Never Surrender (The Empire's Corps Book 10) (32 page)

She shrugged.  “I can throw in a small amount of money too,” she offered.  “You’d have the best opportunity to launch your farm I could give you.”

Hannalore hesitated.  “Very well,” she said, after a long pause.  “What do you want to know?”

Kitty stepped backwards.  “You will be asked question after question after question,” she said.  “You will answer them as comprehensively as possible.  Should you fail to answer, or be caught in a lie, the deal is off.  There won’t be a second chance.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Hannalore said.

“Good,” Kitty said.  “Now ...”

She bombarded Hannalore with questions for nearly an hour, then stood and walked out of the chamber.  Hannalore had been truthful, as far as Ross could tell, but she didn't actually
know
very much.  The person who’d contacted her had never been seen again; Kitty had a suspicion he was either underground or had simply left the planet as soon as he’d completed his mission.  And Gaston ... as far as she knew, Gaston was her sole contact, rather than anything else.  There didn't seem to be any plans to recover contact if something happened to him.

“She’s still talkative, but she’s reluctant to tell you everything,” Ross informed her.  “I’ll have an analysis on your desk tomorrow morning.”

“Understood,” Kitty said.  She glanced at Olivier and Rupert, two more intelligence officers who specialised in looking like thugs.  “Take her to her cell and search her again, then release her hands and let her sleep until I call her in the morning.”

The two men nodded.  By the time they had finished, Kitty knew, Hannalore wouldn't have any certainty of anything, apart from the fact her life had turned upside down.  Keeping her off-balance was the only way to ensure she didn't try to outthink them ... which she would, eventually. 

And we can't keep her for very long either
, she thought, darkly. 
Not if we want her to keep passing information to the bad guys
.

Rising to her feet, she walked out of the complex and took the elevator to the lounge.  It had been cleared, at the Colonel’s instructions, so he could talk to the Governor in relative privacy.  When she entered, Kitty saw the Colonel sitting in front of a table and the Governor lying on the sofa, fast asleep.  An opened bottle stood on the table, looking tantalisingly welcome.

“I assume you told him everything,” Kitty said, as she sat down facing Colonel Stalker.  “What happened?”

“He took it badly,” the Colonel said.  He picked up the bottle and poured Kitty a glass.  “I eventually resorted to insisting he used a sleeping pill.”

“I hope you checked it wasn't one that reacted badly with alcohol,” Kitty said.  “It wouldn't do to kill him.”

The Colonel nodded.  “It would just put him out for a few hours,” he said.  “By the time he awakes, the alcohol should have cleared his body.”

Kitty nodded, then lifted her glass and took a sip.  She’d never been much of a drinker, not on her salary, but she had to admit the alcohol tasted fine on her tongue.  Something smoky, with a hint of fire ... she cursed under her breath as she realised her mind was wandering and put the glass down before it affected her more than it already had.  The Colonel, like all Marines, wouldn't be able to get more than a mild buzz from it, no matter how much he drank.  It was quite possible he hadn't realised how strong it was.

Or maybe you’re just too tired to think clearly
, her thoughts added. 
You need your bed too.

“We did the preliminary interrogation, sir,” she said.  “She’s guilty.  None of her permanent staff are guilty, but they were both hired after confirming they didn't have the knowledge to detect or remove the bugs.  The rigged privacy generators themselves came from Wolfbane, along with their control systems.  She chose what was forwarded up the chain.”

“Weak design,” the Colonel observed.  “They must have trusted her.”

“They knew that beaming information out of a building in the middle of Camelot would be noticed,” Kitty said.   Given their inherent limitations, and the problems of operating in enemy territory, Wolfbane had done a very good job.  She would have been impressed if she hadn't been so irked.  Lives had been lost, others had been ruined ... because one idiotic social queen hadn't been able to endure the loss of her power and position.  “I suspect they weren't too happy with it.”

She sighed.  She needed bed; no, she needed a man, someone who could make her forget herself for a few hours.  Or a woman.  She wasn't picky ... she considered, briefly, just trying to make a visit to a bar, then pushed the thought aside.  She’d be better off with a sleeping pill herself. 

Because you could never be honest with anyone
, she thought, morbidly.  She’d had lovers, in the years since she’d been dumped on Avalon, but none of them had lasted.  It had been impossible to be honest with them. 
So many spies start fucking other spies because no one else understands what they go though.

“I’ll make her the offer tomorrow,” she added.  “We’ve got her talking now; tomorrow, we’ll try to get her to start sending crap to them.  I don’t think she has much hope of being extracted by Wolfbane, not when she was such a problematic person.  The Governor ... I hope he does well, sir.  Apparently, he wasn't involved.”

“That’s good to hear,” the Colonel said.  “But we do need to keep a sharp eye on them both.  It won’t be a pleasant time for either of them.”

Kitty nodded, shortly.  It never was.  Betrayal was bad enough, but the Governor would be hurting badly.  He’d supported the Commonwealth as much as he could, even after he’d lost his power.  To find his wife had been undermining it ...

“Poor bastard,” she muttered.  “I’ll have him moved to a proper room?”

“Make sure you take care of him,” the Colonel ordered.  “He didn't deserve this.”

“No,” Kitty agreed.  “He didn't.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Worse, perhaps, their reputations would be destroyed.  The Empire’s propaganda departments would work hard to turn former rebel leaders into monsters, charging them with everything taboo to the societies they’d struggled to defend.  Even when such claims were not believed, they raised doubts - and doubts were the last thing a resistance organisation needed.

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

Wolfbane System, Year 5 (PE)

“I think I hate you,” Pete said.

“I know,” Jasmine said.  She’d ordered Pete and his extended family into the
Passing Water
, then secured most of them in one of the holds.  It would keep them alive, but it would also keep them firmly under control.  “And I am sorry.”

“We could help,” Pete offered, as she motioned him into the hold.  “I could assist you ...”

“I can't take the chance,” Jasmine said.  She waved him inside, then closed the hatch.  “I’ll see you on the far side.”

She locked the hatch, then walked up to the bridge.  Four CEF soldiers would remain on the ship to provide security, but the course had already been programmed into the computer.  Jasmine would have preferred to leave Stewart - or even Frazier - on the ship, yet she knew it would have been far too risky.  She needed Stewart in the shipyard and Frazier couldn't be trusted with the shit too close to hitting the fan.  His behaviour might become dangerously unpredictable.

“I have the laser link established,” Gary said, as she walked in.  “But the systems are very different to the ones I used to crack.”

“We’ll see what happens,” Jasmine said.  She glanced over at Kailee, then smiled.  “I will expect you to continue your exercises on the way to the phase limit and afterwards, or I will be forced to come back and haunt you.”

Kailee looked paler than usual.  “You might not come back?”

“There’s a possibility,” Jasmine said.  She wondered, briefly, about Watson.  One way or the other, she probably wouldn't see him again until after the war.  It was just something else for the Colonel to hold against her, when - if - she returned home.  “But whatever happens, I don’t expect you to waste your lives.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Gary muttered.  He rubbed his arm gently.  “But it hurts.”

“It always does,” Jasmine said, quietly.  Ironically, Gary would probably be safe on Avalon, even if he stopped doing exercises.  He had skills the Commonwealth needed and the sort of lawlessness that had pervaded Earth wasn't tolerated there.  But being able to defend himself would only improve his confidence in the long run.  “You’ll be fine.  Believe me.”

“Yeah,” Stewart agreed.  “On my first day in Boot Camp, I moaned and groaned so much that my bunkmates threatened to cover me with salt.”

Kailee blinked.  “Why salt?”

“It’s for zombies,” Gary said.  He shook his head.  “I thought they were just a myth.”

“Someone released a gas that turned a whole town into zombies once,” Jasmine commented, dryly.  “Not
real
zombies, in the sense they were supernatural, but it turned them against everyone who hadn't been infected.  The whole place was eventually firebombed to contain the outbreak.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Gary said.  “Were you there?”

Stewart snickered.  Jasmine shot him a glance.

“I’m twenty-five,” she said, irked.  “The outbreak was over two hundred years ago.  I read about it in the files.”

She sighed, inwardly.  No one had ever uncovered the truth behind the outbreak, as far as she knew; officially, terrorists had been blamed, but the files had wondered if a biological weapon had got loose and then been covered up.  It struck her as odd that they hadn't seen more outbreaks, if it
was
a terrorist weapon, yet she could see the logic in keeping it under wraps.  The Empire’s willingness to just obliterate the infected had to have convinced them that the weapon was only of limited value.

Or maybe the whole town just cracked up one day
, she thought.  God knew she’d seen strange behaviour before, certainly from people who had been stressed beyond belief.  A Civil Guard unit on Han had gone collectively mad, just after the fighting ended, and attacked a small village, looting, raping and killing the inhabitants. 
The stress got to them.

“Good luck,” she said, instead.  “I’ll see you on the other side.”

She nodded to them both, then surprised herself by giving Kailee a gentle hug.  It had been
nice
to be appreciated, then asked for help; she hadn't realised just how badly she missed Mandy and her family until she’d started trying to teach Kailee.  But then, Mandy had built a career of her own and Kailee ... had a long way to go.  Coming to think of it, Kailee was actually a year
older
than Mandy ...

“Good luck,” Stewart echoed.  “And don’t fuck up.”

He followed her through the airlock and back into the mining colony, down to where the ore freighter was docked.  Taking it had been easy; there were only four crewmen onboard, two of which had been teenagers learning the ropes.  Jasmine had dumped them on the
Passing Water
, once she’d been sure she knew how to handle the freighter, knowing the Wolves would take their anger out on them.  It wouldn't be easy for the prisoners to have to adapt to the Commonwealth, but better that than being executed, just for being unfortunate enough to lose their ship to the wrong people.

“Brigadier,” Lieutenant Walter Cheney said.  “The freighter is ready to depart.”

Jasmine nodded.  She had twenty-five men, counting herself and Stewart, to deploy against the shipyard.  It didn't seem like much, but she was sure she could use the five strike teams that gave her to cause no end of havoc.  Maybe she wouldn't be trying to slaughter the workers ... it would still disrupt their work.

She keyed her wristcom.  “Launch the
Passing Water
,” she ordered, as she stepped through the airlock and into the ore freighter.  The air smelt of too many men in close proximity, even though the crew had been tiny.  “And then prepare to take us to the shipyard.”

Stewart walked with her to the bridge, then sat down in front of the helm console.  Jasmine took the other chair and glanced around the compartment, wondering how the vessel’s captain managed to get anything done.  The bridge was cramped, stuffed with so many jury-rigged systems that there was barely enough room for two or three crewmen.  It looked as though the designers had intended the ship to be operated by children.  Maybe the original owners had redesigned their bodies to make themselves smaller and lighter - a common RockRat technique - and not bothered to fix the ship when they’d sold it to its next set of owners.

“Engines online,” Stewart said.  “Airlock detached.  Course laid in.”

“Take us out,” Jasmine ordered.  She looked down at the display, watching as
Medusa
fell behind.  The asteroid mining station looked normal ... but they’d rigged a series of charges to blow the entire complex, once the shit hit the fan.  All evidence of their visit would be destroyed.  “And signal for a customs ship.”

“Understood,” Stewart said.  “There’s one only an hour away.”

Jasmine nodded, then worked on the laser link to
Passing Water
until the customs ship finally approached.  She was identical to the previous ship, apart from carrying a missile pod underneath her hull that would give her some additional firepower.  Jasmine puzzled over it for a long moment - adding extra mass would only make the ship less mobile - then reasoned that the missiles were probably intended to destroy any threat to the shipyard. 

Pity we don’t have any ourselves
, she thought, as she eyed the ship and issued orders for the boarding party to prepare to move. 
But we couldn’t pack enough missiles to get through the shipyard’s defences.

“Here she comes,” Stewart said.  “She’s ordering us to cut engines and prepare to be boarded.”

“Good,” Jasmine said.  “You have the bridge.”

She walked into the next compartment, where the airlock was already opening to admit the boarding party.  They didn’t look particularly suspicious, just bored, although she had to admit they looked more competent than the last one.  Their leader, a grim-faced woman with a pinched expression, eyed Jasmine in some surprise.  The light spacesuit she was wearing had to be unexpected.

“Captain,” she said.  Her accent reminded Jasmine of Stubbins.  “Why are you wearing a suit?”

“There was a hull leak four days ago,” Jasmine said, as the hatch cycled closed behind the team.  “I ordered spacesuits to be worn at all times.”

“Good,” the woman said.  “Papers?”

Jasmine reached for her belt, then drew her stunner and pulled the trigger, aiming at their faces in hopes of ensuring they all fell before one of them could trigger an alert.  It was a risk, but one she had to embrace.  They stumbled and collapsed to the deck; Jasmine checked them quickly, then signalled her boarding party.  God alone knew if anyone on the ship was monitoring the away team, but if someone was the entire mission was about to fail.  She motioned them into the tube as she removed the key-card from the team’s commander, then followed them into the customs ship.

“Shoot to stun, if possible,” she ordered quietly.  “But they mustn’t get a change to scream for help.”

She opened the hatch, then led the way into the customs ship.  The crew clearly weren't expecting trouble; the soldiers ran through the corridors, stunning everyone they encountered, and made their way towards the bridge.  Jasmine forced herself to run faster than she’d ever run in her life, then threw a stun grenade into the bridge as the hatch opened.  The crew were knocked out by blue-white flashes of light.

“The ship is secure,” Cheney said, through her wristcom.  “I get nineteen crewmen, all stunned.”

“There’s four more here,” Jasmine said.  “Thomas, bring everyone else onto the customs ship and then reprogram the ore freighter.”

“Understood,” Stewart said.  “We’re on our way.”

Jasmine rapidly secured the bridge crew, then dumped everyone but the captain out into the corridor.  The customs ship was larger on the inside than she’d expected - she made a mental note to try to copy any engineering files before they left - but the bridge wasn’t particularly large.  Stewart arrived and took control of the helm, then steered the ship back towards the shipyard.  Jasmine watched, then took an injector from her belt and pressed it against the captain’s neck.  Moments later, he jerked awake and glanced around blearily.

“I need the codes that will get us into the shipyard,” Jasmine growled, producing a sharp knife from her belt and holding it against his throat.  One advantage of using stun grenades was that the victims tended to be badly disorientated for some time, even after they recovered.  However, she didn't dare rely on it for long.  “Give us the codes or I’ll slit your fucking throat.”

The captain shuddered, then gasped out a series of numbers.  Jasmine nodded to Stewart, who fed them into the navigational system.  If the Wolves had copied the Empire’s procedures, the first set of codes should get them into the shipyard, but not allow them to dock anywhere without special permission.  It was quite possible that they would be expected to dock at the security complex, once they passed through the defences.  Pete had made it clear that the custom ships often took bribes, then hurried back to share them with their superiors.

Fucking idiots
, Jasmine thought.  She knew precisely what Colonel Stalker would have done to someone who had accepted a bribe and it wouldn't have been pretty.  On the other hand, guard duty was always boring ... unless the shit hit the fan. 
They’re probably so used to being away from danger that their reflexes have  faded.

“I’ve told them that the ore freighter has been ordered to go to the refinery facility instead,” Stewart said.  “She won’t be coming into the shipyard.”

“Good,” Jasmine said.  She hadn't been able to come up with a workable plan to get the ore freighter into the shipyard without raising red flags.  “If we can keep them from realising there’s a connection between the ore freighter and us, it might work in our favour.”