Mapps watched as his platoon worked through their daily training routine. He was the leader of the Shoat Personal Imperial Guards and ensured his troops were in top fighting condition. Many considered the PIGs to be a ceremonial and mostly redundant position but they were wrong.

  He understood intimately that if there was ever an incident and the Emperor was injured or worse, killed, they would be dismissed. Dismissal wouldn’t be just the loss of a job. It would probably lead to the loss of his home planet.

  Hunting Tours Incorporated had never forgiven them for the impressive diplomatic move which traded freedom of his home for the continual supply of the best warriors of Shoat as the Emperor’s security forces. Classified as ‘Off Limits’ meant no hunts or exploitation. His people would be able to develop at their own pace to join the Federation.

  “Move!” Mapps shouted at his troops as they lagged slightly behind his planned timing. They were ‘his’ troops not just because he was the Captain of the Guard. They were family. Each platoon was sourced from individual clans which competed for the right to protect their planet by defending the Emperor.

  “Muffin! You volunteered for this. Keep up!” He encouraged his young nephew. The guard was a multi generational group, each member signing up for a twenty year term before retiring back home to start a family of their own. Muffin was currently the youngest recruit so was naturally given the toughest jobs to bring him up to standard as soon as possible.

  “Sir!” shouted Sergeant Simms as loud as he always spoke, “A message from Lord De’ath!”

  Sergeant Simms handed over a small message tablet to Captain Mapps who calmly pressed his thick fingers over the security square on the tablet. “I wonder what is so urgent we require a tablet?” he mused idly before he stood still.

  He turned to the sergeant and asked quietly, “Simms, what do you know about Dirt?”

  Sergeant Simms looked over the training ground and yelled to the training troops, “You lot are hopeless. But you’re my kind of hopeless. Enough for now. Back to barracks and clean up! Go!”

  In a few moments the grounds were clear and he clasped his thickly muscled arms behind him as he walked beside the captain.

  “Sir, Dirt is the latest Hunter Planet. All the news is trumpeting how exiting it is. That Sir Nitwit has been down and is grandstanding over how he had an excellent time.”

  Captain Mapps waited calmly. He knew the sergeant had a very interesting range of contacts at all levels. Mapps did not enquire about details. It was safer that way.

  Simms continued, “I had a little personal chat with Solcrend, the Imperial Guard who led the security team for Sir Nitram. Sadly, Solcrend lost his position since the hunt. He was made the fall guy. He said it was pretty dangerous on Dirt. The Dirtlings have a variety of military skills and tenacity and took out four of his troopers with relatively primitive weapons.”

  “Interesting,” said Captain Mapps, stopping to think.

  “Why the question, Sir?” Simms asked.

  Captain Mapps looked at Simms with a sideways glance, “We’re the security team for the Emperor. Apparently he wants to go on a little hunt.”

  Sergeant Simms looked at his Captain as both their faces hardened.

  Sergeant Simms turned around and bellowed towards the barracks, “Oy! You lazy lot have had enough of a lounge about! Now we start training. HARD!”

  ****

  Lord De’ath, the Imperial Defence Minister, stood proudly next to the High Chancellor, Lord Gubbins, outside the door to the Emperor’s rooms.

  “Do you really think this is a wise idea?” he asked.

  Lord Gubbins smiled confidently, “Yes, of course I do. The Emperor wants to go on a hunt. He has seen the Tri-D programs like we all have. Dirt looks pretty exciting, does it not?”

  “Have you ever been hunting?” asked Lord De’ath.

  “No. Of course not. Always been far too busy.” replied Lord Gubbins.

  “Your son, Sir Nitram, went on his little hunt on Dirt didn’t he?” asked Lord De’ath, “How did that go?”

  “I am sure you have read the same reports I have,” said Lord Gubbins, “He came through easily and is telling everyone about his exciting time.”

  “Hmmm,” said Lord De’ath, “I also see he neglects to mention the death of four out of seven of his Imperial Guards. They died keeping him safe.”

  “What the Emperor wants, the Emperor gets,” said Lord Gubbins firmly, “Our job is to ensure it happens.”

  “Safely,” added Lord De’ath.

  “Yes, yes,” replied Lord Gubbins, “Of course safely. I assume thirty of his Personal Imperial Guard should do the job. Hmmm?”

  “I was thinking,” pondered Lord De’ath, “What about a Portable Energy Shield? Just to be sure.”

  Lord Gubbins considered. Energy Shields were used by all Imperial warships. They required massive power but stopped all power blasts and fast moving projectiles. This amazing technological innovation is what allowed the Federation to unify the many planets into one central government. Peace through superior firepower worked very well, especially when the opponents couldn’t fire back.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  The only shortfall was the barrier worked both ways. The warship couldn’t fire out while the shield was up. This meant the shield was linked to the firing computers to drop sections of the shield every time the warship fired.

  This was a bit messy, but as the enemy didn’t know when the warship would fire they weren’t able to exploit the brief openings. Besides, the Federation of Planets had not seen much action since the old wars of reunification, so such concerns were irrelevant to modern warfare studies.

  There had been research to create personal energy shields but the power requirements were a challenge. The best they could do, and what was now the acceptable solution ,was to use a powerful small generator to energize the shield. This meant a mid size vehicle was a minimum requirement.

  A short time later Lords De’ath and Gubbins were back outside the Emperor’s rooms.

  “Well, that is going to be a challenge,” said an exasperated Lord De’ath.

  “What the Emperor wants,” began Lord Gubbins.

  “The Emperor gets!” completed Lord De’ath.

  “But he wants to walk?” sighed Lord De’ath.

  ****

  Captain Mapps opened the latest message tablet handed to him by Sergeant Simms. The platoon had been training very hard.

  Sergeant Simms had experience fighting some of the huge local wildlife on Shoat. Giant lizards called Thonts were three or four times the size of a typical Shoat. They still controlled parts of the planet and there were regular culling programs to keep the numbers manageable. If he could train the guards to handle Thonts they could handle anything.

  “Simms,” said Captain Mapps, after reading the new message, “You always like a challenge, don’t you?”

  “That was rhetorical, wasn’t it Sir?” said Sergeant Simms.

  “That’s a big word from you Simms,” asked a curious Captain Mapps.

  “Word of the day, Sir,” answered Sergeant Simms, “And you’ve used up today’s.”

  Mapps laughed with a rough deep chuckle. He then said, “The Emperor will have a PES.”

  “Excellent idea, Sir!” said Simms happily, “What vehicle can we equip for the Emperor?”

  Mapps said evenly, “The Emperor wishes to walk.”

  After a brief pause, Simms said, “Ah. The challenge. Let me see what I can do.”

  The sergeant walked off muttering not quite under his breath, “Challenges! I hate challenges.”

  ****

  Captain Mapps heard odd sounds in the training ground outside so stepped out to investigate. He was surprised to see Muffin, his nephew and youngest recruit pushing a huge generator mounted on a small wheeled contraption.

  Sergeant Simms was in a hover chair just in front of him providing suitable encouragement, “Keep up I’m telling you! You have to match my pace! Too fast and I’ll be on top of you. Too slow and I’ll bump my head. And you don’t want that! Do you?”

  “No Sergeant!” yelled Muffins pushing the heavy generator.

  The sergeant saw Captain Mapps and yelled, “Halt!”

  Muffins stoped and caught his breath. The generator was heavy.

  “Sergeant,” said Captain Mapps, “Is this your answer to the challenge?”

  “Muffins here is the youngest, but also one of our strongest guards. So I’m training him to push the generator,” Simms said proudly.

  “Hmmm. I think that would work,” said Captain Mapps, “But how do you ensure the hover chair doesn’t go too fast or slow?”

  Simms held up a remote control unit, “To save the Emperor all the bother and hassle of controlling the hover chair, I will control it wth this. The shield is big enough to protect the Emperor and poor Muffins here. If he keeps up!”

  “I guess the generator is too heavy for a hover trolley?” asked the Captain.

  “You have guessed correctly, Sir,” answered Sergeant Simms.

  “ Good job, Simms,” said the Captain, “Please pop in and see me when you have finished your training.”

  The Captain went back to his office to await the Sergeant. Captain Mapps’ sister would be happy her son would be the best protected member of his platoon!

  A short while later Sergeant Simms sat in the chair opposite the Captain.

  “Have you found out anything else about Dirt?” asked Captain Mapps.

  “It’s very odd,” started the Sergeant, “There is a lot of direct information being blocked. If I relied on the official channels I would have nothing to add. But us Sergeants have our own informal network. Solcrend tells me there is a special Hunter Safety Team for Dirt.”

  “I have heard of them,” said Captain Mapps, “They even have their own channel on FedNet. I doubt it’s official, or even if the HST knows anything about it, but it’s pretty interesting.”

  “Yep, that’s them,” said Simms, “It’s led by a fellow called Harrick. He hired an old retired sergeant called Hendon who I have had professional dealings with over the years. If Hendon is working for Harrick, he must be the real deal.”

  “What about them?” Said Captain Simms.

  “We will want to talk to them as soon as we can. They have been doing an amazing job rescuing hunters that have gotten into trouble on Dirt.”

  “How much trouble can they get to on a Non Compatible world, Simms?” asked the Captain.

  Simms looked hard at the Captain and said sternly, “They want to classify Shoat as Non Compatible.”

  The Captain gulped slowly, “Are the Dirtlings fighting back?”

  “And doing pretty well as far as I can see,” said Simms.

  “And we are going down with the Emperor who thinks everyone loves him while he tries to hunt them!” said Mapps.

  “Are you training our guards hard enough?”

  ****

  “Sir,” said Hendon as he caught Harrick on his own after a relatively straight forward rescue.

  “Yes, Hendon?”

  “An old sergeant I know in the PIGs got in touch with me,” Hendon said.

  “Do you know a PIG?” asked Harrick trying to imagine the lithe and wiry Hendon next to a massive Shoat.

  “We’re both professionals. The rest is irrelevant.” he replied.

  “Fair enough,” said Harrick, “What news does he bring?”

  Hendon said “As soon as we are on the ‘Emperor 1’ we need to get together with his captain. They want whatever intelligence we can give them before they go down.”

  “Excellent. Maybe the Emperor’s hunt won’t be a complete disaster.” mused Harrick.

  He then caught the look Hendon gave him, “Sorry. I really shouldn’t tempt fate like that.”

  “Clinton!” Harrick called and waited a moment until Clinton ran down the corridor and met them.

  “Yes, Sir!” said Clinton as he gathered his breath.

  “Excellent enthusiasm!” said Harrick, “I have a job for you.”

  Clinton took out his note tablet. The lad always had his gear ready.

  “We’re going to give a private briefing covering the situation on Dirt to the PIGs that will be accompanying the Emperor. It’s a matter of professional courtesy. Besides, Hendon trusts them which is good enough for me.” said Harrick.

  “Everything, Sir?” asked Clinton, “Even the part where we observed the destruction of the Dirtling space station?”

  “No, not that bit,” said Harrick.

  “What about meeting X Bear?” asked Clinton.

  “No. Not that bit either. Just the bits relevant for them defending the Emperor on his hunt on Dirt.” sighed Harrick. They really had been skirting some imaginary lines.

  “Do you think you could get that to Hendon’s sergeant friend?” asked Harrick.

  Hendon said, “I’ll handle that. Special sergeant networks and all that.”

  “Very good,” said Harrick, glad he could do something to help the Emperor’s security forces.