The Thin Blue Line (The Empire's Corps Book 9) (v5.1) (11 page)

The assistant looked as if she wanted to argue further, but clearly thought better of it. Glen wondered what she was thinking, then decided it didn't matter. Maybe she could make a complaint against him – it was a common tactic for kids who had parents who were unwilling to let them run rampant – but it wouldn't get her very far. Helen wasn't Glen’s daughter, after all, and he had no obligation to do
anything
for her.

“Wrap the remainder up, then charge them to my card,” he said. He turned to face Helen as the assistant leapt to obey. “Did you chose several practical outfits?”

“You saw them,” Helen said. She pointed to two outfits that resembled loose shipsuits. “I can wear those anywhere.”

“But they’ll look so basic, so
cheap
,” the assistant said. “She has to look fashionable.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Glen said. He didn't follow fashion, but there was something wrong about a society that thought young girls should walk around nearly naked. Besides, Helen wouldn’t be going outside his apartment, at least until Patty made a final decision about her future. She certainly wouldn't be going to any clubs or schools – and besides, she didn't know anyone on Terra Nova besides Glen himself. “Now, bag them up and we can go back home.”

As soon as they were out of the shop, Helen gave him a sudden hug.

“She just kept insisting I take more and more,” she said, softly. “I thought you were going to be mad. My parents would have been furious if I’d brought so much back to the ship.”

“I wouldn't blame them,” Glen said. He looked down at the bags, then smiled. “She’s paid a commission for every outfit she sells, I think. Don’t let her bully you into buying anything you don’t want.”

Helen looked upset. “But she kept saying I would
have
to wear stuff if I didn't want to look like an outsider.”

Glen winced. It was perfectly true that wearing the wrong clothes could mark someone as an outcast, certainly in the more unpleasant schools on Terra Nova. He’d arrested too many kids trying to steal clothes their parents couldn't or wouldn't buy for them, just because they were bullied if they didn't wear the right clothes. But when they did, their clothes were often stolen by the school bullies. It just wasn't fair.

“I think you should always ask yourself
why
you’re being told something,” he said, dryly. “I think she wanted you to buy as much as possible, so she would hardly try to talk you out of buying lots of crap.”

Helen giggled.

On impulse, Glen took her to the nearest entertainment shop, found her a datachip and allowed her to purchase a number of movies and flicks for her to watch while he was at work. Helen seemed more interested in movies meant for older teens, he noted, rather than anything intended specifically for children ... although there were times when the lines were hard to determine. As an afterthought, he bought her a few days worth of access to the online gaming network, then added a handful of educational programs. There had been no time to assess just where she was, academically, but he was pretty sure she’d be ahead of planet-side students in the same age group.

“Thank you,” Helen said, when they were done. “But how will I ever repay you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Glen said, again. He could ask Patty for compensation, if he kept receipts and submitted them to her, or he could simply pay himself. “It’s not as if I have much else to spend money on, these days.”

He took her to a small eatery and bought her a buffet lunch, then watched with some amusement as she tasted everything on the menu. Glen had never been really impressed with buffets – they were often heavily flavoured to disguise the fact the cooks used very poor meat – but Helen seemed to like it. And she ate enough to ensure she would start to recover from her imprisonment.

“We’d better go home,” he said, once she’d stuffed herself. “And you can watch your new shows, if you like.”

“Thank you,” Helen said, rising. “And what will you do?”

“My work is never done,” Glen said. Actually, he’d reached the limits of what he could do without returning to the office. All he could do now was watch the progress of the investigation from a distance and make suggestions. “Or I could watch with you.”

“Please,” Helen said.

After a moment, Glen nodded.

This is not an easy task. Many of the examples I outlined above consist of flawed humanity responding to problems they faced at the time, which then became enshrined in law. The legal hatred of homosexuality might well date from a time when breeders were of vital importance and, thus, homosexuality could not be tolerated.

- Professor Leo Caesius.
The Decline of Law and Order and the Rise of Anarchy.

“This is your room,” the hotel bellhop said. “I trust it is to your liking?”

Belinda peered past him into the small room. It was simpler than she’d expected, with a large bed, a small table and a small washroom, complete with shower and wash basin. The room wasn't really big enough for more than one or two people, but she’d had worse. She’d had to share a barracks with nine men back when she’d been a Rifleman, years ago. Compared to that, the hotel room was almost luxurious.

“It is satisfactory,” she said, flatly. She turned to look at the bellhop, absently noting how he tried hard not to look at her chest. “Do you offer room service?”

“The menu is in the desk,” the bellhop said. He gave her a smile that was probably intended to be seductive, but he wasn't old enough to pull it off. “My name is James, My Lady. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”

Belinda smiled back, then strode into the room and placed her bag on the desk. She’d once spent a week working in a hotel along the Rim and it was astonishing what some guests asked for – and got, if they paid enough money. James might just get lucky with an older female guest, if she wanted some company for the night. His superiors would turn a blind eye as long as his duties were completed to their satisfaction. But she knew he wouldn't be getting lucky with her.

“Thank you,” she said, instead. “And goodbye.”

He closed the door, which clicked to indicate it was locked. Belinda wasn't impressed. If she couldn't pick the lock with a hairpin, or a standard terminal rigged to serve as a hacker system, she would be very disappointed in herself. The door wasn't
meant
to be completely secure, anyway. All it was meant to do was deter thieves who had slipped past the guards on the ground floor and made their way up to the guestrooms.

She opened her bag, then carefully checked the room for bugs. There were two, an audio pickup hidden within the light over her back and a visual pickup in the doorframe, ready to record pictures of her undressing. She wasn't unduly surprised; these days, there was no real expectation of privacy anywhere, unless one paid enough money to guarantee it. The recordings could be accessed by local law enforcement, if they requested them, or anyone else, if they supplied a sufficient bribe. She studied the location of the bug for a long moment, then carefully plotted out ways to block its vision if necessary. For the moment, she would just have to endure knowing that the hotel staff could peek in on her whenever they felt like it.

Idiots
, she thought, as she unpacked her bag, then lay down on the bed. A quick check revealed that the hotel was using a very basic datanet monitoring system, intended to record everything the guests did online. There was no warning notice barring them from any particular parts of the datanet, she noted, which struck her as ominous. It seemed the hotel either didn't care to make legal warnings or threats ... or that the staff were watching for opportunities to blackmail their guests, later. Somehow, she wasn't too surprised.

She opened her implants and activated a handful of hacking programs designed by the finest WebHeads in the Marine Corps. The hotel’s system barely even spluttered as she inserted her commands into the system, then took over, ordering it to ignore everything she did through the network. A handful of minor changes would make it harder for anyone to zero in on her particular access, although she knew there were limits to how far she could go without being caught. It wouldn't be hard for investigators to deduce the use of a neural link and a simple scan of her brain would reveal the link – and much more besides.

Closing her eyes, she drew on the vast tidal wave of data and started to try to search for additional pieces of information. But there was very little, beyond censored news bulletins and reassuring broadcasts from the government that didn't seem very reassuring at all. There was no barrier to accessing the entertainment networks – pop-ups in her head invited her to download the latest pornographic videos, or view endless bland crap from Earth before the Fall – but there was very little hard data on the datanet. Even the omnipresent datanet forums seemed to have been closed down.

They’re trying to make it harder for panic to spread
, she thought. It
was
standard procedure if the shit was threatening to hit the fan, but she couldn't help thinking that it was a mistake. Rumours would spread faster than anyone realised, rumours which would be impossible to counter before they had already reached far too many people.
But the people can still talk face-to-face, spreading the word from person to person
.

She poked through the datanet, looking for the links she knew had to exist, the links that would allow her to access the government’s datanet. But, no matter how she tried, she couldn't break into the network through her implants. The system looked to have been altered to the point where standard access codes, even hacker tools, wouldn't work properly. It was an impressive achievement, she had to admit, but it was also worrying. What was the government trying to hide?

Opening her eyes, she undressed and climbed into the shower, careful to keep the links to the datanet open. If she couldn’t get into the government’s files, she could pull more out of the civilian datanet than they might have realised, including the names and details of government officials. But there were just too many for her to process properly, she realised, numbly. The Governor seemed to be assembling his own private army. Everyone with military experience was being called up to serve at the Governor’s pleasure. Was it a sensible precaution in the face of chaos, she asked herself, or a sign of something more sinister?

And there was nothing on the planned conference at all.

Belinda finished washing herself, then strode back into the main room, disconnecting the links. There was no point in trying to hack the system further, not now. She would need to be in close proximity to a government-owned node without access codes of her own, she suspected, and she’d have to
find
a node first. It would be tricky, unless she got very lucky; she knew, all too well, that most such nodes were concealed within military bases. But there were other ways to get access to government codes.

She dressed – a shirt that was just tight enough to draw attention to her breasts and a skirt that hung down to her knees – and then picked up the information brochure the hotel had supplied for its guests. One page detailed all the various pubs and nightclubs around the centre of Landing City, including one that largely catered to government employees having a drink after a hard day at work. Belinda rather doubted they knew what a hard day really was – she’d spent weeks on campaign before she’d submitted her name for Pathfinder Selection – but it hardly mattered. The pub would be a good place to start trolling for potential sources.

Picking up a small handbag, she carefully noted where she’d left everything and then walked out the door, taking care to lock it behind her. It was possible that
someone
would search her bags while she was out, although she had nothing to hide. She walked down to the elevator, then rode down to the ground floor and made her way out onto the streets, aware of eyes following her as she left the building. She’d dressed, after all, to attract attention.

Night was slowly falling over Landing City as she walked towards the pub, but despite the threat of the imminent curfew people were thronging around, eating, drinking and trying to enjoy themselves. And yet, Belinda could sense a tension in the air that reminded her of countless worlds about to undergo a massive social upheaval. The population wouldn't be partying so hard if they hadn't been trying to convince themselves that everything was normal. Most of the younger people – including some barely entering their teens – had eyes that revealed their desperation. They knew, even if they didn't want to admit it to themselves, that their time was running out.

She sucked in her breath as she saw the pub. It was larger than she’d expected, with hundreds of men and women inside, drinking beer and chatting to their friends and workmates. They had the same attitude as the people outside, she noted, but there was a nastier edge to it, one that worried her more than she cared to admit. These people were prepared to be nasty because they still had jobs, yet they were also unwillingly aware that they could lose their jobs very quickly. The world had turned upside down.

Switching her audio-discrimination programs into primary mode, she scanned the crowds for a likely target. Seduction had been one of the classes for Pathfinders – it wasn't part of the normal Slaughterhouse training – but it had also been largely intuitive. There were men who would think it was normal to have a beautiful woman chatting them up and men who would find it instantly suspicious. The trick, she’d been taught, was deducing the method most likely to work for one’s prey and using it ruthlessly. It was only five minutes before she spotted a suitable candidate sitting at the edge of the room.

A wallflower
, she thought, as she made her way towards him without being obvious about it. He was in his early thirties, if she guessed right, but he had a haggard expression on his face that made him look older. It was obvious he wanted to join in the conversation, in the mindless drinking and women-chasing his peers engaged in after work, but it was also clear that he simply didn't have the nerve. Belinda concealed her amusement as she sat down facing him. Unless she was completely wrong, this was going to be easy.