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

by Christopher Nuttall

  Patty nodded, helplessly. She didn't dare do anything else.

  “You telegraphed your swing well before you threw it,” Joe lectured. “You then overextended yourself, then you allowed me to grab you. If I’d wanted to kill you - or worse - I could have done it by now. Do you understand me?”

  Patty groaned. She’d been told she was good. Her trainers had told her she was good. But Joe had rendered her helpless effortlessly. She hadn't been fast enough to make up for her weaknesses. He could snap her neck if he wanted and she couldn’t stop him ...

  “That will do,” Stuart said. “Let her go.”

  “Your strongest command is my slightest wish,” Joe said. He lowered Patty to the floor, then released her. “That’s why we need guns.”

  He smirked as she rubbed her throat. “Aren't you going to thank me for the lesson?”

  Patty glared at him. Her neck hurt, but otherwise ... she was unharmed. Humiliated, but unharmed. And yet ... she felt vulnerable. She’d taken martial arts, she had badges ... had she won any of those fights? Or had they been as scripted as a flick show? The mere thought of thanking him felt absurd, yet ... he’d done as she’d asked. She just hadn't known what she’d really wanted.

  “Thank you,” she growled.

  “Use weapons,” Joe said. He walked over to the table and picked up a knife. “Next time, let someone get close and bury this in them.”

  Patty winced. Stuart helped her to her feet and hugged her, tightly. He didn't look pleased, unsurprisingly. Watching Patty get manhandled had to have been unpleasant, all the more so because it could so easily have been worse. Joe could have bruised her skin, broken bones or even molested her, just to make his point. The feeling of vulnerability only grew worse as she leaned against her boyfriend. Was this the true nature of the human race? Was society a mask drawn over a world red in tooth and claw, where might made right and the victor claimed the spoils? Did she need a protector? Could she rely on Stuart to protect her?

  Her tutors hadn't told her anything about this. But then, they’d rarely talked about society and human nature ... her thoughts ran in all directions, mocking her. How long had she been vulnerable? How close had she come to being robbed or raped or murdered each time she walked down the street? How foolish had she been to believe she could look after herself?

  Joe held out the knife. Patty took it, feeling cold. “You can learn,” Joe said. “And the first step in learning is admitting your ignorance.”

  “Thank you,” Patty said. She looked at Joe’s hulking muscle and shivered. “How ... how did you learn?”

  “I was born in Falloch,” Joe said. “You learn or you die. My mother never went out without a knife up her sleeve.”

  Patty’s eyes opened wide. Falloch wasn't too far from her own birthplace, but it might as well be on the other side of the planet. The district had been deprived for so long that it was a brutal nightmare, ruled by mobsters and terrorised by gangbangers. And Joe had been born there? She eyed him with new respect. Everyone knew that Falloch was a hellish place to grow up. How had Joe managed to escape?

  “There’s no such thing as a fair fight,” Joe said. “I ...”

  He broke off as a bell rang, several times. “Grab your weapons,” he ordered. “I think we’re about to be raided.”

  ***

  The building didn't look like much, but then they never did. City Records stated that it had been a sports hall, once upon a time, before the owners had gone bankrupt and abandoned the building to the elements. Police records indicated that a handful of homeless families had tried to use the building as a residence, but they’d been rousted out by Campus Security long ago. The building was still intact, even though a handful of vandals had spray-painted subversive slogans on the walls. As a hiding place for a cell of subversives, it had its limits.

  Joshua checked his weapon - again - as the policemen clambered out of the van and hastily surrounded the building. The first report hadn't been particularly detailed, but it had implied that there were at least twenty subversives within the building. It was certainly large enough to house many more, given time. Joshua had heard enough rumours about rebel cells training for war to believe that there could easily be a small army inside the building. But they were students, not soldiers or mobsters. They’d fold at the first sight of blood.

  “Team One goes in through the front entrance,” he ordered. The students probably already knew the police had arrived. It wasn't as though they were trying to remain hidden. “Team Two secures the other entrance.”

  He smiled as he drew his truncheon. He felt like breaking a few heads - and besides, he needed prisoners. God knew he would be in serious trouble, the moment he returned to the station. The communications channels had been oddly quiet since he’d sent the last report from the tower, de facto proof that a massive shitstorm was in the air and heading in his general direction. If he could break a rebel cell - if he could capture someone who could lead the police to the inner circle - the shitstorm might just go away. It wasn't much, he knew all too well, but it was all he had.

  The air smelt faintly of blood, sweat and the stench of desperation as the policemen approached the entrance. It looked solid - and locked with a heavy chain and padlock - but his experienced eye had no trouble picking out the telltale signs that someone had jimmied the lock. The students hadn't done a very good job of it, he noted. They’d have done better to remove the padlock entirely and replace it with one of their own. Perhaps he hadn't stumbled across a real cell after all.

  He forced that thought aside. He needed a victory. Whatever the cost ...

  “Go,” he ordered.

  The first squad picked up the battering ram, then charged forward.

  ***

  Patty’s hands were trembling as she slotted the ammunition clip into the pistol and stepped forward, taking up a defensive position just past the lobby. Stuart held a rifle with a little more assurance - he’d been lucky enough to fire a few rounds for training purposes - but otherwise he looked as nervous as Patty felt. Even Joe looked pale in the half-light as he muttered orders, trying to take control of the situation.

  “They’re going to come through the main door,” he whispered, pulling his mask over his face. His voice sounded funny through the rubber. “Give them hell.”

  Patty swallowed, hard, as she donned her own mask. Her throat was suddenly dry. She’d heard enough horror stories about what happened to subversives when they were captured to know she didn't want to be taken alive. The police did horrible things to their prisoners, she’d been told. If she was lucky, she'd only be raped and then exiled. Stuart, Joe and the other men would probably be raped as well, if the rumours were true. She found them easy to believe. The police had never shown the slightest hint of compassion towards anyone, as far as she knew. They were drawn from the very dregs of society.

  And there was no hope of escape. Joe had checked. The building was surrounded. There were no tunnels, no tricks that might allow them to escape detection long enough to flee into the university or out onto the streets. They’d been detected, somehow ... perhaps they’d been betrayed. She’d been warned - they’d all been warned - to keep the existence and membership of their cell a secret, but something had clearly leaked out. Perhaps they’d made a mistake using the sports hall. Someone might have noticed that it was being put to use.

  She elbowed Stuart. “Don’t let them take me alive.”

  Stuart looked back at her. “I won’t.”

  The main door exploded inwards. Patty flinched as black-clad figures swarmed into the building, the leaders carrying a giant object as they ran forward. Joe barked a command and the students opened fire, a ragged barrage that sent a dozen policemen toppling to the ground, dead. Patty stared at the smoking gun in her hand, wondering just how many of the policemen she’d killed personally. How many times had she pulled the trigger? She wasn't sure. The clip was empty, so she ditched it and slotted in a new one ...

  “Grenade,” someo
ne shouted.

  Patty barely had a second to register ... something ... flying into the lobby before it exploded, blasting sheets of gas in all directions. She stumbled backwards, hoping the gas needed to be breathed before it took effect. The masks were supposed to protect their faces, keeping the gas from blinding as well as choking them, but the rest of their clothing wasn't anything like so protective. They’d be dead in seconds if the police had used nerve gas ...

  She peered into the smog as she moved backwards, searching for targets. The police could be advancing right now and she wouldn’t know it, not until they loomed out of the smoke. Joe caught her arm and thrust her back, motioning for her to run. Patty kept her pistol raised as she moved, realising that the smog was getting thicker. They wouldn't be able to see each other soon.

  Maybe we can sneak out in the confusion, she thought. And then make a break for it.

  She shook her head. She knew it wasn't going to happen.

  ***

  Joshua hit the ground - instinctively - as the bullets started flying, rolling over and trying to draw his pistol even as he hid from the bullets. At least five of his men had already been shot and were down, perhaps more. Their body armour should provide some protection, he thought, but it was impossible to be sure. They might well be dead. His career had probably died with them.

  He unhooked a gas grenade from his belt and hurled it into the lobby, then pulled an injector tab from his belt and jabbed it into his neck. The gas would still burn his eyes if he didn’t don his mask before he entered the building, but it wouldn't have any other effect once the counteragent took effect. Two of his men threw their own gas grenades into the building, amplifying the effect. Joshua would have felt sorry for the rebels if they didn't deserve to suffer worse. The gas was no fun in the open air, but it would be absolutely lethal in a confined space.

  “No prisoners,” he growled, as his men regrouped for a second offensive. He read bloody murder on their faces and nodded in agreement. “We crush the bastards.”

  His superiors would be annoyed if Joshua didn't bring home a few prisoners, but he was past caring. The rebel scum needed to pay. Who cared what happened to them? And besides, they were armed. Carrying weapons without a permit was an automatic death sentence. He cocked his pistol, checked his body armour and then gave the order. His men opened fire as they crawled towards the building.

  ***

  “Get down,” Joe snapped.

  Patty threw herself to the floor as bullets started to snap through the air, punching holes in the walls and knocking pieces of plaster from the ceiling. The gas was still growing thicker, even though they were crawling away from the lobby as fast as they could. She had no idea if the police were blowing it into the building or if it was just alarmingly persistent, but it hardly mattered. She didn't dare remove her mask.

  Something crashed, in the distance. She tensed, wondering if the policemen had just knocked a hole in the wall. The sports hall hadn't been particularly well built. Its innards certainly weren't standing up to rifle fire. She lifted her pistol as a dark shape loomed into view, almost pulling the trigger before realising that it was another student. Joe caught his arm and pushed him back, just as two policemen appeared. He shot them both before they could react.

  “Get down to the basement,” he ordered. Patty could barely hear him over the racket. “Smash the vats and set fire to the chemicals!”

  Patty nodded and crawled forward as fast as she dared. The air was definitely growing thicker - thankfully, the policemen probably had the same problem. She cringed as she heard the noise of gunshots growing louder, followed by screams. Someone had been hit ... she hoped it was another policeman, but she doubted it. The screams sounded feminine ...

  She reached the stairwell and hurried down. Joe had turned the basement into a chemical lab, brewing all sorts of formulas. It hadn't struck Patty as particularly safe, but there was no way the university officials would allow them to use a proper lab. She hesitated as she reached the first set of vats, then shoved them off the table. They hit the floor and shattered, releasing their contents. Foul-smelling steam started to rise as the different liquids mingled. She had no idea if the mixed contents was poisonous or not, but it hardly mattered. Joe had warned her that it would burn.

  And destroy the evidence, she thought, smashing the remainder of the vats. White gas was starting to rise from the floor. They’ll never know what we were doing here.

  A policeman appeared at the top of the stairs, pointing a gun at her. Patty froze, then lifted her own gun. The policeman pulled the trigger ...

  ***

  The entire building shook, so violently that the roof started to cave in. Joshua staggered as he dodged a piece of debris, then bellowed for his men to run as the temperature started to rise sharply. The entire building was on fire. He cursed the subversives savagely as he ran to the nearest exit and burst out into the light. The remainder of his team followed, a couple dragging a prisoner between them. The poor bastard had been so badly beaten that Joshua honestly couldn't tell if he was male or female.

  He turned, just in time to see the entire building collapse into flames. They flickered green and purple, suggesting that there were dangerous chemicals within the blaze ... he cursed, then ordered his men to pull back completely. God alone knew what would happen next ... he cursed, again, as he realised that they were being watched. A handful of students were watching them, judging them ...

  “Five men are dead, seven are wounded,” Lieutenant Glomma reported. “Nine more remain unaccounted for.”

  Somewhere within the fire, Joshua thought. Chemical fires were nasty. The gas probably wasn't helping either. His missing men were either dead or wishing they were. By the time the fire brigade arrived they would definitely be dead. Fuck.

  He groaned, inwardly. He was dead. His superiors would kill him when they found out just how badly he’d screwed up. One prisoner - who might not even survive long enough to be interrogated - was not enough to make up for five deaths, perhaps fourteen. He’d be lucky if they just shot him out of hand.

  “I’m picking up reports of student disturbances,” Lieutenant Glomma added. “Do you want to respond?”

  Joshua sighed. In all honestly, he didn't have the slightest idea what to do next.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Hey, Meade,” Danny Harlem - her supervisor - called. “You got in!”

  “Barely,” Meade said. She made a show of holding up her ID card. “I had to prove I actually had a job before they let me go - three times.”

  “Ouch,” Harlem said. He was only five or so years older than her, but he acted as though he was old enough to be her father. “I’m afraid you’re needed in the main computer core today.”

  Meade nodded. “Just let me take off my coat and I’ll head straight down there,” she said, reassuringly. “Is Bill on his way?”

  “I’ve heard nothing from him,” Harlem said. “You might be on your lonesome down there.”

  “Good,” Meade said.

  She shot him a smile, then headed for the cloakroom. Harlem might not understand more than a third of anything his staff said, but he wasn't a bad boss. Meade had worked for him for four weeks, give or take a few days, and he’d never been unpleasant, let alone tried to get into her pants. She couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt as she removed her coat and hurried down the stairs. There was no way to avoid the simple fact that she was going to betray him, that her actions might get him in real trouble .... that he might die, because of her.

  It has to be done, she told herself, swiping through the security door. There’s no choice.

  In all honesty, she would have loved the job under other circumstances. Tech Solutions had the contract for updating the planetary datanet, a task made harder by corporate resistance and constant hacker attacks. Merely replacing the older datanet nodes and archives was the task of a lifetime, one that would have presented an endless series of challenges. It wasn’t quite what she’d in
tended to do with her life, when she’d gone through Boot Camp and attended the Slaughterhouse, but it would have been satisfying. Instead ...

  She stepped into the giant room. Hundreds of datacores, each one large enough to pass for a small shuttlecraft, were lined up in rows, lights blinking on control consoles that governed each individual system. Cold air brushed against her skin as she passed under a fan, nodding politely to Yasser as he rose from his desk. He was a nerd, one who became tongue-tied every time he had to speak to her. Meade couldn't help finding it a little sad. Yasser could have found a girlfriend easily if he’d had the courage to approach someone who’d appreciate him - and his job.

  “The ... ah ... the government has us tracking down hacks within the network,” Yasser managed. He held out a datapad. “I’ve been supporting their efforts down here.”

  Meade nodded and scanned the set of instructions. Whoever had written them hadn't known what they were talking about, unsurprisingly. There were so many different systems connected to the planetary datanet that one size definitely didn't fit all. She silently translated the words into more practical instructions, then shrugged. The instructions didn't matter. She had a number of other pieces of work to do.