Never Surrender (The Empire's Corps Book 10)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “I’m not surprised,” Jasmine said. The actresses looked disturbingly young and innocent, yet they were dressed in shirts that looked as though they were going to fall off at any moment. “The only thing that kept their outfits on are the eyes of every young man in the chamber.”

  Kailee blinked. “Are you always so cynical?”

  “Better to be a cynic than a deluded optimist,” Jasmine said. She shook her head as Kailee picked up the box hopefully. “Anyone who looks that innocent on Earth probably has a great many secrets buried in her closet.”

  “I never believed they were what they seemed,” Gary said. “They’re not real, are they?”

  Jasmine shrugged and led them onwards. “You can do remarkable things with computers,” she said. “If there hadn't been laws saying that every flick had to have live actors, the producers would have replaced them all with computer-generated simulations. They don’t complain, they don’t get into trouble with law-enforcement, they don’t start demanding extra money because they’ve made a number of good flicks ...”

  Kailee snorted. “You seem to know a lot about this,” she said. “Did you want to be an actress too?”

  “Perish the thought,” Jasmine said. Her parents would have disowned her if she’d tried to become an actress. “I just know how easy it is to put together simulations for training purposes. The civilians who run across our positions aren’t real, but they look real. There’s no technical reason you couldn’t produce a completely computer-generated flick that would be impossible to distinguish from the real thing.”

  “Even ... even a pornographic flick?” Gary asked. “They’re not real?”

  “I think most of them are done by very skilled actors,” Jasmine said, snidely. It had shocked her, when she'd entered Boot Camp, to see just what some people considered erotic. “Most people can’t do half the positions you see in the flicks, not without injuring themselves.”

  She stopped outside a hatch, then knocked once. It opened, revealing an assessor’s office, complete with a grim-faced man sitting in front of a pair of scales. He rose to his feet as they entered, then bowed. Jasmine took a moment to read the handful of rules pasted on the bulkhead - the sellers got ten percent commission on every sale - and then placed the box on the table.

  “Fresh fruit,” she said simply, as she disengaged the stasis field. “Apples, oranges, slices of cooked ham and turkey ... all ready to be eaten now.”

  The man inspected the box thoroughly, then looked up at her. “Cash or commission?”

  Jasmine considered it. “How much are you prepared to offer?”

  “Five thousand traders, straight up,” the man said. “Or ten percent commission, depending on the sales.”

  Gary whistled. Food was cheap on Meridian, where fruit and vegetables were grown everywhere. A bag of fresh apples could be so cheap that a child could buy one with a tiny fraction of his chore money. But on Earth, the same bag of apples could be so expensive that most families wouldn't have a hope of being able to afford one unless they were prepared to make real sacrifices. Fresh meat, if it was authorised for shipping, was solely the preserve of the upper classes. Most people had to make do with algae-based foodstuffs.

  “Ten thousand traders,” Jasmine said. She’d taken the opportunity to check prices as they walked through the marketplace and knew they would need at least six thousand to get everything they needed. “I think you should be able to do more than recoup your losses.”

  “I very much doubt it,” the man sneered. “Six thousand traders.”

  They haggled backwards and forwards for a long moment, then compromised on seven thousand, five hundred traders. Jasmine took the credit chip without delay, checked it carefully and then inserted it into her pocket. They might have earned more by allowing the office to sell the fresh produce on commission, she knew, but they simply didn't have the time to waste. Instead, she nodded politely to the man and led the way back out of the office.

  “I have a shopping list,” she said, once the hatch had slid closed. “I’m afraid we don’t have much money to waste, so try not to pick up anything we don’t need.”

  Gary nodded, then stared in disbelief as a pair of hairy monsters strode past. “What ... what are those?”

  “They had their genes modified for some reason,” Jasmine said. “Their homeworld was probably very cold and their founders decided to go for modification, rather than doing anything to warm the planet’s atmosphere. It’s not very common.”

  “I thought they were aliens,” Gary said. He looked up at her. “Are there real aliens?”

  “No,” Jasmine said. Once, there had been hundreds of thousands of stories about humans encountering other forms of intelligent life. Now, with nearly half the galaxy explored and colonised, it was clear that humanity was alone. The highest form of life anyone had encountered anywhere apart from Earth was a creature roughly akin to a tiger. “There’s just us out here.”

  She shrugged, then led the way to the first stall and started placing her orders. The stallkeeper haggled for a few minutes, then handed over the tools Jasmine wanted. Another stall provided various forms of advanced weapons, while a third offered a number of military-grade spacesuits. Jasmine carefully didn't speculate on where they might have come from as she purchased a round dozen, then concluded her dealing by picking up two automated hacking kits and user manuals. Someone in Imperial Intelligence, she decided, had been making money by selling equipment on the sly. It was an old tradition when there wasn't actually a war on.

  Kailee caught her arm as three men stepped past, walking in mechanical unison. Jasmine watched them without much interest, even when one of them paused and looked at her with cold inhuman eyes. Gary shrank back against her, then relaxed slightly as the strangers walked onwards. Jasmine sighed inwardly, then made arrangements to have her purchases shipped back to the freighter.

  “You sent everything back,” Gary said. “Do you trust them?”

  Jasmine grinned. “Money talks in a place like this,” she said. “You will see great inhumanities here, and you can expect people to try to haggle as much as possible, but you won’t see anyone try to steal anything you leave with them. It would destroy their reputation.”

  Gary snorted. “Is that really important?”

  “Of course,” Jasmine said. “No one would ever trust them again.”

  She paused, once she’d picked up the final pieces of equipment. “There’s some time left,” she said. “Do either of you want to do anything while you’re here?”

  Gary and Kailee exchanged glances. “I don’t know,” Kailee said, finally. “Is there anything to do here?”

  Jasmine made a show of considering the question. Most of the entertainments on the asteroid were geared around spacers, who tended to want cheap food, booze and sex, perhaps not in that order. She doubted that either of them would want to go to a brothel ... they could go catch a flick, if they wanted, but most of the flicks on offer would be mindless pap. It was true of just about everything the Empire had produced in its final years, she suspected.

  “Not much,” she admitted, finally. “But it would get you off the ship for a while.”

  “No, thank you,” Gary said. “I don’t feel safe here.”

  “You probably won’t be mugged,” Jasmine reassured him. She would have killed, back when she’d been a raw recruit, to get out of the barracks for a few hours. “Just make sure you don’t sign any contracts. They will be held against you.”

  “No, thank you,” Gary repeated. “I would prefer to go back to the ship.”

  “I have work for you to do there,” Jasmine said. She stepped over to a food stall and bought several bags of sweets, which she stuffed in her jacket pocket. “By the time we get to our destination, I want you to have mastered the ship’s computers ... and a handful of other computer packages.”

  Gary looked torn between confidence and fear. Jasmine had reviewed his work with the teaching machines and noted that, while Gary had an
insight into how the systems worked, he was lacking in both practical and theoretical knowledge. And he probably expected a beating for every failure ... Jasmine shook her head, mentally. If he screwed up in the Wolfbane System, a beating would be the least of anyone’s worries.

  “And me?” Kailee asked. “Do you have something for me to do?”

  “You said you wanted to be a nurse,” Jasmine said. “I think you should keep studying what you can, if you still want to do anything. And ... I may have something else for you to do.”

  Kailee looked doubtful, but said nothing. Jasmine understood; they didn't have a medic with them, leaving them dependent on what the marines knew of battlefield medicine. There was no way they could train Kailee, not enough to make a difference. But it would keep her busy, at least until they reached Wolfbane. By then, Jasmine’s plan might have proved itself workable ... or useless.

  She led them back to the freighter, then sent them to their cabin while she walked back to the bridge. Stewart greeted her and confirmed that the other freighter had departed on schedule, carrying most of the POWs - and their messages - back to the Commonwealth. Jasmine, oddly, felt freer, now they were no longer her responsibility. She could take the initiative for herself.

  “Once our supplies have arrived, unpack them and check everything,” she ordered. No matter what she’d told Gary, there were limits to her trust. “And then we cast off as planned.”

  “Understood,” Stewart said. He paused. “And might I recommend some rest?”

  “I’ll rest when I’m dead,” Jasmine said. It was an old saying, passed down from the legendary first marines. “Until then, I have work to do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  And it grows even more complex when one reasons the terrorists might even have a point. If they follow the laws of war, they will be crushed easily. Does this serve as an excuse for avoiding the laws of war?

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

  Passing Water, Year 5 (PE)

  “I think that’s thirty push-ups,” Gary said, as he slumped to the deck. The aching in his arms refused to fade. “Isn't it?”

  “Twenty-nine,” Jasmine said, from where she was leaning against the bulkhead. “Do another ten for luck.”

  Gary groaned. His body felt unwilling to move, no matter what he did. The deck, hard and cold, seemed almost as welcoming as his bed. Jasmine had said, time and time again, that it got better, but he found it hard to believe her. And yet, even twenty-nine push-ups would have seemed impossible, four days ago.

  He gritted his teeth and forced his body up again. His joints screamed in pain, but somehow he managed to do another five before he lost control of his body and thudded hard against the deck. For a long moment, he just lay there, seriously thinking about staying there for the rest of his life. And then Jasmine reached down and effortlessly lifted him to his feet.

  “You’re getting better,” she said. “You just need to keep working on it.”

  “Thanks,” Gary said, bitterly. He honestly had no idea how he was going to keep working on the computers if his body ached so much the following morning. “Does it get really get easier?”

  Jasmine smiled. “How many push-ups were you doing when you started?”

  “Five,” Gary said. He shook his head, feeling sweat falling down his body and soaking his shirt. “But ... but it hurts.”

  “It's time to try something new,” Jasmine said. She nodded to Kailee, then led the way into the next compartment. Gary exchanged glances with Kailee, who was sweating so badly that her shirt clung to her breasts, and followed Jasmine into a larger room. A large bag hung from the ceiling, decorated with a crude representation of a human face. “This is a makeshift punching bag.”

  Gary frowned. “It is?”

  “The problem you have - that you both have - is that you are reluctant to actually hit out at someone,” Jasmine said. “You are neither naturally violent nor trained to unleash violence at the right moment. When threatened, you either freeze or flee rather than try to fight back.”

  “I know,” Gary said. He’d been attacked more times than he cared to think about, yet he had never even been able to work up the nerve to defend himself. Hitting Barry had seemed an impossible task. “But ... but I can't ...”

  “And that is what you will have to overcome,” Jasmine said. “I’m not interested in turning you into violent monsters, if you’re wondering; I’m interested in training you to unleash violence whenever you need to fight back.”

  She motioned for them to stay back, then walked up to the bag. “You will have seen hundreds of flicks that purport to show fights,” she said. “They are almost always unrealistic, because realistic fights make bad cinema. The idea is to take the enemy down as fast as possible, not engage in an elegant dance. Flying kicks and roundhouse punches, in real life, are just a good way to get seriously injured.”

  Gary frowned, then stared as Jasmine pulled back her hand and punched the bag with staggering force. He’d barely seen her arm move before the bag was thrown backwards by the force of the impact! Beside him, Kailee gasped. Neither Barry nor Darrin - or even Austin - had been able to move so fast. Gary swallowed hard, then forced himself to watch as Jasmine caught the recoiling bag and steadied it. He had a feeling that not paying attention would be dangerous - or painful.

  “If I had struck your neck, or your chest, or your balls, or even your skull, with such force, you would be dead,” Jasmine said. “I was always taught to go for the weakest parts of the human body. It wouldn't look spectacular, but it would work.”

  She paused. “Did either of you watch gladiator fights?”

  “A few,” Gary admitted. Kailee just shook her head. “They were awful.”

  “They were also unrealistic,” Jasmine said. “The gladiators were trained to spin things out as long as possible, just to keep the audiences entertained. I wasn't taught to play games with my targets. Real fighting is all about disabling or killing the target as fast as possible, before they have a chance to fight back. Ideally, you want to win with a single blow.”

  She drew in a breath, then slowly cocked her fist. “We’ll worry more about proper technique later,” she added. “For the moment” - she nodded at the bag - “I want you to hit the bag as hard as you can. Just imagine it has the face of your worst enemy.”

  Gary hesitated - his arms were still aching - and then stepped forward. The bag hung in front of him, mockingly. Jasmine twisted it so the crude face was staring right at him, then smiled. It was suddenly all too easy to imagine Barry standing there, laughing at him. Bitter memories - of being debagged in public, of having something poured down the back of his neck, of being humiliated time and time again - rose up in front of his eyes. He drew back his fist, then stopped. It was hard, so hard, to throw a punch ...

  “Hit him,” Jasmine snapped. “Now!”

  Gary threw the punch. The bag shuddered under the impact, but barely moved. Gary shivered, feeling his legs buckling under his weight. If he’d tried to punch any of the bullies, they would have laughed at him before giving him yet another beating. And yet, he’d hit the bag. Maybe next time he could hit it harder.

  “Try again,” Jasmine said. “Focus all your strength on your arm and hit it!”

  Gary drew back his fist and hit it again, and again. Cold rage rose up within him as he slammed his fist into the bag, feeling his knuckles start to hurt under the impact. It felt almost as if he was punching Barry ...

  “Not bad,” Jasmine said. “You’ll find it easier in future, I fancy.”

  “Oh,” Gary said. “But it isn’t the same as hitting a person, is it?”

  “No,” Jasmine agreed. “We’ll come to that later.”

  She nodded to Kailee. “I want you to try something different,” she said, as Gary stepped backwards and started to massage his hands. “I want you to aim for his balls.”

  Kailee shuddered. “I wouldn't want to touch his balls,” she said. “I ...�
�

  Jasmine snorted. “Would you rather hit his balls hard enough to put him out of commission or have him force those balls into you?”

  Kailee shuddered. “I ...”

  “That’s not a fair question,” Gary said. “She ... she went through hell and ...”

  “The universe isn't fair,” Jasmine said, cutting him off. She turned to face him. “Unless I miss my guess, you were taught in school that men and women are equals, right? Tell me ... does your experience tell you that is actually true?”

  Gary hesitated. “No,” he said, finally. “The girls always needed protectors.”

  “Yes, they did,” Jasmine agreed. “When it comes to raw strength, boys are generally stronger than girls. Obviously, there are some girls who are stronger than most boys, but the general rule is that boys are stronger than girls. Telling all girls that they are equal to all boys in all ways is nothing more than a flat-out lie.”