Never Surrender (The Empire's Corps Book 10) (40 page)

“Idiot,” Kailee said, affectionately.  “I could eat you too.”

She paused.  “But I need energy to eat,” she added.  She glanced at the menu as he spluttered in a mixture of horror and amusement.  “You fancy a burger and fries?  Or pizza?  Or ... something I can't actually pronounce, but is marked as being very spicy.”

Gary shook his head.  He’d never eaten anything that wasn't bland on Earth and his stomach hadn't adapted very well to Meridian’s food.  Real meat had given him a bellyache on more than one occasion.  Spicy food had
never
agreed with him.  It was the height of unfairness, he thought sometimes, that Kailee could eat absolutely anything.

“Pizza will do,” he said, quickly.  Kailee had tried to get him to broaden his diet, before she'd been taken into the camp, but it hadn't worked very well.  “And something nice to drink?”

“No alcohol,” Kailee said, after a moment.  Her reading skills had always been poor; Gary had a feeling he was one of the few people in their school who could actually read words on a page at a reasonable rate.  “But there’s juice and stuff.”

“Juice, please,” Gary said.  He’d developed a taste for juice on Meridian, even though by Earth’s standards they were sharp and utterly unprocessed.  “And then ...”

He sighed, inwardly.  Maybe she was right.  Maybe he could build a new life on Avalon, even though it was the third world he’d been to in his life.  But would he ever be able to get the blood off his hands?  He honestly didn't know.

But for the moment, he was safe.

And that
, he told himself firmly,
would have to be enough.

***

“It’s been a long time,” Jasmine said.

“I know,” Emmanuel said.  “I was so worried ...”

Jasmine had to smile.  The thought of anyone being worried for her ... apart from her family, there weren't many people who
would
be worried for her.  Other Marines looked at her Rifleman’s Tab and knew she could handle life, no matter what it threw at her.  They might like her, or they might hate her, but they wouldn't
worry
about her.  Why should they?

But Emmanuel was the closest thing she had to a partner.  He
would
worry about her.

They lay together, the sheets sodden with sweat from their lovemaking, holding each other tightly.  Jasmine sighed in simple contentment as his fingers traced patterns on her bare flesh, stroking her small breasts and sliding down to the place between her legs.  She’d never had body issues - she hadn't been able to understand Kailee’s medical reports until she’d realised that Kailee had been dieting to try to stay thin - but it was nice to be worshipped and admired by a man.

“You shouldn't have been,” she said.  “I never doubted I would get out of the camp.”

She sighed, then gasped as his fingers found a sensitive spot.  “What were you doing while I was gone?”

“Some reporting work,” Emmanuel said, evasively.  “And something I’m not allowed to talk about yet, sadly.”

Jasmine gave him a sharp look.  “Even to me?”

“I think you’ll probably be briefed on it later.” Emmanuel said, reluctantly.  “It's classified.”

“Oh,” Jasmine said.  It wasn't something she’d ever thought about, but Blake Coleman had dated a girl from Imperial Intelligence once and he’d complained loudly that she hadn't been able to tell him anything.  The relationship hadn't lasted.  “Don’t worry about it, really.”

She sat upright, looking down at him.  “I don’t know how long I will have here,” she confessed.  “Would you like to go hill walking?  Or extreme kayaking?”

“If it’s with you, I wouldn't mind in the slightest,” Emmanuel said.  “I have a week of leave, in any case.  We could even go to space, if you liked.  There’s supposed to be some great tours of the cloudscoops these days.”

Jasmine shrugged, then rose and paced over to the window.  It was night, but a fire was burning on the beach and a handful of men and women were sitting around it.  Some of them, she knew, would be survivors from the CEF, the people she’d brought home.  Others ... would be trained to help veterans to decompress before they returned to their civilian families.  Colonel Stalker, at least, knew better than to leave such matters in civilian hands, not when they always made matters worse.  Veterans needed special help, not hectoring from ignorant civilians.

“I don't know what I’d like,” she said.  She would have liked to go home, to see if her family was still alive, but she knew it was impossible.  “Right now, I’m not sure how to relax.”

She heard him stand up, then walk over to her.  “You do it by forgetting everything,” Emmanuel said.  His hands started to trace patterns on her back, his fingertips brushing lightly against the scars Admiral Singh’s men had left there.  “You do it by leaving tomorrow to tomorrow.”

“I have to face the Colonel soon,” Jasmine said.  She shifted slightly as his fingers moved over her buttocks.  “Tomorrow.”

Emmanuel tensed.  “Why so soon?”

“Get it over with,” Jasmine said.  She hated uncertainty more than anything else.  Life had been much easier when she’d been a simple rifleman.  “And then I’d know where I stood.”

“Then relax now,” Emmanuel said.  His fingers moved inside her, then pushed gently at her hips.  She sighed, then spread her legs as he moved behind her.  His hard cock pressed against her, then into her.  “Forget the morning, my love.  It will come soon enough.”

Chapter Forty

But perhaps that was not surprising.  Wolfbane was based on corporate principles, after all, while Avalon was based on honour, personal liberty - and common sense.

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

Avalon, Year 5 (PE)

Ed looked up as Jasmine Yamane was shown into his office, wearing Marine BDUs instead of the CEF uniform she was technically entitled to wear.  She looked as he remembered, physically, but there was a weariness around her that concerned him.  Marines were tough - two years of training saw to that - yet even they could burn out, given the right set of circumstances.  Jasmine had been a FNG on Han, then Platoon Commander on Avalon and Corinthian, then a Brigadier on Lakshmibai and Thule.  She hadn't even known the stability of a platoon of her fellow marines.

“Jasmine,” he said, as he rose to his feet.  She came to a halt in front of him and saluted, perfectly.  “Would you like coffee?”

“No thank you, sir,” Jasmine said. 

Ed sat, feeling perturbed.  Offering coffee was a subtle sign that no one was in any real trouble, a sign Jasmine would have had no difficulty in understanding.  Had she declined coffee because she thought she was in trouble, or because she didn’t feel worthy to share with him?  He’d faced both problems in the past.

Jasmine reached into her jacket and produced a simple envelope, which she placed on the table.  “My resignation,” she said.  “If you want it.”

Ed allowed his eyebrows to climb upwards.  “I would have asked for it,” he said, “if I had wanted it.”

Or done worse
, he added, silently.  Marines were rarely busted out of the service, but it did happen.  If someone had fucked up that badly, or allowed themselves to become warped, he wouldn't have had any choice, but to give them a dishonourable discharge.  And, perhaps, ensure they never posed a threat to anyone else ever again.  But Jasmine hadn't done either, had she?  She was merely suffering a crisis of confidence.

“I screwed up,” Jasmine said, flatly.  She made no move to pick up the envelope.  “I lost the battle on Thule.”

“I checked the records,” Ed said.  He had; he’d reviewed them obsessively in the weeks and months following the start of the war.  “Yes, you made mistakes; no, I don't think you could actually have won.”

“My mistakes got people killed,” Jasmine hissed.  It was rare for her to speak rudely to anyone, particularly her commanding officer.  It was easy to recognise that she was at the end of her tether.  “Sir ...”

“So have mine,” Ed said, sharply.  He spoke over her before she could say another word.  “I have lost people in the past, Jasmine.  All I could do from it was learn and move onwards.”

Jasmine met his eyes.  “I was happier running a small team,” she said, softly.  “I shouldn't have accepted the CEF post.”

“I might not have considered you for another post,” Ed pointed out.  He watched her closely as he spoke.  Someone refusing a promotion, any promotion, could lose any chance of further promotion.  “In any case, the CEF is being reformed and another CO will take your place.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jasmine said.

She would have done it, Ed knew, if he’d ordered her to return to her post.  But it wouldn't have made her happy.  She’d been on the edge for so long that having to return to a post she believed she didn't deserve might have broken her.  Risking her life was one thing - Ed couldn't help shaking his head in admiration at the mess she’d made of Wolfbane - but being responsible for so many others?  He knew, all too well, just what she was feeling ... and
he
had nearly a decade more experience than her.

“Your work in Wolfbane may have given us a fighting chance,” he added, changing the subject slightly.  “Our best guess is that it will take them at least a year to rebuild most of the shipyard, assuming they have the trained manpower on hand.  If they don’t, it may take them considerably longer.”

“Yes, sir,” Jasmine said.

“They will probably try to finish the war, assuming whoever takes over manages to secure complete control over Wolfbane,” Ed continued.  “I imagine they will launch a major offensive in less than four months, in hopes of destroying us before it’s too late.”

Jasmine nodded, curtly.  “Is there any word on just who has taken over?”

“No,” Ed said.  He’d thought about the question obsessively, but there were too many question marks hanging over Wolfbane for anyone to answer with any certainty.  If nothing else, Stubbins might be able to give them some insight into just how their enemy thought and worked.  “It could be anyone - or they could collapse into civil war.”

“Let us hope so,” Jasmine said, shortly.  There was a bitter tone to her voice, a tinge of survivor’s guilt.  “Carl
died
for this, sir.”

Ed met her eyes.  “Do you really believe he died?”

“I don't know,” Jasmine said.  She would have been happier, Ed suspected, with knowing for certain, one way or the other.  “But he was launching an attack aimed at one of the most heavily-guarded people on the planet.  I don't know if either he or Paula survived.”

“We will hope,” Ed said.  There was nothing else they could do, although he had to admit the odds were against survival.  Carl Watson
had
tried out for the Pathfinders, after all.  “We have all been in tight spots before.”

He cleared his throat.  “We have been engaged in an operation to lure the enemy into a battle of our choosing,” he said.  “There is, as yet, no sign that we have actually been successful, but we do have high hopes.  Combined with your operation, they may well take the bait.”

He smiled to himself.  Telling the Wolves, through Hannalore, that one particular world wasn't going to be heavily defended was one thing; giving them an incentive to finish the war as quickly as possible was another.  Governor Brown had moved carefully - Ed had no difficulty in recognising the signs of a conservative player - but now, whoever took over would have to either seek peace or gamble everything on beating the Commonwealth before it was too late.  Hopefully, they
would
take the bait.

“Yes, sir,” Jasmine said.

“I will be taking personal command of the operation,” Ed continued.  Given what was at stake, he was damned if he was leaving someone else to handle it.  “Your friend Mandy will be in command of the space-side, but I’d like you to serve directly under me on the ground.  You’ll have 1st Platoon and whatever other SF elements I can scrape up.”

Jasmine nodded, slowly.  “Thank you, sir.”

“It will be several months before we know if the enemy will take the bait,” Ed said.  “Until then, I want you to take a week’s leave and do something - anything - that isn't concerned with your duty.  I don’t want to hear a
peep
from you until the end of that week.  After that, you’ll be working in the planning cell, drawing up contingency plans.”

“Sir,” Jasmine said, slowly.  “With the greatest of respect ...”

“You’re taking a week’s leave,” Ed said, flatly.  He held up a hand to make it clear that arguing would be useless.  “It isn't a sign of weakness to need a rest from time to time.  Trust me on this; my screw-ups are far worse than yours.”

Jasmine eyed him, doubtfully.  “Sir?”

Ed hesitated, then decided to be open.  “There was the time I managed to sleep through departure time on some godforsaken rock,” he said.  “I spent two months in disgrace before I was transferred to another company.”

“They tossed you out of the company?”  Jasmine asked, astonished.  “Really?”

“Not willingly,” Ed said.  He understood her surprise.  It was rare for a Marine to leave their company unless they were promoted upwards.  “The ship left on schedule, leaving me behind.  I wound up serving as an advisor to local fighters until another company was landed and accepted me to fill a hole in their roster.  The CO was
not
pleased.”

“You didn't get anyone killed,” Jasmine said.

“I could have done,” Ed said.  “It certainly wasn't my proudest moment.”

He shrugged.  “I would have preferred to send you to OCS, Jasmine,” he admitted.  “But we don't
have
a real OCS, not any longer.  You’ll have to learn as best as you can.”

“I know, sir,” Jasmine said.

“And now, go start your week’s leave,” Ed ordered.  He picked up the envelope, tore it into little pieces and dropped them in the bin.  “Go.”

Jasmine rose, saluted and left the compartment. 

Ed watched her go, his expression shadowed.  He didn't blame her for coming close to collapse, not after everything she’d been through.  Indeed, her career had been compressed, and then warped, because of the demands of their service.  Marines were tough, very tough, but they were still human.  They could be broken.  Time would tell, he suspected, if Jasmine would survive and grow stronger, or give up and collapse. 

And she enjoyed being the CO of 1st Platoon
, he thought.  That was obvious; she’d commanded in action and done a remarkable job. 
She will enjoy doing it again
.

He sighed, then picked up his datapad and returned to the war.

End of Book X

Colonel Stalker’s Early Life Will Be Covered in:

First To Fight

Coming Soon!