The Empire's Corps: Book 04 - Semper Fi

by Christopher Nuttall

And when they’d finished with her, they’d dragged her off the table and shoved her into a smaller cell.

  She looked around as the pain slowly started to recede. They’d been careful not to feed her, which had worrying implications for her future. The quid pro quo her genetic improvements demanded was that she ate more than the average human being, just to provide the fuel for her body. If they didn't feed her soon, Jasmine suspected, her body would start feeding on itself just to keep her going. Marines had been known to starve to death when they couldn't get enough food.

  The smaller cell was dimly-lit, but she had no difficulty in seeing the solid metal door and the railing they’d used to hold her firmly in place. If she’d been able to move, Jasmine knew, she might have been able to break free, yet it seemed impossible. Or was it ... if she hadn't been desperate, she would never have considered what she was considering. The fact that it might be interpreted by her implants as torture and lead directly to her death was a very real concern.

  But the longer I stay here, she thought, the greater the chance I will break.

  She gritted her teeth as she started to pull her left hand through the handcuff. The metal seemed utterly inflexible, unwilling to break on her command. And yet ... the pain grew stronger as she pulled, feeling her wrist starting to hurt. It was quite possible that she would dislocate her wrist rather than break the bones in her hand ...

  There was an awful crunching sensation, a wave of pain that almost made her cry out in agony ... and her left arm came free. Jasmine felt a hint of triumph as the other half of the handcuff fell to the ground, freeing her right hand. Like most Marines, Jasmine could use either hand, but she preferred her right to her left. Some aspects of cultural conditioning never quite went away. The pain faded slowly as her body’s enhancements worked their magic, while she considered the shackles binding her legs. Thankfully, they hadn't been designed to stop someone removing them ... no doubt they’d assumed that the wearer would also have their hands cuffed behind their backs.

  Bracing herself, she waited. She didn't dare move too openly; it was almost certain that there was a monitor in the cell somewhere, with someone watching her every move. It was quite possible that person had seen her break the bones in her hand just to get some freedom of movement ... and if that had happened, she was thoroughly screwed. They'd chain her down and that would be the end of her freedom. She waited, praying for the first time in a very long time, as the seconds stretched out and no one came. They hadn't noticed!

  Either that, or they’re getting people in powered armour to come deal with me, she thought, bitterly. Even the best combatant in the Marine Corps would have been hard-pressed to win a fight against someone wearing powered armour, particularly when they were naked, unarmed and with one hand effectively useless. I guess I will just have to wait and see.

  ***

  “She told you nothing?”

  “Very little,” the interrogator said. “I believe that she is on the verge of breaking, however.”

  Horn smiled as Sid – one of the most vicious little bastards he’d had the pleasure to meet and recruit – snorted. “You should have let me fuck her,” he said, darkly. “I could have broken her just by rubbing her nose in her helplessness.”

  “It wouldn't have worked,” the interrogator said, dryly. “The girl has a strong cast of mind – she certainly isn't someone who can be easily traumatised.”

  Horn nodded. As entertaining as it was watching someone lose all control over themselves, it was more important to extract information from them. They could be executed later.

  “But she held up to your tortures,” the doctor said. “How many others do you know who could do that?”

  “Not that many,” the interrogator admitted. “But such mindsets can be worn down. It is just a matter of keeping up the pressure, then alternating it with periods when she can relax and anticipate the next level of suffering.”

  The doctor looked over at Horn. “The average person could not have stood up to such treatment,” he said, flatly. “Whoever you have chained up is not someone who can be broken so easily.”

  “I know,” Horn said.

  If the girl had talked at once, he would have concluded that she was a criminal – or working for one of his rivals. Such defiance would have been unusual for either; they both knew that their superiors wouldn't come to their rescue. Their only hope would be to cut a deal with Horn, trading information – and the chance to switch sides – for their own survival. After he’d wasted a great deal of effort in breaking them, he wouldn't be so interested in talking.

  But the girl was holding out and that meant .... what?

  The cold certainty that she was an infiltrator spread through his mind. There could be no other explanation; even the toughest of guardsmen would have broken under the battery of torture and manipulation hurled at them by his people. And that meant that he’d fucked up. And that meant that Admiral Singh was going to be furious. He might lose everything he’d worked for ...

  “Break her,” he ordered, angrily. “Whatever it takes, break her.”

  Sid leered. “I know just the right approach to use,” he said. “It breaks everyone.”

  ***

  It had taken some careful research to identify the blind spot in the security cameras covering part of the inner city. Wolf hadn’t bothered to research the cameras very closely, an oversight that Blake found puzzling – unless he was lying, of course. A man who employed loan sharks to lure people into debt – often manipulating protection rackets to force them into his clutches – wouldn't hesitate to lie if it suited his purposes.

  Still, the blind spot existed – and, given enough time, it could be used to his advantage.

  Admiral Singh’s people had tightened their grip on the city ever since the first reports had come in from the countryside. Blake had been amused to discover that they’d barred most vehicular traffic from moving, but still allowed people to walk around on foot; someone clearly hadn't been thinking about the consequences of their decision. But then, it also allowed them a chance to extort more money from the drivers. Without transport, feeding the city’s population would very rapidly become impossible.

  “Here she comes,” Sergeant Hampton said. “Now!”

  Blake stepped out onto the road as an armoured vehicle barrelled down towards him. If he hadn't been wearing a guardsman’s uniform, they might well have knocked him down and kept going. They’d certainly heard reports of Internal Security officers doing just that to innocent civilians. Instead, the driver slammed on the brakes and the van came to a halt.

  “What the fuck,” the driver demanded as he wound down his window, “do you think that you are doing?”

  Sergeant Hampton tossed a gas grenade into the cab. The officers grabbed for their weapons, too late, as the gas sent them into slumbers. Blake motioned for their helpers to pull the men out as he ran to the rear of the van and applied his multitool to the lock. It clicked open, revealing a dozen prisoners chained and shackled to the metal walls.

  “This is a rescue mission,” Blake snapped, as he undid the chains. “Get out of the vehicle and go straight into the house in front. The rest of your shackles will be removed there.”

  He waited until the vehicle was empty, then motioned for their helpers to get inside while others stripped the uniforms from the officers. Once the door was closed, he clambered up into the cab, allowing Sergeant Hampton to take the wheel. The entire operation had taken less than seven minutes.

  Let's just hope that is long enough, he thought, as the vehicle roared into life. If those bastards were meant to check in, we’re sunk.

  He pulled the captured uniform jacket on and checked the paperwork. Luckily, no one seemed to question Internal Security – at least outside their headquarters. And once they were through the security gate, they should have a chance to rip through the interior and free the prisoners.

  And if we screw this up, he though grimly, we’re really screwed.

  “We
have some paperwork to prove that we’re who we claim to be,” Carl observed. “And if it fails ...?”

  “We fight our way out,” Blake said, although he knew it was going to be tough. “And we burn down the place behind us.”

  The recruits – kids, really – who had been brought along on the operation barely knew one end of their SI-352 assault rifles from the other. Thankfully, Admiral Singh had largely agreed with the Civil Guard’s assessment that the vast majority of their recruits were idiots who shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a more complicated weapon – the SI-352 was often considered the simplest weapon in the universe, a design dating all the way back to the Unification Wars – but Guardsmen still got more than a few weeks of training before they were expected to carry out anything more complicated than marching in step.

  Sergeant Hampton looked over at him. “How does it feel to be on the other side?”

  Blake scowled at the Sergeant. He’d liked to think of himself as a righteous man – a man who fought for a cause, even if it was just as simple as ensuring that as many Marines as possible survived the day. And he'd often avoided prostitutes because he never knew if they had entered the business voluntarily or if they’d been forced to open their legs for strange men.

  I thought I could take the moral high ground, he thought, as the Internal Security building came into view. I was wrong.

  On cue, the first stage of the diversion went off.

  ***

  Lukas had been puzzled by the instructions he had received from their superiors. He was to drive a vehicle to a certain location – papers had been provided to allow them to drive within the city - park on the pavement and then walk away. The instructions had been very clear. Whatever happened, he was not to be anywhere near the car by 1500.

  Shaking his head – perhaps the whole escapade was a test to see how well they could follow orders – Lukas parked the car and locked the door behind him, then walked off as casually as he could. No one, it seemed, took any notice of him as he turned the corner and glanced at his watch. It was 1456.

  Four minutes later, a thunderous explosion shook the air. Lukas looked back and saw a colossal plume of smoke arising from the direction of where he’d parked the car, then heard sirens howling in the distance. He’d driven a ruddy bomb! Excitement warred with fear in his mind. If he'd known what he was doing ... he would probably have frozen up in terror. Instead, if he’d been seen ...

  Grimly, he kept walking. It wasn't far until he reached the safe house.

  ***

  “What was that?”

  “An explosion,” Zed reported. “At least one within the city itself.”

  Horn cursed. First reports were always inaccurate, he’d noted.

  “Sound the general alert,” he ordered. There would be absolute confusion, but there was no choice. “And get everyone you can draft attached to crowd control duty. We do not want a panic.”

  ***

  It seemed that hours had passed before the cell door opened, revealing Sid. Jasmine stared at him, pasting an expression of absolute horror on her face, then lowered her eyes as if she didn't want to look at him. The torturer advanced towards her, one hand carrying a small bowl of strew, the other holding the neural whip. It took very little acting to flinch when he brandished it in her direction.

  Let him get closer, she told herself, as he put the bowl of stew on the concrete floor. The smell was a torture in itself, a reminder that she hadn't eaten for hours, perhaps over a day. How long had it actually been? Let him get closer and then ...

  “This is where you get a chance to tell me something I want to know,” Sid told her. He pointed towards the bowl with the neural whip. “Tell me something, something I can take to my superiors ... and I will feed you.”

  He slipped closer to her, waving the neural whip towards her chin. “Or you can refuse to talk and I can hurt you,” he added. “I ...”

  Jasmine brought her right arm out from behind her back and slammed it into his throat as hard as she could. He let out a dull gasp, then collapsed; even weakened as she was, Jasmine was still strong enough to crush his throat. Part of her regretted the fact that she wouldn't have an opportunity to repay him for probing her body by shoving the neural whip up his ass, the rest of her insisted that there was no time to waste. She pulled herself upright, undid the shackles binding her leg with her right hand, then ran towards the cell door.

  A man stood outside, clearly bored. The last thing he expected to see, Jasmine realised as she threw herself towards him, was a naked girl carrying a neural whip. His mouth dropped open before she bowled him over, pressing the neural whip against his forehead and sending him into gibbering spasms. It crossed her mind that she might just have permanently crippled him before she pushed the thought aside. Like so many others here, he'd known what he was doing.

  She ran into the next room and glanced around, looking for anything useful. Two guards stared at her in shock, before she threw the neural whip at the first one’s eye and jumped on the second one. He must have been out of shape, she realised; he barely moved before she broke his neck and sent him tumbling to the ground. The other one hadn't had a chance; even if the neural whip had been turned off, it had gone right into his eye.

  Carefully, she searched their bodies and removed several weapons and a couple of data terminals. They had no clothes that would fit her, but that hardly mattered. Perhaps her nakedness would help confuse them before it was too late. Bracing herself, she stepped into the next room and saw another guard, his back to her, inspecting a set of consoles. Jasmine slipped forward, caught the back of his head and held the neural whip in front of his eyes. A moment later, she smelled urine ...

  “Coward,” she hissed. She felt the man flinch, although she couldn't tell if it was because of the insult or because he knew how close he was to death. Her voice sounded harsh and unfamiliar in her ears. “Can you unlock all of the cells from here?”

  He nodded, frantically.

  “Good,” Jasmine said. “Do it.”

  She allowed herself a smile. “And then point me towards your master,” she added. “I want a few words with him.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  In addition, each planet would be expected to raise a certain amount of troops for a united deployment as well as look after its own internal security. When a planet had too many problems to comply with those requirements, the Commonwealth attempts to provide political and military support. However, the politics of the Commonwealth allowed most insurgences to eventually be brought to an end. The Crackers, for example, no longer needed to fight the original planetary council.

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

  “There’s been an attack,” the guard said, as he checked Blake’s papers. “Get those bastards inside and then get out again.”

  Blake nodded. Everyone was rushing around in a panic – and that was good. Even for the Marines, the first few minutes of any attack were always chaotic. It was amazing how many details were overlooked while all hell was breaking loose. He took back the papers and drove the van forward, into the underground parking lot. It was a darkened chamber, normally – he’d learned from the interrogations – heavily secured. Now, the guards were distracted.

  He opened the door and jumped out of the van, weapon in hand. The remaining guards turned to see him, saw the half-uniform he wore and stared in disbelief. Blake opened fire with his stunner, sending them toppling to the ground before they could react, then marched around the van and opened the rear door. Their allies, the best of the teenagers they’d tried to train in using weapons, came plummeting out, weapons in hand.

  “Let’s go,” Blake hissed. He pulled his own mask over his head as the teens rushed past him, then followed them. Carl had his back, leaving Sergeant Hampton in charge of the vans. It was probably their only way out of the building once the mission was completed. “Use stunners unless they’re wearing armour.”

  His lips twitched, remember
ing ancient drills, as he took the lead, one hand absently pulling gas grenades off his belt. Using them was a gamble – he’d always assumed that the Internal Security troopers were immunised to the gas, just as the Marines were – but if nothing else they should provide some cover. Unlike the Marines, the Civil Guard had never gone for tasteless and odourless gas. They much preferred to terrify people who saw the gas clouds coming.

  An alarm started to ring, echoing through the corridors as they made their way down to the prison cells. According to their sources, Internal Security had hundreds of cells under the ground, where they held prisoners considered too interesting or too important to be dispatched to the penal camps outside the cities. Carl, reading between the lines, had suggested that those prisoners included people the troopers used for sexual pleasure; Blake had quietly promised himself that he would do his best to liberate everyone, not just Lieutenant Yamane. Admiral Singh’s Head of Security’s career would be unlikely to survive a massive prison break.

  He glanced into a side-room, saw a dining table and some chairs and smiled to himself. The troopers on duty had clearly been eating when the alarm had sounded, forcing them to drop their food and grab their weapons. He’d always hated it when that happened to the Marines; on Han, they’d come to believe that a certain dining hall was jinxed. They’d sat down, the food had been served ... and the alarm had gone off. Blake threw a gas grenade into the room, creating an unpleasant surprise for anyone who stumbled in without immunisation, and then led the charge onwards, checking each room as they passed. Most of them appeared to be small, reasonably comfortable bedrooms. The amount of loot in a couple of them was staggering.

  The rest of the assault force hung back as Blake and Carl went down the first flight of stairs, eventually reaching the upper level of prisoner blocks. There seemed to be a riot going on; several dozen prisoners had been released and were intent on either escaping or avenging themselves on their tormentors. Blake was no stranger to horror, but the sight of a guard who had literally been bitten to death made him shudder. Another had had his balls cut off and stuffed into his mouth – an act of revenge, Blake suspected, for rape. He’d seen it before in the bandit camps, when their slaves had realised that the Marines had destroyed the bandit power base forever.