The Empire’s Corps: Book 01 - The Empire's Corps

by Christopher Nuttall

“I hate this place,” Mandy screamed. Tears were flowing down her cheeks. “I hate my family. I hate you! I wish I was dead!”

  “Enough,” Jasmine said, coldly. Part of her mind told her that it was a losing battle, but she felt that she owed the Professor something, even if it was just an attempt to save his daughter from doing something stupid. “If you insist on acting like a child, I’ll treat you as a little baby...”

  Mandy raised her hand and aimed a slap at Jasmine’s face. Jasmine saw it coming and skimmed through options. Anything she did to stop the blow would injure Mandy, perhaps break her arm...she allowed the girl to slap her, recoiling slightly at the pain. It was nothing compared to unarmed combat practice back on Castle Rock. The Sergeants believed firmly in learning through pain. Jasmine caught her arm as Mandy pulled back from the blow and made her decision.

  “Come here,” she snapped, catching hold of the girl’s upper body. “I have had enough of you.”

  Mandy yelped as Jasmine pulled her across her lap. She was stronger than Jasmine had expected, but Jasmine had learned to fight with the best. There was no question of who would win in a struggle, yet Jasmine had to be careful. Inflicting permanent harm on the girl, even by accident, would not look good on her record. Mandy started to protest aloud, demanding that she be released, until Jasmine landed a hard smack on her rump. She gasped in pain and recoiled from the blow.

  “You can't do this to me,” she protested, in horror. Jasmine ignored her, reaching for the girl’s shamefully short skirt and flipping it up, revealing a pair of near-transparent panties. “Let me go and...”

  Her voice trailed off as Jasmine yanked her panties down to her ankles, exposing her rear to the air. “If you had been brought up by my family,” Jasmine snapped, lifting her hand into the air, “your hands would have been caned before the real punishment started, just for your filthy mouth.”

  She brought her hand hard down on Mandy’s behind. The girl screamed in pain as a gratifying red handprint appeared on her pale bottom. Jasmine smacked her again and again, moving from cheek to cheek in a slow rhythmical pattern, pausing long enough to slap the back of the girl’s thighs every time Mandy tried to dislodge herself from Jasmine’s knee. Mandy forgot all dignity as she screamed and kicked; exposing everything she had to cold dispassionate eyes. It had been years since Jasmine had been spanked herself, by her parents as she had turned from a child to a young lady, yet she remembered what it had been like. The pain, the humiliation...and then, finally, the acceptance.

  It crossed her mind that spanking the girl might have been considered abuse, or assault, on many worlds, including Earth, yet she didn't care. Fiona Caesius was simply incapable of disciplining her daughter. It might get her into real trouble, but it might also teach Mandy the meaning of discipline. If she’d been taught that from when she was a child...yet Earth no longer taught children how to behave. Mandy’s shocking behaviour was proof enough of that. She had wanted instant gratification, had thrown a tantrum when she hadn't received it quickly enough to suit her and had completely ignored the risk. A spanking was mild compared to what could have happened to her if Jasmine hadn't been there.

  She paused, resting her hand on the girl’s warm bottom. “You could have gotten yourself killed today,” she said, feeling rather like a mother for the first time. If she had wanted kids, she would never have joined the Marines. She couldn't have children until her enlistment expired, assuming she didn't try to make officer or become an NCO. “You put your life at risk, for nothing.”

  Mandy’s sobs were real, now. Jasmine held her for a long moment, and then pulled her up and hugged her tightly, the way her mother had hugged her back when she was a child. She would have been pushed into a corner and told to wait, with her hands on her head and her rear exposed, yet that would have been too much for Mandy’s first real experience of discipline. The girl had kicked her panties free and right across the room, but her skirt fell down as she stood up, covering her rear.

  “Don’t sleep on your back tonight,” Jasmine advised, dryly. Mandy looked at her with an injured expression on her face, as if she couldn't quite comprehend what had happened. Her hand rubbing her injured rear was almost cute. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  She took Mandy upstairs and tucked her into bed, leaving her dressed. The girl fell asleep almost instantly, suggesting that she’d been tired out and emotionally drained even before the spanking. Jasmine watched her for a long moment, and then headed back downstairs. When the Professor arrived home from wherever he was, she would have to tell him what had happened, and why. He wouldn’t take it calmly.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The aim of the Imperial Elites has moved from obtaining power – and using power responsibly for the good of the Empire – to holding on to that power at all costs. This is not surprising – they would be torn apart by their outraged victims – yet it is stagnating the Empire’s development. In short, the elites are unable to accept the possibility of other – newer – elites.

  - Professor Leo Caesius, The Waning Years of Empire (banned).

  “You cannot be serious,” Carola Wilhelm demanded, her imperious voice echoing through the room. “This is an outrage!”

  Brent leaned back in his chair, suppressing a desire to cover his ears. Carola was loud and shrill and very angry. She looked twenty years old, a strange mixture of Cascadian and Oriental features, but she was much older, even though she relentlessly attacked anyone who suggested she was over twenty-five. Somewhere back in the past, she’d had some very good regeneration treatments and it showed. Her classified file suggested that she was nearly seventy years old, yet she could have easily passed for her husband’s daughter, rather than his wife.

  “An outrage,” Brent repeated. “And what, pray tell, is such an outrage that you have to burst into my office and demand explanations?”

  Carola glared at him. “A Councillor has the right to visit the Imperial Governor at any time and demand an explanation for Imperial policy,” she said, tartly. “The Council is most concerned over your recent activities.”

  “I see,” Brent said. He knew perfectly well what had her so angry, but he chose to play the innocent for a few moments more. “And which of my activities has you so angry? I went to the scene of the riot yesterday and commended a pair of Civil Guardsmen for their bravery in preventing the riot from spreading further. I then visited the flower show at Imperial Heights and presented one of the ladies with a prize for her ingenious arrangements. And then I...”

  “Don’t be a bloody fool,” Carola snapped at him. “I’m talking about the recruiting effort! The Council was not consulted on either the public hangings or the recruiting policy!”

  “The defence of the planet is a reserved issue,” Brent pointed out, calmly. “The Council doesn't actually get a say until it evolves into an autonomous government. Even after it becomes a government, it still has only limited authority and that only the Civil Guard. I imagine that one of your lawyers would have known that before you burst in and disturbed poor Abigail.”

  Carola dismissed his comments with a sniff. She barely regarded her servants as human, let alone anyone else’s servants. Brent had heard rumours – none of them had been confirmed, of course – that Carola treated her servants badly, whipping and beating them at the slightest provocation. He’d considered launching an investigation that might have provided the ammunition to get her off the Council, but the rest of the Council would never have allowed it to happen. They knew they had to hang together or hang separately, just as the former bandits had been hanged.

  “The Council was still not consulted,” Carola reminded him, “and I might remind you that you have consulted the Council in the past when making changes to the Civil Guard.”

  “I have no obligation to consult the Council about anything relating to the defence of the colony,” Brent said. “The lines are blurred on Avalon, I concede, but I am still under no legal obligation to consult with anyone apart from the Ci
vil Guard commander. The fact that I have done so in the past” – something he had rapidly come to regret – “does not create a future obligation to do so.”

  “That is as may be,” Carola said, leaning back. “You have, however, chosen to ignore a direct law. All local transactions are to be done in local currency. All businesses are to use the Bank of Avalon for their payments. The new recruits, or so I am told, will be paid in cash. That is completely beyond the pale.”

  Brent sighed inwardly, feeling overcome with a sense of cold despair. It said something about the general condition of Avalon that the planet couldn't muster a working satellite network, or possessed a barely-functioning communications datanet, but it had a first-rate banking system, supplied by Carola and the other debt sharks. They had manipulated the law to ensure that they collected what they were owed first, discouraging businesses from hiring and indebted workers from signing up. The black market thrived; the official businesses, even the monopolies established by the ADC, were fading away. Carola might just find herself the queen of nothing when the system finally collapsed, if she wasn't assassinated first. The bodyguards she’d brought with her testified to her reputation as the most feared and hated woman on the planet. Even Gabriella Cracker didn't have such a terrifying reputation. Brent knew men and women who would have risked everything just to take a shot at her, not that it would have mattered in the long run. Her husband would simply have taken over the business and kept going.

  He felt a flicker of admiration for Captain Stalker. In one neat move, he had found himself with more willing volunteers than he could handle...and, just incidentally, given the local economy a boost. Without such high levels of taxation – the banking system taxed wage packets automatically, when they were uploaded into the computers – the volunteers could spend money freely, while the businesses wouldn’t have to declare all of their earnings. It would give the economy a shot in the arm...no wonder, then, that Carola wanted to squash it before it could get out of hand. It would weaken the Council’s grip on the local economy and therefore weaken their power base.

  “I said that it is completely beyond the pale,” Carola repeated, seeing Brent drifting off. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Nothing,” Brent said, calmly. “It is outside of my hands.”

  Carola’s face darkened. “You are the Imperial Governor of this planet,” she snapped. “You are the supreme authority on this godforsaken rock. You can do anything.”

  Brent considered pointing out that the Council, ever since his predecessor had called it into existence, had spent most of its time denying that that was true, but decided against it. The temptation to rub her nose in her own failure was overwhelming. It would even be true.

  “That isn't strictly true,” he said, keeping his voice calm when he wanted to gloat. “The Terran Marines operate under the authority of the Emperor himself.” He nodded towards the framed portrait of the Childe Roland on the wall. It was out of date by at least seven years, but no one had bothered to change it. It could wait until an official painting was produced when he reached his majority and took the throne formally. “They have independent authority over military deployments in the system.”

  “That’s absurd,” Carola protested, angrily. “You’re the Governor.”

  Brent snorted gently. “I am the Governor of a planet with a serious insurgency,” he said, deciding not to point out how Carola and her allies had hobbled the Civil Guard, making it harder for the Guard to actually fight the bandits, let alone the Crackers. “I am a very small fish compared to the Sector Governor, let alone the Grand Senate and the Emperor. If they choose to grant a Marine Captain freedom of action...who am I to say no?”

  He shrugged. “And, besides, an officer from the Marines or the Imperial Army would officially have seniority over anyone from the Civil Guard,” he added. “Captain Stalker, like it or not, is the de facto senior military officer in the system. The best that I” – and your puppets, he carefully didn't add – “can do is advise. If he decides he wants to recruit volunteers and pay them in cash, he has the legal authority to do so.”

  “The Council will not stand for this,” Carola said. “The Council...”

  “Has no say in the matter,” Brent cut in, sharply. Her saw her eyes widen and cursed his own mistake. She had thought him a fool. Now she would be taking him seriously. “The decision was made by Captain Stalker and I cannot gainsay it. If the Council refuses to cooperate...well, at best, it won’t slow him down at all. At worst...the Council could find itself charged with treason.”

  “A Councillor has immunity from all charges,” Carola pointed out.

  “There is no such thing as immunity against a treason charge, even among the Grand Senate,” Brent countered. He looked down for a moment, studying the map on his desk. “The best advice I can give you is to cooperate and make what profit you can on the sidelines.”

  “They’re hiring workers to build barracks,” Carola said, changing the subject. “Those contracts should be issued by the Council and given to those who need them. That is very definitely a civilian issue.”

  Brent snorted. She meant that the Councillors would give the work to businesses they owned, rather than allowing companies to bid for the contracts and undercut the Council. It was a common trick and explained why so much of Camelot was in bad shape. If there was no need to compete against a rival firm, a business had every incentive to cut corners and use poor materials. Who would dare make a complaint against a business backed by the Council?

  “Castle Rock is their territory now,” Brent said. He’d seen to that. “They can determine everything from the building codes to the wages – what and how the workers are paid. If it works out well for them, I may even ask the Council to review the business-related policies in Camelot and the other cities.”

  Carola’s eyes sharpened. She was no fool and read the underlying threat easily. If the Marines paid well for good work, they would create new businesses that would undercut the Council...and, if the Council moved to crush them under a mountain of red tape, they might face massive civil unrest. For the first time since the colony had been settled, hope was spreading through the air. The Crackers would not be slow to take advantage of any sudden changes. Carola’s power was limited, even though she pretended otherwise. A massive explosion in Camelot would see her and the Council dead.

  “I formally protest,” she said, sharply. “The Council will meet to discuss the issue.”

  Brent silently dismissed it as the empty threat it was. “I look forward to it,” he said. Carola couldn't be trusted to pass on an accurate account of their conversation to the other Councillors; he’d have to see to it himself. “Until then...”

  Carola bowed angrily. “This isn't over,” she said, as she turned to depart. “We are the elected representatives of the people, empowered to act in their best interests. Don’t forget that.”

  “I won’t,” Brent told the door. Carola had slammed it closed as she stormed out. A roar of engines from outside told him that her private car had departed at high speed, heading back to her mansion. “I won’t forget anything.”

  He shook his head and turned back to the endless paperwork that needed his signature. Some homesteads, abandoned since the bandit attacks had begun, had been claimed by new settlers, who wanted to try to turn them into prosperous farms again. The Civil Guard wanted to up its signing bonus for new recruits, although Brent doubted that that would get far. The Civil Guard still paid wages directly into the banking system. He signed it anyway, knowing that the Council would block any attempt to pay the Civil Guardsmen in cash. They did have authority there.

  “Idiots,” he muttered, as he finished signing the papers. “Stupid idiots.”

  ***

  It would have upset the Governor, Edward knew, if he had known that his office was bugged. Colonel Kitty Stevenson had scattered a handful of modern surveillance devices throughout Government House, using them to keep tabs on the Governor and his s
enior staff. It was barely legal, as she’d acknowledged when Edward demanded to know just how much authority she had, but there was no other choice. Governors of stage-one and stage-two worlds tended to be corrupt and the various intelligence services were charged with rooting out corrupt officials.

  “I think she means trouble,” Kitty said, once she had finished replaying the recording. “You’ve managed to hack off the entire Council.”

  “You say that as if it were a bad thing,” Edward said. Castle Rock’s facilities were still being developed, the new recruits would be arriving in two days...and he simply didn't have the time to waste on political manoeuvrings. Two of his platoons were still out near the badlands, backed up by the Civil Guard. “We need those recruits motivated.”