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

by Christopher Nuttall

  A hail of fire greeted her two floors down, including bright sparks of light that marked the presence of at least one plasma cannon, one capable of burning a hole through her suit. God damn it, but someone on the other side was quick! They’re realised what she was and where she was going and had moved to stop her. Escape was going to be a bitch...or maybe not. She stepped over to the elevator shaft, used the enhanced servos in her armour to prise the heavy metal doors apart, and then started to climb down the shaft before she could think better of the idea. The power was out and the elevator wouldn’t be running, she hoped; the last report had warned that the Crackers held the main fusion plant and had cut off all power to the city. The climb was harder than she had expected – perversely, she found herself wondering if the fall had injured her, even if her implants insisted that she was intact – but she finally reached the bottom and started to work on the doors. By her calculations, she should be in the basement. It was easy to climb out, find the stairs and come out all weapons blazing. They’d completely lost track of her until she exploded into their rear.

  She took a moment to disable their weapons, knowing that there were probably more Crackers on the upper floors wondering what had happened to their comrades on the ground, before heading out to meet up with the others. Twelve Marines greeted her; two were missing, somewhere within the chaos. Their suits weren't responding to her pings either.

  “Come on,” she ordered. They’d mourn the dead later. “We have to move fast.”

  Government House had been one of the most impressive buildings in Camelot, although it hadn't had quite the same grandeur as Carola Wilhelm’s mansion. Even now, it was still intact, even though a heavy bomb had detonated right outside the building, showing a sickening lack of concern for civilian casualties. Dead bodies were scattered everywhere, some even barely recognisable as human. Jasmine swallowed hard as she caught sight of a young boy, his body shattered by the blast, and then led the Marines forward. The Crackers attacking the building barely had a moment to see them coming before they opened fire and ripped into them. They never stood a chance.

  Mortar shells ripped down from prepared positions, but armoured Marines moved faster than anyone could grasp, even people who had thought they’d studied the Marines. Jasmine split her force and sent two fire teams to deal with the mortar gunners, while she led the rest of her force into the building. A pair of bodies greeted her as they burst through the remains of the door, surprising her, for they had clearly been shot in the back of the head. It spelt treachery to her and she noted, absently, that they weren't wearing black armbands. Loyalist forces, then, shot down before they ever knew that they were under attack.

  She keyed her communicator quickly. “Captain Stalker,” she called. “Please come in...”

  “Here,” Captain Stalker said. A location glyph appeared in her helmet. “Be careful. There are quite a few dead bodies up here.”

  Jasmine climbed the stairs, keeping her MAG at the ready, until they reached the first floor. There was a small pile of bodies there, including a blonde girl she barely recognised, and a barricade that had been thrown together in a hurry. Captain Stalker rose to greet them and she saw him smile, tiredly. The attackers had hit the barricade hard, but they’d clearly failed to break him.

  “It's good to see you, sir,” she said, and meant it. “Is the rest of the building secure?”

  “Unknown,” Captain Stalker said. “The Major needs medical treatment ASAP. The remainder of the people in this room need to be escorted to somewhere safe...and then we have to track down the people responsible for this.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jasmine said. “The local area is not secure. I suggest preparing to hold Government House.”

  Captain Stalker smiled. “Good idea,” he said. Jasmine realised with a flush of embarrassment that he would have been in contact with his Command Sergeant and probably knew the situation better than she did. “We’ll see to it at once.”

  ***

  The fighting had raged over Armstrong Base for what felt like hours – Michael’s timepiece swore that it had only been forty minutes, but it had to be lying – before they could reasonably declare the base secure. The scratch group of soldiers, trainees and Civil Guardsmen – and a pair of Marine training officers – had found other loyalists and hunted down the traitors savagely. Only a couple had survived to be taken prisoner and neither of them seemed to be particularly important.

  Michael saluted Jared Barr as he entered the makeshift command post. He’d passed command to the Marine as soon as they had met up with his group because nothing in his training had prepared him to command a whole base. Barr hadn't even mocked him for calling him ‘Sir,’ he’d just nodded and assumed command. Besides, Michael wanted a piece of the bastards who had attacked the base and turned the Civil Guard against itself and he couldn't do that if he was stuck in the rear.

  “We have seventeen AFVs and two tanks ready for deployment,” he reported. Most of Armstrong Base had been badly damaged and would require weeks of repair work before the base was usable again, although the Crackers hadn't managed to completely destroy the base. “We can move on your command.”

  “Good,” Barr growled. He didn't look happy, but somehow Michael was no longer scared of him. The Sergeant had prepared them well for combat, even though they had loathed him at the time. “Then mount up. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Understood,” Michael said. He knew he shouldn't ask, but he couldn't help himself. “What’s the word from inside the city?”

  “The city, Corporal, is on a knife-edge right now,” Barr informed him. “It is our task to prevent it from falling to chaos and anarchy. Get your men mounted up and get ready to move.”

  Michael saluted, again. “Understood, Sergeant,” he said. He met the Sergeant’s eyes openly. “And thank you.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Victory goes to those who work for it, for they deserve it. Defeat goes to those who forget the fundamental nature of war and do not work for victory.

  -Sergeant Howard Ropes, Wisdom of the Terran Marine Corps.

  “So what the hell is going on?”

  The first reports had suggested that Operation Headshot had been a complete success, but afterwards things had started to go wrong. Deputy Governor Linda MacDonald hadn't broadcast from Government House, declaring an end to the fighting. Some bases had fallen, but others had held out, including the spaceport...and Castle Rock, of course, had been beyond their reach. The one attempt to land troops on the island had ended badly when a patrolling Raptor had fired a missile into the boat and sunk it.

  “I don’t know,” Julian admitted, grimly. Gaby swallowed several words she wanted to say and waited for him to finish. “The force that hit Government House has dropped out of communication.”

  “Dropped out of communication,” Gaby repeated. “You do know what that means, don’t you? They haven’t just lost communication; they’ve lost their lives!”

  “We still hold parts of the city,” Julian protested. “Even though the Marines did manage to get some relief into Government House, they’re still on the ropes. One final push could see us through to victory.”

  “Or cost us everything,” Gaby said. She shook her head. “Operation Headshot has failed, Julian. Send the disengagement signal and then cut all communications.”

  Julian swung around to face her. “But we are on the verge of victory,” he protested. “We can overwhelm them and destroy them.”

  “We have failed,” Gaby repeated, harshly. “We have not knocked out their communications, or destroyed enough of their bases to win the battle. We have missed our chance and all we can do now is get the hell out of here before they catch us on the hoof and destroy us.”

  She leaned forward, silently cursing the younger generation under her breath. After this, there would be no way they could forge a peace with the Government. Free of the interference of the Council, the Army of Avalon and the Civil Guard would press their advantage savagely,
aided by the stories of atrocities within the heart of Camelot itself. She’d been reluctant to risk civilian lives so badly and only the fact that they desperately needed to hit Government House had convinced her to authorise the attack. Now that particular chicken had come home to roost and others would be flocking out to join it.

  “I cannot leave,” Julian said. “I promised the fighters that I would stay until the end.”

  “You cannot fall into enemy hands,” Gaby said, thinking of the suicide pill she’d concealed in her pocket. She knew too much to resist capture. “Whatever you do, you cannot risk being captured.”

  “I’m staying here,” Julian said. “You can go if you must.”

  “Idiot,” Gaby snapped. Was he really so adamant that Operation Headshot could still be made to work...or was he afraid to face his father, after having thrown away the chances of a genuine peace for nothing? “Good luck, then.”

  ***

  The suit of armour felt oddly uncomfortable as Edward pulled it on, but Gwen had given strict orders to the relief force that they were make sure that their Captain put on his armour at once and there was no point in protesting. Besides, after everything else that had happened, he doubted that anyone would feel safe in Camelot for a long – long – time.

  “We have the Civil Guard units blocking the roads, as you ordered, and the Army of Avalon is moving up to support the Marines,” the dispatcher ordered. There was one good thing about wearing his armour again; he could coordinate operations from his suit, without a proper command room. “Oh, and we found one of the lost Marines. It turned out that he fell into a dumpster and got stuck.”

  Edward chuckled, although he knew that the Marine wouldn't be allowed to forget it for a long time. “Good,” he said, relieved. Too many Marines had already died this day, along with Civil Guardsmen and soldiers from the Army of Avalon. “What about the current progress on the hunt?”

  “We’re working on the prisoners now,” Gwen’s voice said. Only a handful of Crackers had been taken alive, including a pair who had been too badly injured to be interrogated and weren't expected to survive the day. Unlike the bandits, the Crackers had fought with a hellish bravery that would have made its mark anywhere. “So far, we don’t seem to have stumbled across a senior commander, but they all agree that they have a commander within the city, one Gaby Cracker. Apparently she’s a descendent of Peter Cracker.”

  Edward smiled at that. The Marine Corps tried to discourage it, but there were some great Marine dynasties, families with a long history of joining the Corps and serving out their time, before marrying and bringing up the next generation of Marines. Edward was privately grateful that he wasn't from one of them, even though it could have its advantages; the few he’d known had always felt that they had a lot to live up to. Besides, the families also tended to marry within the ranks of retired Marines and the thought of bedding another Marine felt weird, even though they would be retired and no longer barred from fraternisation.

  “Poor girl,” he said, humourlessly. “I take it that there has been no lead on her location?”

  “None as yet,” Gwen said. “The ones we captured did seem to believe that she was hiding in the poorer area of the city and I have redirected some soldiers just in case, but they could have been lied to and the lie detector wouldn't even twitch.”

  “True,” Edward agreed. He looked over towards the fire engine which had finally arrived now that the shooting had finished. The Camelot Fire Department had enough equipment to get on with putting out the fires, although he’d detailed civilian volunteers and a pair of Raptors to assist them. The Raptors could scoop up water from the sea and spray it over the worst fires. The entire city wouldn't be lost. “Keep me informed.”

  He closed the connection and walked towards the Governor, who had changed into cleaner clothes. “Sir,” he said. “Are you ready to speak to your people?”

  The Governor’s eyes twitched nervously. He’d been through the most traumatic experience of his life...and he was no longer a young man. Edward had no time to care, even though he did understand. Reports were coming in of a city on the brink and what the Crackers had failed to achieve might be accomplished by rioting youths. He didn’t have the manpower to deploy to put down the riots when they started, even though the city was slowly coming back under control.

  “Sir,” he repeated. “You have to address the city.”

  The Governor nodded and waited until Edward held a mike under his mouth. “What should I say?”

  “Tell them that the Crackers tried to attack the city, but that they’ve been beaten off and that you’re firmly in control,” Edward said. “You have to warn them not to riot or encourage rioting. Everything will be dealt with as quickly as possible.”

  The Governor considered it, and then took the mike. “Citizens of Camelot,” he said. “We have been attacked by the Crackers, but we have survived. The enemy forces have been pushed back and are now on the run, hunted by our soldiers and harried until they have no place of rest. There is no need to panic. Please remain indoors and wait for further instructions. The Government has remained in control and will assist you as soon as possible.”

  Edward smiled. It was a fairly routine phasing, but it would work. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I’ll have it broadcast at once.”

  He transmitted the recording to the spaceport, where it would be broadcast on the emergency frequency, and then turned back to the military situation. A handful of Crackers had holed up in a building and were using precise bursts of fire to hold back the soldiers, but a Raptor put a missile into the building and brought it down on their heads. Another group of Crackers had realised that they were surrounded and outgunned, finally seeing sense as a tank ground its way towards them and lifted their hands in surrender. Other groups were being chased down, or forced to withdraw from the city. A couple of Crackers had even been lynched by outraged citizens.

  The ones who had been captured would soon wish they hadn't, Edward knew. They’d be transported to the nearest safe location for a field interrogation, which they wouldn't enjoy at all. They’d be hooked up to a lie detector and forced to talk, whatever it took. With so many dead – the death toll was currently estimated at around nine hundred and was probably higher, once the attacks outside the city had been factored in – Edward wasn't in the mood to order any of the interrogators to hold back.

  A Raptor flew overhead, heading towards one of the fires. A moment later, it dropped water on the blaze from high above, giving the firemen a chance to get in and put the rest of the fire out. It had been caused, according to the updates, by one of the Raptors that had been shot down, just after the pilot had expelled the Marines and saved their lives. Marine Auxiliaries could only be nominated for Marine awards under special circumstances, but Edward intended to ensure that the pilots would get the Golden Lion, if posthumously. A second later and fourteen Marines would have been added to the death toll.

  “We got her,” Gwen said, in his ear. “We stumbled across one of their commanders before he could kill himself and made him talk! We know where she is!”

  “Dispatch a platoon of Marines to catch her,” Edward ordered. This was too important to risk leaving to the newly-trained soldiers. “I want her alive, whatever the risk.”

  ***

  The new orders had come in as the reinforced Company had made its way into the city, picking its way through fortunately empty streets. They were to take up positions around a city block and allow no one in or out. Anyone who tried was to be arrested at once and held for interrogation, even though most of them would probably be innocent. Michael frowned as he checked the orders, and then repeated them to his men. The Army of Avalon was largely drawn from the poorer areas of Camelot. If the Crackers were hiding out in the area, it was something they would take as a personal insult.

  “Deploy here, here and here,” he said, ordering the AFVs into position to block any escape. Deploying along the roads would ensure that no one would be able to
get out without being seen, even though it meant that they had encircled a larger area than their orders had specified. It would have to do. “We’ll hold the line until relieved.”