“Confirmed, Captain. We are facing mines, repeat mines. Sample feed follows.”
“Good job, Lieutenant Burke. All right, everybody. Mines protocols. Let’s take it nice and easy.”
Between deployments, there were replacements and substitutions. Burke was promoted to first lieutenant and made executive officer of the company.
When one incoming corporal made an offhand comment that he had no problem with the leadership of his new company – ‘I’d follow the exec’s ass anywhere.’ – he got popped in the head hard enough to put him on the ground.
“A proper respect for the lieutenant’s authority and leadership is appropriate behavior for a Marine, mister.”
“Sure, Sergeant. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Be sure you didn’t, Corporal. The lieutenant saved the whole company’s ass last time out. Her looks ain’t got nothin’ on what she’s carryin’ around upstairs. Make sure you remember that.”
“Yes, Sergeant. Sorry, Sergeant.”
The sergeant looked down at the corporal, still on the ground, for several long seconds before he nodded and walked away.
It was on their second deployment to combat pirates that it all fell apart for Lieutenant Burke.
They had captured the pirate base, and had forty-some captives who had surrendered. She was left with one platoon to guard them while the captain and the rest of the company were assisting in clearing the rest of the base.
The lieutenant colonel commanding the battalion came up to her. She saluted and he returned her salute.
“Are these the captives, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Very well. Execute them for piracy, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, Sir,” Burke said, though she didn’t move.
“You have a problem with following orders, Lieutenant?”
“No, Sir.”
“Then what are you waiting for, Lieutenant?”
“Imperial death warrant or court order, Sir.”
“You don’t need them for piracy, Lieutenant. Carry out my orders.”
“No, Sir.”
“Then I’ll do it, Lieutenant.”
“No, Sir.”
“I beg your pardon, Lieutenant.”
“Staff Sergeant Milroy,” Burke said.
Milroy came up and saluted Burke.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“You are familiar with Imperial Marine regulations concerning execution for piracy, Staff Sergeant?”
“Yes, Ma’am. On Imperial death warrant or court order only. Prisoners to be held for trial or adjudication.”
“Ensure that the platoon obeys those regulations, Staff Sergeant. If the Lieutenant Colonel attempts to break those regulations, you are to arrest him and hold him for court martial.”
The staff sergeant’s eye got wide, but he nodded and gave the lieutenant colonel a barely concealed look of disgust.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Burke turned back to the lieutenant colonel.
“You were saying, Sir?”
The lieutenant colonel, eyes smoldering, spun on his heel and stalked off.
Burke was brought up on charges of disobeying orders and insubordination. It was a setup. The sector governor had promised to ‘kill all the pirates,’ and the lieutenant colonel was a political ass-kisser who had himself been acting under orders.
Exactly what sort of orders Burke had disobeyed was never brought up in the court martial. Her defense was barred from bringing it up. The prosecutors offered her a plea deal of an honorable discharge, and she told them in no uncertain terms to shove it up their collective asses. She was found guilty and dishonorably discharged. She filed an immediate appeal to Imperial Marine Headquarters Center, which stayed her discharge, then took leave to go home while awaiting adjudication by higher.
Dr. James Ardmore was comfortably ensconced in an apartment in the Residence Wing of the Imperial Palace. He did not report in to any office, but instead worked out of the apartment at his own request.
He and Bob Fullman had gone out on the shopping trip of all shopping trips after he got the offer of the job at the palace. Lots of suits, but also casual wear and personal hygiene products. He watched video courses on personal hygiene to learn how to use them. None of it had been important before. He basically threw out everything he had owned before and had everything he bought delivered to the Imperial Palace.
When he showed up for work in the suit he had worn to that first meeting with the Emperor, Housekeeping had asked him about moving his things to the palace. He had demurred.
“I’m wearing everything I own,” he had said.
Fullman visited him once he had moved in. That got him on the Imperial Guard’s visitor list. Ardmore and Fullman had eaten in the cafeteria for close Imperial staff.
“You call this a cafeteria? Wow,” Fullman had said.
“Yeah. Isn’t it something?”
They had retired back to Ardmore’s apartment and sat out on the balcony appreciating the view. Ardmore’s apartment was on the front wall of the Palace, and faced down Palace Mall.
“Well, you really made it, my friend. I’m not sure how you managed that.”
“To be completely honest, Bob, I’m not either.”
It was all work now, though, and Ardmore had been putting his database search skills to use surfacing Imperial Guard candidates out of the personnel records of the Imperial Marines. He had already found a new commandant – a five-star general forced out by a corrupt sector governor – and a lot of enlisted ranks. He was having more trouble filling out the lower-level officer ranks. That’s where he was concentrating at the moment.
Ardmore looked at one record, then the next, then the next. One jumped out at him. ‘Awaiting dishonorable discharge. On appeal.’ OK, what was the charge? Disobeying orders. Not promising. What were the orders? He opened the appeal. She claimed she had been ordered to murder prisoners – kill them without Imperial death warrant or court order – and had said No, then taken steps to ensure the officer ordering the illegal act couldn’t go around her.
Wait. She? Not many female Imperial Marines, much less with combat experience, which was one of his filters.
Yes, she. She had had two deployments to combat zones, and had been decorated for the first one. He read the citation. OK, so she was smart, too. Had seen the missing piece, the thing out of place, and saved the company. Mines? Yikes!
Ardmore called up her picture. My God, she was beautiful.
OK, so other than being smart, beautiful, and ethical, what did she have going for her?
She’s definitely on the list. Ardmore tagged her record in his database and moved on.
Gail Burke had been home for a month when she got a Priority message with an Imperial header. She didn’t read the header carefully, she just opened the message.
They can’t have decided the case already, she thought.
She read the mail and sat stunned for several minutes as she read it over and over again.
To: Captain Gail Anne Burke, Imperial Guard
From: Edward Moody, Personal Secretary to HM
Subject: Assignment
By order of His Majesty the Emperor Augustus VI, you have been named to the Imperial Guard.
Your court martial and discharge have been vacated.
You have been promoted to Captain.
You have been awarded the Distinguished Service Medal.
You are ordered to report to the Imperial Palace for assignment. See travel voucher attached.
“GRAMPS!” Burke called as she ran through the house to her grandfather’s room. He had been a Command Sergeant Major in the Imperial Marines when he retired. She had told him what had really happened on her second deployment, and he had told her one should never be embarrassed about doing the right thing, even if other people didn’t understand.
“GRAMPS!”
“I’m here, I’m here. What’s happened? What’s wrong?”
“Read this.”
She pushed him the message, and he read it in VR.
In his late sixties now, he had tears in his eyes as he held his arms out to her and enfolded her in a hug.
“I’m so proud of you, my dear,” he said over her shoulder. “As many of us have served in the Imperial Marines, you are the first Burke to be selected to the Imperial Guard. I told you. I told you. Do the right thing and hold your head high. Whatever else they do, they can never take that away from you. And sometimes – not often, but sometimes – it comes back to you.”
The travel voucher was for commercial business-class travel from literally anywhere in human space to Center. Business class ate in the first-class dining room on most interstellar flights, though they didn’t get the tables up front or get served first. That was OK with Burke. She still got the first-class food, and she got to use the first-class gym. The cabins were smaller is all, being a single room instead of a suite. It also had a full bath, including a shower.
It sure beat transport on an Imperial Marine troopship.
And so, almost a month after receiving the message, she found herself in Marine Dress Uniform (MDU), spacebag over her shoulder and suitcase in the other hand, walking into the Imperial Park West entrance of the Imperial Palace.
She walked up to the counter on her right.
“Hello, Captain Burke. One moment, please,” the clerk said.
A page came out of the door behind the counter.
“Captain Burke for General Hargreaves.”
“If you would come this way, please, Captain.”
They walked through another set of sliding glass doors in the back wall of the lobby to a people mover station where a car waited.
“You should have the controls for this in your VR already, Captain. Just push the icon for the Imperial Palace stop.”
Burke did, and the little car took off through the tunnels for the Imperial Palace. The car stopped and they got out, the page leading her across a wide cross-corridor to an elevator lobby.
“You have the controls for these as well, Captain. If you push the Emergency Call button, the closest car will ignore its other passengers and come directly to you. Just push the regular call button for now.”
Burke did, and a car came. They got in.
“You should have floor-select buttons for every single floor, Captain, including the Imperial Residence. For right now, select the Imperial Guard main floor.”
Burke selected the Imperial Guard main floor and the elevator started up. When it stopped, they got off and the page led her to the receptionist in the elevator lobby, who was a first sergeant with the combat ribbon. He was wearing the black fourragère of the Marine Combat Uniform (MCU) with his MDU, however, rather than the gold one she expected. Burke wasn’t wearing any fourragère at the moment. She had never had one, as it could only be given by the Commandant of the Imperial Guard or the Emperor himself. She was wearing Captain insignia, though. She had had a set laid by – ‘hope insignia’ they called them – just in case.
“Captain Burke for General Hargreaves,” the page said.
“Thank you,” the first sergeant said and the page left.
“This way, please, Captain. You can leave your things there for the moment.”
The duty sergeant indicated a spot behind his desk, and Burke put her suitcase and spacebag down. He led her a short distance down the hall, then knocked once on a door and led her into an office.
“Captain Burke, Sir.”
“Come in, Captain.”
The general behind the desk was wearing the six-star coronet of an Imperial General on his collar tabs and shoulder boards. They looked new, Burke noticed. He was also wearing the black fourragère with the MDU.
Burke walked forward to his desk and snapped to attention.
“Captain Gail Burke reporting as ordered, Sir.”
“First things first, Captain.”
Hargreaves reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a black fourragère. He came around his desk and put the fourragère on her. He shook her hand.
“Welcome to the Imperial Guard, Captain.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Be seated, Captain.”
Hargreaves walked back around his desk to his desk chair and sat down.
“You may be wondering about the black fourragère with the MDU, Captain.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Many of those who were in the Imperial Guard were never combat veterans, Captain. It had become a sinecure for the sons of the connected. We’re clearing those out and reestablishing the Imperial Guard. That’s what I was brought in for.”
Burke noticed the combat ribbon among Hargreaves’ considerable decorations.
“So combat veterans now wear the black fourragère with the MDU. The poufs that were populating the Imperial Guard were not combat veterans, and never wore the MCU, you see.”
“I do see, Sir.”
“So you may never wear the gold fourragère, Captain. It’s been tarnished. The black fourragère never has been.”
“I’m proud to wear it, Sir.”
“And we’re proud to have you, Captain. Combat ribbons are becoming commonplace around here now, but the DSM is never commonplace. Nor should it be.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
The Marine And The Emperor
When Burke finished with General Hargreaves, she went back out to the elevator lobby and picked up her things. She queried the Imperial Palace map for her quarters. There it was.
“Do you need any assistance, Captain?” the duty sergeant asked.
“No, First Sergeant. Thank you.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Burke walked down the hallway and around the corner, headed for officer country. The Imperial Palace was a very large building, a tenth of a mile on a side and tens of stories tall. She found the correct hallway, and saw the marker for her room in a VR overlay.
Burke unlocked the unmarked door in VR and went in. It was a one-room efficiency apartment with a full bath to one side and a kitchenette in the niche next to it. She dropped off her suitcase and spacebag at the door.
“A little stuffy.”
Burke walked over to the drapes, but saw no pulls. She checked VR and there it was. Open Drapes. Also Open Sheers and Open Wall.
Open Wall?
Burke selected Open Wall. The drapes opened, then the sheers, then the entire glass wall partitioned and folded into the side walls. She was left standing before a full-width balcony with a glass railing. She walked out onto the balcony in wonder.
Officer country apparently was on the front wall of the Imperial Palace. Burke was looking down Palace Mall, past the statues of all the Emperors and Empresses, out over Imperial Park, with the two-hundred-story towers of Imperial Park South beyond, perhaps four miles distant. It took her breath away. She collapsed on a chair on the balcony and drank it all in.
“Well, girl, you’ve really made it. Gramps was right. Always do the right thing, and sometimes it will come back to you. Boy, golly, did it ever.”
Burke went to dinner in the Imperial Guard cafeteria. She had just spent almost a month in business-class on interstellar passenger liners, and she didn’t expect the Imperial Guard cafeteria to match up to the first-class dining room, but it was a lot closer than she expected. Better yet, it was slanted more toward protein, where the food in the liners’ first-class dining rooms had been slanted toward sweets and other carbs.
After dinner, she walked around the Imperial Guard floors identifying the resources she had read about in the orientation materials that afternoon. She found the gym, the armory, the pistol range, the ready room, and various offices, including her own.
She went back to her room and started in on the Imperial Guard Practices and Procedures manual. This had been recently updated, mostly by replacing the current one with the hundred-year-old one.
She wasn’t on the call schedule yet, so on the way back to her room she stopped back in through the cafeteria to g
et a half-carafe of wine. It would be a pleasant evening studying out on the balcony.
Several days later, after orientation check, issuance of her regulation sidearm, range test, and regulations exam, Burke started standing watches. Every Guardsman stood watches. Guard officers also stood watches when joining the Guard. They had to learn the Palace, their protectees, and Guard procedures, and standing watch was the best way to do that.
Perhaps a month into her training period, Burke stood watch over the Emperor himself, in his office. Drake was doing paperwork in VR that day, and, when she and the other relief came in for the on-duty watch, he dropped out of VR and looked at her curiously.
“It’s Captain Burke, isn’t it?”
Burke started, not expecting to be addressed. Normally the Guard on watch was treated like furniture. It was the way they liked it. She went from at ease to attention and focused on Drake.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Drake nodded. He recalled her case. The only woman currently in the Imperial Guard. She was certainly lovely, but she looked very young. Then again, the black fourragère hanging next to the combat ribbon and the Distinguished Service Medal was all business, as was the sidearm. She looked very competent.
“How old are you, Captain?”
“Twenty-two, Sire.”
“You graduated the Academy early.”
“Yes, Sire. I had just turned twenty.”
Drake nodded.
“Very good, Captain. Carry on.”
“Yes, Sire.”
Burke nodded to him and went back to at ease, to the ‘see everything, look at nothing’ stare the Imperial Guard was known for.
Drake looked up her service record in VR. He went back through her grades at the Imperial Marine Academy at IFB Moria. He also looked at her physical scores. They had, per Imperial Marine practice, not relaxed the physical standards for her at all. Then again, she was big – six feet, anyway – and that helped. He looked further back, through her high, middle, and low school grades. Athletic awards, too. Very impressive.
EMPIRE: Renewal Page 4