Never Surrender (The Empire's Corps Book 10)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “I know,” Jasmine said. “But ... diamonds in the rough ... blah, blah, blah.”

  She smiled, then walked out the hatch and down the long corridor. It had been cleaned, since she’d moved some of her people to the station, but it still managed to look rather grimy. The only places the Wolves had bothered to clean were their sleeping quarters and a handful of loading bays, which they’d used regularly. It was just another sign that no one considered Meridian very important. Governor Brown - or one of his subordinates - had probably classed it as a place to dump anyone they couldn't be bothered to fire.

  “Hey,” a voice called. “Is there a ship approaching?”

  Jasmine turned and saw one of the former slaves, looking up at her nervously. Compared to pirates, the Wolves had treated their captives surprisingly decently, but they'd still been slaves, still at the mercy of their captors. Most of the slaves had been among the last shipment of legitimate colonists, before the Empire had lost contact with Meridian; they’d probably been rated as expendable. Meridian might be a decent place to live - it was a decent place to live - but it also had the colonial mentality that suggested some people had to be sacrificed to save the remainder.

  “Yes,” she said, gently. She’d always felt sorry for slaves; hell, it was something she would have gladly stamped out, given the chance. “There’s a ship coming.”

  The girl leaned forward, her pale eyes haunted. “Will it take us back to Earth?”

  “I don’t think so,” Jasmine said. “Earth is gone.”

  She nodded to the girl, then walked past her to the command centre. A CEF soldier was standing on guard outside, just in case the former prisoners started to cause trouble. Jasmine nodded to him, then walked through the hatch and into the compartment. A display - no holographic projectors for the orbital station - showed a single red icon approaching the station, while a line of text underneath noted that the freighter was five hours away.

  “Thomas,” she said, as Stewart rose to his feet. They’d rehearsed the operation several times, but she knew from bitter experience that the real thing would be different. “What’s the latest?”

  “They sent us a manifest,” Stewart said. “Apparently, they have one thousand prisoners from various places. Most of them seem to have been purged from occupied territories, but a handful are definitely from the Commonwealth.”

  Jasmine frowned. “Any specific instructions?”

  “They just want them in the camps,” Stewart said. “There wasn’t much else in the statement ... oh, the freighter’s captain was asking about shore leave for his crew.”

  “That’s odd,” Jasmine said. They’d reviewed all the old files, but there hadn't been any definite procedure for approaching the station. “What did you tell him?”

  “That there weren't any facilities,” Stewart said. “I don’t know why they didn't set up a camp or something they could have used for shore leave.”

  “Probably thought they wouldn’t be staying,” Jasmine said. “Like that crew on Firebase Qing.”

  Stewart winced. Firebase Qing had been established in a hurry by a team of Civil Guardsmen, who had been told they would be pulled out within a week. Instead, their departure date had been put back, and then put back again, until they had wound up staying there for two months. But they hadn't bothered to start any long-term projects to put the firebase in shape to stand off an attack, which was why it had almost fallen within days after the uprising on Han had finally begun. Only the rapid addition of a company of marines had saved it from falling anyway.

  She shrugged. “Maybe they were expecting time with the slaves,” she added. “Go get some rest. We can't do anything until they dock, anyway.”

  Stewart saluted. “See you in four hours,” he said.

  ***

  Kailee looked ... exhausted.

  Gary eyed her nervously as she stumbled into the cabin they shared - she had one bed, he had the other - and dropped her bathrobe on the deck. Her pale skin was marked and bruised, suggesting she had been beaten ... and yet, there was something odd about the bruises. Gary had been bruised far too many times to count and they’d looked different, somehow. It was almost as if Kailee had been stretching her skin too far.

  “Kailee,” he said, nervously. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about her plans with anyone, even her. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “I don’t know,” Kailee said. “But I have to try.”

  Gary swallowed. “But you’re in pain!”

  “I know,” Kailee said. She looked down at him for a long moment, then sat down on her bed and wrapped the towel around herself. “I have to try to push on.”

  Gary swallowed, again. He understood the urge, but life had taught him that no matter what he did, he would always be dumped on. There was no point in trying to get better at anything when there were people who would always be better than him. What was the point in playing if the game was rigged?

  “I have to try,” Kailee said. “All I could do was run from Barry ... and that didn't work, did it? And then they put me in the camp ...”

  Her voice trailed off. Gary felt another stab of helpless rage. Barry could have killed him at any moment - and he had done far worse to Kailee - and yet he’d never been able to muster the nerve to fight back. It was if, at some point, he’d just become accustomed to being life’s bitch. Life had taught him that fighting back was pointless. He only got hurt and he lost whatever he was trying to save anyway.

  And yet, what if Kailee succeeded? What if she did learn to stand up for herself?

  It wasn't a pleasant thought. He couldn't protect her from the outside world, but she didn't expect him to protect her. She’d chosen him, he suspected, because she knew he didn't have the nerve to push it, if she said no. The other boys at school had said that girls only said no because they were testing the boys, that they would surrender if pushed, but he’d never been able to force himself to take that step. And now, he knew all too well, that there was no difference between pushing a girl to open her legs and outright rape.

  He shuddered. If someone tried that on Meridian, he knew from the stories he’d been told, the rapist would be lucky to survive the experience.

  But what if she did learn to stand up for herself? Would she see him as pathetic, like so many others, and dump him? He’d stayed loyal to her for five years, while she’d been in the camp, but he’d done nothing to help the resistance find and free her. What would she make of him once she was strong?

  You’re an asshole, he told himself, savagely. She stayed with you when she could have had her pick of men on Meridian.

  And yet she wouldn't have been welcome there, his own thoughts mocked him. Kailee was beautiful, by earthly standards, but weird-looking on Meridian. Who else did she have who might have been interested in her?

  “You shouldn't,” he said. “It’s hurting you.”

  Kailee stood up, so quickly her blanket almost fell to the deck. “Do you think it didn't hurt when Barry fucking fucked me!”

  Gary recoiled at the naked rage in her voice. He hadn't thought about it. In truth, he hadn't wanted to think about it.

  “I need to do this,” Kailee said, calming down. “And I think you should join us.”

  “I can't,” Gary said. He felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. “There’s no point!”

  “Yes, there is,” Kailee said. “I need to be able to defend myself and so do you! You’re joining us if I have to drag you there myself!”

  “... Fine,” Gary said, reluctantly. “But don’t blame me if it doesn't work.”

  “At least you will have tried,” Kailee said. “And that’s all that matters.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Matters become more complex, however, when one or more of the parties involved isn't a nation-state.

  - Professor Leo Caesius. The Empire and its Prisoners of War.

  Meridian, Year 5 (PE)

  “I make her a modified Blackbird-class bulk freighter,” Stewa
rt said, as the freighter closed in on the orbital station. “Modular interior; easy to turn into a POW transport without needing to rip the life support system open and reengineer the hull.”

  “Looks that way,” Jasmine said.

  She frowned, thoughtfully. The freighter could charitably be described as ugly - she was nothing more than a set of metal boxes, attached to a phase drive - but ships like her were the backbone of interstellar commerce. Judging by her lack of markings, she probably had started life as an independent freighter, rather than a corporate transport. But she was definitely large enough to transport a thousand men in cramped conditions.

  Shaking her head, she tapped her wristcom. “Carl? Are you in position?”

  “Yep,” Watson said. He sounded confident, despite the timing problems. “Team One is ready and raring to go.”

  “Just don’t move until the freighter has docked,” Jasmine said. “We don’t want them getting shy and starting to run.”

  “Understood,” Watson said.

  Jasmine sucked in her breath. There was still no sign that the freighter had an unseen escort - and she knew, reasonably, that there was no point in the Wolves assigning a destroyer or a frigate to escort the POWs to their new homes. But what if she was wrong? What if they did have an escort?

  Then we’re all about to die, she thought, sharply. All we can do is wait and pray.

  “Send the signal,” she ordered. “Tell them the docking ports are open and ready to receive them.”

  “She’s coming in,” Stewart said. “Docking ports cycling ... now.”

  Jasmine felt a dull quiver echoing through the station as the freighter docked, its drive field fading away into nothingness once it had latched on. Stewart rose to his feet, as planned, and hastened towards the hatch. Jasmine watched him go, wishing she dared leave the command centre long enough to take point herself. The freighter had to be secured before her crew realised they were in deep shit.

  “Carl,” she ordered, tapping her wristcom. “Go now.”

  She forced herself to relax as Team One swarmed up from its hiding place on the station's hull and jumped over to the freighter. If the freighter’s crew had realised that something - anything - was wrong, they’d react now. But nothing happened as Team One found the hatches, forced their way inside and swarmed the ship, while Team Two captured the airlocks and advanced into the ship.

  “Captain,” she said, keying the link to the freighter. There was no point in trying to hide any longer. “Your ship is being boarded. If you surrender without further ado, you have my word as a Terran Marine and Commonwealth officer that you and your crew will remain unharmed. Resistance is futile.”

  There was a long pause. She knew, all too well, just how attached some captains and crews could become to their ships. It was quite possible that her commanding officer would consider trying to blow the ship, rather than allow it to fall into enemy hands. And if that happened, Jasmine was sure the explosion would take out the station as well as the freighter ...

  The radio buzzed. “Who are you?”

  “That doesn't matter,” Jasmine said. There was no live update, but she could tell her two teams were racing through the freighter, stunning everyone they met. They didn't dare allow anyone a chance to resist. “All that matters is that you have to surrender now or face the consequences.”

  “Very well,” the enemy officer snarled. He sounded furious ... but there was a hint of panic behind his anger. “I will surrender, if you keep your word.”

  “I will,” Jasmine said. “Open your hatches and unlock your computers, then offer no resistance. My people will take you into custody.”

  Her wristcom buzzed. “They’re surrendering,” Watson said. “We’re taking the ones who remain awake into custody now.”

  “Good,” Jasmine said. All things considered, it could have been much worse. “I’m on my way.”

  She waited for Stewart to return to the command centre, then headed down to the airlock and through the docking port. A handful of freighter crew, mostly teenagers, were lying on the deck, stunned before they had a chance to fight back. She glanced at their outfits - they didn't look like Wolfbane’s soldiers - then walked past them, deeper into the ship. Watson met her just outside the bridge, looking grim.

  “I think this is a family ship,” he said. “There are even children among the crew.”

  Jasmine frowned, then stepped onto the bridge. It was small and cramped, compared to a marine transport ship, but it was definitely functional. Six people sat against one bulkhead, their hands zip-tied behind their backs; two adults, three teenagers and one young boy who couldn't have been older than seven. The adults looked grim, while the teenagers looked sullen and the child looked oddly excited. To him, Jasmine realised, it was all a big joke.

  “I am Brigadier Yamane,” she said, addressing the Captain. “For the moment, you are in my custody.”

  The Captain eyed her bitterly. “Captain Jim Frazier,” he said. “Owner-Captain of Passing Water.”

  Jasmine nodded, curtly. “I have some questions for you,” she said, “once we have your crew off the ship. You and your family will be moved down to the planet, where you will be held until the end of the war. I’m sorry to take your ship, but ...”

  “You don't need our ship,” one of the teenagers said. She was a redheaded girl, eying them with open defiance. “You just want to throw your weight around.”

  “I have no other way to get home,” Jasmine said. She looked at Watson. “Move them to the POW quarters on the station, then we can prepare quarters for them on the planet. I’ll speak to the Captain before we move them down.”

  She watched as the prisoners were hustled off the bridge, then looked down at the consoles and keyed in a command. The system had been unlocked, as she’d hoped; Passing Water lay open before them. A quick check revealed that she was over four hundred years old, with several extensive refits in the last two centuries. But her drive had a worrying flutter that might eventually spell disaster. No wonder they'd come out of phase drive so far from the limit.

  “The POWs are in their compartments, just as we were,” Watson reported, when he returned to the bridge. “Should we move them to the planet?”

  “Unless there’s anyone we can use, yes,” Jasmine said. She already had too many people to move off Meridian, including Stubbins, Kailee and Gary. “We will have to get the Commonwealth to assign a couple of freighters to pick them up.”

  She sighed, then reviewed the latest entries in the ship’s log. Captain Frazier and his crew had picked up the POWs, then transported them to Meridian. There wasn't much detail in the logbook, which didn't really surprise her. Most independent freighter captains preferred to be as vague as possible, even when working for corporations or governors. The only real surprise was a mention of two older teen girls who hadn't been found when the ship had been boarded.

  “I think I want to ask Captain Frazier some questions now,” she said. “Start moving the POWs to the camps, then bring up our own people. I want to be able to clear out at very short notice.”

  “Understood,” Watson said. “We can be ready to depart in less than a day, if we push things.”

  Jasmine nodded. “I leave it in your hands,” she said. “Good luck.”

  She nodded and walked back to the station. Captain Frazier was already sitting in her office, cuffed to a chair, while two soldiers were keeping a close eye on him. Kailee was leaning against the bulkhead, ready to write down whatever he said. Frazier glowered at them all impassively, then relaxed slightly when he saw Jasmine. It couldn't be easy to know that his children were prisoners as well as himself, particularly when those prisoners included a young and nubile teenage girl. His imagination had to be working overtime to come up with hundreds of horrifying possibilities for her future.

  “I have one question,” Jasmine said, as she sat down in front of him. “Where are your other daughters?”

  Frazier glared at her. “Hostages,” he admitted,
finally. “They took them off the ship when they caught us trading without permission.”

  Jasmine lifted her eyebrows. “Explain.”

  “We used to move from world to world, selling our wares,” Frazier said. “We kept doing it even when the Empire vanished. It was such a relief not to have to worry about their bureaucrats ruining our lives. And then we were arrested for trading on Rangel without a licence ... we didn't know anything about Wolfbane! They took my daughters, then told me that I would be working for them if I wanted to see my children again.”

  And now we have ensured the girls will be killed, Jasmine thought. It made a brutal kind of sense; hell, it was theoretically legal to take hostages at any point. She just couldn't recall any episode when the marines had actually gone ahead and done it, let alone killed the hostages when their parents renounced them. It wasn't done. At least that explains why the freighter was alone.