Jasmine wasn't too surprised. She’d commanded the CEF in two campaigns, but the second had ended with surrender and a trip to a penal colony for her and her senior officers. And, of course, everyone she hadn't managed to get off Thule in time. She rather doubted that any of the surviving officers had much confidence in her after that. Mathis was a knight, rather than a marine, but he was a good man. A little unseasoned, perhaps, yet that was true of far too many officers these days.
“I understand, sir,” she said. It hurt more than she’d expected, but it definitely wasn't a surprise. “He’ll do a good job.”
“I certainly hope so,” Stalker said. “I have something different in mind for you.”
He tapped a hidden switch, throwing up a holographic map of Landing City - no, Freedom City. Jasmine studied it, remembering how she and her men had sneaked into the city and brought down an entire government ... and how she’d been captured, tortured and forced to escape under her own steam. She'd done well, she knew, but the whole experience had left scars on her soul.
But I escaped, she told herself, firmly. It would be a great deal worse if I’d been rescued - or if I’d broken.
The map wasn't too accurate outside the city, she noted. Corinthian had been settled long enough for accurate maps to be composed, but the drawers hadn’t been too concerned with the unsettled regions to the north. The farmlands she recalled from her last visit existed only in outline, faint sketch marks that probably bore little resemblance to reality. Admiral Singh hadn't paid too much attention to the farmers either, only making sure they supplied enough food to keep the city alive. She’d been much more interested in establishing her power base and building an empire.
The colonel is right, Jasmine told herself. She’d studied Admiral Singh’s file before the first mission. The older woman had been ambitious as hell, determined to make a name for herself ... reading between the lines, it was clear she’d been exiled by her superiors, just for being too threatening to their careers. Admiral Singh will want to recover her former base and wreak revenge on her enemies.
“The map needs work,” she said, pushing the thought aside. “We may need to get more up-to-date ones when we arrive.”
“We will,” the Colonel said. He altered the map so it showed the force shield, a spinning disc of energy hanging in the sky, ten kilometres above the ground. Jasmine had wondered if it would touch the ground, making it impossible for Singh to force her way into the city, but it didn't even curve into a bowl. “I believe she will try to land forces a safe distance from the force shield. She may assume that the force shield can actually be extended on command.”
Jasmine frowned. “And can it?”
“Not without additional projectors, which we don’t have,” Stalker warned. “We did hope to produce a shield that covered an entire planet, but there are ... problems ... in how the different shield discs interact with one another. This piece of technology is a game-changer, but it needs to have the kinks worked out first.”
“And if it fails midway through the operation,” Jasmine said, “we all die.”
“We would have to scatter very quickly,” Stalker confirmed. He tapped the map again, pointing to a handful of possible Landing Zones. “I want you to take command of 1st Platoon, once again. Your job is to harass the enemy’s rear, once they start landing in force.”
Jasmine felt a flicker of excitement, mixed with an odd kind of regret. 1st Platoon - the 1st Platoon she’d joined and then commanded - no longer existed. The unit that bore its name consisted of newcomers, with hardly any continuity between them and their predecessors. A century or two of history was being lost ... but what choice did they have? The Slaughterhouse was gone, if the rumours were to be believed. There would be no new marines to replace those who had died in the line of duty.
She pushed her feelings aside and leaned forward. “I have tactical command?”
“You have complete freedom to plan your operations,” Stalker said. “Just make sure you hit them hard enough to keep them from bringing all their firepower to bear against us.”
Jasmine smiled, relishing the challenge. “Yes, sir,” she said. “I look forward to it.”
“You’ll meet up with the remainder of the platoon tomorrow,” Stalker said. “Assuming the loading goes as planned, you’ll have at least two weeks to brush up on your tactics and work your way through a number of possible options. Make sure you train hard too.”
“Yes, sir,” Jasmine said. It had been too long since she’d served as part of a fire team, although she had managed to improvise the escape from Meridian. “I’ll make them regret ever hearing my name.”
Stalker’s lips twitched. “Admiral Singh may know you personally,” he warned. “You probably don’t want to be taken alive.”
“Again,” Jasmine said. Even if Admiral Singh didn't connect her with the person who’d sparked off a revolution on Corinthian, she’d know that Jasmine was an escaped POW. And an escaped POW could be shot out of hand, quite legally. “I won’t let them capture me.”
“Good,” Stalker said.
He paused. “There is another issue,” he added. “Your boyfriend will be accompanying the CEF to Corinthian, again. It’s vitally important that we explain to the Commonwealth just what’s going on - and why.”
Jasmine looked down at the map. “May I ask why, sir?”
“Politics,” Stalker said. He made the word a curse. “When we started, it was assumed that all worlds that joined the Commonwealth would be equal, once they signed the charter. In practice, worlds like Avalon - and Corinthian - are moving to dominate the Commonwealth, both because they have some degree of industrialisation and because they have room for immigrants with various skills. In doing so, they are accidentally crippling the other worlds in the Commonwealth by hampering their ability to industrialise.”
“I thought they all had cloudscoops now,” Jasmine said. “Surely ...”
“They do,” Stalker confirmed. “But there’s a great deal more to industrialisation than merely having an effectively-endless source of fuel. They need experienced personnel who can help turn their dreams into reality, personnel who are in short supply because they can get better-paid jobs here.”
He shrugged. “And then there’s the problem of the war,” he added. “There’s a growing party within the government that believes we can come to terms with Wolfbane, if only to avoid losing what we’ve built over the past few years. And one that considers the entire war Avalon’s fault. My screw-up on Lakshmibai gave the dissidents a chance to organise, which creates more problems for us. Without the war, things might have gone better, but right now we need our economy running at full power.”
Jasmine put the rest of the picture together. “And that means a number of worlds are being screwed,” he said. “And not in a good way, either.”
“No,” Stalker agreed. “If we’re lucky, we can end the war and matters will normalise themselves before something explodes. But if we’re unlucky, there will be a nasty explosion at the worst possible time, ripping the Commonwealth apart. We’ve learned too many bad habits as we struggled to prepare for the war.”
He cleared his throat. “Back to the original subject, your boyfriend will be accompanying us to Corinthian,” he said. “I trust this won’t be a problem?”
“No, sir,” Jasmine said. She doubted she could have talked the colonel out of it, even if she’d wanted to. Emmanuel would not have thanked her for denying him the chance to win the scoop of a lifetime. In his own way, he was as dedicated and daring as herself. “I assume we wouldn't be seeing too much of one another anyway.”
“Probably not,” Stalker confirmed. “He’ll be briefed in on the operation tomorrow, then he’ll go into the box. Make tonight count.”
Jasmine nodded. It wouldn't be the first time she’d had to leave him behind when she went on deployment. Hell, she was hardly the only marine with a lover back home. She was too experienced to be embarrassed at the colonel’s droll remark.
“If there are problems, I expect to hear about them,” the colonel warned. “Once we depart, there will be no time to fix anything.”
“Yes, sir,” Jasmine said. “Do you anticipate any problems with the government of Corinthian?”
“They are going to be in deep shit if their world is ... repossessed,” Stalker observed. “They’re not ruling over a planet that doesn't materially affect the balance of power ...”
Jasmine nodded in grim understanding. Corinthian was rich, both in pre-established industries and human capital. Admiral Singh had good reason to want it, even if she hadn't already had a long history with Corinthian. And she would make sure to bring along enough firepower to cow the defenders, forcing them to surrender rather than fight or destroy their facilities. But she would run right into a trap. If, of course, everything worked as planned.
And if it doesn't, she told herself, we’ll just have to improvise.
She looked back at the map and shuddered, inwardly. She’d spent weeks on the ground, getting to know the people; she’d met good men and bad, resistance fighters and criminals ... and countless civilians who’d wanted nothing more than to keep their heads down and stay out of the fighting. And many of those people were going to die, when the storm of war raged over their heads. She had no illusions about just how badly Corinthian was going to be hammered. Lakshmibai had been devastated by the fighting, during the brief campaign ...
But their society was permanently on the verge of collapse, she reminded herself. This society had a chance to recover after Admiral Singh was forced to flee.
“This will be a challenge, sir,” she said, keeping her doubts to herself. “And if we can make her pay ...”
“We need to bleed her white,” Stalker told her. There was no give in his voice at all. “She has to suffer badly, Jasmine. She has to feel the losses.”
Jasmine nodded. She’d heard enough about Wolfbane to be fairly confident that a failure - or even a partial success - would badly weaken Singh’s position. But it would come at a terrible cost, for Corinthian, for Avalon ... and for the young men and women who served Admiral Singh. She knew better than to think they were all evil, yet she knew many of them had to die ...
“I understand, sir,” she said.
Stalker held her eyes for a long moment. She wondered, absently, just what he thought of her. She’d offered to resign, twice. Would he have accepted if he hadn't been so terrifyingly short of experienced officers? She wasn’t sure what she would have done if their positions had been reversed. But she didn't dare ask him. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.
The colonel smiled, very briefly. “Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jasmine said. She rose, catching sight of their reflection in the wall-mounted computer monitors as she moved. They were very different and yet ... there was something about them that was identical. Shared experiences, perhaps, or a shared outlook on the world around them. “I won’t let you down.”
Chapter Four
The Battle of Camelot is a better example, at least for the military. On the face of it, the Crackers took a suicidal gamble and lost, badly. Their decision to attack Camelot - to attempt to cripple the remains of imperial governance on Avalon - was not only foolhardy, it was unnecessary.
- Professor Leo Caesius. The Role of Randomness In War.
“Is it wrong of me,” Gaby asked as she climbed into bed, “to wish I was going with you?”
Ed considered it for a long moment. “Are politics finally starting to get you down?”
“Yeah,” Gaby admitted. “Too many different factions, too many different opinions on just what we should do ... it’s not quite what I envisaged during the war.”
“Nor I,” Ed said. “I never expected all of this.”
He waved a hand at the wall, indicating Castle Rock and Camelot, on the other side of the Sea of Dreams. Gaby had flown back to Camelot shortly after the briefing, while he’d stayed to talk to Jasmine and a dozen other officers. Piece by piece, the operational plans were becoming reality. It wouldn't be long before the CEF was assembled, ready to board its ships for the trip to Corinthian. And then he’d be leaving her behind while he went on yet another deployment.
“Everything was a great deal simpler during the first war,” Gaby said. “This one ... this one is complicated.”
“You love it,” Ed said. He’d never seen Gaby happier than when she was organising a political campaign, gathering support for her causes and bargaining cheerfully with her fellow politicians. It helped, he supposed, that so few of her fellows had any real long-term experience with politics. They hadn't yet ossified, unlike the Grand Senate. “Don’t you?”
“I just wish this war was over,” Gaby said, flatly. “Right now, the balance of power is skewing out of control.”
She took a breath. “And there’s something else I need to tell you,” she added. “Something that might change everything.”
Ed met her eyes, trying to read her expression. She sounded nervous, as if she wasn't quite sure how to talk to him. That was odd - and worrying. They’d been lovers for the last five years, after she’d become President. She knew him as well as anyone outside the marines, save perhaps for Professor Caesius. What was she so reluctant to talk about?
“I’m pregnant,” Gaby said.
Ed felt his mouth drop open in shock. It took him several moments to form a coherent word or two. “Really? Pregnant?”
“I checked with the doctor this afternoon,” Gaby said. She looked down at the bed for a long moment. “I wasn't feeling so good, you see. The doctor confirmed I was pregnant. I wasn't expecting it.”
Ed stared at her, trying to wrap his thoughts about the concept of being a father. His father had been an unknown - and, now that Earth was gone, Ed knew he’d never know just who had fathered him. It wasn't as if he’d had many decent role models either, in his early life; he hadn't met anyone worthy of respect until he’d entered Boot Camp. What would his Drill Instructors have thought of him now? If they were still alive, where were they ...?
I’m going to be a father, he thought. But how?
Glee and panic rushed through his mind. He had no experience with decent fathers, with men who set good examples for their children. The less said about his so-called stepfathers the better and as for the others ... no, he couldn't think of them as anything other than monsters who’d deserved worse than to die when the city-blocks tumbled. No, he would have to learn from the Drill Instructors, but he couldn't treat a baby like they’d treated new recruits ...
“That’s wonderful,” he said, finally. “How ...?”
Gaby made a face. “The doctor said that my implant had expired ahead of time,” she said, after a moment. “They didn't fill the reservoir completely back then, apparently. There was a shortage of contraceptive drugs.”
“Or they were hoping you’d get pregnant and settle down with children,” Ed said. The Old Council had probably thought a population boom was exactly what they needed. “I ... it’s wonderful, isn't it?”
“I think so,” Gaby said. She smiled, rather tiredly. “There will be some tongues wagging, of course, but I don’t think it’s really much of a secret.”
Ed nodded. Their relationship was one of the worst-kept secrets on Avalon. No one really cared enough to object, in any case. Gaby’s father was long-dead, along with most of his family after the first rebellion had been brutally crushed. The handful of survivors thought the idea of Gaby having a relationship with Ed strengthened the settlement that had ended the war. There were a handful of traditionalists who would probably raise their eyebrows, but no one would really object.
“We should get married now,” he said. He had never had much respect for marriage, after how the concept had been perverted on Earth, but it meant something on Avalon. “We can have it done right away ...”
“It would be better to wait until my term in office ends,” Gaby said. “I have another year to go.”
Ed f
rowned. “Can you serve when you’re pregnant?”
“I had better be able to serve,” Gaby said. “If I resign now, Ed, there will be one hell of a power struggle over who replaces me.”
“True,” Ed agreed. Gaby had started her career as the post-war president of Avalon, enjoying the backing of almost all of the planet’s factions. But now she held a position in the Commonwealth ... and she didn't enjoy quite so much backing there. “We really do need to end this war.”
He scowled as a thought struck him. “I can't stay.”
“I wasn't going to ask you to stay,” Gaby assured him. She sounded annoyed, rather than amused or angry. “I understood when I started dating you that you might have to leave for months or years.”
Ed sighed. It was the old dilemma, rearing its ugly head all over again. A woman who married into the military might find herself alone, trying to bring up her children, while her husband was deployed elsewhere for months or years. Even the corps had problems keeping husbands and wives together, although it had offered living space on the Slaughterhouse to women who married active-duty marines. He’d been lucky, really; he’d gone to Lakshmibai, but otherwise he’d stayed on Avalon ...
They Shall Not Pass (The Empire's Corps Book 12) Page 4
