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

by Christopher Nuttall

  “I’m not sure,” Meade said. She paused. “I’m running verification programs against their reports, Jazz, but they’ve had plenty of time to fake things. We might not be able to pick up a hoax before it’s too late.”

  Jasmine nodded. Admiral Singh had ample incentive to claim she’d won, whatever had happened. But Admiral Singh also knew that her ships were riddled with spies. A lie - or even a minor exaggeration - would be detected, sooner rather than later. She had a great deal to lose if she chose to lie blatantly, didn't she? The corporate directors would not be impressed.

  “The programs haven’t picked up any obvious glitches,” Meade said. “It still doesn't prove anything, but ...”

  “I know,” Jasmine said. Given time, someone could easily put together a false narrative and promote it to the universe. The Empire’s media complex had specialised in turning defeats into victories, just by making sure that no disagreeing viewpoints were ever heard. It would be relatively easy to ensure that nothing got through that called the story into question ... but not here. “We have to assume the worst.”

  She poured herself a cup of coffee as she thought, fast. Admiral Singh had scored a major victory. Indeed, she’d scored a bigger victory than she knew. Jasmine had to assume that the plan to strike at Wolfbane itself had been delayed, perhaps cancelled altogether. And if that were the case, what then? Should they try to sneak off the planet before it was too late or continue with the original plan, minus the attacking fleet?

  Too many people know we’re here, she thought. She was fairly sure that Mouganthu was the only director who knew their precise location, but she didn’t dare count on it. If they choose to back Admiral Singh instead ...

  It would be fairly easy to vanish, she thought. Wolfbane had an extensive criminal underground and an entire population of unregistered people. The six of them could go underground and hide, or try to purchase passage off-world. But that would mean abandoning their corporate allies and all hope of winning the war. Admiral Singh, she was sure, would use the victory as an excuse for a clampdown. Her enemies might not be able to muster the power to stop her before it was too late.

  “The verification programs still haven’t found any glitches,” Meade said. “They’re even showing footage from the battle itself.”

  Jasmine felt her heart sink. Faking that was risky. There was always someone ready to point out the smallest glitch, the smallest flaw in the footage that would allow them to unravel the narrative and brand it a fake. That they hadn't ... Admiral Singh had either won a great victory or she was very confident in her fake. Somehow, Jasmine doubted it was the latter.

  The door opened. Stewart entered the apartment.

  “It’s on all the news channels,” he said. Jasmine didn't have to ask what was on all the channels. “Apparently, there’s going to be a street party.”

  “Lots of parties,” Meade agreed. “Invitations are flying around like flies on shit.”

  Jasmine rubbed her eyes as she sipped her coffee. There was no point in trying to deny the truth any longer. The original plan had failed spectacularly. Titlark might be devastated - the reports hadn't said anything about what had happened to the base, which made her suspect Mandy had landed a number of devastating blows - but the Commonwealth Navy had been defeated. And that meant that they were on their own.

  “Contact Mouganthu,” she said. “Tell him we need to meet.”

  “He might not want to meet with us,” Stewart warned.

  “It’s possible,” Jasmine agreed.

  She put her cup down on the sideboard, gently. Mouganthu hadn't known about the planned attack on Wolfbane. Jasmine had been careful not to even hint at the possibility. Logically, nothing had changed ... apart from Admiral Singh scoring a decisive victory. Perhaps Mouganthu would prefer to pull in his horns and wait to see what happened before recommitting himself. And if that happened ...

  We might need to nudge him along, she thought. That would be dangerous. Mouganthu was no fool, whatever else he was. And if we can't do that, we might have to vanish completely.

  “Thomas, get ready to vacate the apartment,” she said. Thankfully, they’d had enough time to set up a couple of safe houses that weren't - as far as she knew - on anyone’s list. “If we have to go underground, we’ll go underground.”

  She looked at Meade. “See what else you can draw out of the datanet,” she added. “And look for any flaws in their story.”

  “Teach your mother to suck eggs,” Meade said rudely. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Jasmine said. “And make sure you’re ready to leave at a moment’s notice too.”

  ***

  “Welcome home, Admiral,” Paula said. “And congratulations.”

  Rani nodded. Paula had arranged a big reception for her, including a welcoming committee and a planned dinner for the movers and shakers. Rani had enjoyed the welcome more than she'd expected, although she wasn't looking forward to the dinner. Gloating over her victory was fun - she hadn't had an unambiguous victory for a long time - but she needed to move to capitalise on her victory before it was too late. Her enemies wouldn't stay quiet for long.

  “Thank you,” she said. “How are the people taking it?”

  “There are spontaneous victory parties and parades all over the planet,” Emma Foxglove told her. “All genuine, of course.”

  “Of course,” Rani echoed. She strode to the window and peered out. Throngs of people were dancing in the streets below. “And the bad news?”

  Paula hesitated. “There’s ... something going on, Admiral,” she warned. “It may be troublesome.”

  Rani was almost relieved. Silence did not, in her experience, mean safety. It generally meant that someone was plotting something, someone who hadn't been noticed by her security forces. Indeed, given just how many plots her security forces had broken up - and how many subversives had been arrested - she feared that the survivors had learnt how to keep themselves unnoticed. It was their only hope of remaining hidden long enough to strike.

  “I see,” she said. “Details?”

  She listened, coldly, as Paula stumbled through an explanation. Meetings between corporate directors, all held under tight security. Rumours of subversives being trained in military tactics and armed ... armed by whom? The arrest of a handful of ex-students who’d confessed to downloading terrorism and insurgency manuals and trying to learn from them ... even a handful of policemen being arrested and executed for selling weapons and protective gear to subversives. It all added up to a deadly plot.

  And client officers having more and more meetings with their handlers, she thought, coldly. They’re plotting something.

  “I had extra troops sent to the orbital fortresses,” Paula finished. “But our attempts to raise new units have been hampered. We don't know who we can trust.”

  “That has always been true,” Rani said. She lifted her eyes, picking out the corporate towers against the skyline. “They’re plotting something.”

  She cursed the corporations under her breath, savagely. Didn’t they realise she’d just won a great victory? The way to Avalon lay open, if she had time to muster her forces and take advantage of it. She couldn't stop now. And yet, the corporations feared her. They’d be concerned about just how she’d use her victory. Given time, they’d find a way to strike at her from a distance ...

  I can't afford to give them time, she thought. I have a window of opportunity and I intend to use it.

  “That is my read on the situation,” Emma agreed. “I do have a number of potential suspects on the list. We could take them out now and delay their plans ...”

  Rani shook her head. “There’s no point in going after the weeds,” she said. “We have to deal with the main threat.”

  Paula started. “Admiral, I have to warn you ...”

  “... That it will cause economic trouble?” Rani finished. “Yes, it will. But we have to cut the head off the snake.”

  She closed her eyes fo
r a long moment, recalling the reports she’d read during the slow approach to Wolfbane. The industrial nodes had stockpiled thousands of missiles, ranging from conventional warheads to hundreds of the newer designs. Rani knew from bitter experience that consumption was always greater than predicted - her squadrons had practically shot themselves dry during the Battle of Titlark - but there should be enough weapons on hand to allow her to hammer the Commonwealth Navy a second time. She could tolerate a short period of economic disruption.

  “Emma, put together an operation,” Rani ordered. “There are two targets - the corporate towers and the industrial nodes. I want them both secured, with their inhabitants held prisoner. Those who are willing to work for us will be rewarded, those who are not will be ... discarded.”

  “Mouganthu has announced a party for tomorrow evening,” Emma said. “I believe that most of the corporate directors will be there. If we strike there first, before anywhere else, we'd have them all in the bag. We’d certainly block any attempt to strike at us or launch a counter-offensive.”

  “Particularly as they’re the conspirators,” Paula added. “The remaining five directors appear to be sitting on the fence.”

  Rani had her doubts. Mouganthu and his ilk had never liked her. Even Wu and Straphang would replace her in a heartbeat, if they thought they could get away with it. But picking a fight with all twelve directors at once was asking for trouble. If the five fence-sitters stayed on the fence, she’d leave them alone for the moment. They could be rounded up and their corporations broken later.

  And once the corporations are broken up, they won’t be able to challenge me any longer, she thought. And they may even start innovating again.

  “Put the operation together,” she ordered. “Mouganthu Tower is to be targeted first, followed by the remaining towers. Make sure that all communications are jammed.”

  She paused, contemplatively. “And warn the troops to try to take prisoners,” she added. “I want the directors and their families alive.”

  “Of course,” Emma said. “It’s astonishing how cooperative people become when you hold their families prisoner.”

  Rani nodded, feeling ... odd. When had she resorted to hostage-taking? Holding partners and children hostage had always seemed wrong. But now ... she sighed, inwardly. She did what she needed to do to make sure she didn't lose power and die. And if that meant taking hostages and being ready to kill them ...

  I do what I have to do, she thought. And that’s all there is to it.

  “Admiral Howarth will remain in command of the fleet,” she added. She was tempted to move operations back to her battleship, but she knew that would be an admission of weakness. Besides, the fortress was still secure. “The crew is having some well-deserved leave.”

  Emma looked concerned. “Admiral, is it wise to have the crew on leave?”

  “Some of the crew on leave,” Rani corrected. She shrugged. Emma had a point, but Rani needed to consider the morale issue. Her crewmen had won a great victory. Surely they deserved to join the street parties, too. “Wise or not, we have no choice.”

  She turned away from the window. “We have an opportunity to strike now,” she said. “I do not intend to waste it.”

  “Aye, Admiral,” Emma said.

  Rani nodded. Emma would do as she was told. She’d never liked the corporate directors, let alone their habit of conducting business under tight security. Paula didn't seem so enthused, but Rani knew she understood. Besides, the corporations were her enemies. She simply wasn't liked or trusted outside Rani’s inner circle.

  And afterwards, she can help break up the corporations into more manageable entities, she thought. It will give her a chance to broaden her mind.

  ***

  It was astonishing, Jasmine noted as she made her way down the street, just how infectious a party could become. Street vendors were giving away alcohol and snacks, music was blaring from overhead speakers ... even the policemen were joining in the dancing. Spacers were swaggering down the streets, girls on their arms ... she could see happy couples in the alleyways, too excited or too drunk to care that they were in public. Older men and women were shaking their heads in amusement, while children ran freely through the crowds, chased by their parents.

  She listened carefully as the spacers bragged to everyone within hearing range. The stories were all wildly exaggerated - spacers were the same everywhere - but there was an unmistakable ring of truth in their words. Admiral Singh could not have convinced so many men to lie, let alone kept them reciting the same story. No, there had been a battle and the Wolves had won. There was a honest jubilation in their storytelling that erased her last remaining doubts. The Wolves had won a major battle.

  A hand grabbed her arm. “Hey,” a half-drunk spacer said. His breath smelt of cheap rotgut and lighter fluid. She couldn't help thinking of some of the improvised explosives she’d been teaching the students to make. “You want to come celebrate?”

  He tugged her towards the alley. Jasmine considered allowing him to pull her into the darkness, then snapping his neck and vanishing before anyone realised he was dead. It would be easy, yet it would also be far too revealing. The policemen might turn a blind eye to pickpockets and sneak thieves working the crowd - Wolfbane’s police forces were far more concerned with political subversion - but she doubted they’d ignore a murder. And if she left any clues behind, they’d track her down easily.

  She yanked her hand free, then darted into a mass of dancers before the drunkard realised that she’d gone. He’d have no trouble finding someone willing, she thought, as she slipped through the crowd and out onto the pavement. The local women seemed to be out in force, giving themselves to the victors. Jasmine snorted as she passed a hot-dog stand - the stench of half-cooked meat assaulted her nostrils - and hurried down the street. A handful of students could be seen in the distance, handing out subversive pamphlets. Jasmine hoped they had the sense to vanish when the policemen came after them.

  Back to the apartment, she told herself, firmly. She didn't think there was anything to be gained by working the crowd any further. The enemy victory had been confirmed. And then start planning.

  She glanced up as another flight of shuttles roared overhead. Admiral Singh appeared to be giving all of her crews shore leave. Jasmine wished she’d known in advance, if only because there might have been a way to take advantage of it. Undermanned ships might be easy targets. But she hadn't ...

  We’ve had a setback, she conceded, privately. There was no point in trying to hide from the truth. But it isn't going to stop us.

  Chapter Thirty

  “No,” Herman Mouganthu said. “This is not good news.”

  “She won a real victory,” Tallyman agreed. “She’s now in a very strong position.”

  Herman nodded, curtly. He’d thought that outright - unambiguous - military victories were a thing of the past. The Commonwealth-Wolfbane War had certainly had its fair share of ambiguous victories, where one side captured a star system but the other side managed to retreat with most of its mobile firepower. It was just too hard, he’d been told, to force the enemy to fight unless one attacked a target the enemy had to defend. The enemy had too many options to evade an unpromising engagement.

  But Admiral Singh had won an unambiguous victory. His tactical analysts all agreed that she’d given the Commonwealth a very bloody nose. The Commonwealth Navy would need time to replenish its losses and revise its tactics, particularly in the face of newer weapons and defensive systems. Hell, the analysts had made it clear that enemy morale was likely to suffer too. They’d always enjoyed a major tech advantage, even when they hadn't had the numbers. That advantage was now gone.

  “She might win the war,” Hernandez agreed. “And then ... where will we be?”

  “In deep shit,” Herman said. An Admiral Singh who was constrained by necessity was one thing - she needed the corporations, no matter how much she loathed them - but one who had a free hand was quite another. “I don�
�t believe that anything has really changed.”

  “Except she’s won a major engagement,” Tallyman pointed out. “She now has the prestige to wage war on us.”

  “Suicide,” Hernandez grumbled. “She’d have to be mad.”

  “She cannot be blind to our efforts,” Herman countered. His staff had done everything they could to conceal his preparations, but he had no doubt that far too much had leaked. Admiral Singh knew they were planning something, even if she didn't know what. “We cannot afford to delay.”

  “She’s on the ground,” Hernandez said. “We can get to her.”

  “If we can take the fortress,” Tallyman objected. “If she remains in power, she can call down doom on us.”

  “Then we need to prepare to move now,” Herman said. He glanced at his watch. “We’ll speak to the others as the evening wears on.”

  “Of course,” Hernandez agreed. “And then ... when do we move?”