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

by Christopher Nuttall

  “I think you got him,” Blake said, dryly. The remains of the fire would have to be left to smoulder. Perhaps, when the fighting had finished, they’d have to deal with a blaze as well. Her lips twitched. Accidentally setting off a fire that raged out of control would be embarrassing and very definitely no laughing matter. She still remembered the pair of idiot male cousins back home who had tried to hold a barbeque without adult supervision and had nearly set fire to the entire compound. They’d been in disgrace for months. “We’ll have to pick up his remains with tweezers.”

  “That’s enough of that,” Faulkner growled. He designated a line in front of them on their visors. “We’ll hold there and let them run right into the blocking force. Keep an eye out for anyone dumb enough to think that they can get past us.

  ***

  Corporal Jody Cochrane lay in the hollow and watched as the bandits ran right towards her, utterly unaware of her position...or of the other nine members of the platoon. They were clearly panicking, thinking only of getting back to the badlands and safety, rather than watching where they were going. They shouldn't have been able to see the Marines – Jody was camouflaged behind a chameleon field – but if they had the time to take a sweep with a proper sensor, they realise that they were running right into a trap.

  “Place your stunners on wide beam,” she ordered, calmly. Half of the bandits were bare-chested, proving that they weren't wearing any protection...or that they’d discarded it in their desperate attempt to get away from the Marines. Stunners lost their effectiveness rapidly as the range opened, but the bandits were running towards her. “Fire!”

  She triggered her own stunner, sweeping it over the oncoming wave of bandits. They were completely surprised, falling to the ground in shock, sometimes hit several times by the same stunner. It wouldn't do them any harm in the long term, but some of them would wake up with terrible headaches. Jody couldn't find it in her to care. She’d seen the videos of what they did to their victims. If they all had splitting headaches for the rest of their lives, which wouldn't be very long if she had anything to say about it, it would be less than they deserved.

  Some of the bandits tried to turn back, realising that they’d suddenly run right into terrible danger, but it was far too late. Stunners didn't work like conventional weapons; they could be played over their targets time and time again, sweeping them down like ninepins. Jody smiled inwardly as she realised they’d caught nearly seventy bandits in their little trap. They’d all have to be cuffed and marched back to the Fort, or a secure holding area nearby, but they’d never threaten the peace and security of the area again. Morgan and their other victims have been avenged.

  “We knocked them all down, sir,” she said, keying her radio. “What d you want us to do with them?”

  “Hold your position and stun then again if they get twitchy,” Captain Stalker ordered. “Let the others sweep up the stragglers.”

  ***

  Lucas had been falling behind as they fled, unwilling to be too obviously fleeing for his life. As he saw the first bandits start to fall, he realised what had happened and threw himself into a ditch. It stunk to high heaven of animal scents – the smell, instantly familiar to anyone who spent time in Avalon’s countryside, warned him that there might be a Gnasher nearby – but it was safety, of a sort. He forced his trembling legs to keep propelling him forward, unaware of the watching drone high overhead that kept a careful watch on his progress. The noise of hunting Marines behind him – no longer trying to be stealthy with their movements – provided all the incentive he needed. If he could just get out of their view, he was sure they couldn't catch him...

  A heavy shape thumped down in front of him and he looked up, right into a leering smile. The Gnasher’s teeth, sharper and nastier than any purely terrestrial animal, seemed to shine in the sunlight. Lucas froze, knowing that it was all over. The creature was merely playing with him before it closed in for the kill. He could smell it’s warm breath as it glided closer to him, opening its mouth wide. Warm liquid trickled down his leg as it prepared to bite...and then it recoiled. Lucas turned his head, knowing that he was dead anyway, and saw two armed Marines right behind him, one of them pointing a long rifle at the beast. Time seemed to freeze...

  And then the Gnasher turned and vanished, moving faster than the eye could see.

  Lucas looked up at the Marines and tried to speak. One of them pointed an armoured finger at him...and darkness crashed down upon him.

  ***

  Jasmine retracted the stunner and picked the bandit up. In her armour, he weighed almost nothing.

  “We got him, sir,” she said, keying her communicator. “What do you want us to do with him?”

  “Hand him over to Corporal Cochrane and get back to the Raptors,” Captain Stalker ordered. “Your services may be needed in Camelot.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  What will happen to our Empire, if I may ask, when the military leaders take matters into their own hands? Already, discontent with the current situation is growing within the military and there are unconfirmed reports of mutinies and attempted mutinies within the outer systems. What happens if a large military force decides that it can no longer follow the orders of the civilian leadership?

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

  “So,” Carola asked. “What happened?”

  “I don't know,” Wilhelm admitted. “The ambush should have gone off three hours ago, but we’ve heard nothing specific from our sources in the Civil Guard. The ATC team reported that the Marines launched four of their VTOL transport aircraft towards the badlands moments after the first reports came in...and then nothing. I don't know what happened at all.”

  Carola stared down at the table. It was real wood and would have been worth a fortune on Old Earth, but on Avalon wood was as common as dirt. It was a shame it wasn't really worth the effort of exporting wood to Earth, yet perhaps it was for the best. If Avalon had produced something of interest to the Core Worlds, the Empire-backed trade cartels would have moved in and frozen her out of the market. It also reminded her that something that looked strong, like an old oak tree, might have rotted away inside and come to grief in a powerful storm.

  “The Civil Guard said nothing to their home base,” she repeated, puzzled. The Marines had very good communications security, but the Governor kept the Civil Guard on a tight leash. They were supposed to seek his approval for any moves outside the prearranged battle plans, which would have passed through the layer of functionaries – and Carola’s agents – before the Governor was even consulted. Her spies would have known to inform her as soon as anything changed. “They didn't even tell the Governor?”

  “Not as far as we can determine,” her husband replied. He was playing with a knife he’d brought from their homeworld, one that had been in his family for generations. He’d told her that he intended to pass it on to their firstborn child, but Carola had had no intention of getting pregnant, not until she was the undisputed mistress of Avalon. A child was nothing more than a burden, or a hostage to fortune. “There’s a total communications blackout up near the badlands.”

  Carola considered it, looking down at the single sheet of paper on the table. It was a petition, signed by the majority of the Council, for the Governor to relieve Major Grosskopf of command and pass the duty to another officer, one nominated by the Council. Used properly, issued in the wake of a devastating defeat, it would have undermined the Governor’s own position, leaving him with little choice, but to comply. If the Civil Guard and the Marines had been defeated, it couldn't fail...or so she told herself. But if they had actually won the battle, issuing the petition would weaken the Council’s position; it would certainly turn them into a laughing stock.

  “We could push the Governor now and see if he fell,” she said, slowly. They exchanged a long look. If they tried and failed, it would mean public humiliation, even if nothing worse happened. “Or we could hold on to the petition and wait t
o see what actually happened up there.”

  Wilhelm gave voice to one of the darker possibilities. “What happens if the bandits lost the fight?”

  Carola scowled. The weapons they’d arranged to fall into the bandits hands should have come as a complete surprise to their opponents, yet she knew enough to know that mere possession of a weapon didn't make someone dangerous, let alone invincible. The links between her faction and the bandits weren't obvious, certainly nothing to provoke a full Imperial Investigation, but it wouldn't be hard to work out where the weapons had actually come from. If the Governor traced the line back to their friends in the Civil Guard, all of their plans could rapidly come unravelled.

  “It’s time to put Jackie to work,” she said, shortly. She had decided that the particular Civil Guard ally had to go just after he’d smuggled the weapons out to the bandits; it would be easy to move matters up a little. Their assassin could deal with him before the Governor’s investigators caught up with him and started asking him questions. “And then, I think, we’ll have to wait.”

  She turned to peer out of the window, towards the looming shape of the Mystic Mountains in the distance. What had happened out there?

  ***

  Major George Grosskopf braced himself as the helicopter swooped down towards the LZ, a bare two kilometres from the main Civil Guard Supply Depot on Avalon. The complex was the largest military base on the planet – although the Marines would probably turn Castle Rock into a larger base in the future – and held most of their weapons and supplies. It had been placed near to the spaceport for ease of transport, as well as allowing the garrison to react quickly to any crisis that needed their intervention. Over the years, as the quality of the Civil Guard had continued to decline, it had ended up as a dumping ground for officers who couldn't be trusted on the battlefield. The results had probably been inevitable.

  He silently cursed the Governor’s weakness – and those of his predecessors – as he jumped out of the aircraft and exchanged salutes with Captain Bertram of Alpha Company. The Captain of Beta Company had been injured in the ambush, but George would deal with him later. The soldiers who had survived were in an evil mood and it had taken too long to calm them down before transporting as many as possible to the main supply depot. He was uncomfortably aware that he was about to make history; his unit would be the first Civil Guard unit in the Empire’s entire history to assault its own supply base.

  “I’ve combined the units into one Company,” Bertram informed him, as the next set of helicopters came in to land. “As per your orders, we have enforced a blockade around the supply depot and arrested anyone trying to get out of it, regardless of their rank. The prisoners are currently held in that field.”

  George followed his pointing finger and saw a number of senior officers, their tailor-made uniforms glittering in the sun, squatting in the dry field. Their hands were bound and they were guarded by a handful of soldiers who had made it absolutely clear that if their former superiors got out of hand, they would be cut down without mercy. In the long run, George was grimly aware that he was initiating a major social change on Avalon, if not launching a mutiny against lawful authority. It would all depend on which way the Governor – and Captain Stalker, for that matter – decided to jump.

  “Good,” he said, as Alpha Company started to form up around their position. “How many personnel do you believe are still in the complex?”

  “Around seven hundred at most, including Kappa Company,” Bertram said. They exchanged glances. Unlike Alpha, Beta or Delta Company, Kappa Company was commanded by political appointees and had the lowest combat ratings in the Avalon Civil Guard. George would not have bet good money on the soldiers trying to resist overwhelming force – the CO of Kappa Company hadn't tried to develop loyalty among his men – but it was something to watch. “As far as I know, no one from Camelot knows that we are here.”

  George shrugged. It wouldn't matter. The supply depot was military territory and no civilians were allowed to enter without a pass and an escort. He’d convinced the Governor to declare a two-kilometre exclusion zone around the depot years ago, allowing the defenders licence to engage anyone found in the zone without warning. The Crackers had to have their eye on the massive military stockpile within the depot, which made it all the more galling that he had to leave its defence to a bunch of politicians in uniform. So far, they’d only launched harassing attacks against the garrison, but George doubted that that would last. If they took out the Civil Guard’s supplies, they would gain a decisive military advantage.

  “Good,” he said, finally. “I want you to assemble four platoons, along with the armoured cars and two heavy tanks, and move them up to the gates. I want them see what’s coming at them.”

  He watched as the vehicles slowly moved forward, following in their wake. He – as the Civil Guard’s supreme military commander – should have had total access, but he had a feeling that if he had come alone, he might have walked into a trap. As it was, Alpha Company might not have matched the Marines for firepower, but he would have bet on them against Kappa Company, if Kappa Company dared to put up a fight.

  “Major,” Corporal Van Diamond called, “I have Captain Stalker on the line for you.”

  George keyed his personal radio. “Captain,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “We’re currently transporting the prisoners back to secure housing,” Captain Stalker said, calmly. George didn't miss the edge in his voice. “I also have two platoons heading towards the spaceport. Do you require their support?”

  “Not yet,” George said, although he was tempted. “This is something the Civil Guard has to do for itself.”

  “Understood,” Captain Stalker said, at once. George was almost surprised. He had expected an argument. “Call us if you discover you need us.”

  George looked up as the connection broke, watching as the massive Main Battle Tank glided towards the barricade. There were only a handful of tanks on Avalon and normally they remained in storage, but he’d had four of them deployed to protect the city in the wake of riots, two months ago. They might not have been first-rank machines, not up to the standards of those he'd used in the Imperial Army, yet they were hellishly intimidating. They hadn't built the supply depot to stand off a single tank. He lifted his binoculars and saw the guards staring at the tank, unsure of what was going on, but convinced that it wasn't good. The odds were good that whatever corruption had affected the senior officers hadn't reached them, yet George couldn't take chances. Soldiers had no civil rights and everyone on the post was going to go through a full lie detector test before he was satisfied that they could return to duty.

  “Give me the loudspeaker,” he ordered, keying his radio. “THIS IS YOUR CO. YOU ARE ORDERED TO PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND PLACE YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD. THIS COMPOUND IS NOW UNDER MY DIRECT COMMAND.”

  He smiled at the reaction. The guards had probably alerted the compound’s CO as soon as they realised that Alpha Company was bearing down on them, yet if he knew Colonel Smuts, he was still panicking. Smuts had gotten his rank because of a few hefty bribes paid by the Wilhelm Family and had very little use at all, at least as far as George could see. He couldn't handle logistics, let alone command a unit under heavy fire. A handful of the officers who had been put in place by powerful patrons had their uses, he grudgingly admitted, but Smuts was an imbecile. Throw him into a pit of gold and he would somehow come out covered in shit.

  “No response, sir,” Bertram reported. “I think they’re not convinced of our sincerity.”

  “Bring the main gun to bear on the gate,” George ordered, keying the radio again. “IF THE COMPOUND DOES NOT STAND DOWN AT ONCE, IT WILL BE DECLARED TO BE IN MUTINY AND SMASHED FLAT!”

  It was partly a bluff – they needed to secure the supply dump, not destroy it – but the guards didn’t hesitate any longer. As George watched, they threw down their weapons and held up their hands in surrender, one of them keying the gate to open automatically. Capta
in Bertram barked orders and Alpha Company moved forward, collecting weapons and taking prisoners as they went. The former defenders were ordered to lie on the ground and had their hands bound, where they would stay until they could be transported to a POW camp and run through the lie detector. The experience would be humiliating for the innocent men, yet there was no choice. George would quite cheerfully have opened fire if the compound’s defenders had tried to fight.

  “We have the gate, sir,” Captain Bertram reported. “And we have seventeen prisoners.”