and promote his superiority. The traders agreed that each starship had precisely one commander, but they didn't grant their commanders anything like the absolute power of the Imperial Navy. It would be devilishly easy to abuse it.

  And it has been abused, she thought, as she finished her meal. She'd encountered a handful of Imperial Navy commanding officers who had acted like little tin gods, while the former CO of Madagascar had required a huge bribe to make sure that justice was done. It won’t be abused on my watch.

  She stood up and walked back to her cabin, shaking her head inwardly at how many salutes came her way. Outside the rank-less compartments – the bridge, galley and engineering – everyone who saw her was legally required to salute her, unless they happened to be carrying something that required both hands to hold it steady. Jamie had told her, mischievously, that every cadet at the Academy had looked for excuses to do just that. Compared to the traders, the Imperial Navy was ridiculously formal.

  Her cabin felt empty when she entered and turned down the lights. It took her a moment to realise that she missed Jamie, so badly that it was almost a physical pain. They’d been separated before – when one of them had gone to the factory complex, or out with the destroyers on training exercises – but this was different. She wouldn't see him for nearly a month, if that. They might well be held up, delaying their return to Madagascar. Her bed felt cold and empty as she pulled the sheets over her head and tried to sleep.

  The next two weeks fell into a routine. She would stand watch on the bridge in the morning, then run simulations or explore the ship in the afternoon. It felt odd to have so many people around her – both of her previous ships had been minimalist – but she could see why some people would take comfort in it. Besides, if they did run into trouble, there would be more hands to help with the repairs. They ran through emergency damage control drills, practicing endlessly until they knew what they were doing. Sameena just hoped that it would work so well in real life.

  “It probably won't,” Foxglove admitted, when she broached the topic with him. “Back when we were doing tactical exercises at the Academy, there was always something screwy about the instructions we were given. If we followed them blindly, we generally ended up dead – or worse. There was always an element of unp
redictability in the simulations.”

  He smiled, enjoying the chance to lecture. “A standard Flower-class destroyer can have several different weapons loads,” he added. “If you thought you were facing a missile-heavy design, you’d hang back and engage at long range, while an energy-heavy design would allow you to move closer before you entered their firing range. But if you picked the wrong tactics ... you might have your head handed to you. And pirate ships tended to have even weirder weapons loads. I recall an exercise where the pirate ship had crammed external racks onto the hull, giving them a crushing opening barrage.”

  Sameena blinked in surprise. “But a single direct hit might cripple them,” she protested. It was unlikely that any of the missiles would actually be detonated by enemy fire, but a direct hit would certainly smash the external racks. They were fragile, designed for immediate jettisoning as soon as they’d launched their deadly cargo. “What sort of idiot would do that?”

  “An idiot looking for a brief advantage,” Foxglove said. “And, according to the report I read, it worked – once.”

  Sameena mulled it over as she worked through the next set of combat simulations. Foxglove was right, she realised; the pre-operation briefings tended to miss out certain vital details, or deliberately misinterpret certain pieces of intelligence. She felt a new respect for Jamie and the others who had gone through the Academy’s program, even though it hadn't taught them much about the real universe. They’d mastered combat tactics that hadn't been required for hundreds of years.

  But they will be required now, she thought, thinking of all the Imperial Navy officers who might have gone rogue. The Core Worlds might as well be millions of light years away for all they’d heard from them, after the brief announcement that the Empire was pulling out. It was possible that they were stable ... no, the decay had gone too far to be stopped by Imperial Edict. The whole system would collapse, leaving only rubble and a handful of successor states. Sooner or later, those states would come to find out what had happened in her sector.