Never Surrender (The Empire's Corps Book 10) (24 page)

“I thought they were aliens,” Gary said.  He looked up at her.  “
Are
there real aliens?”

“No,” Jasmine said.  Once, there had been hundreds of thousands of stories about humans encountering other forms of intelligent life.  Now, with nearly half the galaxy explored and colonised, it was clear that humanity was alone.  The highest form of life anyone had encountered anywhere apart from Earth was a creature roughly akin to a tiger.  “There’s just us out here.”

She shrugged, then led the way to the first stall and started placing her orders.  The stallkeeper haggled for a few minutes, then handed over the tools Jasmine wanted.  Another stall provided various forms of advanced weapons, while a third offered a number of military-grade spacesuits.  Jasmine carefully
didn't
speculate on where they might have come from as she purchased a round dozen, then concluded her dealing by picking up two automated hacking kits and user manuals.  Someone in Imperial Intelligence, she decided, had been making money by selling equipment on the sly.  It was an old tradition when there wasn't actually a war on.

Kailee caught her arm as three men stepped past, walking in mechanical unison.  Jasmine watched them without much interest, even when one of them paused and looked at her with cold inhuman eyes.  Gary shrank back against her, then relaxed slightly as the strangers walked onwards.  Jasmine sighed inwardly, then made arrangements to have her purchases shipped back to the freighter.

“You sent everything back,” Gary said.  “Do you trust them?”

Jasmine grinned.  “Money talks in a place like this,” she said.  “You will see great inhumanities here, and you can expect people to try to haggle as much as possible, but you won’t see anyone try to steal anything you leave with them.  It would destroy their reputation.”

Gary snorted.  “Is that really important?”

“Of course,” Jasmine said.  “No one would ever trust them again.”

She paused, once she’d picked up the final pieces of equipment.  “There’s some time left,” she said.  “Do either of you want to do anything while you’re here?”

Gary and Kailee exchanged glances.  “I don’t know,” Kailee said, finally.  “Is there anything to do here?”

Jasmine made a show of considering the question.  Most of the entertainments on the asteroid were geared around spacers, who tended to want cheap food, booze and sex, perhaps not in that order.  She doubted that either of them would want to go to a brothel ... they
could
go catch a flick, if they wanted, but most of the flicks on offer would be mindless pap.  It was true of just about everything the Empire had produced in its final years, she suspected.

“Not much,” she admitted, finally.  “But it would get you off the ship for a while.”

“No, thank you,” Gary said.  “I don’t feel safe here.”

“You probably won’t be mugged,” Jasmine reassured him. 
She
would have killed, back when she’d been a raw recruit, to get out of the barracks for a few hours.  “Just make sure you don’t sign any contracts.  They will be held against you.”

“No, thank you,” Gary repeated.  “I would prefer to go back to the ship.”

“I have work for you to do there,” Jasmine said.  She stepped over to a food stall and bought several bags of sweets, which she stuffed in her jacket pocket.  “By the time we get to our destination, I want you to have mastered the ship’s computers ... and a handful of other computer packages.”

Gary looked torn between confidence and fear.  Jasmine had reviewed his work with the teaching machines and noted that, while Gary had an insight into how the systems worked, he was lacking in both practical and theoretical knowledge.  And he probably expected a beating for every failure ... Jasmine shook her head, mentally.  If he screwed up in the Wolfbane System, a beating would be the least of anyone’s worries.

“And me?”  Kailee asked.  “Do you have something for me to do?”

“You said you wanted to be a nurse,” Jasmine said.  “I think you should keep studying what you can, if you still want to do anything.  And ... I may have something else for you to do.”

Kailee looked doubtful, but said nothing.  Jasmine understood; they didn't have a medic with them, leaving them dependent on what the marines knew of battlefield medicine.  There was no way they could train Kailee, not enough to make a difference.  But it would keep her busy, at least until they reached Wolfbane.  By then, Jasmine’s plan might have proved itself workable ... or useless.

She led them back to the freighter, then sent them to their cabin while she walked back to the bridge.  Stewart greeted her and confirmed that the other freighter had departed on schedule, carrying most of the POWs - and their messages - back to the Commonwealth.  Jasmine, oddly, felt freer, now they were no longer her responsibility.  She could take the initiative for herself. 

“Once our supplies have arrived, unpack them and check everything,” she ordered.  No matter what she’d told Gary, there were limits to her trust.  “And then we cast off as planned.”

“Understood,” Stewart said.  He paused.  “And might I recommend some rest?”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” Jasmine said.  It was an old saying, passed down from the legendary first marines.  “Until then, I have work to do.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

And it grows even more complex when one reasons the terrorists might even have a point.  If they follow the laws of war, they will be crushed easily.  Does this serve as an excuse for avoiding the laws of war?

- Professor Leo Caesius. 
The Empire and its Prisoners of War.

Passing Water
, Year 5 (PE)

“I think that’s thirty push-ups,” Gary said, as he slumped to the deck.  The aching in his arms refused to fade.  “Isn't it?”

“Twenty-nine,” Jasmine said, from where she was leaning against the bulkhead.  “Do another ten for luck.”

Gary groaned.  His body felt unwilling to move, no matter what he did.  The deck, hard and cold, seemed almost as welcoming as his bed.  Jasmine had said, time and time again, that it got better, but he found it hard to believe her.  And yet, even twenty-nine push-ups would have seemed impossible, four days ago.

He gritted his teeth and forced his body up again.  His joints screamed in pain, but somehow he managed to do another five before he lost control of his body and thudded hard against the deck.  For a long moment, he just lay there, seriously thinking about staying there for the rest of his life.  And then Jasmine reached down and effortlessly lifted him to his feet.

“You’re getting better,” she said.  “You just need to keep working on it.”

“Thanks,” Gary said, bitterly.  He honestly had no idea how he was going to keep working on the computers if his body ached so much the following morning.  “Does it get really get easier?”

Jasmine smiled.  “How many push-ups were you doing when you started?”

“Five,” Gary said.  He shook his head, feeling sweat falling down his body and soaking his shirt.  “But ... but it
hurts
.”

“It's time to try something new,” Jasmine said.  She nodded to Kailee, then led the way into the next compartment.  Gary exchanged glances with Kailee, who was sweating so badly that her shirt clung to her breasts, and followed Jasmine into a larger room.  A large bag hung from the ceiling, decorated with a crude representation of a human face.  “This is a makeshift punching bag.”

Gary frowned.  “It is?”

“The problem you have - that you both have - is that you are reluctant to actually hit out at someone,” Jasmine said.  “You are neither naturally violent nor trained to unleash violence at the right moment.  When threatened, you either freeze or flee rather than try to fight back.”

“I know,” Gary said.  He’d been attacked more times than he cared to think about, yet he had never even been able to work up the nerve to defend himself.  Hitting Barry had seemed an impossible task.  “But ... but I can't ...”

“And that is what you will have to overcome,” Jasmine said.  “I’m not interested in turning you into violent monsters, if you’re wondering; I’m interested in training you to unleash violence whenever you need to fight back.”

She motioned for them to stay back, then walked up to the bag.  “You will have seen hundreds of flicks that purport to show fights,” she said.  “They are almost always unrealistic, because realistic fights make bad cinema.  The idea is to take the enemy down as fast as possible, not engage in an elegant dance.  Flying kicks and roundhouse punches, in real life, are just a good way to get seriously injured.”

Gary frowned, then stared as Jasmine pulled back her hand and punched the bag with staggering force.  He’d barely seen her arm move before the bag was thrown backwards by the force of the impact!  Beside him, Kailee gasped.  Neither Barry nor Darrin - or even Austin - had been able to move so fast.  Gary swallowed hard, then forced himself to watch as Jasmine caught the recoiling bag and steadied it.  He had a feeling that not paying attention would be dangerous - or painful.

“If I had struck your neck, or your chest, or your balls, or even your skull, with such force, you would be dead,” Jasmine said.  “I was always taught to go for the weakest parts of the human body.  It wouldn't look spectacular, but it would work.”

She paused.  “Did either of you watch gladiator fights?”

“A few,” Gary admitted.  Kailee just shook her head.  “They were awful.”

“They were also unrealistic,” Jasmine said.  “The gladiators were trained to spin things out as long as possible, just to keep the audiences entertained.  I wasn't taught to play games with my targets. 
Real
fighting is all about disabling or killing the target as fast as possible, before they have a chance to fight back.  Ideally, you
want
to win with a single blow.”

She drew in a breath, then slowly cocked her fist.  “We’ll worry more about proper technique later,” she added.  “For the moment” - she nodded at the bag - “I want you to hit the bag as hard as you can.  Just imagine it has the face of your worst enemy.”

Gary hesitated - his arms were still aching - and then stepped forward.  The bag hung in front of him, mockingly.  Jasmine twisted it so the crude face was staring right at him, then smiled.  It was suddenly all too easy to imagine Barry standing there, laughing at him.  Bitter memories - of being debagged in public, of having something poured down the back of his neck, of being humiliated time and time again - rose up in front of his eyes.  He drew back his fist, then stopped.  It was hard, so hard, to throw a punch ...

“Hit him,” Jasmine snapped.  “Now!”

Gary threw the punch.  The bag shuddered under the impact, but barely moved.  Gary shivered, feeling his legs buckling under his weight.  If he’d tried to punch any of the bullies, they would have laughed at him before giving him yet another beating.  And yet, he’d hit the bag.  Maybe next time he could hit it harder.

“Try again,” Jasmine said.  “Focus all your strength on your arm and hit it!”

Gary drew back his fist and hit it again, and again.  Cold rage rose up within him as he slammed his fist into the bag, feeling his knuckles start to hurt under the impact.  It felt almost as if he
was
punching Barry ...

“Not bad,” Jasmine said.  “You’ll find it easier in future, I fancy.”

“Oh,” Gary said.  “But it isn’t the same as hitting a person, is it?”

“No,” Jasmine agreed.  “We’ll come to that later.”

She nodded to Kailee.  “I want you to try something different,” she said, as Gary stepped backwards and started to massage his hands.  “I want you to aim for his balls.”

Kailee shuddered.  “I wouldn't want to touch his balls,” she said.  “I ...”

Jasmine snorted.  “Would you rather hit his balls hard enough to put him out of commission or have him force those balls into you?”

Kailee shuddered.  “I ...”

“That’s not a fair question,” Gary said.  “She ... she went through hell and ...”

“The universe isn't fair,” Jasmine said, cutting him off.  She turned to face him.  “Unless I miss my guess, you were taught in school that men and women are equals, right?  Tell me ... does your experience tell you that is actually true?”

Gary hesitated.  “No,” he said, finally.  “The girls always needed protectors.”

“Yes, they did,” Jasmine agreed.  “When it comes to raw strength, boys are generally stronger than girls.  Obviously, there are some girls who are stronger than most boys, but the general rule is that boys are stronger than girls.  Telling
all
girls that they are equal to
all
boys in
all
ways is nothing more than a flat-out lie.”

“But you’re a strong woman,” Kailee protested.  “You could have killed anyone with that punch ...”

“I’d still be in deep shit if I had to face a male marine,” Jasmine said.  “Yes, I should be able to outfight anyone without similar training and experience ... but that doesn't make me unstoppable.  The trick for women, as a general rule, is to use what advantages we have to defeat the boys quickly.  Aim for the balls, aim for the neck, aim for weak spots and keep moving.  Don’t let them pin you down or you’re dead.”

She shook her head.  “But you also need to be proficient with weapons,” she added.  “Most rules of sporting fights have been devised to ensure fairness.  In reality, there’s nothing wrong with bringing a knife to a fistfight and a gun to a knife-fight.  Having a weapon, and being able to use it, will even the odds between you and any attacker, no matter how strong he is.”

“Oh,” Kailee said.

Jasmine nodded at the bag.  “Hit it,” she said.  “He’s a bastard coming to rape you.  Hit him!”

Kailee hit the bag, lightly.  Gary winced.  It wouldn't have hurt much, he suspected, even if the bag had been a real boy.

“Not hard enough,” Jasmine said.  “He’s knocked you to the ground and is currently having his way with you.  You’re dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Kailee said, “but ...”

“You have to learn to project violence if necessary,” Jasmine said.  “Hit him again.”

Gary leaned forward.  “Are boys more naturally violent than girls?”

Jasmine considered it.  “It depends how you look at it,” she said, finally.  “I’ve heard a great many different theories, but they range from plausible to absurd or insulting.  All you really need to know is that most people can become violent, under the right circumstances.”

“I never did,” Gary muttered.

“You had learned helplessness battered into you,” Jasmine said.  “And even then, I imagine you might have snapped one day.”

She nodded to the punching bag, then sighed.  “I want both of you to add this to your daily exercises,” she added.  “Punch the bag at least ten times a day, as hard as you can.”

Gary groaned.  Jasmine supervised his press-ups, but Kailee insisted on going through everything else, from running on the spot to exercises designed to stretch his muscles further than they’d never been pushed before.  It just wasn't fair ... he shook his head, knowing what Jasmine would say if he said that out loud.  The
universe
wasn't fair.

He rubbed his aching muscles as Jasmine strode out of the room, then looked up at the punching bag.  The face seemed almost to be leering at him, as if it were daring him to take another swing.  Suddenly, furiously, he drew back his fist and lashed out, hitting the bag as hard as he could.  It wobbled violently, but stayed in place.

“You’re getting stronger,” Kailee said.  She looked downcast.  “I couldn't hit the bag, not properly.”

“I had problems too, at first,” Gary said, reluctantly.  It was hard to overcome a lifetime of conditioning.  Jasmine had told him that a marine had been born on Earth, but Gary didn't believe her.  “But we are getting there.”

“I hope so,” Kailee said, as they stepped into the next compartment.  Someone had rigged up a bath, complete with hot and cold running water.  “This has to be done, Gary.”

“So you keep saying,” Gary said, as he reached for her sweaty shirt and pulled it over her head.  “So you keep saying.”

Kailee smiled tiredly at him as her bare breasts bobbed free, hauntingly lovely despite the red scars on her pale skin.  They had alarmed him at first, but Jasmine had assured them that they were nothing more than stretch marks, signs her skin was expanding to cope with her developing muscles.  Her arms were still smooth to the touch, yet he was sure it wouldn't be long before she grew stronger.  She was more determined to proceed than
he
was.

He sighed, then pulled off his own shirt and held her closely.  “I don't have the strength,” he admitted.  Her breasts felt wonderfully soft against his skin.  “It’s hard enough to hold you.”

“Oh,” Kailee giggled.  In that moment, she sounded more like her old self than ever before.  “I think I’m offended.”

Gary shivered.  In
his
experience, girls giggling was never a good sign.  They were always giggling at him, not the muscle-bound morons who were actually
dangerous
.  It was
safe
to laugh at meek little Gary, who wouldn't hurt a fly ...
he
wouldn't slam them against the wall for daring to show their amusement.  He
hated
it when they giggled ...