On The Imperium’s Secret Service (Imperium Cicernus) (17 page)

Bruce Wayne
had a dozen hidden compartments, Mariko was starting to realise.  She’d deduced the existence of a couple of them when she’d realised that Fitz was much more than he seemed, but others had been completely unnoticeable until Fitz had pointed them out.  Even in hindsight, she couldn't see how she could have found them without disassembling the entire ship.  The experts who had put the ship together had done a wonderful job. 

One compartment housed no less than seven light battlesuits, of a design she’d never seen before.  Combat infantry had been wearing battlesuits for centuries and the designs had been improved over that long period, but these suits were odd.  They might have been specially designed for Imperial Intelligence.  Mariko couldn't understand why he’d brought seven of them on his ship.  Had he expected to lose some suits along the way? 

“These suits are designed for both stealthy operations and active combat,” Fitz said.  “In theory, you can enter a planetary atmosphere completely undetected and land safely on the planet’s surface.  When active, they are a match for everything short of Marine Heavy Combat Armour, but don’t get cocky!  One direct hit from a plasma cannon and you’ll lose most of the stealth coating that gives you your advantages.  A second hit means you’ll probably lose active shielding.  And then a third hit will kill you stone dead.  You’re going to be running endless simulations until you’re fully checked out on these machines, just in case we need them.  I hope we won’t, but if we do I need you to be ready.”

He looked at Mai, who stared at one of the combat suits as if it were her dream man. 

“You won't find it easy at first to handle them,” he added.  “The Imperial Marines lose more people in battlesuit operations than they do in other missions.  These days, enemy forces reprogram automated systems to cope with battlesuits as they plunge from the sky, taking advantage of enemy surprise to get into the midst.  Try looking up the disaster on Heavenly Gate one of these days.  It’s what happens when someone thinks that a battlesuit makes them invincible.

“And while you’re taking a break, study Greenland carefully,” he concluded.  “I shall expect you to know everything about the planet once we arrive.  I’ll see to packing the shuttle – I just want you to be ready to use the equipment if we need it.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Mariko said, quickly.  She had a feeling that it wouldn't be easy.  “Do you think we should wear them down on the surface?”

“I think we’ll be taking the camouflage suits down to the surface,” Fitz said.  “I sincerely hope that we
won’t
need anything else.  But I’ll discuss contingency plans with you once I know how much you’ve learned about using a combat suit.”

***

The next four days passed very slowly.  Mariko found herself left with a new respect for the Imperial Marines after she failed, time and time again, the basic tests for operating an armoured combat suit.  It was easy enough to use it violently, slamming armoured fists against holographic opponents and tearing them apart effortlessly, but the more delicate operations constantly failed, no matter how hard she tried.  The training simulation insisted that she should be able to shake a person’s hand without crushing it like an eggshell, yet every time she shook hands with a holographic representation she crushed their hand or pulled their arm right out of its socket.  Frustratingly, Mai seemed to be much better with
her
armoured combat suit, graduating quickly to training simulations that matched her against any number of opponents.  Mariko hadn't realised how many weapons were crammed into the suits until she saw Mai deploying a dozen different weapons against as many opponents.

“Women generally do better than men without biofeedback augmentation,” Fitz said, that night over dinner.  He seemed more than willing to play the harsh taskmaster, constantly reviewing their performance and commenting on how it could be improved.  “There was an argument for the combat suits that claimed that they would allow women to take their place on the battlefield alongside men.”

Mai considered it.  “Did it work?”

“Of course it worked,” Fitz said, dryly.  “But the moment someone else invented a system that countered the suits, the women found themselves in deep trouble.  Warfare is a constantly evolving state; every time the Imperium makes an advance, its enemies make an advance of their own.  The Secessionists have been sharing data on resistance tactics right across the Imperium, making each new rebellion considerably harder to put down than the last.”

Mariko rubbed her aching arms.  Despite her best efforts, she was still getting an uncomfortable level of feedback from the armoured suit, suggesting that she wasn't ready to take it onto the battlefield. 

“Maybe we can surprise them,” she said.  “They won’t expect to see armoured soldiers in a ship like this, will they?”

“The Grenadier Guards used to deploy from a mangy old freighter,” Fitz observed.  He looked over at Mai for a long moment.  “I’m afraid that you will be staying on the ship this time, just in case we need backup.”

Mai started.  “I can't come down to the planet?”

“You wouldn’t like it,” Mariko reminded her.  She’d been reading up on the planet and the kindest word she could think of for Greenland was
hellish
.

“And beside, Archie is known for his wandering hands,” Fitz added.  “It will provide an excuse to keep you in orbit, out of sight and out of mind.”

From orbit, Greenland didn't look any different from countless other worlds that had been terraformed into something suitable for human life.  It wasn't until Mariko brought the shuttle down into the atmosphere that she started to see signs that something wasn't quite natural about the planet.  Great plantations of green crops were understandable, even recognisable, yet there were also vast ruins that marked the existence of a pre-technology intelligent race.  Beside her, she heard Fitz grunt in dismay as the extent of the devastation became clear.  The humans who had settled Greenland had largely crushed a flourishing alien civilisation to suit their needs.

Greenland had been perfect, except for an atmospheric balance that was ill-suited to human settlement.  Instead of either engineering a race of colonists who could live naturally on the planet, or simply leaving it and its inhabitants alone, the settlers had embarked upon a terraforming effort that had turned the atmosphere into something humans could breathe.  The aliens, seemingly more adaptable than humans, had somehow survived the transformation of their world, but that had only been the start of their suffering.  Human settlers had transformed vast sections of their land into giant plantations and put the aliens to work for the benefit of their human masters.  What remained of the alien civilisation had been shattered by contact with the Imperium.  Some of them worshipped their human masters as gods, a concept that Mariko found faintly blasphemous.  Others would do whatever it took to have the humans removed from their world.  Just because they hadn't developed any serious technology before they’d been discovered didn't mean that they were stupid. 

But, as the report had made clear, it was unlikely that the planet’s owners would ever leave Greenland to its own devices.  By a sick twist of fate, the terraforming program had created a grape-like fruit that could be turned into wine, a wine that had rapidly become Greenland’s greatest export.  Anyone who wanted to free the locals and send them back to the life they’d enjoyed before human contact would have to contend with the aristocrats who had grown rich on selling the wine.  Water of Life, they called it.  Absently, Mariko wondered what their customers would have thought if they’d known the truth of its origins.

“That's the beacon there,” Fitz said.  Unlike most worlds, Greenland had no proper spaceport while OTC was handled by an independent company in orbit around the planet.  Each of the giant plantations had their own landing pads, allowing them to invite their customers down for a drink and a chat before assigning them sections of each year’s crop.  There was no futures market on Greenland; once the prices were set, it was a matter of first come, first served.  “And that’s Archie’s residence just behind it.”

Mariko lifted an eyebrow in disbelief as the colossal white house came into view.  It was situated neatly in the midst of an elegant garden, one showing both human and alien plants from a dozen different worlds.  A handful of children, all human, played a game of catch through the foliage, watched by a pair of matrons who seemed to divide their attention between knitting and watching the children.  There were no aliens in the innermost compound at all, not even someone from one of the more trusted alien races.  The natives were all on the outside.

She saw them working on the crops as the shuttle floated overhead and came down towards the landing pad.  They were roughly humanoid, but their skins were slimy, as if they were used to more water than was in the air.  There was no data in the files on just what Greenland had looked like before the terraforming had begun, yet Mariko was convinced that the world had been cooler and wetter.  It might take centuries before the locals evolved into something that found the new climate comfortable, unless the humans helped them out with genetic engineering.  But that would have required an empathy that the settlers seemed to lack.

“They simply don’t care what happens to the aliens,” Fitz said, when Mariko pointed that out.  “As far as they are concerned, the good times will keep rolling and the aliens will remain happy and contented to be oppressed...and in the meantime, this world serves as a recruiting poster for the Secessionists.  They can just point to Greenland and ask if anyone expects that their worlds will be shown any more forbearance if there’s money in it.”

The shuttle touched down and Mariko stood up, donning the utility belt that Fitz had produced for her.  No one would question her carrying a firearm, thankfully, and even if they did Fitz had obligingly produced a pair of blank permits for them to carry.  The other devices in the belt might come in handy if they managed to track down the recruiting station the Secessionists had installed on the planet, somehow.  Right now, Mariko wouldn't have been surprised to discover that every non-human on the planet was a die-hard secessionist. 

“Come on,” Fitz said.  “Let's go and meet Archie.”

The planet’s atmosphere smelt
wrong
to her, almost as soon as she stepped out of the shuttle.  It was cool, yet dry, with a faint smell of something dead slowly drying out in the sun.  Perhaps the entire planet was dying slowly, she told herself as Fitz followed her out of the shuttle, closing the hatch behind them.  The terraforming program hadn't been unleashed on a dead world, one that could be brought to life with some care and attention, but on a living world that might have started to fight back.  Her eyes stung as the wind shifted course and blew right across them, making her eyes sting due to the little flakes of dust in the air.  She found herself blinking rapidly to get rid of them. 

Archie turned out to be a tall aristocrat, wearing a white suit and a large hat that kept the sun out of his eyes.  He carried a small whip curled up at his belt, along with a gun and a grim expression that just dared anyone to pick a fight with him.  The vast hordes of natives outside the walls could have overwhelmed him and the rest of the plantation staff within  minutes if they’d chosen to charge, but somehow they remained broken.  They’d probably had a demonstration of what human weapons could do if they rebelled openly against their overlords.  Mariko had learned, while learning how to use the armoured combat suit, that some planets kept a QRF of armoured soldiers on standby in orbit at all times.  They could get to any rebellion and crush it before it got out of hand.

“It’s good to see you again, Uncle,” Fitz said.  Mariko would never have known that he had sounded just as sickened as she was by what Archie’s relatives had done on Greenland, if she hadn't heard him on the flight down to the planet’s surface.  “Auntie Jo sends her regards.”

“Jo worries too much,” Archie said.  He had a gruff voice, but one with an undertone of smug satisfaction that Mariko didn't like at all.  “And who is this radiant beauty that you have brought to see me?”

“This is Mariko, my current retainer,” Fitz said. 

Archie took Mariko’s hand and shook it firmly, all the time allowing his eyes to run up and down her body. 

“I’m afraid that she’s currently assigned to me, and me alone,” Fitz said, sounding regretful.

“What a pity,” Archie said.  “Anyway, if you will both come into the house, I’ll have some drinks served at once.”

Mariko managed to keep herself from flushing, although she wasn't sure how. 
Retainer
didn't just mean
assistant
or
servant
to the aristocracy.  It also included
courtesan
or
whore
.  But at least Fitz seemed to have ensured that Archie wouldn't be pawing at her tonight.