Turley’s second tank company did the same thing down three more streets leading off the spaceport access road.
Turley’s third tank company peeled off into the spaceport grounds, and took up perimeter positions around the spaceport encampment, reinforcing her first mounted infantry company in their APCs.
The APC’s of Turley’s second and third mounted infantry took up positions behind the tanks waiting in the side streets.
Turley watched all this in the VR from within her armored command vehicle. When everything was in place, she spoke to her battalion and company commanders.
“All right. Let’s go. Take it slow. Let’s confront opposing forces head on. I would rather have them in front of us than on our flanks or rear. And watch out for IFFy-covers. Norm, you’re in charge here at the spaceport.”
“Yes, Ma’am. Good luck,” said Colonel Norman Porter, Turley’s mounted infantry battalion commander.
The lead tanks moved out, and soon Turley’s entire attack force was moving down the streets toward the Government Center.
Captain Keegan and his men surrendered without incident. They came out of the police station down the street with their hands on their heads and stood in the middle of the street as instructed. First Platoon advanced down the street toward them.
“Captain Corcoran?”
“Yes, that’s me. Captain Keegan, I presume.”
“Yes, Captain. Thanks for surrendering. None of this is really about us.”
From behind him, Keegan heard the rumble of approaching armor.
“Let’s get everybody off to the side here, Captain. We have friends coming through.”
Keegan waved to the sidewalk opposite the police station, and Corcoran led his men to the sidewalk under the watchful eyes of First Platoon.
Corcoran looked down the street and saw a small building approaching. The lead M15 – sixteen feet wide and almost a dozen high – loomed larger and larger as it approached. He watched astonished as first four of the big tanks and then six APCs rumbled by. They trampled the hood of the police van laying in the street, the legend ‘POLICE’ on it in block letters.
“Holy shit. Where are they going, Captain Keegan?” Corcoran asked Keegan.
“I understand they have an appointment with Mr. Mieland, Captain Corcoran.”
“This is a nice little town,” Cortez remarked as Lieutenant Halvorson’s tank advanced down the street.
“A little podunk, if you ask me,” Jankowski said.
“Nah. It’s just like where I grew up.”
“Like I said.”
“All right. Knock off the chatter,” Halvorson said. “We’re picking up IFFy-covers ahead. Looks like they have some prisoners. That probably means this is as far as they got. So keep your eyes open.”
“We’re starting to get some communications now, Mr. President, coming in from the public VR,” Hubert Land said. “There are Imperial Marine main battle tanks now advancing on Government Center.”
“What? We didn’t order any of those. Where did they come from?” Mieland asked.
“Apparently that dam project was a ruse, sir. The earthmover and bulldozer containers actually contained tanks and APCs.”
“Dammit! Well, we can stop them, right? We have grenade launchers and the like.”
“We don’t know if that’ll do much good, sir. They have a lot of surveillance drones in the air. I don’t know that moving against them is going to be anything but a suicide mission. We are working on the attempt, though.”
“I would think. We spend all this money on security forces, and what have we got for security? Nothing.”
Land didn’t point out that the security forces had been planned and deployed against largely unarmed citizens, not against Imperial Marines. There was no point.
“You said they have the entrances blocked? So we can’t go in or out?”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“We need to work on getting another way in and out. You do have some demolition guys, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then let’s see if we can’t blow the wall on one or two of the other sides, so we can get some way in and out. If we can get our forces out, we could come around on their flank, couldn’t we?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll work on that.”
“And do we know why the QE radio is down? We can’t get the word out on this outrageous violation of our sovereignty without it. There should be hell to pay for this, and we can’t even tell anybody about it.”
“They apparently control the QE radio system, sir. We’re working on that, too.”
“This has to be the Empire. Nobody else could do this. They’re not supposed to interfere in the colonies. The Throne promised. And I can’t even call that elitist bastard to complain about it.”
The streets were empty by this point. Ordinary residents, seeing the armed resistance fighters moving up the streets, had fled, whether by vehicle or on foot, or cowered in their homes and apartments. This made the progress of the tanks up the city streets much easier.
Reaching the boulevard running past the front wall of the Government Center complex, the tanks halted in the shelter of the buildings, in the side streets. They didn’t need to poke their noses out to look, because the tank crews had full surveillance feeds in VR.
There lay the gravel truck and its diesel partner, the flames receding a bit now. A tow truck was attempting to connect to the gravel truck to pull it out of the way.
“Let’s disable that tow truck, Colonel Jensen. Nothing fancy.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
The tank on the side street that led across the boulevard and into the Government Center complex through the staggered epoxycrete barriers fired a single shot from its forward osmium impeller. The heavy high-velocity osmium round passed through the side of the hood and impacted the engine, cracking the block. The exhaust turned roiling black and then stopped as the engine quit.
The tow truck driver ran for it, and they let him go.
The tank directly across from the Government Center complex entrance was sheltered from the gun emplacements on either side of the gate by the two semis, but those guns now started to fire at the tanks on the next street to either side. Heavy rounds bounced off the armor, but they might get lucky.
“Take out those guns, Colonel Jensen.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
The forward osmium impeller on both tanks opened fire on the gun emplacements in full-automatic mode. The gun emplacements were soon shattered and wrecked.
“And let’s keep an eye on all those windows, Colonel. As soon as one opens or is broken open, let ‘em have it. And watch those roofs from above. We don’t need grenade launchers firing on us. And they’ll try that sooner or later.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Turley turned her attention to the other entrance to the Government Center complex. There was a tow truck trying to move the gravel truck at that location, too. She tagged it in her display.
“Air support.”
“Air support, Ma’am.”
“One anti-vehicle round. This vehicle.”
Turley sent the tag info.
“One anti-vehicle round. Yes, Ma’am.”
A minute later, Turley saw a rocket from an armored assault shuttle impact and destroy the tow truck. This driver wasn’t so lucky.
“Communications, do we have President Mieland’s VR signal isolated?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Put me through to him. Voice only.”
“Voice only. Yes, Ma’am.”
There was a delay which went on for several seconds.
“He’s not taking the call, Ma’am.”
“Do we have effective control of the VR systems now?”
“Yes, Ma’am. It took a while to break into the government secure channels, but we have total control now.”
“Excellent. Turn off Mr. Mieland’s VR access except for my call request, and repeat it at two-minute intervals.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“And have we heard anything from Verano?”
“Yes, Ma’am. They’ve gone active, have concentrated their forces, and are getting ready to start their advance on government positions.”
“Very well. Turley out.”
With the Government Center complex boxed up, most of the action was to the rear of General Turley’s formations. The APCs had spread out along side streets behind the tank platoons, forming a shell around the tank platoons. Outside that perimeter, General Chapman’s resistance forces had dug in to stores, buildings, alleys, and other sheltered locations. They were keeping watch on Turley’s rear.
Occasionally, a van of police would attempt to come in from outside the shell of resistance infantry. These platoon-sized small forces might dismount and engage, but, without any central communications and organization, they had not aggregated their forces and had no idea of the depth of the forces they were taking on. Most were repelled or otherwise dealt with expeditiously by Chapman’s infantry. Some required intervention by an APC, each of which mounted an osmium impeller with a three-hundred-sixty-degree traverse.
General Turley’s mounted infantry was prepared to dismount, with the full assortment of Imperial Marine infantry weapons, but so far it hadn’t been required.
“So far, these guys are doing a pretty competent job, ya know?” Corporal Brad Nathan asked.
“We’ll see. Just keep an eye on it,” Staff Sergeant Leon Johnson said.
“Oh, I got full surveillance views on the street. They been doin’ a good job.”
“Well, if we need to get involved, we will. Just keep an eye on it.”
Captain Tim Keegan had had his men truss up the Secret Police prisoners with cable ties, and they were holding them in the police station that marked their perimeter. Two guys were assigned to keep an eye on them while First Platoon kept an eye on their rear.
“Oh, this looks like trouble, Sir,” First Sergeant Bruno Hass said.
Keegan looked down Third Street back the way they had come and saw two police vans side-by-side moving slowly up the street. Secret Police were sheltering behind them as they moved forward slowly, clearly looking for the perimeter.
“Looks like they’re getting more organized, Top. Let’s get everybody ready.”
“Are you keeping an eye on this bunch here, Nathan?” Staff Sergeant Leon Johnson asked, tagging the approaching force.
“Sure, Staff Sergeant. Looks like two o’ those Secret Police platoons joined up. Got forty, fifty guys with those two vans. The bigger problem is a bunch o’ those guys back there got grenade launchers.”
“Were you gonna mention that to me, Nathan, or were you just waitin’ for me to bring it up?’
“They’re still a ways away, Staff Sergeant. I was keeping an eye on ‘em, but they’re not trouble yet.”
“Huh.”
Johnson watched the vans moving slowly down the street.
“We better get ready to move. You have that impeller all warmed up?”
“Absolutely. Ready when you are, Staff Sergeant.”
Two blocks up Third Street from Keegan’s position, and five blocks from the approaching police vans, an APC pulled out of the side street. Its osmium impeller opened up full-automatic on the approaching vans, shredding them and ripping them open. One exploded when the grenades it was carrying set off the fuel tank. Secret Police ran for cover to either side.
After two seconds of fire, the APC’s impeller went silent, and the APC backed up into the side street again.
“Nice shooting, Nathan. Forget about everything I ever said about you.”
“Thanks, Staff Sergeant. But who’s gonna tell my mom?”
“I’ll send her a note. Keep an eye on those guys. Those grenade launchers make me kinda twitchy. Make sure they don’t try to sneak up on us to get a shot.”
“OK, Staff Sergeant. Looks like they all decided to go home, though.”
“Well, that sorta broke up the party, Sir,” Hass said.
“Indeed, Top. Now to see if they withdraw or they continue advancing.”
They watched down the street, but the Secret Police were pulling back on foot. With the APCs lurking ahead, there was no point in a direct assault.
General Turley was very much aware of the activities to her rear, as well as the effort by demolition crews inside the Government Center complex to breach the side wall of the compound to get their barracks out into the fight. They hadn’t made the attempt to breach them yet, but they were setting charges and they were trying to be surreptitious about it. And those Secret Police platoons were trying to find a way to sneak up on her mounted infantry.
Sooner or later, she would have to breach the compound herself. She had brought enough firepower to turn the entire complex into smoking rubble if it came to that. That would accomplish the gross mission objective, but it was not her desired outcome.
“Ma’am, President Mieland is accepting your call.”
Finally!
“Put him through.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Mieland was not happy.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
“Good morning to you as well, Mr. President.”
“Go to hell, Turley. I won’t call you General because you’re not. You retired from the Imperial Marines years ago. Which means you’re nothing more than a criminal. And an interstellar criminal at that. So what do you want?”
“I want you to step down, Mr. President. To retire, and call new elections.”
“Fuck you, Turley. You have no authority here. The only one who does is the Emperor himself, and you oh-so conveniently won’t let me talk to him. But I predict that when news of this gets out, your ass is gonna be in a sling. The Empire is not supposed to interfere in colony affairs. The Emperor himself promised that. And you sure as hell are interfering.”
“Very well, Mr. President. I will open up interstellar communications, and you can take your case up with the Emperor if you wish. Turley out.”
Turley cut the connection and sent orders to her communications center.
“Communications. Restore Julian’s QE links to the Imperial network.”
“Restoring QE links to the Imperial network. Yes, Ma’am.”
Several seconds later, she got an update.
“QE links restored, Ma’am.”
Imperial Audience
The second-shift crew was still working in the Imperial QE network’s NOC in Imperial City, on Center.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Pan Shufen said.
“What is?” Simao Mata asked.
“The QE link to Julian just came back up. Enabled from the other side. Operation nominal.”
“I’ll be damned.”
Dunham was sitting in the living room of the Imperial Residence with Amanda Peters when the call came in. It was only about an hour after dinner. It came in on VR, of course.
“Your Majesty, I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but a meeting request has come in from President James Mieland of the western colony of Julian. It’s marked ‘Urgent,’ Sire.”
“That’s all right. I’ve been expecting it.”
Dunham checked the time.
“Acknowledge a meeting for twenty minutes from now. Use VR channel 20.”
“Yes, Sire.”
Dunham looked across the coffee table to Peters, curled up in her favorite club chair.
“Right on schedule. Meeting request from President Mieland on Julian.”
“And you’ll take it, of course,” Peters said.
“Of course. In twenty minutes. I have to review the tactical situation first. Pardon me, my dear.”
Peters nodded, and Dunham logged into VR.
The Emperor, of course, had access to military channels and information sources across the Empire. That was built into Imperial communications equipment. And all the equipment being used on Julian was Imperial military equipment.
Dunham pulled up the tac
tical situation on Julian, the fully updated tactical map that flagged Imperial forces, friendly forces, opposition forces – everything down to and including the current ammunition levels of the armored and aerial assets deployed.
He saw the disposition of General Turley’s armored companies, her mounted infantry companies, the assault shuttles, even the surveillance drones. He saw the armored companies were in a position to overrun the Government Center complex from one side to the other, without danger of the friendly fire casualties that might result from advancing from two sides.
Dunham saw the armament load-outs of the aerial assets, and they were primarily of two kinds: light anti-personnel rockets and heavy building-buster gravity bombs. It was clear that, if and when the armored companies moved on the Government Center, much of the heavy lifting would have been done already.
Dunham also saw the Secret Police units maneuvering in her rear, trying to penetrate her shell, and the assets Turley had deployed to protect the spaceport base camp of the expedition.
Dunham had the military experience to appreciate what General Turley had done. Her ammunition levels were not quite at full levels across the board, but it was close. She had made planetfall and advanced to her current position almost without a shot being fired. That was her reputation, and she had once again proved it was deserved.
When Dunham logged into channel 20, Mieland was already there, in the featureless room with two club chairs Dunham used for meetings with other heads of state.
Mieland had been a young firebrand forty years ago when the colony ships had headed out to Julian. He was in his mid-sixties now, and his hair had gone grey some time back. He was thin and erect, and dressed in a business suit.
For all Mieland’s age, at eighty-four the Emperor could have been his father. Dunham’s hair was white, and he remained tall and large-framed. His white-blue eyes retained all the intensity they had had when he was younger. He was dressed in an expensive business suit, and was wearing the small version of the Sintar Cross, the Empire’s highest award for valor, on his lapel.
EMPIRE: Intervention (EMPIRE SERIES Book 13) Page 13
