The Empire's Corps: Book 04 - Semper Fi

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Gravity’s off,” Blake said, softly. “And air’s gone completely.”

  “In this section,” Jasmine reminded him, dryly. “Blake, Joe; take point. Advance.”

  The pirates had definitely slacked on their maintenance, she told herself as they made their way towards the bridge. Even the worst Imperial Navy CO, appointed through family connections rather than any competence, would have refused to serve on such a vessel. The hatches that should have sealed automatically were wide open, allowing the atmosphere to vent out through the gashes in the hull and out into space, while all of the emergency systems seemed to have failed completely. A number of pirates had died before realising what had hit them ... they weren’t even wearing the shipsuits that would have given them basic protection while they struggled to don their masks. Jasmine hated to think about what her superiors would have said if she’d made such a mistake. She would certainly never have graduated from the Slaughterhouse.

  She glanced into a side compartment and gritted her teeth. The pirates had kept seven captives there, handcuffed to the bulkheads. Now, they were dead, killed by the people who should have rescued them. There was nothing they could have done differently, Jasmine knew, but it didn't make it any easier. She could only hope that it had been quick; it had certainly been cleaner than what the pirates had probably had in mind for them. None of the prisoners looked to have been saved for ransom.

  “Got an airlock here, still sealed,” Blake reported.

  Jasmine checked her HUD, then nodded. They’d reached the outer edge of Officer Country, where the officers had their cabins ... somehow, she wasn't surprised to discover that maintenance was better near the bridge. It was sloppy thinking – it wouldn't save their lives if Officer Country were the only place to retain power after a direct hit – but typical of pirates.

  “Set up the bubble, then break it down,” she ordered.

  Her radio buzzed. “Engineering is a total loss,” Lieutenant Aniston reported. “The entire compartment has been shattered.”

  “Understood,” Jasmine said. It was a pity - the Commonwealth Navy would have wanted the pirate ship to add to its small fleet – but it couldn't be helped. “Any survivors?”

  “None,” Aniston said. “We’re searching the remains of the compartment now.”

  “Keep me informed,” Jasmine ordered. She switched back to the Marine command network as Blake and Joe finished assembling the bubble. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” Joe Buckley confirmed. “Demolition charges are in position. Can we jump in?”

  Jasmine smiled. “Go.”

  The airlock shattered inwards as the two charges detonated, revealing a handful of pirates armed to the teeth. They seemed stunned to see the Marines, as if they hadn't really expected the Marines to bother coming for them, then lifted their weapons threateningly. Jasmine barked an order and the platoon opened fire with stunners, sending the pirates toppling to the deck. They’d be picked up after the bridge had been secured.

  No effective resistance materialised as the Marines advanced towards the bridge, checking each of the compartments as they passed. Several of them held slaves, captives the pirates had pressed into service on their vessel, all of whom looked too battered and broken to realise that they had been liberated. Jasmine knew that it would be years before they recovered, if indeed they recovered at all. Some of them would be scarred for life.

  “Poor bitches,” Blake remarked, grimly.

  “Have the medics ready to take a look at them,” Jasmine ordered. The pirates had, naturally, refrained from supplying their slaves with any shipsuits, although she wouldn't have trusted shipsuits the pirates had provided in any case. Once the ship was secured, they could repressurise the hull, allowing the medics to move freely. “Then keep your eyes front.”

  The airlock to the bridge was gaping open. Jasmine used hand signals to order Blake and Joe forward, both clutching stun grenades as well as their assault rifles as they moved. If the pirate commander was planning a last desperate defence, they’d jump back and throw in the grenades. She braced herself as the two Marines entered the compartment ...

  “Brilliant,” Blake sneered. “Just brilliant.”

  Jasmine followed them into the compartment and saw what he meant. The pirate commander and his senior officers were conspicuously unarmed, their weapons drifting towards the far side of the compartment. They were holding their hands where the Marines could see them, refusing to give her platoon a single excuse for opening fire. They’d sent their men to slow the Marines, then surrendered ...

  “Take them into custody,” she ordered. At least the penal settlement wouldn't be very pleasant, once the pirates had been interrogated to see if they could point the Marines towards any more pirate bases. Most of the pirate crews knew nothing useful, but their commanders could be very informative indeed. “And then secure the rest of the ship.”

  “Understood,” Blake said. He seemed to share her sentiments. “Perhaps they will die under interrogation.”

  Jasmine shrugged. Most pirates had no illusions about being made to talk by the Imperial Navy, which was quite happy to use everything from truth drugs to old-fashioned torture to get answers out of its captives. The smarter pirates used implants designed to make interrogation impossible, destroying their minds if they sensed that they were being interrogated. Outwitting even the very basic models was almost impossible.

  “Perhaps,” she said. She looked for the bright side and found it. “If nothing else, we put this ship out of business and recovered some of their captives. Not a bad day’s work.”

  ***

  “Secure the captives,” Layla ordered, once the brief report had been completed. “We’ll stow them in the stasis tubes until they are ready to be interrogated.”

  She allowed herself a smile. The brief survey had confirmed that the pirate ship would require months in the yards before she could serve again – if she ever did - but her crew would be eligible for a share of the prize money. For the moment, the pirate ship could be left to drift along the edge of the system until a tug could be dispatched to recover her. It might be several months before they saw any of the cash, but they would see it. Morale was going to skyrocket.

  “Captain,” Reynolds said, suddenly. “Two ships just came over the Phase Limit.”

  He hesitated, then continued. “And one of them is broadcasting a Marine distress call.”

  Layla didn't hesitate. “Signal the Marines,” she ordered. “And then take us towards them, full military power.”

  Chapter Two

  This, at base, means that all human societies are ruled by the strong, those who are both willing and able to enforce their demands by force. On the micro scale, a father willing to spank his children wields more authority than a condoning parent; on the macro scale, a political leader willing to use force to get his way wields more authority than a leader unwilling to back up his words with action. And actions always speak louder than words.

  -Professor Leo Caesius, Authority, Power and the Post-Imperial Era

  “Report,” Layla ordered.

  “The lead ship is a freighter, probably a variant on the Trucker design,” Reynolds said, as he worked his console. “I don’t have a clear reading on the second ship, but I think it is probably a light cruiser, judging by the power emissions.”

  “Unless they have stepped their emissions down,” Layla reminded him. If Harrington had shown her full power, the pirates would never have dared go within a million kilometres of her. “Can you pick up an IFF transmission?”

  “No, Captain,” Reynolds said. “There's just the Marine distress call.”

  Layla nodded, forcing herself to sit back in her chair and project an appearance of calm, even though her thoughts were spinning through her mind. She had failed the Crucible and therefore been denied her Rifleman’s Tab, but much of the Marine ethos had been battered into her head anyway. A Marine did not leave a fellow Marine in trouble – and a Marine wouldn't call for help unle
ss it was truly necessary. She had to save the freighter, even though she had no idea who was on it – or who was chasing it.

  No IFF from the warship ... that was worrying. The Empire’s regulations had insisted that all starships carry IFF beacons that announced their presence, despite endless protests from civilian shippers, who saw the beacons as painting targets on their hulls. Layla wasn’t inclined to disagree with the civilians; if she’d been in an unarmed ship, she wouldn't have wanted to tell the universe that she was unarmed either. But these days IFF transmitters on civilian ships were the exception rather than the rule. The Commonwealth wasn't fool enough to believe that they served any useful purpose – or that they couldn’t be faked, if necessary.

  But warships still carried IFF transmitters.

  “That has to be a regular navy crew over there,” the tactical officer commented, interrupting her thoughts. “They followed a ship through phase space.”

  “And they’re not making tactical mistakes either,” Layla agreed. The warship crew were definitely well-trained. “Send a standard challenge.”

  She scowled inwardly as she studied the display. Shadowing a ship through phase space was incredibly difficult, even for the most experienced officers in the Imperial Navy. That the newcomers had managed it so well suggested that they were either lucky or good – even if they'd known the freighter’s intended destination, they wouldn't have come out of phase space so close to their target. They wouldn't need more than twenty minutes to get into firing position – and the freighter couldn't hope to escape.

  “We’re picking up a response,” Reynolds said.

  “Put it on,” Layla ordered.

  “... In pursuit of criminals,” an unfamiliar voice said. “Do not interfere or you will be fired upon.”

  “Check the voiceprint against our records,” Layla ordered, although she knew that it would probably be futile. The Imperial Navy records they’d inherited hadn't been updated very well even before the Empire had withdrawn from the Rim. “And target them.”

  “Aye, Captain,” the tactical officer said. “Entering missile range in seven minutes.”

  “No voiceprint match,” the intelligence officer injected. “Captain, that could easily be meaningless ...”

  “Yes,” Layla said, dryly. She wouldn’t show up in the database either, any more than Reynolds or the other officers and crewmen they’d recruited since the Empire had abandoned the sector. If the ship they were facing belonged to a planetary defence force, or a new military force, it was quite likely that the records were worse than useless. “Repeat the challenge, then order them to stand down until their claims can be investigated.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Reynolds said.

  Layla gritted her teeth as they closed in on the freighter. In the days when the Empire had ruled the sector, there had been clear protocols for hunting pirates, terrorists and criminals, even if ships had fled from one sector to another. But now, with the Empire gone ... no one was quite sure of what protocol to follow. Her instructions from Avalon ordered her to defend the Commonwealth’s territorial integrity and enforce the law, but what was she meant to do if the freighter carried real criminals? Or, for that matter, if the light cruiser they were facing was part of a far larger force?

  “See if you can raise the freighter,” she added. “Tell them to identify themselves.”

  She watched grimly as Reynolds worked his console. It was quite possible that they had brushed up against the edge of space the Empire still controlled, although personally Layla doubted it. The last they’d heard from a reliable source had stated that the Trafalgar and Midway fleet bases were being abandoned. Even so ... not knowing what they were facing was a nightmarish problem. A minor engagement could start a war.

  “Picking up a response,” Reynolds said. “Laser and text only. I don’t think they want to be overheard.”

  “Show me,” Layla ordered. Text only was rare, unless the bandwidth was limited – or if someone was trying to keep unwanted listeners from learning anything from the message. “And switch to laser transmissions for our reply.”

  She looked down at her console. The words seemed meaningless – HARPER, BROWN, JAMESTOWN – but anyone who’d been through the Slaughterhouse would have understood them. HARPER meant that the situation was desperate, BROWN told her that Marines were in trouble – as if she hadn’t realised it – and JAMESTOWN warned her that rogue Imperial Navy units were involved. Outside of training, Layla had never heard of anyone using JAMESTOWN. There were just too many possibilities for disaster.

  “Open a channel to the cruiser,” she ordered, making up her mind. There was a click as the channel opened. “Unknown vessel, this is Harrington. You are ordered to stand down and hold position while your claims can be investigated. Failure to do so will be met by deadly force.”

  She studied the position, counting down the seconds until the cruiser could reply. If they fired on the freighter, they might well destroy the runaway ship ... but they’d have problems escaping Harrington afterwards. On the other hand, they could turn and run; they’d almost certainly make it across the phase limit before Layla could do anything to stop them. But what did the cruiser’s CO have in mind? Layla would have hesitated before abandoning a pursuit, particularly when she knew nothing about the challenging ship.

  The cruiser CO might think that we’re pirates, she thought, sourly. It was unlikely, but pirates had commanded heavy cruisers in the past, including one that was now part of the Commonwealth Navy. Or he might not recognise the Commonwealth as having any right to exist.

  That was a worrying thought, she acknowledged. The Empire had grown out of the wars that had followed humanity’s expansion across the stars, driven by a determination to ensure that disunity would not be allowed to threaten humanity’s very existence again. No outside power could be recognised as legitimate by the Empire; it would invite disunity and encourage factions to demand greater autonomy or even independence. If the Empire ever returned to the sector, what would it make of the Commonwealth?

  “Picking up a response,” Reynolds said. He hissed in sudden alarm. “And they just swept us with tactical sensors!”

  “Let me hear the response,” Layla said. Lighting up a ship with tactical sensors was regarded as an unfriendly act, a warning that the situation was about to turn deadly. “And light them up with our own sensors.”

  “Unknown vessel, we are in pursuit of dangerous criminals,” the speaker said. “You are ordered to stand down and allow us to complete our mission without hindrance.”

  Layla scowled as she keyed her console, allowing her to reply. “We cannot allow you to operate in our space,” she said, flatly. “We will board the freighter and recover the crew ourselves; if they are guilty, we will hand them over to you.”

  She waited for the response, thinking hard. The light cruiser’s CO had to know that he was outgunned; Harrington wasn't even trying to hide her true nature. And that meant ... either he thought he could still intimidate her or he was desperate to complete his mission. And if it was the former, he had to have some heavy support nearby.

  “They just lit us up again,” Reynolds reported. “They’ve locked on.”

  “Deploy ECM,” Layla ordered. The enemy cruiser was altering course slightly, as if she was preparing for a run right at Harrington. Their tactics seemed to make no sense at all. “And lock our weapons on their hull.”

  “Weapons locked,” the tactical officer reported. “Missiles are armed, ready to fire; point defence grid is armed, ready to fire.”

  Layla keyed her console. “Unknown vessel, this is your last warning,” she said. “You will stand down or be fired upon ...”

  “Missile separation,” the tactical officer said. “One oversized broadside ...”

  They bolted missile pods to their hull, Layla thought, as the tactical display sparked with newer icons. No light cruiser could fire such a barrage with internal tubes alone. The extra tonnage made the ship somewhat more sluggish,
but it gave them an advantage over a heavier ship ...

  “Return fire,” she ordered. At least the enemy had fired on Harrington, rather than the freighter. If they’d fired on the freighter, it would almost certainly have blown the fleeing ship into debris. “Target their drives, if possible.”

  Harrington shuddered as she unleashed a barrage of her own. The enemy ship altered course again, sheering away from Harrington’s missiles ... then twisting back to fire a second much-reduced salvo from her internal tubes. Layla nodded in reluctant admiration; the enemy crew were clearly well drilled, rather than pirates whose firing patterns were irregular at best.

  “Point defence will engage in twelve seconds,” the tactical officer said. “Decoys away; ECM at full power ...”

  Layla nodded, feeling oddly helpless as the missiles roared towards her ship. Several fell to point defence fire, others were decoyed away by the drones or suckered into burning out their drives by the ECM ... but four made it through the defensive shield to enter their terminal attack run. One slammed into the gravity shield and detonated harmlessly; the remaining three detonated near the ship. Harrington rocked violently as a laser head sent a ray of power into her hull, boring deep into the hullmetal.

  “Damage to decks seven through nine,” the damage control officer reported. “Damage control teams are on their way.”

  Layla nodded. Thankfully, the remaining laser heads had missed her hull or the damage would have been worse.

  “Continue firing,” she ordered, as the enemy ship belched yet another wave of missiles. “And deploy a second wave of ECM drones ...”

  “Our missiles are entering attack range,” the tactical officer reported. “Captain, the enemy ship’s ECM is at least as good as our own.”

  “Understood,” Layla said, watching the complex interplay of sensor ghosts that shrouded the enemy ship, drawing off her missiles from their targets. Pirates rarely bothered with any kind of ECM, if only because ECM officers took years to train, even with the best computer support. It was just another sign that they were facing someone much more well-organised than a pirate gang. “Adjust our own systems to compensate ...”