Never Surrender (The Empire's Corps Book 10) (30 page)

Jasmine gave him a sharp look.  “What were you and Gary chatting about?”

“Games,” Watson said.  “Gary played a
lot
of games on Earth.  It seems he even had quite a reputation online at one point.  He even hacked some of those shitty terminals they hand out to children - you know, the ones with cameras that monitor what you do when you use them.”

Stewart shuddered.  “They were being used to spy on kids,” he said.  His face twisted in disgust.  “Hardly anyone gave a damn ... or dared to protest.  It was Earth.”

Jasmine winced.  What did it say about Earth that someone could put a spy camera into a child’s room and hardly anyone dared protest?  But Earth had had literally trillions of spy cameras scattered through the CityBlocks ... and even then, the crime rate had been astronomically high.  She rather doubted that hacking the devices had been hard, even though Earth’s students learned very little about how computers actually worked.  And Gary had probably escaped detection because there were just so
many
of the devices.

Maybe they just didn't care
, she thought. 
Or told themselves that they
were
fighting crime by scattering cameras everywhere.  But they are useless without someone monitoring the take ...

She pushed the thought aside and leaned forward.  “Can he crack a mil-spec system?”

“Perhaps, with a hacker kit,” Watson said.  “He was very cagey about just how far he’d gone on Earth.  I think he might have a chance, but he’d have to try to be sure.”

Jasmine winced.  The Empire might have tried to give each planet a united datanet, but military and political datacores were rarely tied to the network.  There had always been nightmares about hackers breaking in and triggering all sorts of disasters, no matter how many precautions were put in place.  But then, there had been so few qualified WebHeads when the Empire’s time finally ran out that there might have been a very valid threat.  A security officer might know nothing more about how a computer actually worked, let alone how to fix it, than the average civilian.

But they do work all kinds of protections into the computers
, she thought, sourly. 
It might not be possible to break into the system
.

“I’ll talk to him about it,” she said.  It would be useful to have a human in the loop, rather than rely on a hacker kit.  “But I don’t know if we could trust him on a mission.”

Watson frowned.  “You don’t trust him?”

“I would prefer not to have to count on him being brave at the right time,” she said.  Gary had had an opportunity to shoot someone, to save Kailee from being raped, and he’d muffed it completely.  “A panic attack could screw the entire mission.”

She sighed, inwardly.  She hated the idea of taking Gary on a mission that required bravery; he might have been training - Kailee was very good at providing incentive - but he simply wasn't very
brave
.  It might be years before he overcame his mental blocks, if he ever did, and became an effective fighter.  She couldn't recall ever encountering a marine recruit who’d been unwilling to actually
hit
someone. 

“Then set up a laser link,” Watson suggested.  “Have him do his work from a distance, if possible.  It should be workable.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jasmine promised.  It did seem like a good idea, although the freighter couldn't be
that
far from the shipyard or time-delay problems would start to crop up.  The speed of light only seemed fast when compared to a planet’s surface.  “It will need to be planned carefully.”

She looked up at him.  “What did Paula say?”

“She said she would be happy to accompany me,” Watson said.  “I explained the dangers and she accepted them.”

“How brave of her,” Jasmine said.  “I expect you to keep an eye on her, understand?  And not just in bed.”

“Of course,” Watson said, offended.

He passed her a datachip, which she slotted into the terminal.  “A free trader can be here in five hours, if we put in a request for them to visit within the next hour,” he continued.  “Paula and I will board, then bribe our way down to the planet.  It will mean riding in a transit crate, but that will get us past the customs monitors without having to register our entry and having our DNA checked against the register.  Pete says the system is almost foolproof.”

“Really?”  Stewart asked.  “Some fools are actually quite smart.”

Watson didn't rise to the bait.  “I can take a handful of weapons with me,” he added, “or try to obtain more on the surface.”

“Take them with you,” Jasmine said.  It was a risk, but if Watson were caught the entire mission would be blown anyway.  “What do you plan to do after striking at Brown?”

“I plan to go underground, then start looking for other targets of opportunity,” Watson said.  “It's quite likely there is an underground movement by now; Paula says there were several budding independence movements when Earth fell and Brown took over.  I can join them and offer my support.  We’ll be there when the Commonwealth eventually invests this system.”

Unless civil war breaks out
, Jasmine thought.  It was hard to judge for sure.  Neither Paula nor Stubbins could be expected to know the current state of affairs. 
The underground might have an opportunity once Brown’s subordinates have finished killing each other.

“Workable,” Stewart growled.  He didn't seem pleased by the development.  “I suppose it is workable.  But very dangerous.”

“There’s no alternative,” Watson said.  “You need a diversion ... and this is our chance to take a shot at Governor Brown himself.  I didn't sign up to be
safe
.”

“There’s a difference between being brave and being reckless,” Jasmine said.  “But you’re right.  And good luck.”

She rose to her feet and held out her hand.  Watson took it; they shook hands, firmly.  Stewart hesitated, then shook hands with Watson too.  Jasmine felt an odd pang in her chest, then pushed it aside, sharply.  Watson was right.  The risk had to be taken ... but so much could easily go wrong. 

“The ore freighter is due here tomorrow,” Jasmine said.  She glanced from one to the other, willing them to understand.  One way or the other, they would give Wolfbane a very bloody nose.  “We have only a handful of hours to get everything ready, then catch up on our sleep.  Tomorrow is going to be a very busy day.”

Chapter Thirty

The senior leadership, however, tended to be treated differently.  If they were willing to bow the head to the Empire, they would be treated as quislings, rather than outright enemies.  They would be ideally placed to exploit their homeworld on the Empire’s behalf - and they would know everyone who was likely to pose a threat in the future.  Indeed, it says something grim about human nature that many leaders were quite willing to sell out their subordinates, if only to protect their own lives.

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

Wolfbane System, Year 5 (PE)

Admiral Rani Singh knew, without any reasonable doubt, that patience was one of her strong suits.  It had kept her going when her commanding officer - her
former
commanding officer - had blocked her career, after she'd refused to sleep with him.  Indeed, Admiral Bainbridge had
suffered
when she'd launched her coup and taken control of the fleet base he’d regarded as punishment duty.  Patience had given her a chance to stick a knife in his back and take power for herself.

But she also knew the value of acting fast, when opportunity presented itself.

She felt a flicker of cold frustration as she walked down the corridor towards the Governor’s office, escorted by a pair of heavily-armed guards.  Wolfbane looked like more of an armed camp than ever before; she’d seen hundreds of soldiers patrolling the streets, while the bodyguards on duty had searched her thoroughly and scanned her body down to the atomic level before allowing her to proceed.  Governor Brown, it seemed, was feeling paranoid ... and she had to admit he had good reason.  The war was threatening to stalemate, something that would encourage his enemies to consider removing him from power.

And yet that might well cost Wolfbane the war.

It was a bitter thought.  Rani had been military dictator on Corinthian, the empress of a tiny empire that should have grown to rival Wolfbane.  Now, after she’d lost Corinthian, she was just another subordinate of a greater man, although she had to admit that Governor Brown was far more decent and capable than Admiral Bainbridge.  But she was under his command, serving his will ... and, whatever his skills, they didn't include making war.  Priceless opportunities to strike deep into the heart of the Commonwealth had been wasted because the Governor was unwilling to commit himself.  The Battle of Thule had been a victory - of that, Rani had no doubt - but it had also showcased the Commonwealth’s technical superiority.  And now the Governor was nervous, concerned that his overwhelming superiority in numbers could be negated by a single technical silver bullet.

Rani’s lips twisted in disdain as the door opened, allowing her to walk into the Governor’s office.  If the Commonwealth was so advanced that one of their new-build cruisers was more than a match for a full-sized battleship, the war was already lost.  The Commonwealth would advance from star to star, systematically destroying any enemy force that refused to surrender, until they took Wolfbane itself.  But they hadn't.  And that told Rani, who was far too used to seeing inflated estimates of enemy firepower, that their technical advances were much overrated.  Dangerous, yes; decisive, no.

“Governor,” she said, as the door closed behind her.  “You wanted to see me?”

“I did, Admiral,” Governor Brown said.  He rose to his feet behind his desk, his calm eyes fixed on her face.  “Please, be seated.  I will have coffee brought to us.”

Rani sat, keeping her face expressionless.  The Governor was an odd duck; power-hungry, like so many others, but less interested in military force than she had expected.  But then, he
wasn't
a military officer; he’d served as a corporate liaison officer before politics had thrust him into the Sector Governorship.  His decision not to focus on the military struck her as foolish - the ties that had bound the Empire together were gone - but it might serve a useful purpose.  There was no way he could serve as a military leader.

Certainly not the type of leader we need today
, she thought, vindictively. 
No proven competence, no track record of looking after his subordinates, nothing to keep men serving him when the source of all power and authority is gone
.

A maid, wearing a long flowing dress, poured them both cups of coffee, then retreated, as silently as she had come.   Rani sipped her coffee and smiled, inwardly; the Governor might not be inclined to wrap himself in luxury, unlike some politicians and officers she had met, but he did like his coffee.  Governor Brown sat back down and sipped his own coffee, clearly intent on taking a break before speaking.  Rani felt another flicker of irritation, but forced it down into the back of her mind.  The Governor could still have her executed if he felt like it.

Which is another problem
, she thought. 
The military is shot through with commissioners, spies and assassins.  He’s got us so paranoid that we don’t know who we can trust to watch our backs, when the shit hits the fan
.

She allowed herself a moment to glance around the office.  It was large, easily twice the size of a battleship’s bridge, but surprisingly empty.  The desk sat in front of a giant window that stared out over the city below; the walls were lined with bookcases and datacores, yet most of the space was wasted.  She wasn't sure, despite herself, if the office was a statement of power - a large room in a mansion suggested wealth as well as power - or a warning that Governor Brown had no interests apart from power.  There were certainly no pieces of artwork, photographs of his family or anything remotely decadent anywhere within sight.

“Admiral,” the Governor said, placing his cup on the desk.  “I suppose you’re wondering why I called you here.”

“I am,” Rani said, simply.

She wanted to point out that she’d had to travel all the way back from the war front - God alone knew what would happen in her absence - but there was no point.  Instead, she put her cup of coffee down and leaned back in her chair, schooling her face to remain expressionless, betraying nothing of her innermost thoughts.  One day, she would make Governor Brown rue the day he’d ever spited her - just like Admiral Bainbridge - but until then, she would be as obedient and loyal as he could reasonably expect.

“I have the reports from my spies,” the Governor continued, “but I have no real understanding of the military situation.  Their reports are frequently contradictory.  I need you to tell me precisely what’s happening.”

Rani felt a hot flash of rage she ruthlessly suppressed.  It was typical that the spies - she knew there were at least ten on her flagship - could keep an eye on her even in her quarters, but not provide a decent explanation of just what was going on to their ultimate superior.  Or did Governor Brown
expect
them to always be pessimistic about Rani’s intentions?  Few spies were considered excellent unless they uncovered proof of treachery ... and what were they to do, if there was no evidence to find?

But they did find nothing
, Rani thought, coldly.  It had taken months to start building her own network, but she’d succeeded. 
If they had found something, I’d be dead by now.

“The war is threatening to stalemate,” she said.  “And that will give the Commonwealth a dangerous advantage.”

She took a breath and pressed on.  “So far, we have been concentrating on securing the border worlds.  However, with the exception of Thule, few of those worlds are actually worth the effort involved in taking them.  We are tying up our ships and men occupying worlds that offer nothing to us or to the enemy.  This has given the Commonwealth a chance to recover from their early missteps and take the war back to us.  Their political system, which was dangerously unstable, may have solidified under the weight of our offensive.”

“I see,” Brown said.  “Some of my other commanders insist that we must secure territory before we advance further.”

Rani shook her head.  “There’s too great a risk of them counterattacking in force,” she said, warningly.  “We’re not actually impeding their ability to build new ships, train new soldiers, produce new guns and missiles ... it looks impressive, on a star chart, but it’s really light years upon light years of wasted space.”

“There’s also the danger of encountering new weapons,” Governor Brown pointed out.  “Some of the estimates are quite scary.”

“I know,” Rani said.  “But they are also unrealistic.”

She fought down the urge to roll her eyes like a teenager.  Weapons design had stalled under the Empire, which hadn't really been interested in developing something that might badly upset the balance of power.  Why bother working to come up with something new when it might be ruthlessly suppressed?  But some of the ideas the Governor’s cronies had come up with were straight out of a science-fantasy flick.  Starships the size of entire planets?  Guns that shot beams of energy faster than light?  Missiles that moved at just below the speed of light?  Nanotech clouds that disassembled entire starships? 

“The Commonwealth has already started to deploy force shields,” Governor Brown said.  “I believed that to be impossible before I read the first reports.”

“So did I,” Rani admitted.

“So,” the Governor said.  “Why are the other ideas so unrealistic?”

“Because if they had them, they would have won the war,” Rani said, feeling her patience begin to fray.  “They would have waltzed up to the high orbitals, blasting their way through any ship that dared to stand in their path, and dictated terms to us.  But they haven't.”

She took a breath.  “And if we are so afraid of what they will discover,” she added, “we should take our superior numbers and hammer them flat, now.  The war could be won within months if we stabbed deep at their heart.”

“And if we lost,” Governor Brown said, “we would lose everything.”

Rani ground her teeth in frustration, then braced herself for a long argument. 

***

“Was this really a good idea?”

Carl Watson shrugged.  “You should try flying in a Raptor through heavy fire,” he said, remembering some of the deployments on Han.  “It’s much - much - worse than this, really.”

Paula didn't look convinced.  The shipping container was large enough for them to sit comfortably, but it was alarmingly claustrophobic.  Carl had endured worse - he’d been born on an asteroid colony - yet Paula didn't seem to be handling it very well.  If she’d been alone, he had a feeling she would have been screaming for mercy by now.  Hopefully, no one would have heard.

He took her hand as the container shook again.  The smugglers had told him that they would be shipped down to the planet, then moved to a warehouse where they would be released, but they hadn't been able to provide a timetable.  If Wolfbane followed the same procedures as most other worlds, there would be a delay while the containers were passed through security scanners ... unless the bribes had actually worked.  Carl had braced himself, as best as he could, for discovery, but he knew the odds of actually fighting his way out were very low, even without Paula.  Paula was nice - and great in bed - yet she didn't have any combat experience.

The container rattled, ominously.  He reached for his pistol and checked it automatically, half-expecting to see the metal walls opening outwards and armed men peering in.  There was a long pause, then the container shook one final time.  Paula yelped and covered her mouth; Carl allowed himself a flicker of amusement, knowing the metal was thick enough to prevent any sound escaping.  Some illegal immigrants had starved to death, trapped inside containers they couldn't open from the inside ... he hoped the thought of being trapped for days, rather than hours, hadn't occurred to Paula.  It would definitely cause her to panic.

He braced himself as he heard a dull
click
echoing through the container, then hefted his pistol as the lid was lifted off, allowing bright light to stream down from high above.  Paula covered her eyes; Carl forced himself to stand upright as the side fell away, revealing a large warehouse and a pair of beaming men grinning at them.  He put his pistol back in his belt, then stood up and helped Paula to her feet.  The men kept smirking at him, but showed no real sign of being unfriendly. 

“Thank you,” he said, as Paula leaned against him.  “Where do we go now?”

“Straight out the door,” the smuggler said.  He pressed a credit chip into Carl’s hand, then a pair of ID cards.  Carl picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, before sticking the cards and chip in his pocket.  “These were cut specially for you and should pass muster, unless you do something very stupid.  Please don’t as you could wind up in prison ...”