The Empire's Corps: Book 06 - To The Shores...

by Christopher Nuttall

  The reporter looked surprised. “You intend to keep training while en route?”

  “Of course,” Jasmine said, dryly. “What do you think this is? A luxury cruise?”

  “Hard training, easy mission,” Joe Buckley said. “Easy training, god-awfully hard mission.”

  “You need to keep up with your exercise too,” Jasmine added, before the reporter could say a word. “You never know what might happen once we reach the ground.”

  The reporter frowned. “You really expect trouble?”

  “Always,” Jasmine said. She doubted that there had ever been a Marine deployment that hadn't attracted trouble, even if it had just been nothing more than surreptitious punch-ups with the Imperial Army. “It’s best to be prepared.”

  Chapter Five

  This should not be surprising. One nation may control access to another nation’s supplies of raw materials; another may be a potential threat or ally when/if war threatens on the horizon. Diplomacy may ensure that the supplies keep coming, the borders remain calm and – perhaps – there will be armed support if war breaks out.

  -Professor Leo Caesius. Diplomacy: The Lessons of the Past.

  Edward watched through the observation blister as Avalon fell away behind the transport, feeling a strange mixture of relief that they were finally on their way and despondency at leaving Avalon behind. It was odd, but Avalon had become his home; despite all the warnings about becoming too attached to any one duty posting, he had wound up falling in love with his new homeworld. Leaving Avalon – and Gaby – hurt worse than he had expected.

  You knew that was a possibility, he told himself, sternly. He’d never resigned himself to spending the rest of his life on a single world, but somehow an ... acceptance had crept up on him when he hadn't been watching his own thoughts. Unlike his subordinates, he hadn't been able to leave the planet frequently, even to visit the other Commonwealth worlds. Now ... he was paying the price.

  Marines weren't supposed to be become attached to any specific world, not even Earth. It was vanishingly rare for a Marine unit to remain on a single world longer than a year or two – or, rather, it had been vanishingly rare. Edward had wondered, during the sleepless nights he’d had when they’d been told that they were on their own, just what had happened to the rest of the Marine Corps. It was a question that had never been fully answered. Surely, the Commandant had set up other bastions of civilisation – Avalon couldn't have been the only one – but Edward hadn't been told anything about them. Operational security had to be maintained. He touched the golden cross the Commandant had given him and scowled, remembering the last time he’d seen him. Who knew where the Commandant was now?

  He caught sight of a light cruiser effortlessly holding pace with the transport and smiled to himself. Civilians believed that a Marine transport starship could operate on its own, but only a fool would risk so many soldiers when it wasn't absolutely necessary. A small escort squadron would be enough to deter pirates, without seeming an overwhelming threat to Governor Brown and his subordinates. And they could hold the line long enough for the transport to escape, if they ran into serious trouble.

  The hatch hissed open behind him. He turned to see Professor Caesius. The Professor looked tired and wan, but surprisingly enthusiastic about being on the way at last. Edward had a sudden flash of Deja Vu, remembering their departure from Earth. They’d spoken in the observation blister then too.

  “Leo,” he said, welcomingly. “How are you?”

  “Just finished writing a letter to Mandy and Mindy,” the Professor said, as he joined Edward in front of the transparent blister and stared out into space. “Just in case ... you know. I wanted them to know that I was proud of them.”

  Edward nodded. Both of the Professor’s daughters had been brats when they’d been shipped to Avalon – and bitterly resented having to leave Earth, even though they’d had little real hope of a life even before their father had wound up in hot water. Now, Mandy was a Captain in the Commonwealth Navy and Mindy was working her way up through the Knights of Avalon. They would never have achieved that on Earth.

  “So you should be,” he said, shortly. “And Fiona?”

  “She doesn't like the cabin,” the Professor admitted. “I told her that there weren't any bigger ones available.”

  “There aren’t,” Edward said. “This isn't a battleship – or a flagship. My cabin isn't any larger than yours.”

  “But there’s only one of you,” the Professor pointed out. “I have two people in my cabin.”

  “It could be worse,” Edward pointed out. He grinned, relishing the opportunity to tease the older man. “You could be sharing a compartment with a hundred soldiers. Some of them will snore, some will take a really stinky dump in the middle of the night and some will be jerking off under the blankets. Compared to that, sharing a room with one’s wife might be heaven.”

  He smiled at the Professor’s expression. The Professor had admired the whole ethos of the Marine Corps from a distance, but he hadn't actually met a Marine until he’d been exiled from Earth. Or, for that matter, anyone else from the military, even the Civil Guard. But then, that hadn't been uncommon on Earth or the rest of the Core Worlds. The gulf between the military and the civilians they defended had been light-years wide even before the Empire had entered its final downward spiral. The reality ... had been a mild shock for the Professor.

  “I know,” the Professor admitted. He scowled. “But the cabin is still very small and I ... needed to get out.”

  “I am not the best person to ask for relationship counselling,” Edward warned. “And I wouldn't really trust anyone who thought they could help you.”

  He gave the older man a sympathetic look. “Perhaps you need to help her find something to do,” he said. “Something that allows her to develop herself. Something that would win her respect for being herself.”

  “I know that,” the Professor muttered. “But what is there that she can do?”

  Edward understood his dilemma. A civilian from Earth, no matter how many degrees he or she might have earned, would have real problems finding a post on the Rim. Most of Earth’s emigrants found themselves working as grunt labour – or winding up in real trouble when they tried to act as if they were entitled to accommodation and food without actually working for a living. And Fiona Caesius was too old to try out for the military, or start working on a farm, or even take care of children. If, of course, she was trusted to take care of children on Avalon. She'd been born on Earth, after all.

  “Medicine, perhaps,” Edward said, finally. “There are quite a few training courses she could take that might help her to build her own career. And a word in someone’s ear would at least give her the chance to try.”

  “That might work,” Caesius said. “But what if she doesn't succeed?”

  “She won’t succeed if she doesn't try,” Edward pointed out. A thought struck him and he frowned. “Can she read? And write?”

  “Yes,” the Professor said. He didn't seem surprised or insulted by the question. “I thought she might actually be able to work in the Imperial Library, but she’s from Earth ...”

  Edward nodded. Earth’s illiteracy rates had been the worst in the Empire, with an estimated sixty percent of the population – the officially-acknowledged population – being unable to read or write. It was blamed on Earth’s pathetic schooling, he knew; it was possible to get a reasonably decent education, but someone had to really work on it. The kids on Earth generally found it far easier to sink into a morass of ignorance, amply fuelled by public entertainments on the datanet. And they tended to be thoroughly awful human beings.

  “They won’t hold that against her if she works hard and becomes a medic,” Edward assured him. He gave the Professor a long considering look. “Do you love her?”

  The Professor hesitated. “I think so,” he admitted, finally. “But there are times when I feel as if we’re doomed to lose what remains of our relationship.”

  “I t
hink you need to concentrate on finding something for her to do that will give her life meaning,” Edward said. “She is going to be the hostess while we’re planet-side, isn’t she?”

  “That’s true,” the Professor said. “But will she do a good job?”

  Edward shrugged. “No one has hosted a diplomatic meeting between equals for centuries,” he pointed out. The meetings with the Trade Federation had been as informal as meetings with the RockRats. “I think no one will notice any minor errors.”

  He looked back out towards the stars. “And it will definitely boost her confidence,” he added. “Having something to do will definitely help her.”

  ***

  “Is now a bad moment?”

  Jasmine rubbed her eyes as she looked up from the desk. Emmanuel Alves was standing in the hatchway, looking quizzically at her. Jasmine hesitated, remembering the endless paperwork she had to do, then put the datapad aside. Anything, even talking to a reporter, was better than reading the same documents time and time again.

  “It shouldn't be,” she said, waving for him to enter the compartment and close the hatch. If anything, her office on the transport was smaller than her office on Avalon, with barely enough room to swing a cat. The meetings she had to host for her senior officers had to take place in a briefing compartment. “What can I do for you?”

  “Call me Emmanuel,” the reporter said. “And I was hoping for some background information.”

  Jasmine scowled. “All the background information I can give you on the CEF is already on the open-access datanet,” she pointed out. At least the reporter – Emmanuel, if he insisted – hadn't tried to hack into the secure databanks. That had happened on Han, if rumour was to be believed. “And I don’t have time to go through it with you.”

  She grimaced down at the latest fitness reports. Her subordinates were taking advantage of the passage from Avalon to carry out a battery of health and general fitness tests. Thankfully, no serious problems had cropped up, apart from one soldier who seemed to have developed a taste for Crazy Juice. Jasmine had chewed him out thoroughly and assigned him to punishment duties for the next two weeks – and she devoutly hoped that was the end of the matter. Crazy Juice wasn't illegal, but it was banned from military units. Bringing several doses of the stuff onboard ship was a court-martial offence.

  “I was hoping for some background information on you,” the reporter said, diffidently. “My readers wanted to know what made someone a Marine.”

  Jasmine frowned, remembering Joe Buckley’s comment that the reporter was interested in her. It had struck her as nothing more than the regular teasing exchanged between Marines – platoon mates were brothers and sisters – but was he actually serious? Or was she reading more into the situation that was actually there? It was difficult to know for sure.

  “I don't think my life is that interesting,” she said, after a long moment. “And ...”

  “Come on,” the reporter interrupted. “I did some research. There’s only four female Marines in Stalker’s Stalkers, nine if you count Auxiliaries. Of course you’re fascinating.”

  “Matter of opinion,” Jasmine said, feeling oddly uncomfortable. She hadn't felt so ... exposed since the first time she’d taken part in a live-fire drill, with very real bullets hitting the ground all around her. Stripping down with the rest of the platoon had been nothing in comparison. “There isn't much about my life I chose to remember.”

  The reporter quirked an eyebrow. “You ran away from home?”

  Jasmine shook her head, running one hand through her hair. She’d meant to have it cut, but there just hadn't been time. “My family thought I was a little odd,” she admitted, reluctantly. “I was always out and about, roaming over the countryside ... it wasn't something they considered strictly appropriate for a young girl. But I just couldn't have stayed there for the rest of my life. I signed up with the Marines when I was eighteen and never looked back.”

  The thought made her wince. She’d had brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces, and she hadn't the faintest idea what had happened to any of them. The last she’d heard had been while the company had been on Earth. They’d still thought of her as odd, she knew from their recorded messages, but they’d been proud of her. And there were times when she missed them terribly.

  “My world was boring,” she added. “And I wanted to see the rest of the universe.”

  The reporter smiled. “And have you?”

  Jasmine smiled back. “I’ve seen the Slaughterhouse, Earth, Han and a dozen other worlds along the Rim,” she said. “I think I’ve seen something of the universe.”

  But it was a tiny fraction of the whole of the Empire, she knew. There were people who just travelled from world to world, working long enough on each world to build up the funds to buy another starship ticket and head onwards. They’d seen much more of the universe than herself, yet even they hadn’t seen everything. There was always something else to see.

  She chatted back and forth with Emmanuel until her wristcom bleeped, reminding her that she had an appointment with Colonel Stalker. When she looked at it, she was surprised to realise that she’d been talking for nearly an hour. She hastily ended the conversation, shoed him out of the room and bellowed for Joe Buckley. He was grinning from ear to ear when he entered her office and closed the hatch.

  “You could have rescued me,” she said, without heat. “Bastard.”

  Buckley’s grin grew wider, somehow. “But you were having a good time,” he said. “And you needed to relax.”

  Jasmine snorted as she stood up and pulled on her jacket. “This isn't a bar on the surface,” she said, sharply. “I have work to do ...”

  “You’re spending too long on it,” Buckley said. “Ask Sergeant Harris if you don’t believe me.”

  Jasmine snorted, again. “And how would you know that I was spending too much time on it?”

  “I did a few months on flypaper duty,” Buckley reminded her, using the slang term for being attached to an HQ staff. “You have to learn what is important and what isn't.”

  “Splendid,” Jasmine said, evilly. “You can read through this shit” – she pushed one of the datapads into his hand – “and tell me what I actually need to know.”

  She was still smiling as she walked out of the hatch and headed up towards the briefing room.

  ***

  “This is all fantastically complex,” Fiona said.

  Leo nodded. It had taken him a week to download everything the onboard library had on diplomatic meetings between equals, almost all of which dated back to the Unification Wars. Logic told him that there should have been a great deal more from the time before the Empire, but someone had scrubbed it out of the datafiles – if it had been there in the first place. The Empire had worked hard to try to create the impression that it had always been in existence, even to the point of censoring history textbooks and barring research into the deep past.

  “It's the only precedents we have,” he said, softly. “Everything else we have is for meetings between superiors and inferiors.”

  Fiona smiled as she worked her way through the protocols. “We have a place in the city, they have a place in the city ... and we hold the talks somewhere else, also in the city?”

  “Yes,” Leo said. He could see the logic in it; there’d be a distance between the two delegations, allowing them to withdraw if discussions became too heated. And it would allow the locals to serve as mediators, as well as providing local security. “And you’ll have to be our hostess.”

  He looked down at the datapad, which was displaying the files that Governor Brown’s representatives had sent to the Commonwealth. There would be two senior representatives from the Wolfbane Sector, along with a relative handful of troops; Leo couldn't decide if that was a gesture of confidence or an admission that the talks were meant to be kept in confidence. Beyond that ... there was a note that accommodation would be arranged by the planetary government and that no troops would be permitted in their capital
city, apart from a handful of armed guards. The Colonel had told him that those guards would be a full company of Knights and a platoon of Marines.

  “I won’t let the Colonel down,” Fiona assured him, quickly.

  Leo had to smile, seeing the girl he’d married emerge briefly from under the bitter older woman she'd become. Fiona had enjoyed the social whirl of being married to a Professor far more than he'd enjoyed being a Professor; given time, perhaps she could work as a diplomat. It seemed absurd, but managing a large dinner party involved a lot of diplomacy ...

  He pushed the thought aside and gave his wife a hug. “And there’s something else,” he said,. softly. “Would you like to train for a medical career?”

  Fiona tensed against him. Doctors from Earth had a ghastly reputation, although Leo knew from his research that much of it came from the conditions the bureaucrats forced on them or the poor quality of medical supplies on Earth. Those who could afford off-world doctors did; everyone else took their chances or chose to go without treatment. And Fiona already keenly felt the discrimination against Earth-born settlers along the Rim.

  The Colonel’s from Earth, Leo thought, with a flicker of resentment. Why doesn't he face it too?

  But he already knew the answer to that. Colonel Stalker had proved himself, while Fiona had tried to cosy up to the old Council. It didn't encourage the settlers on Avalon to take her very seriously, or to treat her with respect.

  “You’d be studying here,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “They’d know that you weren't trained on Earth.”

  “I’ll do this first,” Fiona said, finally. She looked down at the datapad. “This is going to be enough hassle for the moment.”

  Leo nodded. At least she wasn't dismissing the idea out of hand.

  “We have three weeks before we arrive,” he said, giving her another hug. “You’ll have plenty of time to revise.”

  Chapter Six