The Empire’s Corps: Book 01 - The Empire's Corps by Christopher Nuttall Page B

it, puzzled. It was a simple golden Christian cross, nothing else. It meant nothing to him. His religion was the Marine Corps. He’d never been raised to follow any particular religious belief. The cross felt light, almost fragile, in his hand, yet he was perversely sure that it would be very hard to destroy.

    “Thank you, I guess,” he said. “Did he say why?”

    Leo reached for the cross and turned it over, pointing to a tiny indent at the bottom. “See?”

    “I see,” Edward said. The cross held a cunningly-disguised code key. An encrypted message, coded by a given algorithm would be impossible for anyone else to decrypt. They were illegal outside the government and military and, even for a Marine Captain, possessing one would raise questions. Very uncomfortable questions. “Why…?”

    “He said that he might be in touch,” Leo said. He keyed the hatch and it hissed open. “Good luck, Major.”

Chapter Nine
     
    With only a handful of exceptions, the majority of colony worlds established during the Fourth Expansion Period were intended as profit-making enterprises. The founding company (Development Corporation) intended to use its position to permanently milk the colonists for profit, even though this was not always particularly onerous. However, as the Empire’s financial problems worsened, the various development corporations have found themselves forced to squeeze their vassals harder, setting off a chain of decline. The results have not been pleasant.
    - Professor Leo Caesius, The Waning Years of Empire (banned).
     
    The seven helicopters roared out of the morning sunlight, sinking rapidly towards the small township in the distance. Four of them broke off and established a patrol pattern around the town; the other three continued to descend, the crews rapidly lowering lines towards the ground. A number of black-suited figures rapidly rappelled down towards the ground, scrambling down in fear of hostile gunfire. A transport helicopter was never so vulnerable as when it was unloading troops. No incoming fire disturbed the morning and the troops breathed a sigh of relief.

    Major George Grosskopf breathed in the morning air as his close-protection detail spread out around him. The small township might look quiet and innocent, but an experienced eye could tell that that was deceptive. Kirkhaven Township had only been established five years ago and the inhabitants had barely succeeded in taming the surrounding area and farming the land. The entire town should have been alive with people – men going to the farms, children laughing as they headed to school – and their absence was indicative of trouble. The whole area was quiet.

    It’s too quiet , he thought, as the two companies of Civil Guardsmen spread out further, walking towards the town with weapons raised and ready. The local Police Constable – a fancy name for a man who was effectively a part-time representative of law and order – had missed his daily call and no amount of effort by Camelot had succeeded in raising anyone else from the town. Avalon’s planetary communications network was primitive – it would have been a laughing stock on any other stage-two colony world – but the man had been careful to always place his call. The sudden silence suggested that someone had attacked the town. So close to the badlands, it was far too easy to guess just who had attacked – and why.

    “I'm getting live feed from the drones now,” Captain Yale said. Unlike George, he wasn’t former military; he’d spent his entire career in the Civil Guard. It hadn't prepared him for action so far from Camelot and civilisation, such as it was on Avalon. Like far too many of the other recruits, he’d joined up on the promise of three square meals a day. Still, he’d mastered some of the lingo and showed promise. “They’re not picking up anyone within the town.”

    “Send three platoons in to investigate and warn them not to get complacent,”