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

by Christopher Nuttall

  He forced himself to relax as he took the aircar into the air and headed north, making sure to key his ID into the IFF system. Being shot down by the automated defences protecting Castle Rock would be annoying, to say the least. Camelot seemed to have grown even larger since he’d landed his shuttle after returning from Corinthian, a new set of prefabricated housing apartments clearly visible near the water. He peered down, noticing the hundreds of families that had come to the beach ... that, too, was something that would never have happened on Earth. Anyone foolish enough to swim in Earth’s poisoned seas would deserve everything they got.

  The radio buzzed as he crossed the ocean, heading directly for Castle Rock. He identified himself, knowing it wouldn't be enough for the duty officers. Sure enough, a pair of nasty-looking helicopters - their weapons clearly visible under stubby wings - materialised to escort him to the nearest landing pad. The security officers were very apologetic, after they confirmed his identity, but Ed didn't mind. He’d have been more upset if they allowed an unchecked aircar far too close to Castle Rock.

  Emmanuel Alves met him at the shuttle, looking tired. Ed wondered, as he nodded tightly to the reporter, just what he’d been doing in lockdown. Marines were fairly used to staying in their barracks - and lockdown wasn't too different - but Alves had probably hated every moment of it. Just being allowed to walk to the shuttlepad would have seemed heavenly, Ed thought. Alves didn't know how lucky he was.

  “Colonel,” Alves said. “Shall we go?”

  Ed nodded. “Yes,” he said. He took one last look at Castle Rock, then boarded the shuttlecraft. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  The Imperial Navy had laid on a big song and dance, Mandy had been told, whenever a superior officer graced a starship with his presence. She’d actually flipped through some of the protocol books, back when she’d been bored; she’d been astonished by how much effort starship crews were expected to put into greeting officers, even ones who were only visiting for a short while. Thankfully, the Commonwealth Navy hadn't bothered to develop such formalities for itself. All Colonel Stalker had to do, when Mandy met him and his companions at the airlock, was salute the flag, then her.

  “Colonel,” she said, once the reporter was dispatched to his quarters. “Welcome onboard.”

  “Thank you,” Colonel Stalker said. “I trust that all is in readiness?”

  Mandy nodded. Colonel Stalker wasn't as intimidating as some of the younger marines she’d met, but there was something about him that made her want to avoid disappointing him. He was ... she wasn't sure how to put it into words. He was so confident, so sure of himself, that he had no need to boss or bully to get his way. His smile had been nice, when they’d first met, yet there had been a hard edge behind it that told her not to mess with him. Now ... he looked harder, as if the stresses of the war were slowly getting to him.

  I’m not the only one who was pushed upwards at breakneck speed, she reminded herself, grimly. Colonel Stalker went from being in command of an understrength company of marines to commander-in-chief of an entire military machine.

  “Loading is complete, both troops and supplies,” she said, as she led him to the bridge. “We can depart at any time.”

  Colonel Stalker’s expression, if anything, grew grimmer. “And the first waypoint?”

  “We’ll be there in five days,” Mandy said. “The others should meet us there.”

  She groaned, inwardly. The other squadrons had been given sealed orders, instructing them to head to the first waypoint, but she was grimly aware that too much could go wrong. She couldn't help thinking that they were trying to be too clever, despite the risks. Admiral Singh finding out where they were going would be bad, but losing a squadron because it didn't make the RV point in time would be worse.

  And we don’t even know what we’re facing at Titlark, she reminded herself. We might still be outgunned.

  She stepped onto the bridge. The crew glanced at her, then stared at Colonel Stalker. Mandy shook her head in droll amusement, then motioned for the colonel to take one of the spare seats. She took her own seat a moment later, silently noting the crewmen who didn't hurry back to their duties. Colonel Stalker’s presence had been unexpected, at least to her crew, but they were on the bridge. The next time they were distracted, it might prove fatal.

  “Communications, alert the squadron,” she ordered. “We will depart in five minutes.”

  “Aye, Captain,” the communications officer said.

  Mandy leaned back in her chair, forcing herself to relax. Nothing would go wrong. They'd leave the system, following a least-time course to Thule; they’d alter course once they were on their way, secure in the knowledge they couldn't be tracked through Phase Space. And then they’d link up with the rest of the fleet and head directly to their true target. Admiral Singh wouldn't know what had hit her.

  “The squadron is ready,” the communications officer reported. “All ships - warships and troopships - are standing by.”

  “Take us out,” Mandy ordered.

  She watched the display as Defiant slowly moved out of orbit. Local space was crowded, hundreds of starships, industrial nodes and habitats orbiting Avalon or floating around the primary star ... it was hard to believe, even now, that it was the same system she’d entered, seven years ago. Then, the system had been practically empty; now, it hummed with life, with everything necessary to make sure that Avalon and the Commonwealth survived and prospered. And she had played a role in making it happen ...

  “We’ll cross the Phase Limit in nineteen hours,” the helmsman said. “The freighters are slowing us down.”

  “It can't be helped,” Mandy said. The warships could go faster - her cruisers were the fastest things in known space - but the troopships needed to be protected. “We’ll get there soon enough.”

  She glanced at Colonel Stalker. He was looking at the display, an odd look on his face. It took her a moment to realise that he was feeling wistful. She wondered, absently, just what he’d left behind on Avalon. And then she remembered that he’d had a baby ...

  Poor man, she thought. Her father had stayed with her mother. It had never seemed unusual until she’d realised that the upper middle classes were very much the exception on Earth. No doubt Colonel Stalker wanted to stay with his son. We’ll be back soon.

  But she knew, all too well, that that wasn't true.

  ***

  The intercom bleeped. Gaby stabbed it with a finger. “Yes?”

  “Madam President,” the dispatcher said. “Defiant and her squadron have left orbit. You wanted to be informed.”

  “Thank you,” Gaby said, shortly. She had given that order, hadn't she? Tiredness was affecting her ability to function, more than she cared to admit. God knew she’d had her fair share of sleepless nights during the war - she’d been woken and warned to flee more than once - but Douglas was wearing down her resistance. “Inform me when they cross the limit and vanish.”

  She closed the connection without waiting for a response, then looked down at her child. Her heart swelled with love, with an affection that seemed to transcend the love she felt for her partner or her planet. And yet, she knew Douglas had been an accident. Getting pregnant outside of wedlock, when she couldn't care for the child as much as a mother should, risked her reputation. Getting pregnant and then not getting married ...

  I don’t regret it, she thought. She liked to think that it had been that night they’d shared in the mountain hut, although the timing suggested that Douglas had been conceived in Camelot. Her birth control implant had run out ahead of time. I don’t regret it, but I will have to deal with it.

  She shifted the baby as gently as she could, then reached for her datapad. Her staff were handling routine matters - she’d trained them well - but she couldn't remain detached from her office indefinitely. What could she do then? Resign from politics, at least as long as it took for Douglas to go to school? Or try to balance her work with her life, governing the planet and raising
a child? She wasn't sure she could do both. If she’d had a longer term ahead of her, she might just have resigned.

  If I don’t get forced out of office, she reminded herself. She’d checked the statistics. She wasn't the only woman who’d had a surprise pregnancy. But she was the only one, as far as anyone knew, in a government post. They’ll say I’m a bad example.

  She rubbed her head in annoyance. She’d had to cut her hair short and her scalp itched. It didn't make her feel any better. She’d wanted children, but she’d wanted to plan them ahead of time. Perhaps Ed had been right, when she’d told him that she was expecting. Perhaps the Old Council, damn them, had wanted a population boom. It was the sort of thing they would have done.

  Douglas shifted against her, then started to cry. She hastily pushed him against her breast, relaxing when she felt him starting to suck milk. She didn't know how she was going to split her time, not when there were too many demands from both sides. And yet, she couldn't resign either. It would weaken the Commonwealth if its Head of State left before the end of her term.

  And we have too few precedents to draw on, she thought, tiredly. She couldn't help a yawn as Douglas slipped back into sleep. I can't let myself be forced from office for this.

  She picked up the datapad again, cursing under her breath. There was no help for it. She’d have to depend on the nursemaid and hope, desperately, that she could weather the political storm. Perhaps she could get some sympathy votes ...

  Sure, her own thoughts mocked her. And perhaps pigs will fly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “We cannot go on like this,” Daniel said.

  Nadia nodded in agreement. She’d applied to enter one of the technical colleges as soon as Governor Brown had opened them, thinking that it would open the doorways to a good job and a chance to rise high in the corporate world. But three years of intensive study - and coping with instructors who snapped and snarled at anyone who didn't come up with the right answers - had worn her down. Nothing she’d done on Wolfbane had prepared her for the college, not really. The students had been utterly unprepared to take on the challenge.

  She took a sip of her beer as she looked around the room: seventeen students sitting on the wooden floor, nine boys and eight girls ... the foundations of a protest movement. Or so she’d been promised, when she’d been invited. She’d heard that other protest movements had come to sticky ends - the protesters had been quietly rounded up and exiled to stage-one colony worlds - but this one was different. They’d spent far too long in the technical college, hadn’t they? The government couldn't exile them without shooting itself in the foot.

  “And so we have to go on strike,” Daniel added. “We have to show them that we’re serious.”

  Nadia felt the shock running around the room. Going on strike was taboo on Wolfbane, unsurprisingly. A world ruled by corporations wouldn't want its workers to strike for better conditions, would it? But students going on strike wouldn't present an immediate threat, would it? The corporations might try to negotiate rather than merely crush the strikers with overwhelming force, once word got out. They certainly wouldn't want to discourage students from attending technical colleges.

  “They’ll know we’re serious,” Susan said. She’d dyed her hair white, the week after she’d entered the college. The instructors had suspended her until she’d reluctantly agreed to allow her hair to go back to its usual mousey brown. It had been a harsh lesson for everyone. The colleges didn't allow their students to step out of line. “But they might expel us.”

  “They can't expel all of us,” Daniel pointed out. “There are over five thousand students in our campus alone.”

  Nadia sucked in her breath. Daniel was right, yet ... not all of the students would agree to strike. The older students, the ones who’d been screwed by the system, were even more determined to gain qualifications than any of the younger ones. But even if half of the students went on strike, the campus would have a serious problem. They might just agree to concede a few demands rather than risk the strike getting out of control.

  “We will be peaceful, but firm,” Daniel said. He looked around the room. “If each of you speaks to a single friend, and brings him along to the next meeting, we can expand slowly until we have enough people to spark off a strike. Make sure you pick someone you trust ...”

  “I’m not sure I trust anyone that much,” Nadia said.

  “You came here,” Daniel pointed out.

  Nadia shrugged. She knew she was on the verge of failing and being kicked out, no matter how hard she worked. She had never realised just how much she’d never been taught - just how much the former government had wanted to keep from her - until it was too late. Her aptitude tests insisted she would make a good WebHead, but she just couldn't grasp the underlying technical concepts. She'd be lucky to get a job fixing personal computers, not writing programming for military or corporate datacores.

  She chewed on a strand of blonde hair, wishing she had the money or connections to just walk out. A life on the government teat sounded very good right now, even though Admiral Singh had been cutting back on social benefits with savage intensity. The former government had made solemn promises, promises that Governor Brown and Admiral Singh had chosen to ignore. She didn't know what would happen if she left the college, particularly if she didn't have any real qualifications. Some Job Assignment Board asshole would probably decide her willowy body and silky blonde hair qualified her to be an exotic dancer ... and it was a short step from there to whore. She needed some proper qualifications ...

  ... But she didn't know if she was going to get them. She worked and worked, but she felt as though she was getting nowhere. Coming here, coming to a room Daniel had hired for the evening, was her first step outside the campus and her dorms for months. She hadn't even been able to go home for a night, just to check on her family. God alone knew what had happened to her parents and siblings.

  She dragged her attention back to Nancy as the older girl spoke with quiet intensity. “We have to make a stand now, while we still can,” she said. “Otherwise ... that will be the end.”

  Nadia snorted. She wanted a week or two of sleep. Anything else would be a bonus ...

  There was a sharp knock on the door, an authoritative rap-rap-rap that made them all freeze in horror. Only the police made such sounds, entering houses and apartments at night just to make sure that everyone knew they could ... Nadia glanced around, frantically, as Daniel tapped his lips, sharply. She barely heard him mutter instructions to play dumb as panic yammered at the back of her mind. They’d been caught ...

  The door exploded inwards as soon as Daniel undid the bolt. A line of black-clad policemen streamed into the room, two of them shoving Daniel to the floor while the remainder surged towards the others, barking orders. Nadia tried to rise, but it was far too late. Strong arms grabbed her, pushed her down and wrenched her hands behind her back. She screamed in pain, but the policeman ignored her. His knee held her down as he wrapped a plastic tie around her wrists, pulling it tight enough to cut off her circulation. And then she was yanked up and thrust against the wall.

  “Keep still,” her captor growled.

  Nadia froze. Hamish was bleeding ... it looked as though his jaw was broken. Beside him, Nancy and Seven were looking stunned, their eyes vacant as though they’d checked out of reality altogether. They were both from higher social classes than herself, Nadia recalled, as her captor frisked her thoroughly. They’d both enjoyed a certain immunity from police raids until they’d joined Daniel’s protest movement ...

  This isn't fair, she thought, as her captor’s hand lingered on her bum. She wanted to scream, but she knew no one would come to help. We didn't even get started.

  She felt tears pouring down her cheeks as the policemen smashed their way through the room, tearing open cupboards and ripping up floorboards with an intensity Nadia could only admire. A small collection of papers were waved in front of her face - some forbidden literature and politic
al pamphlets, something that would get them in real trouble - and then dumped on the floor. She kept glancing over her shoulder, half-hoping that someone - anyone - would come to their rescue. Perhaps the instructors would appear and call the policemen off, now their students had learned their lesson.

  Daniel gasped in pain. A policeman walked over to where he was lying and casually kicked him in the head. Nadia stared, unable to look away ... had she just seen Daniel die? Her mind couldn't quite comprehend it. She’d seen violence, she’d seen people get mistreated, but she’d never seen someone killed like that. He ...

  “Get your eyes to the wall,” a policeman barked.

  Nadia obeyed, hearing him moving up behind her. A moment later, she felt his hands slipping into her trousers, pushing them and her panties down to her knees. She closed her eyes as he pushed up against her, his penis rubbing against her bare skin, trying to pretend that it wasn't happening ...

  It didn't work.

  ***

  Captain Joshua Forster lit a cigarette and waited outside the meeting hall as the prisoners were half-marched, half-carried down to the penal van. The boys looked shell-shocked, those who were in any state to notice what was going on; the girls were weeping, wailing and whining, their trousers at half-mast as they were shoved into the door. He sneered at one blonde girl, who was frantically telling herself that it wasn't real, that nothing was happening, then nodded to his subordinates. The doors were slammed shut, cutting the prisoners off from the outside world.