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“Now!”
Angeline braced herself, unhooking a stun grenade from her belt and removing the pin as her subordinate kicked down the door. She tossed the grenade into the room beyond, her skin prickling uncomfortably as blue-white light flashed inside, then led the way into the chamber. A pair of young men were on the ground, twitching helplessly; a young woman, lucky enough to have been partly sheltered from the blast, was staggering out of the room. Angeline darted forward, stabbed the woman in the back with her shockrod and kept going, stepping over her crumpled body as she crashed into the next room. It was empty, but she heard someone in the loft overhead. She took a second grenade, counted down the seconds after removing the pin, then threw it into the loft. Something - someone - hit the ground hard as the stun pulse jangled their nerves. Angeline felt a faint glimmer of sympathy as she scrambled up the ladder. She’d experienced stun grenades during basic training. Even knowing what to expect, they’d still been terrifying.
She reached the top and looked around. The loft was little more than an incomplete room. There was no proper flooring, beyond a pair of wooden planks that had been laid on top of the wooden rafters. The suspect lay on a rafter, on the verge of slipping off and probably crashing through the roof. Angeline zapped him with her shockrod, just to be sure he was helpless, then dragged him back to the hatch. Her comrades were forming up around the ladder, ready for the suspect. She shoved him down, then glanced around the loft one final time. There was nowhere to hide much of anything.
“Clear,” she said. “The rest?”
“All five rooms have been cleared,” Private Jones assured her. He was an aristocrat, just like her; an aristocrat who didn’t seem to know what to make of her. “Seven prisoners in all, stunned and bound.”
Angeline nodded as she scrambled down the ladder. She didn’t know where Lord Ludlow had found the volunteer prisoners and she didn’t much care, although she hoped they were being paid well for their services. It wasn’t easy playing the OPFOR, even if you were allowed to fight back. From what she’d been told, the prisoners were meant to be taken by complete surprise. They hadn’t known when the attack was coming, or what form it might take, or anything else they could use to plan a response. Their first warning would have come when the squad had inched up to the croft, then burst inside.
“Get the prisoners onto the lorry, then search the croft from top to bottom,” she ordered, curtly. “And make absolutely sure you don’t miss anything.”
She gritted her teeth. Physical exercise and basic combat training was all very well and good - they’d spent the last two months running through an ever-expanding set of drills - but they had their limits. They were meant to be more than just soldiers, even if they were armed to the teeth and becoming increasingly proficient in everything from unarmed combat to heavy weapons. She hadn’t realised just how serious Lord Ludlow - and his mystery allies - were about the whole affair until she’d discovered he had over five hundred men involved in his little plan. She honestly didn’t know how he managed to draft them without setting off alarm bells all over the island. Even for the aristocracy, it would be difficult to hide so many men from the government.
And the Prime Minister doesn’t know anything about this, she reflected. How does Lord Ludlow keep his army off the books?
She put the thought aside as the prisoners - five men, two women - were roughly searched, then carried to the lorry. They were in no state to walk, let alone fight, but the troops took no chances. The prisoners were shackled, then blindfolded. They wouldn’t have the slightest idea where they were going, nor even the faintest chance to escape. It would be a good exercise, she supposed, to hunt an escaped prisoner in the woods, but to do that properly they’d need someone who could give them a run for their money. She made a mental note to look for someone later, when the exercise came to an end. It was just something else they’d have to put together on the fly.
Jones sidled up to her as the lorry rumbled away. “You want to go for a drink afterwards?”
“You want me to cut off your cock?” Angeline found it hard to keep her temper under control. “Or put a knife though the brain you don’t have?”
She glared at Jones until he hurried away, then scowled. It hadn’t been easy being a woman in basic training, not after spending most of her life as a princess on a plantation, but at least the DIs had cracked down hard on any suggestion of sexual harassment. Here ... she cursed under her breath. Six months ago, Jones - the youngest scion of a high-ranked family - would have seemed an ideal husband, someone who could propel her family to the very highest ranks even if he brought nothing else to the match. Now ... the thought of touching anyone, anyone at all, was revolting. She wondered, sourly, just how much of her story he knew. In her experience, younger sons were so entitled they couldn’t be bothered paying attention to anyone, other than themselves.
Sure, her thoughts mocked. And some of them are so lazy they marry pregnant women.
The thought haunted her for the rest of the day, as the squad swept the croft from top to bottom, then made its way back to barracks to complete the exercise. Angeline breathed a sigh of relief as she checked the evaluation, noting the squad had taken all the prisoners and found everything concealed within the croft. Lord Ludlow had brought in a pair of police officers to demonstrate where illegal goods might be hidden, although Angeline feared they were nowhere near as capable as they claimed. God knew, the illicit weapons and supplies on the plantation had never been found, despite regular searches, until the uprising had begun. Her stomach churned in hatred. The searches had been carried out by trusted servants, people who’d been so close to their masters they’d practically been treated as family. And look how they’d repaid their benefactors.
A servant caught her eye as she left the barracks. “My Lady, His Lordship would like to see you in his office.”
“Thank you,” Angeline said, concealing her annoyance. She wanted something to eat, then a few short hours of sleep before going back to work the following day. But there was no point in arguing. “I’ll be along in a moment.”
The maid curtseyed, then departed. Angeline eyed the girl sourly as she turned away. Was she trustworthy? Or was she reporting back to the Prime Minister or General Windsor or someone - anyone - who might object to the aristocracy building an army of its own? There was no way to know. Lord Ludlow had assured her his family retainers were all trustworthy, but Angeline’s father had said the same and look what had happened to him! She’d seen the photographs of his body, so heavily mutilated it had barely been recognisable. She hoped Lord Ludlow was canny enough to watch his back.
Her blood ran cold as she made her way into the hunting lodge. She’d never realised how close her servants had been to her, from birth to the uprising, until it had been turned against her. They’d been part of the furniture, always there ... lurking on the edge of her awareness even during her most private moments. She’d had a nanny, then a governess, then ... she swallowed hard, remembering how the governess had used to dress her, as if she’d been incapable of doing it for herself. The old woman’s fingers had touched her neck ... she could have killed Angeline effortlessly, if she’d wished. And then ...
Angeline caught herself, taking a moment to centre her thoughts before knocking on the office door. Lord Ludlow came and went as he pleased, leaving the hunting lodge and training centre in the hands of his trusted staff. Angeline knew he was a busy man, and had long since mastered the skill of delegating, but it was still irritating. She would have preferred to know when he was coming, if he wasn’t a constant presence on the training field. How could he know what he was building if he wasn’t watching it take shape? And ... would he understand, deep inside, what his army could do?
“Come!”
She pushed the door open, feeling a hint of the old apprehension. She looked unrecognisable. If her mother had seen her, she wouldn’t have known her ... Angeline wished, suddenly, that her mother had lived, even if it meant putting up with her disapproval. And yet, would her mother have wanted to live? Her husband was dead, her plantation was gone, her children dead or unmarriageable ... she shook her head, banishing the thought sharply. She couldn’t bring the dead back to life. She could only avenge them.
Lord Ludlow looked up, then stood. “Angeline,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for inviting me,” Angeline said. She knew she hadn’t really had a choice, even if her etiquette lessons insisted she had to pretend otherwise. “It’s been a busy week.”
“And not just for you,” Lord Ludlow said. “Have you been following the news from the front?”
“When I’ve had time, yes,” Angeline said. Lord Ludlow had forwarded reports to her and his other trusted staff, but she hadn’t had time to do more than skim the documents for anything that stood out. “The invasion appears to be going slowly.”
“It may have bogged down,” Lord Ludlow said. “General Windsor landed a formidable force, but the rebels denied him a harbour and its proving hard to ship reinforcements to the islands. My contacts suspect the general is deliberately prolonging the war.”
Angeline blinked in surprise. “My Lord?”
“The general is an offworlder,” Lord Ludlow said, as if he was speaking more to himself than to her. “He has no power base of his own, not here. Even Collier” - he spoke the name as though it was a vile obscenity - “has a greater power base, one he can use to secure and expand his position. General Windsor may find it convenient to keep the war going, allowing him to put his loyalists in positions of power and eventually take over.”
He cocked his head. “What do you make of it?”
“The general and I are not friends,” Angeline said. The only time she’d spoken to the general had been after she’d shot the rebel traitors, after he and his cronies had made sure she’d face a court-martial and probable execution. The injustice still burned. She was quite prepared to believe the worst of him. “I believe he would prefer to end the war as quickly as possible, but ...”
She frowned. General Windsor was an offworlder, one who wouldn’t have risen so far if there hadn’t been a full-scale war underway. It was easy to believe he might want to prolong the war. She had wondered, when she’d joined her old squad, if she’d be able to go back to being nothing more than a plantation princess. Could General Windsor feel the same way too? She wasn’t sure what he’d been doing, before the insurrection turned into outright war, but he sure as hell hadn’t been a general. He was barely older than she was!
“It might be true,” she said, carefully. She’d known quite a few young men whose grand plans bore about as much resemblance to reality as rebel propaganda. “He certainly seems reluctant to close with the enemy.”
Her thoughts churned. The invasion of Mountebank had been planned to proceed as quickly as possible, yet it had stalled. General Windsor had been unwilling to throw his men into a meatgrinder, or simply bombard the rebel lines into submission. A sensible concern for his men, she asked herself, or a reluctance to win the war too quickly? It was hard to be sure. In her experience, rebels were cowards. They never stood and fought when the odds were even, let alone tilted against them. General Windsor might have chosen to preserve his men so he could keep his eye on an even greater prize.
She scowled, her expression darkening. It was possible. The Empire was gone. No one would come to their aid, if there was a military coup. Hell, certain townie politicians might even welcome a coup. Collier and his allies had to know they’d never be allowed to go too far, not to the point they might secure real power for themselves. A military coup, led by an offworld general and backed by local political figures ... he might just get away with it. He’d certainly refused to act quickly, when the rebels were on the ropes.
“Right now, the general is requesting we ship more troops to Winchester,” Lord Ludlow informed her. “The alpha units will probably be dispatched within the week, followed by the beta and delta units once they have finished working up. General Windsor may also be drawing down the troops on Mountebank, as they’re no longer needed on the island. It doesn’t bode well.”
“No, My Lord,” Angeline agreed, shortly. She’d kept an eye on the progress of that particular campaign, in hopes of seeing something that would prove she’d done the right thing. “Mountebank City has not surrendered.”
“No.” Lord Ludlow looked pensive. “We may have underestimated their ability to feed themselves.”
Angeline took a breath. “What do you intend to do, My Lord?”
Lord Ludlow studied her for a long cold moment. “My allies and I have discussed our options carefully,” he said. “We cannot rely on the Prime Minister to restrain either General Windsor or the townies. Poor William has been losing his grip on his power base, which weakens his ability to steer the planet’s course, while his daughter seems besotted with the general. She has been quite ... protective ... of her grip on him.”
“She may have been asked to get close to him,” Angeline said. She’d never done it herself, but she’d heard stories of young girls who’d been asked to get close to prospective allies, even at the cost of their maidenheads. Sandra would be in some trouble if General Windsor left the planet, no matter the how and why of their relationship. It would be difficult for her to marry well if she’d been in a relationship that couldn’t be denied. “Or he might have courted her instead.”
“Being an offworlder, he could hardly be expected to know the proper way to do things,” Lord Ludlow said, stiffly. His face darkened, his thoughts clearly heading towards unpleasant conclusions. “Of course, it raises another problem. Does William think he can ally with the townies, or the general, against us?”
Angeline frowned. It smacked of paranoia. And yet, she had to admit it was possible. She found it hard to imagine Sandra Oakley getting so close to an offworlder without her father’s consent, not when the relationship could destroy her reputation and weaken her family’s position in the marriage market. She’d only met the Prime Minister once and he hadn’t struck her as a strong man, hardly the sort of person fit to lead a war. She wondered, suddenly, if Sandra was the brains of the whole affair. She might be quietly manipulating her father behind the scenes.
“I don’t know, My Lord,” she said, finally. She’d never met Sandra. The Prime Minister’s daughter hadn’t even tried to welcome her, when she’d been shipped to Kingston. It wasn’t really a surprise - they were from different islands - but it still grated. “I’m not close to the PM either.”
Lord Ludlow smiled, humourlessly. “We have been putting the pieces in place for the last few weeks,” he said. “Tell me, is your force ready to fight?”
“We’ve completed the basics,” Angeline said. “It helped that some of the newcomers already had military training, either from the army or the militia. We should be able to carry out the handful of missions we discussed, although we won’t know until we actually try. Once we go public, we can recruit more openly ... but that’ll risk diluting our effectiveness until we get the new recruits trained up too.”
“There’s a limit to how many people we can report dead,” Lord Ludlow commented. “The rebels have helped us a little, by sinking transports, but if someone carries out a full audit the deception will be immediately obvious. Thankfully, we can fiddle the figures to some extent shortly before we put the plan into operation ...”
He shook his head. “We need to start tightening up the plan now,” he added. “When the time comes, we’ll need to move fast.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Angeline said. She couldn’t keep a hint of tired waspishness out of her tone, even though it could be dangerous. Her father would certainly have been unamused. “It would help if you told me what you want us to do.”
“Would it?” Lord Ludlow met her eyes. She saw a challenge within his dark gaze. “Do you not know?”
“You never told me,” Angeline said. She had some guesses, very good guesses, but her life had taught her it was dangerous to let people know how smart she was. Lord Ludlow might have saved her life, and he was committing treason as well as numerous lesser crimes, yet she couldn’t let go of her old habits. “What do you want us to do?”
Lord Ludlow met her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?” She couldn’t tell if he truly believed she didn't know or if he was merely humouring her. “In order to prevent a coup, we’re going to strike first.”
After a long pause, he went on. “We’re going to mount a coup of our own.”