The Empire’s Corps: Book 01 - The Empire's Corps (49 page)

“Welcome,” he growled, after checking her face. “Your friends have already arrived. Spare clothes are in that pile there.”

He turned and stalked out, barely able to tolerate her company for more than a few seconds. Gaby shrugged and started to undress, pulling off the sodden coat and clothes gratefully. Whatever body modesty she’d once possessed had been lost long ago, living hand to mouth while avoiding Civil Guard sweeps. Her bodyguards did the same, although they allowed her to dress first and leave them to finish changing in peace. If it was a trap, as Rufus had pointed out when they’d received the message, they were dead anyway. She picked up her clothes and took a few moments to place them in front of the fire, in hopes that they would dry before she had to make her way back down the mountainside, and headed into the main room.

The Mountain Men had no access to the planet’s electric network and relied upon burning wood and natural gas for lighting. It cast odd flickers of light over the faces waiting for her, five men and two women, the heart and soul of the Cracker Rebellion. The damage wreaked upon the network by the Imperial Navy – not the Civil Guard; never the Civil Guard – had fragmented the movement, forcing them to develop a cell structure that would prevent another disastrous defeat. Gaby was aware – Rufus had pointed it out, in exaggerated detail – just how dangerous it was to meet openly with her counterparts, even in one of the most inaccessible places on the planet. The Marines might have tracked them and were waiting, even now, to swoop down on the meeting place and scoop them all up as prisoners.

“Welcome,” one of the men said. There were few names in the movement’s upper ranks, although Gaby was fairly sure she knew who at least three of them were, in their civilian roles. She tried not to think about that. Unlike their Marine prisoner, she had no implants or immunisations that prevented her from being interrogated. She certainly knew nothing about the location of their bases, or fighting strength, or anything else that might be useful to their hunters. “We did not intend to call a meeting on such short notice.”

There were times when being Peter Cracker’s granddaughter had its advantages. “And I did not intend to spend two days travelling from where I was to here,” Gaby said, tightly. The new clothes felt uncomfortable against her skin and she was aware, too aware, that she looked like an overgrown scarecrow. “Your messenger said that it was important.”

“It is,” one of the women said. “We have received two pieces of disturbing news from Camelot.”

Gaby scowled inwardly. The different subsections of the Cracker Rebellion had their own intelligence sources within Camelot, officially so that if the Civil Guard cracked open one spy ring, others would remain untouched. It was something that annoyed her, for good and timely intelligence was often delayed before it was passed down through the network, which opened up its own risks. The more people who knew a given secret, the greater the chance that the Civil Guard and the Marines would know it as well...and be able to use it to identify the source, opening up the risk of false information being passed down the link. There were times when she envied the Marines and their ability to operate openly. If the Crackers had been able to act in the open, the war would be over by now and they would have won.

“Our source is very well placed within the Governor’s office,” the other woman said. “The source became privy to a disturbing piece of information. The recent smashing of the bandits near Morgan” – there were some amused looks; the Crackers had never cared much for the bandits, knowing that they would have to be wiped out when Avalon gained its independence – “led to them uncovering links between the bandits and certain of the upper personages within Camelot and the Council. They were effectively using the bandit movement as a tool in their political struggle. They even gave them advanced heavy weapons to use against the Marines and the Civil Guard.”

Gaby felt as if someone had punched her in the chest. She had known just how corrupt and unfeeling the Council was, how it manipulated local politics to their best advantage, but she hadn't realised that they were capable of running the bandits. It made no sense at first...and then it dawned on her. The bandits, just by their mere presence, kept the townships and homesteads scared, unwilling to commit themselves to the Crackers or even to start their own resistance groups. The Crackers had little penetration near the badlands, if only because of the bandits...all of a sudden, she saw the shape of a plan that someone had carefully put into place, using the lower elements of society to keep the vast majority of the population under control. No wonder the Civil Guard had never been able to wipe out the bandits. They’d been carefully hobbled right from the start.

“The evidence of this was found by the Marines and brought to the Governor’s attention,” the woman continued. “The Marine Captain branded it high treason and demanded that the Governor deal with the matter, but so far the Governor has refused. We cannot place any faith in the Governor to deal with this matter.”

“As if we ever could,” one of the men muttered.

“I see,” Gaby said, slowly. She would have to consider the implications carefully and discuss them with Rufus and Julian. “And the other piece of news?”

“The Marines graduated their first class of new recruits three days ago,” the woman said. “It is their intention to deploy forces out into the countryside and challenge us directly, hammering away at our support network. This is a challenge we cannot afford to turn down.”

“Of course we can,” Gaby said. She would have smiled at their expressions, but she was too tired. “We pulled in our horns once the Marines landed and waited to see what they would do. Apart from the abduction stunt, we did nothing to incur their wrath.”

“That alone probably puts us on their shit list,” one of the men said. “They don’t leave their fellows behind.”

“We are strong when we are not losing,” Gaby said. “Let us pull in our horns and let them make their patrols in peace. They will lose interest eventually and we can regain lost ground.”

“It may not work out that way,” one of the women said. “The Marines have been creating a new Army of Avalon, one that is far more...motivated than the Civil Guard, for they have been paying their new soldiers in cash. Assuming they continued to churn out new units, they will be able to rapidly deploy thousands of infantrymen to the countryside and shift the balance of power permanently against us. The Marines may be recalled to some other world within the Empire, as the Imperial Navy starship was recalled, but the Army of Avalon will remain, building up its fighting power and intelligence links. They may possess the ability to defeat us.

“Worse, the Civil Guard has been going through its ranks and uncovering many of our spies, cutting off links that we have cultivated for years. They may soon cleanse themselves entirely of our intelligence sources, leaving us blind, while they also dispose of their corrupt officers and even their incompetents. They may soon become a far more dangerous enemy, one that knows the ground upon which they fight. How long will it be before they start paying their men in cash too? It will motivate them like nothing else.”

“And the locals will respond to that,” one of the men said. “They may feel closer to the new Civil Guard.”

“Particularly if we do not terrorise the local population into supporting us,” another man said. “Perhaps we should use fear on those who might waver.”

“No,” Gaby said, flatly. She had no words to express how disgusted she was. “If there is anything that will ensure our defeat, it is convincing the local population that we are a clear and present danger to them, far more than the debt sharks and the Council’s stupid laws. They will betray us to them and scream for them to wipe us out as dangerously insane terrorists – and they will be right.”

There was a long pause. “You have a Marine prisoner,” one of the men said. “What have you learned from him?”

“Very little,” Gaby admitted. “We have been unable to get much out of him, beyond name, rank and serial number. He did suggest reaching out to their Captain and trying to see what we can work out...”

“The Marines are compliant in a system that holds the entire planet in bondage,” one of the women snapped. “How can we trust them?”

“It gets worse,” she added, a second later. “My source was quite specific; they offered the captured bandits indenture in exchange for information and, so far, they have not moved against the Council or the network of lower-class scum who work for them. There are brothels staffed by women taken from the townships...and nothing has been done about them, even about the preteen children used as sex slaves! How can anyone argue that the Marines are here to make things better?”

“It seems that we have a choice,” one of the men said. “We can do as she suggested” – he nodded at Gaby – “and pull in our horns, offering no resistance...or we can fight. If we fight, we risk losing; if we pull in our horns, we risk losing.”

“We might win,” one of the other men said. “Am I the only one to be encouraged by the fact that visits from Imperial Navy ships are few and far between?”

“No,” Gaby admitted. She took the steaming mug of hot chocolate she was offered and sipped it gratefully. “My cell has been working on a plan to take advantage of the Civil Guard’s weakness and hit Camelot itself. A long drawn-out war is not in our interests.”

“A battle in the open is not in our interests either,” one of the men pointed out. “A Marine Company possesses more firepower than we have been able to amass, even with help from other friends.”

“Assuming that they have a chance to deploy it,” Gaby agreed. Operation Headshot had been planned to minimise the effects of Marine firepower. It had originally been designed to take on the Civil Guard, but Rufus and Julian had updated it to counter the Marines as well. It was risky, but the sheer nerve of the move might stun the enemy, if she decided to risk it. “We remain, I see, caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.”

“Yes,” one of the men said. He glanced from face to face. “Shall we vote?”

“Yes,” another said. “All those in favour of challenging the Marines and their new army, raise your hands.”

Gaby counted, quickly. Six hands were raised in favour. “I do not feel that this is the best idea,” she admitted, “but we have little choice. If the Government is unwilling to respond to actual cases of high treason on the part of its supporters, we must assume that they never will and that things will never get better. It looks as if we’re going to war.”

The hut shook slightly as a particularly strong gust of wind caught it, sending pebbles crashing down on the roof. She glanced up, despite herself, and then looked down into the flickering fire. She wouldn't live permanently among the Mountain Men, even if the alternative was death or permanent indenture. Perhaps, at bottom, the Marines would understand; Avalon was her home and she would fight for its freedom, for they hadn't given her another path. Independence or autonomy. Either one would be far better than rule by a weak Governor and a corrupt Council.

Two and a half hours later, she pulled on her damp clothes and rejoined her bodyguards, heading back down the mountain. The rain had abated slightly, allowing them to make better progress down towards the little town in the hollow, even though it was merely the first stop on their long trip home. The entire population of the town, such as it was, took absolutely no interest in anyone else’s business. The Crackers were fairly safe there, as long as they didn't bring down the Marines on their heads. The inn they’d booked for the night would have a warm bath, a comfy bed and then they could start making their way back to their base. Behind them, the others would be doing the same, heading back to their own cells. The Marines might smash one without smashing them all.

Just as they reached the hollow, the clouds started to break up, allowing the sun to shine down on the mountains. Gaby looked back, smiling as the sunlight warmed her face and hands, casting the mountains in a whole new light. They looked almost as if they came out of a fairy tale. Their name had been well chosen.

And they hid their secrets well.

Chapter Forty-Two

There is a very old saying that runs something like this. You can bomb a patch of ground, burn it, coat it with chemical weapons, poison it, irradiate it and destroy it...but you don’t own it until you have a man with a rifle standing on top of it. In dealing with counter-insurgency, it is important to remember that the insurgent will have freedom of movement wherever that man with the rifle is not.

-Major-General Thomas Kratman (Ret),
A Marine’s Guide to Insurgency
.

“So,” the Marine said. She was wearing her armour and it was hard to tell that she was a woman, or even that she was human at all. Michael looked at her and felt very exposed in his battledress and helmet. “Have you ever driven one of these babies before?”

Michael followed her pointing finger to the LAV, an armoured vehicle that managed to look intimidating even without the roaring lion someone had painted on the side of the machine. He’d been told, back when they’d been taught how to drive, that the vehicles were capable of standing off all light weapons and many heavy ones, but they didn't provide full protection against plasma cannons or heavy antitank weapons. They’d also practiced leaping from the vehicle and deploying while under fire, something he wasn't looking forward to trying in real life. The LAV might have been designed to specifications that had been tested in battle time and time again, but he found it hard to trust it.

“Only in training,” he said, somehow unwilling to admit that he’d never driven anything more complex than a cycle bike before joining the army. There were few privately-owned vehicles in Camelot, although most of the farmers owned vans and produce trucks. “I don’t think I was very good at it.”

“You’ll only get better with practice,” the Marine said. She pointed him towards the hatch leading into the driver’s seat. “Get in there and start the engine.”

Michael complied, ruefully aware that while he might have been granted the provisional rank of Corporal, he wasn't in charge of the unit. The Marines had pushed a handful of their own people into temporary command ranks until the Army of Avalon produced its own officers something that he’d been warned wouldn't happen for at least a year. He had hoped that training and evaluation would be over now that they had graduated – he touched the silver badge at his collar to remind him – but he had rapidly been disabused of that thought. They would be being evaluated and judged for the rest of their careers.