The Empire’s Corps: Book 01 - The Empire's Corps (21 page)

Edward frowned inwardly. The Civil Guard had had an astonishing round of bad luck, which suggested that another factor was involved. It hadn't taken more than a quick glance at their records to realise that they never carried out background checks on any of their recruits, particularly the poor bloody infantry. It wouldn’t be hard for a bandit gang to slip a few of their members into the Civil Guard, or simply apply large sums of cash for information. If they received advance warning of a raid, they could simply pull up stakes and vanish into the badlands.

“We have, however, been granted an opportunity,” Grosskopf said. “My Intelligence Officer has been running a source in one of the bandit gangs, trying to pin down their next move. She believes that the bandits intend to attack Eddisford, a large-sized township five miles from the outer edge of the badlands. Eddisford is lucky in that most of the settlers were actually able to pay off their debts and reinvest in equipment they need – in short, they’re not the kind of people to pay tribute to the gangs. We need to catch those bastards in the act and wipe the fuckers out.”

“We need to take as many of them alive as possible,” Edward injected, quickly. “Now...”

He pointed a long finger at the map and tapped a handful of locations. “This is what we’re going to do...”

***

“Now this is
real
activity,” Blake said, as they checked their weapons and armour. The thin humming sound of the Raptors spooling up could be heard in the distance. “How many bandits do you want to bag?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Joe Buckley said. “I think it’s a bit of a comedown after hunting pirates and storming rebel fortresses.”

“The Captain said to take them alive,” Jasmine reminded them. She pulled on her armour and studied the refection in Blake’s armour. “That means stunners only at first; lethal force authorised only if they fight back.”

“Of course they will,” Blake said, turning slightly so he could check his own armour. “Imperial Law demands the death penalty for their crimes. We may take them alive, but only so we can beat the crap out of them for information and then hang them from a nearby tree. What do they have to lose by fighting us?”

“The chance to help our gallant Empire grow and develop,” Koenraad said, dryly. “How could any self-respecting bandit pass up on that chance?”

Jasmine chuckled to herself. “They’re not interested in chances,” she said. “They’re not even interested in a political cause. They’re just interested in what they can take off other people. They’re the worst kind of scum.”

She scowled down at her helmet, thinking furiously. They’d been shown some of the pictures that the Civil Guardsmen had taken of the aftermath, after the bandits had invaded a town, had their fun and headed off again. There had been bodies everywhere, burning buildings and desecrated churches. Worst of all, at least to her eyes, had been the handful of dead women left on the ground, stripped naked. It hadn't taken much imagination to know what had happened to them. She’d thought about rape, even acknowledged that it could happen to her, yet coming face to face with the reality was sickening. Blake was right. The bandits deserved to die.

Cold discipline, the result of three years on the hardest training ground known to man, forced her emotions down into the small compartment in her head. Yes, the bandits would die, but only after they’d betrayed their friends and allies. They might think themselves tough, yet they were nothing compared to the puniest Marine in the entire Marine Corps. And, when they did die, Jasmine intended to volunteer for the hanging squad. Let the bastards see her tying the knot and yanking them up to break their necks.

“You think that they have links with the big men in Camelot?” Koenraad asked, as he pulled on his own armour. “Wouldn’t it be nice to prove that?”

Jasmine smiled, her mind still dark and cold. She hadn't enjoyed the brief time at the Chief Councillor’s mansion and her opinion of most of the planetary council wasn't high. She’d been trained to observe and she’d seen a number of men and women trying to see what advantage they could wring from the Marines, or trying to decide how the Marines would affect their own plans. Jasmine was cynical enough to know that sometimes the Marines were just sent out on missions because of a political agenda, but not even the Grand Senate had been so blatant. They had to have forgotten that she had ever been there, for they had been quite open in their assessments. The Marines could live or die for all they cared.

“Yes,” she said. “It would be nice to prove that and hang half of the bastards.”

Forty-one Marines marched out of the makeshift barracks and down towards the landing strip. It had originally been designed for light cargo aircraft, but Marine Raptors could use them without problems. The Raptor was a VTOL aircraft capable of landing almost anywhere, even in the middle of a forest or a sinking boat. The massive tilt-rotors were already chopping at the air. They looked primitive – the technology was almost ten centuries old – but they could do the job. The more advanced skimmers or flyers would have to wait until they were needed.

“This is the Captain,” Captain Stalker said. Jasmine had been surprised to hear that the Captain intended to take personal command, but after dealing with the politics of Camelot, he probably felt like killing someone. “Lock your communicators to Frequency Alpha.”

Jasmine nodded, keying the command into her suit’s processors. The
Sebastian Cruz
had launched a constellation of light satellites into orbit, providing the Marines with a secret – and secure – communications network. She couldn't understand why Avalon had such a primitive communications network in the first place – there was such a thing as taking budget cuts too far – but it wouldn't matter. The locals might know that the satellites had been launched, yet they could only guess at their capabilities. The tiny satellites not only handled communications, but they also provided astonishingly efficient reconnaissance from high above. The bandits, she knew, would wet themselves in shock if they knew just how good the system actually was.

“Good,” Captain Stalker said, when they had all checked in. “Board the aircraft.”

Jasmine followed Blake’s reassuring bulk as he stepped into the lead Raptor, finding a place to sit inside the aircraft’s cavernous hold. Unlike a civilian aircraft, or a ground-to-space shuttle, there were no seats for the Marines. When they landed, they would be expected to exit the aircraft as quickly as possible – and, if they were hit, they would be ejected out into the air before the aircraft could explode. Jasmine had been ejected from a Raptor during the Han Campaign and the experience had been the most terrifying of her life. The Marines had all survived, barely. The pilots had given their lives to prevent the remains of their aircraft from coming down on top of friendly forces.

She felt the aircraft jerk as it launched itself into the sky. The Raptor was, despite its crude appearance and technology, the product of hundreds of years of research into aircraft design. It was almost completely silent, drifting through the sky without being detected, unless it was by the naked eye. The bandits, she had been informed, didn't possess active sensor systems. It made sense to her; if they had, even the Civil Guard could hardly have failed to locate their base. The planetary ATC wouldn't be able to track them.

The low humming running through the aircraft almost lulled her to sleep as the Raptor crossed the coastline and headed inland. Many of the other Marines were snatching what sleep they could, knowing that they might be in action as soon as they landed, but Jasmine couldn’t quite close her eyes. She wished she could see out of the aircraft, even though she knew she would see nothing, but darkness, broken only by isolated lights. Avalon was barely one hundred and fifty years old. The human race hadn't made much impression on the planet.

“Four minutes to landing,” Gwen said, her voice echoing sharply in Jasmine’s earpiece. “Anyone resting their eyes had better open them now.”

Jasmine realised, with astonishment, that she had dozed off and hastily checked her weapons and supplies. Everything was as it should be, much to her relief, as the aircraft started to descend. This was always the most dangerous part of any insertion operation – a single ground-based weapon could wipe out an entire platoon of Marines with a lucky shot – and she only relaxed slightly when the aircraft touched down. No hail of fire tore through the aircraft and shredded them. The night was as dark and silent as the grave.

“Go, go, go,” Gwen barked.

Jasmine followed Blake and Koenraad as they raced out of the aircraft, spreading out to secure the landing zone. Their suits of armour exchanged fast signals with one another, confirming that the Marines were alone. She looked up at Merlin, hanging high overhead, yet seemingly so close that she could reach up and pull the moon from the sky. Merlin wasn't much larger than Luna, but it orbited closer to the planet. The briefing had suggested that that might explain the badlands, or the Mystic Mountains in the distance.

“All clear, Captain,” she reported. She carried out another sweep of the area, just to be sure. “No enemy contact.”

“Good,” Captain Stalker said. He sounded reassuringly calm. “Move out.”

Chapter Eighteen

There is a joke that runs ‘a nation is a group of people united by a shared delusion of the past and a hatred of their neighbours.’ Like many such jokes, there is a hard kernel of truth within the humour. Society is always a consensus, a shared understanding of right and wrong. If ‘wrong’ becomes ‘right’ – i.e. behaviour tending to increase a person’s chances of survival – then society will be warped and destroyed. This is becoming alarmingly clear all across the Empire.

- Professor Leo Caesius,
The Waning Years of Empire
(banned).

Nelson Oshiro braced himself as he led the small group of Knives down towards Eddisford. It was a larger, more prosperous settlement than the one he’d been sent to after being transported from Earth, but it was alarmingly similar for all of that. It was never certain what reception they’d receive from the farmers and their communities. Some would pay their tribute without fighting; others would refuse to submit until the Knives started to open fire. It confused Nelson, but the Knife himself had issued strict orders and he didn't dare disobey them. There was to be no looting, raping or burning unless the township offered serious resistance.

Eddisford was a small cluster of buildings surrounded by tilled fields and farmhouses. Some of them looked as if they were on the verge of expanding, perhaps claiming additional ground from the Land Development Office and inviting in new settlers. Others looked as if they were permanently on the verge of falling apart, marking out the less successful farmers from their rivals. He stroked the Nag’s back gently – it was almost worth being transported, and the kicks and beatings he’d received when he arrived, just to ride the strange alien beast – and urged it forward, down towards the centre of town. He saw a handful of birds rising up as the bandits rode forwards, but there was no sign of any living human beings. A sense he hadn't known he possessed began to sound a warning at the back of his neck. There were always people. The men might be out working the fields, but the women would be at home, while the children would be at school. They should be running from his men now, trying to hide.

His lips twitched as they rode down into the centre of town. Perhaps they were hiding, except they couldn't...could they? Nelson had never been much of a farmer – his former master had thought that he was only fit for brute work – yet he knew that the farmers couldn't abandon their crops. He touched the Nag’s neck and the beast obediently slowed to a halt, allowing him to slip off the saddle and down onto the ground. It hadn’t been obvious over the noise of hooves and the pounding of his own heart, but the town was silent.

“They're gone,” Lucky Vin said. Nelson scowled at him. Lucky Vin was one of the former Knives from Earth, assured a high position just by being close to the Knife himself. He was also, he suspected, there to keep an eye on Nelson. It wouldn't be the first time someone had decided to desert the Knives and set up a private operation of their own. “Where the hell have they gone?”

“Perhaps hell,” one of the other bandits said. He threw back his head and bawled a laugh into the air, sending more birds scurrying through the air. “Perhaps some other bunch of bastards has come and taken them all away.”

Nelson shook his head absently, staring around in disbelief. None of the bandit gangs would take an entire township. They’d take young and pretty women – or perhaps older women, if there were no younger women to hand – and children, but not adult males. They couldn’t be trusted and there was no fun in raping them. A bandit attack would have left the town in flaming ruins. Instead, it was empty.

One hand dropped to the flare pistol at his belt. A single red flare would bring the remainder of the force out of hiding and get them into the town, but for what? A green flare would tell them to back off and wait, but they had never considered what might happen if the entire town was deserted. The mystery nagged at him. Had the town decided that they didn't want to live near the bandits anymore and had simply packed up and left?

“Hey,” Lucky Vin said, suddenly. Nelson snapped his head around and saw...nothing. “I saw something.”

“I bet you did,” Nelson sneered. He pushed as much disdain into his voice as he could, if only to cover his own unease. “What do you think you saw?”

“A shimmer in the air,” Lucky Vin admitted, uncomfortably. A handful of bandits jeered and others looked as if they wanted to join in. “It was just...there, just for a second.”

“Right,” Nelson drawled. “And a shimmer is going to hurt us?”

Lucky Vin flushed. His position was at least partly dependent on respect, and that would be comprehensively lacking after today. Even if someone didn't put a knife in him, he wouldn't be able to issue orders to junior Knives. He could beat up as many Knives as he liked and still no one would ever forget.