Wolf's Bane (The Empire's Corps Book 14)

by Christopher Nuttall

  He smiled, inwardly. Governor Brown had grappled with the problem for years, long before he’d taken control of an entire sector. Cracking down on unregistered freighters - and smugglers - was good for the corporations, but not always good for the economy. People wanted what they wanted - and what they wanted, most of the time, was low prices. The corporations might howl, but the independent freighters couldn't be stopped without crippling the economy. Admiral Singh might want to drive them out of her territory, yet how could she do it without cutting her own throat?

  “They’ll be very careful when we reach Wolfbane,” Jasmine said.

  “I imagine they will,” Mark agreed. “But we can probably get papers at Calomel that will get us through the gates.”

  He looked at Colonel Stalker. “When do we go?”

  “When the time is right,” Colonel Stalker said. “You will be informed.”

  It was a non-answer. Mark bit down on his annoyance. Prisoner, defector or whatever, the Commonwealth wouldn't trust him with sensitive details. He would have done the same himself, although that didn't stop him finding the whole thing irritating. If they wanted him to go ... he shook his head, silently telling himself not to be silly. He wasn't really in a position to bargain.

  Colonel Stalker rose. “Thank you for your time,” he said. Jasmine rose too. “We’ll follow up on this later.”

  “Of course,” Mark said. He stood. “And thank you for coming.”

  He watched them go, then sat back down, schooling his face into an unreadable mask. He wasn't fool enough to assume the apartment wasn't monitored. Going back to Wolfbane was a risk, a risk he didn’t want to assume. He had no illusions about Admiral Singh - or about how he’d be treated, if he were caught. His contacts might easily sell him out, if they’d decided to stick with Admiral Singh to the bitter end. They couldn't be blind to the threat the Commonwealth posed to their long-term health, no matter how worrying they found their current military dictator. It was quite possible that Mark would lead the Commonwealth team into a deadly trap.

  And I wouldn't survive, he thought. The Commonwealth would see him as a traitor - and Wolfbane, of course, would feel pretty much the same way. Everyone would want me dead.

  He closed his eyes for a long moment, feeling a pang of bitter regret. Everything had seemed so simple, once upon a time. Governor Brown had made him - and the rest of the planetary militia - feel as though they were finally doing something more useful than standing around looking pretty. And then the war had started. And then countless thousands of young men had walked to their deaths on Corinthian. And then ...

  Admiral Singh has to be stopped, he told himself, firmly. Whatever happens afterwards doesn't matter. She has to be stopped.

  ***

  “An interesting man,” Colonel Stalker observed, once the door was shut. “Do you trust him?”

  Jasmine shook her head. In her experience, the only people who could be trusted completely were marines. Everyone else - soldiers, spacers, civilians - had a breaking point, a point beyond which they could not go. Mark Haverford might be sincere when he talked about overthrowing Admiral Singh, but she didn't trust him. He’d collapsed the moment she’d shoved her gun in his face and ordered him to surrender.

  “He might make the difference between getting a team to Wolfbane and being intercepted in transit,” Colonel Stalker said. “Can you work with him?”

  “You want me to go,” Jasmine said. It wasn't a question. “It will be a challenge.”

  “Yes, it will,” Colonel Stalker agreed. “Do you want to go?”

  Jasmine frowned. She was the best-qualified officer for the job. She’d been the one who had sneaked down to Corinthian and started an underground revolution that had eventually forced Admiral Singh to flee. And she’d commanded military operations on Thule, escaped a POW camp and struck at Wolfbane itself, and carried out behind-the-lines operations on Corinthian that had weakened the invading forces as they advanced on the capital city. By any reasonable standard, she was the only person who could be sent. And yet ...

  “I’m the best choice,” she said, ducking the question. In truth, she wasn't sure she wanted to go at all. She knew just how lucky she’d been to escape Corinthian, the first time. And she knew just what decisions she’d had to make to win her victory. She felt, even though no one else seemed to agree, that she’d gone too far. “I am the most experienced officer at your disposal.”

  She sighed, inwardly. She’d signed on the dotted line, once when she’d entered Boot Camp and again when she’d graduated from the Slaughterhouse. She didn’t have a choice about where she was sent, not after she’d been given her Rifleman’s Tab. She’d given up her freedoms when she’d joined the corps. Even now ... a wise commander might hesitate to send her somewhere she really didn't want to go, but she was the best-qualified officer. She was needed.

  Colonel Stalker gave her a long look, then nodded. “You can select your own team,” he said, seriously. “Make sure they can back up whatever claims you put on the official paperwork - they’ll be tested.”

  Jasmine nodded. The Empire’s certification program had been a waste of time - insisting that hairdressers had an expensive piece of paperwork just made the bureaucrats look silly - but her team would need engineering and mechanical qualifications. They would definitely be tested when they reached Wolfbane. Luckily, there was no shortage of trained mechanics within the marines and their auxiliaries. She might be better off focusing on the auxiliaries, if she thought she could trust them to handle it. These days, with everyone doing everything in their power to make the Commonwealth work, the lines had blurred more than she cared to admit.

  And we are running out of marines, she thought, grimly. What will we do when we’re all dead?

  Go to heaven or hell, her thoughts answered her.

  “I’ll see to it,” she said, pushing the mocking thought aside. She'd have to chat with Emmanuel, too. There was no way he could come with her, not into the heart of enemy territory. It wouldn't be their first separation, but they hadn't had much time together since they’d returned to Avalon. “Colonel ... when do we leave?”

  “As soon as possible,” Colonel Stalker said. “That's why I didn't disband the task force when we returned. We’re going to need it.”

  “Mandy will need more ships,” Jasmine said. She’d have to talk to Mandy too, if they had time. “And a lot more firepower.”

  “It’s on the way,” Colonel Stalker assured her. He nodded back towards the closed door. “You’ll have complete access to our friend in there. Ask him anything, anything at all, that you think might be germane to the mission. I’ll make sure intelligence knows to keep you in the loop too.”

  And hope he isn't planning to betray us, Jasmine thought. She disliked depending on anyone she didn't trust. If we’re wrong, he’ll be in an excellent place to do us harm.

  Chapter Five

  “You do realise that this is politically risky?”

  Ed nodded, looking down at his baby son. “How bad is it going to be?”

  Gaby shrugged as she leaned back on the sofa. “It depends on the exact terms,” she said, dryly. “Anything that smacks of letting Wolfbane get away with ... well, anything ... isn't going to go down well with the council, or the electorate at large. On the other hand, an agreement that allows us and them to compete on even terms will probably be accepted.”

  “We need to end the war,” Ed said. He rocked his son from side to side, very gently. “We could still lose.”

  “Unless we come up with something new,” Gaby said. She smiled, tiredly. “I understand the logic, Ed. The man in the street might not.”

  Ed nodded. The Commonwealth had never been designed for a war. Its political structure was staggering, perhaps failing, under the strain of having to fight a long war. The politicians, thankfully, had plenty of common sense - having to deal with reality had seen to that - but the stresses of the war were pulling them in different directions. They just hadn't had the
time to put the Commonwealth on a secure footing.

  “If we have access to their markets, if we break their control over the worlds they’ve occupied, our long-term victory is assured,” Ed said. “If they try to adapt to match us, they’ll have to make political changes; if they don’t, we will have a permanent advantage and their populations will grow restive.”

  “But it will take time,” Gaby pointed out. “Years, perhaps.”

  Ed nodded. There was no way to predict a technological improvement, let alone a breakthrough. Researchers were looking at every idea that had been proposed and trying to determine what could be turned into useful hardware, but most of their concepts had turned into damp squibs. It was possible that they’d find something tomorrow that would render the entire navy obsolete at a stroke ... and equally possible that they wouldn't manage to push the limits any further. All he could do was keep throwing money into research programs and hope for the best.

  Not that it has been that much of a failure, he thought. We wouldn't have the force fields or the advanced missiles without it.

  “I think we’re going to have to get used to the idea of things taking time,” he said. It was a bitter thought. “We’re operating on a greater scale now.”

  He shook his head in annoyance. He’d seen too many problems prolonged by political incompetence, too many insurgences and wars that could have been halted with an effective combination of the carrot and the stick. The Cracker War had ended - quickly - because the marines had had the freedom to capitalise on their battlefield victory. But Wolfbane was simply too large a target to be taken down by a single engagement, no matter how savage and costly. The days when problems could be contained by the Imperial Navy were long gone.

  “Then it’s time we got used to it,” Gaby said.

  She picked up the datapad. “I’m pretty sure we can agree on a truce, followed by free trade and migration,” she said. “As long as Admiral Singh’s successors don’t want to continue the war, I dare say everything else is negotiable.”

  Ed hoped she was right. Admiral Singh needed a victory, if the intelligence analysts were right. She had to cement her position before some kindly soul decided to assassinate her and rid the universe of a dangerous menace. But the corporations might not be much more inclined to be peaceful. He’d met enough corporate officers to know they could be just as cold and heartless as the Grand Senate, more concerned with meeting their stockholders’ demands than ending wars on favourable terms. God alone knew how many insurgencies had kept going because the locals refused to be exploited by interstellar corporations.

  But this is on a bigger scale, he thought, sourly. They will see us as dangerous competition.

  “We won’t seek to occupy Wolfbane,” Ed said. “We’ll just seek guarantees that the war will not resume in a hurry.”

  Gaby looked up at him. “And you’re sure you can keep them from rearming?”

  Ed shrugged. “There’s no way to be sure of anything,” he said. “Yes, we can beat them in their own system; yes, we can do a great deal of damage to their infrastructure; no, we cannot guarantee that we can keep them from rebuilding their military. But if we offer them a fairly decent short-term peace, they shouldn't want to resume the war until it’s too late.”

  He allowed himself a cold smile. The corporations wouldn't want to encourage their military to think for itself, not when they’d already had one military dictator. Hell, they probably wouldn't even want to throw resources into an unproductive military. Given five years, perhaps ten, the Commonwealth would have a decisive advantage if the war broke out again.

  And they probably won’t seek to restart the war unless they’re sure they can win, he thought, grimly. They would lose everything if they restarted the war and lost.

  “True enough,” Gaby said.

  Douglas opened his mouth and started to cry. Gaby took him and pressed the baby to her breast. Ed watched, feeling an odd kind of helplessness. He hadn't been able to make the baby fall quiet, no matter what he did. Douglas was utterly dependent on his mother. It seemed impossible to believe, somehow, that Douglas would grow into a little boy, then into a strong man. The infant was tiny.

  You were that size once, his thoughts pointed out. And you grew up big and strong.

  Sure, he answered, silently. And how many babies never grew up on Earth.

  He shuddered. Earth had been a nightmare. He’d known children who hadn't lived past their first decade, children he barely remembered amidst the horror of his life ... he couldn't even remember their names. He felt a surge of protectiveness, mingled with guilt, as he saw the tiny form. Part of him felt as though he’d brought a helpless child into a horrific world, even though he knew better. Douglas would never have to grow up in a CityBlock, never have to fight for his life against older boys and predatory adults ... never have to compete with his parents and siblings for food. Douglas would have a good life, Ed vowed. Ed would do whatever it took to make sure Douglas had a good life.

  Teach him how to defend himself, he thought, grimly. And teach him honour.

  He looked away, feeling another pang of guilt. He’d thought those emotions were buried, locked away at the back of his mind. He knew what he’d done to survive the Undercity, to try to stay alive long enough to escape. The world had been divided into victims and victimisers and he’d preferred the latter to the former. Maybe he hadn't been as bad as the drug lords or gangsters ...

  Douglas will never have to make those choices, he told himself. And he will never have to fight to survive.

  Gaby cleared her throat. “The next council meeting is going to be interesting.”

  Ed glanced at her. “Are you going to take Douglas with you?”

  “I may have to,” Gaby said. She looked down at her son. “It’ll have to be done.”

  “You could use a bottle,” Ed said, slowly.

  “Breast-feeding is better,” Gaby said. “And women have been doing it for thousands of years.”

  Not on Earth, Ed thought.

  He sighed. Women had been advised not to breast-feed on Earth, although he wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was dangerous - traces of dangerous elements were very common on Earth - or perhaps it was just a cunning plan to force everyone to buy baby formula. Or perhaps it was just a grim recognition that the two-legged predators infesting the Undercity would see a bare breast as an invitation. But then, those bastards would see an unprotected woman as an invitation, whatever she was wearing. Gaby had grown up with guns, she’d learned to shoot almost as soon as she could walk and talk. His sisters in the Undercity had been disarmed and helpless.

  “I know,” he said, slowly.

  It bothered him. And he didn't really know why it bothered him.

  “Good,” Gaby said, sharply. She met his eyes. “I have to see out the rest of my term, whatever else happens. And then I can retire gracefully.”

  She smiled. “Don't your fellow marines have this problem?”

  “No,” Ed said. Female marines had birth control implants. It was unheard of for one of them to get pregnant on active duty. If they wanted children, they had to go on detached duty. It was a harsh rule, but necessary. The Imperial Army and Navy had had a long-standing problem with crewwomen - even officers - getting pregnant on active duty. “They don’t.”

  Gaby’s lips twitched. “Poor them.”

  Ed raised his eyebrows. “What?”

  “They won’t know the feeling of being pregnant,” Gaby said. “They won’t feel the baby kicking inside them. And they won’t get to hold their child after they finally give birth.”

  “They can,” Ed said. “They just have to go on detached duty first.”

  Gaby looked down at her sleeping son, then carefully detached him from her breast. “Maybe we should have timed it better,” she said. “But ...”

  Ed nodded. They’d agreed to let chance determine when - if - they had a child. He’d been nervous for a while, wondering if he was even capable of siring a child. The Undercity was s
o badly contaminated that it might well have done permanent damage, even though his medical scan - when he’d reported to Boot Camp - hadn’t revealed anything too far out of the ordinary. He’d even promised himself that he’d get checked properly, if they failed to conceive a child in five years.

  But we had a child, he thought, as Gaby placed Douglas in his bassinet. A perfect baby boy.

  Gaby yawned. “I need some rest,” she said, lying back on the sofa. “Are you going to stay here?”

  “I can't fit on the sofa,” Ed pointed out. She gave him a nasty look. “But I’ll be here until I get called away.”

  “Just be quiet when you go,” Gaby said. “I don't get enough sleep these days.”

  She closed her eyes. Ed felt a hot flush of affection, mingled with guilt. He was going to go away and leave her alone ... he was going to risk his life once again, running the risk of leaving her alone. He’d never understood why so many married marines went on detached duty, not until he’d had a child himself. Now ... now, part of his mind refused to take the chance of leaving Gaby a widow. He didn't want to leave her alone.