The Empire’s Corps: Book 01 - The Empire's Corps (35 page)

She felt, more than heard, the door open as Markus Wilhelm stepped into the room. Like her, he’d been born rich and determined to become richer. Their partnership was a natural one. They even still slept together sometimes, even though they both wanted power more than they wanted each other. She smiled at the goatee he’d cultivated since they’d arrived, knowing that he was under the impression that it gave him a faintly sinister air.

“They just finished sweeping the house again,” he said. Mansion it might be, but Wilhelm always referred to it as a house, reminding her of the castle he intended to build once they held supreme power. They had grown up in the shadows of the houses owned by the local aristocrats on their homeworld. “We found three new bugs and stomped on them.”

Carola shrugged. One of their advantages was that they had brought a surprising amount of modern technology with them when they’d moved to Avalon, including some devices that hadn’t trickled down from the Imperial Army to the Civil Guard. She wasn't too surprised to learn that their house was being bugged, even though it was impossible to say who was trying to listen in on their conversations. The parties she threw every second week allowed too many people into her house.

“Some of them were definitely military-grade technology,” Wilhelm added. “Our noble friends and allies in the Council couldn’t have provided them, but the Marines could have sent them here.”

“Could be,” Carola agreed, as if it were a very minor matter. The Marines would definitely want to spy on them, but as long as they could keep the bugs out of the secure rooms, it wouldn’t matter. “Of course, if they had managed to gather evidence against us, they’d have come bursting in here by now.”

She turned and looked up at the map. “I think we’re going to have to urge the Knives to move now,” she said, slowly. “The longer the Marines have to train new recruits, the harder it will be for them to make any headway at all.”

“They lost the last time they went up against the Marines,” Wilhelm reminded her. “What makes you think that they will want to risk everything and move against them openly?”

“There are only ninety-odd Marines,” Carola said. She’d taken pains to cultivate Fiona Caesius as an intelligence source, but the wretched woman simply hadn’t bothered to learn the fundamentals, or even gather information that could be useful. Her husband hadn’t been interested in spending time at Carola’s parties and had been bored stiff the few times he had attended. “They can be weakened if they are lured into a trap.”

She smiled. “And besides, given what we have on him, I’m sure the Knife will want to move openly,” she added. “Just think of what we can offer him as a reward!”

“A dangerous game,” Wilhelm said. “If it gets traced back to us, the next Marines we’ll see will be the ones breaking down the wall and coming to arrest us, dead or alive.”

Carola looked up at him. “What do you think will happen if the Marines succeed?”

She answered her own question before he could speak. “They already have more recruits signed up than they can handle,” she said. “They will be taught how to fight and given confidence, the confidence they will need to stand up to the Civil Guard and our proxies within the Government. Our power only holds as long as we hold on to the government and we will lose it if the people have the mindset needed for a rebellion. We’re not exactly loved out there.”

Wilhelm nodded. If they weren't the most hated husband and wife on the planet, it wasn't for lack of trying. In order to build up their power, they had entrapped thousands of families in an endless web of debt and obligation, placing their investments carefully to ensure that they had influence everywhere. As long as they controlled the government and its monopoly on force, they were safe…which was why they had worked hard to prevent any threat to that monopoly. If the Crackers took over, they would both be the first against the wall.

Working with the bandits had been a risk, but a worthwhile one, for the growing problem called the Governor’s competence into question. If the bandits kept pushing, there would be grounds to press for his removal, allowing the Council a chance to take complete control of the planet. The Knives themselves were expendable. If they refused to cooperate afterwards, the Council – which would be in full control of the Civil Guard – would see to their extermination. It was a risk, yet they had no choice.

“And you know what’s been happening when the Marines go on leave,” Carola added. “How long will it be before they start sending their recruits on leave?”

“Yes,” Wilhelm agreed. The Marines who had gone on leave had been mugged – or, rather, muggers had tried to mug them. The results had been several fatalities and at least thirty would-be muggers in the hospital, recovering from the beatings they had taken. The Marines, unlike the Civil Guard, hadn’t hesitated to hand out broken bones, if only to make their point. Various criminal gangs had responded by putting out contracts on the Marines, but so far they’d had no takers. No one wanted to see what would happen if they managed to kill a Marine. “They’d start cleaning up the city.”

They contemplated the possibility of an armed citizenry demanding better civil government for a long moment. It wasn't a good thought. In theory, the new recruits would remain in debt and would be unable to vote, but there was no guarantee that they would accept it. Worse, the Marines were paying them well…they might even pay off their debts and claim a vote. If that happened, the Council’s monopoly would be shattered beyond repair. It could not be allowed to happen.

“I’ll send the messenger,” he said, finally. A Council-issued pass would take someone out of the city without being questioned, yet if one of the honest Guardsmen caught sight of it, it would raise questions they would prefer not to be asked. “And then I think we’d better pull our heads in and wait to see what happens.”

“I’m going to keep working on Fiona,” Carola added. “The silly woman might just know something useful after all.”

***

Lucas Trent rubbed the back of his neck as he stood up, feeling the sweat running down towards his waist. The heat in the badlands had always surprised him, ever since they had first set up the hidden camp and he sometimes wondered why the badlands didn’t simply catch fire and burn to the grounds. The explanation was simple enough; the network of underground reservoirs that fed most of the plants in the badlands helped keep their temperature down. It might have been normal for a native resident of Avalon – if such mythical creatures had ever existed – but it was uncomfortable as hell for a human.

The girl stared up at him blankly as he pulled on his trousers. Her mind was long gone now, leaving only an automaton that followed orders and just lay there when he wanted sex. There was something about the heat that made him horny – it had never been so hot on Earth, where the Undercity had been dank and cold – and he could indulge himself as often as he liked. He touched the girl’s chest with his foot and rubbed her breast for a long moment, before turning and heading out of the cave. There was business to be done.

He peered through the foliage that hid the camp, even from the Marines and their sensors, towards another hidden cave. The messenger from their friends in Camelot was waiting there, served by a pair of girls Lucas and the Knives had taken from a homestead near the badlands. They might have had to pull in their horns and hide since the Marines had shown up, but there was no point in sparing themselves the creature comforts – besides, it kept the man’s mind focused. One day, Lucas had every intention of killing their friends at Camelot – who he was sure would change sides when the pressure grew too high for them to bear – but until then, he would work with them. He needed what they were offering.

Carefully remaining under the foliage, he made his way into the cave and dismissed the two girls. They weren't broken yet and had to be escorted everywhere, just to make sure they didn’t do anything stupid like lighting a fire in the middle of camp. The messenger looked up and smiled at him, but Lucas could taste the man’s fear. He had never expected to find himself playing for such high stakes, in a game where he was nothing more than a pawn. Lucas could have killed him at any moment and he knew it.

“So,” he said, without preamble. “Your masters want me to hit our new friends as hard as possible.”

“Yes,” the messenger said. “They believe that there is a window of opportunity to hit the Marines now, before they can build up their forces and start pressing against the badlands.”

“How lucky for them,” Lucas said, dryly. “And what can they offer to convince me to take my men out of the badlands and attack the Marine base?”

“They have pulled some heavy weapons out of Camelot Garrison,” the messenger said, referring to the Civil Guard base near the city. “They believe that you will find them useful.”

Lucas kept his face blank, trying not to show how eager he was to get his hands on the weapons. It was easy to obtain small arms and rifles, but heavier weapons were harder, even with the Civil Guardsmen being so easy to bribe. It showed how much importance his patrons placed on the attack, for heavy weapons could easily be turned against them as well. Lucas was sure that they expected him to turn on them one day – after all, he expected the same. Treachery was part of the human condition. They wouldn’t be keen on his plans to set up a kingdom out near the badlands.

“Very well,” he said, making his mind up quickly. “When will the weapons arrive?”

“In five days,” the messenger said. “I have been told to inform you that they will be dispatched by a roundabout route and handed over at Point Alpha. They wish you to attack as quickly as possible.”

“Do they indeed,” Lucas said. A plan was already forming in his head. Attacking the Marine platoon house was suicide, but perhaps there was another way. “They can wait until the heavy weapons arrive…and then we’ll see.”

The messenger smiled. “Thank you,” he said. He looked more than a little relieved that it had been so easy, but then, the Knives were going stir crazy in their lair. They weren't used to hiding. “They were quite happy with the last shipment you sent into the city.”

“I’m sure that they were,” Lucas said. He grinned. “A shipment of whores and drugs would have made their day.”

Chapter Thirty

War is a democracy in the truest possible sense. The enemy gets a vote
.

-Major-General Thomas Kratman (Ret), A Civilian’s Guide to the Terran Marine Corps.

“I have the latest reports from Company Delta, sir,” Lieutenant Ryan Spencer reported. “They’re on their way back to the Fort.”

Major George Grosskopf nodded. Fort Galahad – the Arthurian theme couldn’t be escaped, even outside Camelot itself – was the main Civil Guard base near the badlands, even though it was too far away to have any immediate influence on the surrounding area. It had been built before the badlands and their nature had been fully understood and, so far, the Council had refused to allow the Civil Guard to construct any bases closer to the badlands. It made little sense to George – the Council needed the homesteads intact until the homesteaders paid off their debts – but the precise reasoning hardly mattered.

The Fort was actually his favourite place on the planet, untouched by politics and officers he’d been forced to promote at the Council’s strong urging. He’d reinforced the garrison after the Marines had smashed the bandit raiding party three weeks ago and urged the Fort’s CO to organise a regular patrol schedule, patrolling the surrounding area and trying to deter any retaliation from the badlands. Four hundred Civil Guardsmen, his most capable soldiers, now inhabited the Fort. Having so many men so far from Camelot worried him, but the Council had been sanguine about the risk. Didn’t they have the Marines to call upon in case of emergency?

He scowled down at the map, thinking cold thoughts. The Council had refused his request to pay his own men in cash, even local credits. The Civil Guard had always had a surplus of recruits, even if they did lose half of their monthly pay to the debt sharks, but now that surplus was dying up. Young men were signing up to join the Marines instead, adding their names to the lists and awaiting the call-up to the training centres. George knew that several of the more competent Guardsmen were talking about refusing to reenlist and, instead, trying to join the Marines. Why should they not? The Council didn’t give a damn about them.

The Marine platoon house was thirty kilometres to the north, far too close to the badlands for comfort, even if they had been left alone so far. Of course, the bandits – unlike the Crackers – were cowards. They were happy picking on unarmed homesteaders, but less inclined to take on someone who could and would fight back. Fort Galahad itself had never been attacked by the bandits, although the Crackers had attacked it on several occasions, reminding the men in the fort that they existed. George envied the Marines their position, even though two platoons of Marines would be seriously overstretched if they ran into trouble. A bandit gang leaving the badlands might be detected and attacked before it could kill any helpless civilian.

“Tell them to take their time,” George ordered. If nothing else, Delta Company could sweep through the local area and remind the bandits that they existed. “There’s no need to hurry.”

“Yes, sir,” Spencer said. “I’ll send the signal at once.”

George shrugged and returned to his brooding, allowing the younger officer to slip away. The Marines had served as a goad to his competent officers, pushing them to start patrolling much more aggressively than they had done before the Marines arrived. The less competent officers had taken the time to mock the Marines, asking who was going to clean up the mess after the Marines were gone and what would happen when the Crackers finally launched their mass attack on the government, particularly now that their starships had departed. It didn’t bear thinking about.

An alarm rang. “Major, we just picked up an emergency transmission from Morgan,” Spencer said, bursting back into George’s office. “They’re under heavy attack.”

George pulled himself to his feet and strode into the dispatch room. “Report,” he barked. “What’s going on at Morgan?”