The Thin Blue Line (The Empire's Corps Book 9) (v5.1) (3 page)

... And there were no traces of any living beings, none at all.

Alarm bells rang in her mind as she started to run. The mission was simple enough, which meant, in her experience, that there was a nasty sting in the tail. All she had to do was get from one end of the city to the other, without allowing anything to impede her path. She’d run countless such missions before, when she’d been nothing more than a Marine Rifleman, but then she’d been surrounded by the rest of the company. Now, she was alone.

Her enhanced senses, such as they were, probed the darkness as she ran faster, keeping to the shadows as best as she could. If someone was setting an ambush ahead of her, she was reasonably sure she could hear them lying in wait before they realised she was there, unless they knew what she was. Or they were just being paranoid. Even the most enhanced humanoids known to exist couldn't hear something if it wasn't making a sound, even breathing. Belinda had set enough ambushes in her time to know how the ambushers were thinking. They’d try to lure her into a killing zone and do whatever it took to stop her.

She darted down an alleyway, then out into the next street, ducking into the shadows long enough to scan for anything out of place. The soulless buildings seemed to mock her, casting dark shadows that were almost completely shrouded, even to her enhanced senses. She hesitated, then ran onwards, trying to keep the sound of her footsteps to the bare minimum. And yet, she knew she was making noise, too much noise. If someone was lying in wait ...

I should have asked for more time
, she thought, as she entered another alleyway and jumped over a set of garbage cans.
Enough time to run around the city, rather than through the buildings ...

A sound caught her attention and she froze, listening carefully. It sounded like someone was crying, very softly, and trying not to be heard. Belinda turned, using her enhanced senses to triangulate the source of the sound, then crept forward. It was coming from a nearby alleyway ...

It’s a trap
, part of her mind yammered. The rest of her told that part of her mind to shut up. She couldn't leave someone in pain, all alone in the dark, not if she wanted to live up to the Marine ideal. And besides, she knew – all too well – what it was like to be alone. She peered into the alleyway and frowned as she saw the girl lying on the ground, her arms and legs akimbo. Belinda’s eyes narrowed as she moved closer. She’d seen too many horrors wrought by mankind on its fellows, but this was odd. There had been no sign that anyone lived within the city ...

A sudden motion flickered behind her. Belinda ducked instinctively as something flashed overhead, through where her head had been seconds ago, then swung around to see a gangbanger standing there. She didn’t hesitate. Before he could take another swing at her, she lashed out herself and slammed a punch into his chest. She felt his bones breaking under the impact, but he staggered forward, his arms flailing rapidly. Belinda darted back, then watched dispassionately as he fell to the ground. And then she sensed the others shimmering into view.

Personal cloaks
? She thought, surprised.
Where did a bunch of gangsters get their hands on personnel cloaking devices?

There was no time to consider the mystery, not when she was surrounded by at least five gangsters. None of them seemed to be carrying projectile weapons, which surprised her, but they all moved as if they had some degree of martial arts training. Belinda considered trying to negotiate, then dismissed the thought impatiently. Falling into their hands would be a fate worse than death, even if they merely took her captive and traded her to their backers for additional weapons and supplies. And besides, she had no intention of surrendering – ever.

The first gangbanger lunged forward. Belinda triggered her enhancements, then leapt up and over his head. He didn't seem surprised as she landed behind him and started to run, rather than stopping to fight. Instead, he barked a command and three of his men started to follow her, back out onto the street. Belinda ran faster, calling on her enhancements, then swore mentally as she realised they were keeping up with her. It should have been impossible ...

And then one of them threw himself forward and slammed into her back.

Belinda fell, twisting around to land on her back and bring her legs up to kick out at her captor. Her boot caught him in the head, which snapped backwards with a satisfying cracking sound. There was no time to be pleased with her success. Belinda jumped back to her feet as the other gangsters advanced towards her, their hands suddenly sprouting a mixture of knives, clubs and steel bars. Belinda smiled, feeling truly alive for the first time in far too long, then allowed them to close before she started to fight with enhanced strength and determination. Two of the gangsters fell before her fists, then the leader slammed
something
into her back. There was a sudden shock that send her falling to her knees, as if she’d been struck with an weakened stun beam.

A neural whip
, the analytical part of her mind pointed out.
You’ve had your nerves jangled
...

She gritted her teeth and started to force herself to her feet, but it was too late. One of the gangbangers caught her arms and yanked her back to the ground, while two more caught her legs and wrenched them apart. Belinda struggled, feeling panic bubbling at the corner of her mind, as the leader produced a sharp knife and went to work on her trousers. He wasn't fool enough to have his men let her loose, she realised numbly. It was clear he had a good idea of just who and what she was. And then she felt cold air on her exposed skin ...

“Lie still,” the gangbanger ordered, as he started to undo his trousers. “This will be ...”

“End program,” another voice said.

Belinda cursed under her breath as the droids holding her went limp, then looked up. Major General Jeremy Damiani, Commandant of the Terran Marine Corps, was standing to one side, looking disapproving. His bulldog-like face was twisted into a scowl that left her feeling as though she’d disappointed him, which she probably had. At the peak of her prowess, before the Fall of Earth, she could have cut her way through any number of gangbangers without a second thought. But a great deal had changed since then.

“Well,” the Commandant said. “I’ve never seen anyone almost
raped
by the simulators before.”

“No, sir,” Belinda said. She stumbled to her feet, ignoring the remains of her trousers as they fell off her legs. Dignity wasn't something permitted to Pathfinder Marines. She'd carried out missions buck naked, once upon a time. Maybe she would again, one day. If she managed to recover from the Fall of Earth. “I wanted to test myself.”

“You set the simulator to extreme levels,” the Commandant said. “I believe the medical corpsmen will want a few words with you.”

Belinda shrugged, refusing to show any of the bitter despondency that threatened to overwhelm her as she turned and started towards the hatch. Her emotions had once been tightly controlled, but no longer. She’d lost count of just how many times she'd found herself in tears since Earth had died, since Prince Roland had been sent to the Safehouse. It was almost a relief that he was no longer with her, even though she missed him more than she cared to admit. At least he wouldn't have to see how far she’d fallen from the dispassionate Marine he’d met on Earth.

The Commandant cleared his throat. Loudly.

“You were badly injured on Earth,” he said, following her through the hatch. “I don’t expect you to regain your health so quickly.”

“I was always an overachiever,” Belinda said. She started to strip off her uniform jacket, boots and panties, heedless of his presence. The
Chesty Puller’s
simulator had left her sweaty and uncomfortable. It had really been too real for comfort. “And I will not surrender to despair.”

“Good,” the Commandant said. His tone was artfully flat, so carefully controlled she knew it had to be an act. “But you are also pushing yourself too hard.”

“I don’t think so,” Belinda said. “The medics have always erred on the side of caution.”

She finished undressing, then stood naked in front of the mirror. Physically, she looked normal; a blonde-haired young woman with a heart-shaped face and a body that was healthy and fit without seeming unnaturally muscular. Her long blonde hair alone would have made it hard for anyone to believe she was a Marine, not when almost every Marine in the Corps shaved their hair to keep it from getting in their way. But Pathfinders had always been allowed a certain level of latitude, particularly when they were operating undercover. They couldn't afford to
look
like Marines ...

But her blue eyes were haunted and her skin was unnaturally pale ...

“The medics are trying to keep you alive,” the Commandant said. “We don’t want to lose you because you pushed yourself too hard.”

“I have to
know
,” Belinda said. Giving up wasn't in her nature. Her family had seen to that a long time before she’d ever heard of the Terran Marine Corps. But, at the same time, she’d never been so weepy and upset over nothing before. It was hard to escape the sense that something was badly wrong with her mind. “Earth is gone. Is there any point in further struggle?”

“The human race lives on,” the Commandant said. There was something in his voice that caught her attention. “Although not for much longer, perhaps.”

Belinda looked up, surprised. “Sir?”

“Someone attacked the Slaughterhouse,” the Commandant informed her. “The entire planet is dead.”

Belinda recoiled in horror – and disbelief. The Slaughterhouse was more than just another badly-terraformed planet, she knew. It was the heart and soul of the Terran Marine Corps, the place where Marines were created, sent out to fight on behalf of the Empire and laid to rest when they died. If, the cynical side of her mind reminded her, there was enough of their bodies left to be buried. The Corps would do everything in its power to recover bodies, even trading with the enemy if necessary, but it sometimes wasn't possible to bring the dead home and lay them to rest properly.

It couldn't be gone. Centuries of tradition, of iron discipline and loyalty to the ideal of Empire, couldn't be gone. But she knew the Commandant wouldn't lie to her.

“Shit,” she said, finally.

“Yes,” the Commandant agreed.

Belinda looked down at her unmarked hands. She'd seen them bleeding and broken on the Slaughterhouse, when she’d forced herself to go on and on until she’d found herself unable to even
think
about quitting. Others had taken far worse injuries and kept going, daring the universe to try to stop them. And even those who had failed the final hurdle had found a home with the Corps. The Corps couldn't function without the auxiliaries in the background, the men and women who were still devoted to the Corps, even if they couldn't wear the Rifleman’s Tab. It was hard to escape the impression that the Slaughterhouse was irreplaceable.

She looked up at the Commandant, feeling cold anger blossoming to life within her breast and turning to rage.

“Who did it?”

“We don’t know,” the Commandant said. “There’s no shortage of suspects.”

Belinda nodded, ruefully. The Grand Senate had feared the Marines, knowing the Corps couldn't be controlled as easily as the Imperial Army and Navy. They’d done their level best to weaken the Corps long before the Fall of Earth and, she had to admit, they’d done a very good job. And then there were the countless secessionists, terrorists and other rebel factions that had good reason to want to cripple or destroy the Marine Corps. The Nihilists, in particular, would seek to take advantage of the chaos caused by the Fall of Earth.

She took a breath. “Survivors?”

“The planet was evacuated as soon as I sent word of the Fall of Earth,” the Commandant said, shortly. “Everyone on the planet was moved to escape ships and transported to the Safehouse, which is in another system entirely. The only people left in the system were a handful of observation staff, watching from a safe distance. They could do nothing as the planet was rendered uninhabitable.”

Belinda swore. “Uninhabitable?”

“They used planet-scaled enhanced radiation weapons,” the Commandant said. “It will be hundreds of years, perhaps longer, before the planet can be considered habitable once again.”

“If ever,” Belinda said. The Slaughterhouse had started its existence as a terraforming mistake, after all. Whatever polity replaced the Empire, if any such polity came into existence, would have to invest vast resources in restoring the planet. “What about the records? And the Crypt?”

“We have copies of the former,” the Commandant said. “The latter ... is lost to us, for now.”

Belinda gritted her teeth in bitter rage. She’d spent time at the Crypt, when she’d been a recruit, learning about the Marines who had given their lives in service to the Empire. She’d wondered, at the time, if there was anything she could learn from men and women who had died in the course of their duties, and it had taken her some time to realise that
was
the lesson, that there were people who had made the ultimate sacrifice for the Corps. They hadn't fought for the Empire, in the end, but for their buddies, for the Marines on either side of them when they’d gone to war. And now their legacy was lost forever.

“Fuck,” she said, finally. She wanted to hit something. But there was nothing to hit. “Just ... fuck!”

“Quite,” the Commandant agreed.

He looked her up and down, his gaze contemplative rather than unpleasant. “I may have a mission for you,” he said. “It isn't one I am comfortable assigning to you. Quite frankly” – his voice hardened – “you are in no state to do anything, beyond slowly recuperating to the point you can be assigned to a line company or redirected to the auxiliaries. Under the circumstances, we would even accept your resignation.”

Belinda eyed him, fighting down a surge of hope within her heart. “I can do it, sir,” she said, quickly. “Whatever you want me to do ...”

The Commandant met her eyes. “Last time I assigned you to a mission, I told you that I had doubts,” he said. “Do you remember?”