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

by Christopher Nuttall

  A strong hand caught him and pulled him backwards as two Marines moved forward to shield the civilians. The strangers didn't hesitate; they threw themselves forward, lashing out at the Marines with their makeshift weapons. Leo heard his wife cry out as it finally dawned on her that they were in danger, just as the Marines started to fight back. He stared in stunned disbelief as all seven of the newcomers were rapidly knocked down.

  As if that had been a signal, the crowd surged forward, baying with anger. Leo froze, feeling warm liquid trickling down his leg; he’d heard stories about what happened to people who were caught up in a mob riot. And then the Marine grabbed him and pulled him along, away from the crowd. But the crowd was giving chase ...

  “This way,” the Marine grunted. They moved into a narrow – and thankfully deserted – alleyway. Leo felt his legs buckle; if the Marine hadn't kept hold of him, he knew that he would have collapsed into a helpless puddle. Fiona seemed to be struggling with one of the other Marines; as Leo watched, the Marine threw her over his shoulder and carried her forward, ignoring her protests. “Sir, I ...”

  A shower of rocks rained down from high overhead. The Marine swore, unslung his rife and fired a handful of shots up towards the rooftops. Leo looked upwards and saw several young men scattering, one slipping and falling down towards the ground. He heard a growling sound from behind him and turned to see the crowd trying to press its way into the alley. The leader held a burning bottle in one hand, ready to throw. Leo heard the Marine swear again and fire a single shot towards the bottle. Liquid fire cascaded over the holder’s body and he screamed.

  Leo felt sick as the stench of burning flesh assailed his nostrils. The crowd flinched back from the heat, then started to come forward. Leo heard a crash and looked back, just in time to see one of the Marines kicking open a wooden door. There was no time to object before he was hauled inside and pulled up the stairs.

  Somehow, he found his voice. “Where ... where are we going?”

  “Somewhere else,” the Marine grunted. He pulled something off his belt and threw it back down the stairwell. A moment later, there was a flash of blue light and a faint electric shock running through the air that made Leo’s hair stand on end. “Anywhere else.”

  Leo shivered. Outside, he could hear the sound of the crowd, baying for blood. His blood.

  “They’ll break in, won’t they?” He asked, nervously. “What do we do then?”

  “Go through the walls,” the Marine said. “And then hope that the Colonel can put together a relief force.”

  ***

  “Report,” Edward snapped, as he strode into the makeshift command and control centre. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Mob riot, sir,” Major Villeneuve reported. “The Professor, his wife and their escorts were apparently targeted.”

  “Shit,” Edward hissed. A riot was always dangerous, particularly when the Marines caught up in the confusion had to protect civilians as well as themselves. And Blake Coleman and his squad weren't wearing full armour. “Get the QEF ready to go; tell them to use stunners first, but to be ready to switch to more lethal weapons if necessary.”

  He gritted his teeth, wishing that they had been able to bring vehicles into the city. But the landing pad by the Imperial Residency wasn't large enough to take the heavy transport shuttles. Maybe he should have had the shuttles landed outside the city ... he cursed his own oversight, then pushed it aside. There would be time for self-recriminations later.”

  “Lieutenant Cradock has assumed command of the QRF,” Villeneuve reported, a moment later. “They’re ready to go.”

  Edward scowled down at the single map they had of the city. Intelligence was poor, but recon drones had suggested that the city was even more of a maze than they’d realised. The reports coming in over the communications network was odd; it puzzled him until he realised that the mob didn't seem to actually want to catch the fleeing off-worlders. But what had triggered the riot in the first place?

  He gritted his teeth. Sending soldiers into a city was always risky, both for the soldiers and for any civilians who happened to be caught in the crossfire. Cities dampened down the advantages normally enjoyed by well-trained soldiers, levelling the playing field between them and ill-trained and expendable insurgents. He wanted to take command personally, to share the risks he was asking the Knights to bear, yet he knew that he had to remain in the Imperial Residency.

  “Send them in,” he ordered, tartly. “And then send a message to the garrison. Black Five; I say again, Black Five.”

  “Yes, sir,” Villeneuve acknowledged. He paused. “May I make a suggestion?”

  Edward nodded, impatiently.

  “Inform the Wolfbane Ambassadors,” Villeneuve advised. “They may be at risk too.”

  “I’ll call them personally,” Edward said. “Inform me if the situation changes, even slightly.”

  ***

  “Cover your ears,” the Marine ordered. “Now!”

  The wall facing them disintegrated with a thunderous crash. Leo looked up, alarmed, as plaster dust began to drift down from the ceiling. The Marine pushed him onwards, through the haze, and into another room. This one held a handful of young children who stared at the Marines with wide terrified eyes. Leo wanted to do something to help them, but there was no time. Instead, he was pushed through the corridor and up another flight of stairs.

  “The QRF is on the way, but drones report that the marketplace is turning into a generalised riot,” the Marine muttered as they reached the top floor. “They’re already being hammered with sticks and stones from high overhead.”

  Leo nodded. “Can we get out of here?”

  “We’ll look after both of you,” the Marine promised, understanding the unspoken question. “But you need to follow orders and keep your heads down.”

  He pulled open a hatch leading up to the roof and scrambled upwards, carrying a stunner in one hand. Leo heard the distinctive hum of the weapon as the Marine swept it around, then pulled his legs through the hatch and climbed out onto the roof. Another Marine followed him a moment later, then a third passed Fiona up through the hatch. Leo hesitated, unsure of what to do, but then the Marine simply picked him up – it was astonishing just how effortless it seemed – and passed him to one of the Marines on top. The other two scrambled up moments later.

  “Shit,” one of the Marines muttered. “They’re trying to burn down the city.”

  Leo looked around and realised that the Marine was right. Piles of smoke were rising up from all over the city, including several that were alarmingly close to the marketplace. He could hear the sounds of fighting and looting everywhere, as if the rioters had decided to abandon the off-worlders and loot the market instead. It was easy to believe, he decided, even though it was impossible to be sure.

  “This way,” the Marine ordered. “Hurry!”

  Somehow, Leo pulled himself to his feet and followed the lead Marine as he headed across the rooftop. Dozens of stunned locals lay everywhere, a handful moaning rather than simply sleeping it off, suggesting that they’d only taken a glancing blow from the stunner. He came to a halt as they reached the edge of the roof, even as the Marine jumped and made it across the narrow alleyway. Down below, he heard a roar as the crowd realised that their prey was escaping ...

  “Jump,” the Marine snapped. The one carrying Fiona ran past him and jumped effortlessly across the chasm. “Jump now!”

  Behind him, Leo heard the sound of rioters breaking out onto the rooftop. Somehow, he forced himself to jump across the gap. He landed safely on the other side and staggered, just as the remaining two Marines landed beside him. One of them turned and fired a handful of bursts from his stunner towards the crowd; Leo turned, just in time to see several rioters trip and fall over the edge, plunging downwards. The Marine caught his arm and pulled him onwards as they started to run, ignoring the hail of flying rocks thrown after them.

  “What ...” He coughed and started again. “What stops th
em jumping too?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” the Marine said. “Shut up and run!”

  Leo obeyed, cursing the pain in his chest. Part of him just wanted to collapse; the rest of him knew that would be certain death. Instead, he somehow managed to run onwards, nearly tripping over other stunned bodies. Behind them, the mob kept coming ...

  ***

  “The QRF has reached the edge of the marketplace,” Villeneuve reported. “They’re driving back the rioters.”

  Edward nodded. Stunners made it easier to fire into a riot – reasonably healthy people would almost certainly survive being stunned – but there would still be deaths. Everyone who fell off the rooftops would be unlikely to survive, as would those who were crushed under their fellow rioters. Edward still had nightmares about the fighting on Han, when the howling mobs had attacked fully-armoured Marines with their bare hands. They hadn't stood a chance and yet they’d kept coming.

  “Tell them to pull back as soon as they recover our lost sheep,” he ordered. It was becoming alarmingly clear that the city was dissolving into chaos. He wondered, briefly, what the local warriors were doing, before realising that it was unlikely that they would be able to put down the riot without wrecking the capital city. They’d probably prefer to leave the off-worlders to their fate. “And then secure our walls.”

  He glanced down at the report from the sentries. So far, no one had attempted to besiege the Imperial Residency – on either side of the building – but it was only a matter of time. The local guards had been disarmed and taken into protective custody. Edward had no idea which side they were on and he didn't have time to worry about it. Besides, with a riot spreading through the city, he had a feeling that the guards would prefer to be under lock and key.

  “We should take the servants into custody too,” Villeneuve suggested. “They might be more than they seem.”

  “Do so,” Edward ordered.

  He sat back and tried to look confident, hating himself. There was nothing he could do now, but wait for his orders to be carried out. If he could have gone in person ... he shook his head, understanding – once again – why the Commandant had been so reluctant to remain in his post. He’d known that, for all his rank and authority, he was helpless to do more than watch as his people risked their lives.

  ***

  “They’re waiting for us at the edge of the building,” the Marine said, as they reached the end of the marketplace. “You’re going to have to trust us here, understand?”

  Leo swallowed, but nodded. “I understand. Why ...?”

  He gasped in pain as the Marine caught his hand and yanked, pulling them both off the edge of the building. There was a moment of absolute panic – and then he crashed into a vat of stinky liquid, breaking his fall. The stench was appalling; before he could say a word, strong arms pulled him out and over the side. Others caught on and held him upright.

  “Stinky,” someone joked. Leo’s eyes were stinging so badly that he couldn't even begin to see who’d spoken. “What a mess.”

  “Shut up and run,” the Marine growled. He was still holding onto Leo’s hand, pulling him onwards. “You can make snide remarks later.”

  Leo blinked, forcing his vision to clear. Behind them, a line of people were falling off the rooftops and down to the ground. He looked down at his clothes and winced at the stench; he didn't want to even think about what they might have used to break their fall. And how had the Marine known it was there anyway?

  “Drones say that there are bigger crowds heading our way,” the Marine grunted as they ran, “but there isn't anyone in our path. We have a clear run back to the Residency.”

  ***

  Edward watched grimly as the Marines and QRF finally made it back to the gates. Their pursuers required some discouragement from the guards at the gates, but they broke and ran after the guards started firing live rounds over their heads. He checked that there had been nothing from the local government, then stood up and walked down to where the refugees were hastily undressing. Their clothes and uniforms had been completely ruined and their equipment would have to be checked carefully, but at least they were alive.

  “Good work,” he said.

  “They didn't want to catch us, sir,” Coleman reported. He might have a reputation – well-deserved – as a horny bastard, but no one had ever doubted his competence. “The whole riot was carefully controlled from start to finish. We were allowed to escape.”

  “I know,” Edward agreed. It was the only conclusion that made sense. Mobs were about as smart as the stupidest person in them and they had a nasty habit of trampling on their fellows to get to their targets. The Marines would have given a good account of themselves if they had been backed into a corner, but they would have eventually been overwhelmed and destroyed. “But why?”

  He looked over at the Professor and his wife. Fiona looked to have fainted; a female medic was cutting away her clothes for disposal. She could be carried into the makeshift infirmary and tended to there. Her husband looked stunned, perhaps on the verge of going into shock, but he was alive.

  “You did well,” Edward said, as reassuringly as he could. Civilians became hellishly unpredictable in warzones. “I’m going to have you sedated. Once you awake, we can decide what to do next.”

  Leo opened his mouth to object, but the medic pressed a sedation tab against his arm before he could say a word. Edward watched as he slumped over, then motioned for two of the Marines to carry him to his bed. It would be at least twelve hours before the effects of the tab wore off.

  Edward’s wristcom buzzed. “Sir, we’re picking up a message from Sivaganga Zamindari,” Villeneuve reported. “He is demanding an immediate meeting.”

  The penny is about to drop, Edward thought.

  “Understood,” he responded out loud. “I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Looking at the first requirement, a country must analyse and then prioritise its requirements. For example, a neighbouring army division on the border represents a clear and present danger to the country’s independence. Diplomatically, keeping that division away from the border is more important than whatever is happening on the other side of the globe. Concentrating on the latter instead of the former is asking for trouble.

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

  Sivaganga Zamindari shivered as he approached the Imperial Residency, wearing the full formal outfit of a Minister of State. The Prince – and his cronies – might believe that they could control the mob, but he had his doubts. Even the strict orders they'd issued to threaten and scare the off-worlders, rather than kill, might have been disobeyed in the heat of the moment. After all, the government had been telling everyone that their problems were caused by off-worlders and only their complete removal from the surface of the planet would allow peace and prosperity to return.

  But it had worked, miraculously.

  The guards who had been assigned to the Residency were gone, he noticed. In their place, there were off-worlders carrying modern weapons and looking at him as if they were about to unsling their weapons and use him for target practice. The lack of respect in their eyes saddened, but didn't surprise him. Off-worlders had never shown any real respect to the lords and masters of the higher castes. Humiliating them was a way to show their power.

  One of the guards stepped forward and held up a hand, motioning for Sivaganga to stop and wait. He obeyed – and then cursed himself as two more guards came up to him and searched him quickly but thoroughly, removing both his communicator and the primitive datanet terminal that had been purchased from an off-world trader at considerable cost. Normally, even the Rajah’s guards would never have searched anyone so thoroughly, but Sivaganga gritted his teeth and submitted without protest. As unpleasant as it was, going back to the Prince and reporting that he hadn't even been able to deliver the ultimatum would be worse.

  “Come with us,” the guard commanded, finally. There must have been some cons
ultation with his superiors, although Sivaganga couldn't see how. “And behave yourself.”

  Inside, there was a line of men seated against one wall. It took Sivaganga a moment to realise that they were the former guards – and that they were helpless, their hands bound firmly behind their backs. He felt a flicker of outrage at how casually the guards had been treated, although he knew that the off-worlders had had little alternative. The Prince’s plans had called for the guards to attack the off-worlders from behind, when the fighting finally started. It seemed that the off-worlders had anticipated that ploy.

  “This is the Colonel,” the guard growled, as a tall blonde-haired man appeared from the main building. He was wearing a uniform, including body-armour, with a pistol conspicuously buckled to his belt. Behind him, there was an older woman wearing a slightly different military uniform. “You can speak to him.”

  Sivaganga took a moment to study the two off-worlders. The woman seemed almost mannish, an odd thing in his experience; it was hard to truly grasp the fact that she was a woman. Indeed, if it hadn’t been for the swell of her breasts, he would have automatically assumed that she was male. The man seemed younger, but there was a coldness in his eye that suggested that he had seen too much in his life to relax completely. Not for the first time, Sivaganga found himself wondering if the Prince – and, by extension, the whole planet – had bitten off more than they could chew.

  He cleared his throat. “I come with a message from His Most Imperial Majesty,” he said, making a deliberate decision to omit most of the Rajah’s titles. “He wishes you to surrender the off-worlders responsible for starting the riot and killing upwards of a hundred citizens of this planet.”

  “I see,” the man observed. “And the fact that they were just defending themselves doesn’t matter?”