The Thin Blue Line (The Empire's Corps Book 9) (v5.1) (31 page)

“Get up there,” Belinda ordered. “Hurry!”

She reached for her second stun grenade, then moved her hand to an HE grenade instead. It made a satisfying
clang
as she slammed it against the lower levels of the staircase. She ran after the others up the stairs, feeling the metal shifting under her feet as she climbed, then triggered the grenade as soon as she reached the rooftop. There was an explosion – she felt a twinge of guilt as she heard screams from below – and the staircase toppled away from the building.

“Keep moving,” she bellowed. The mob wouldn't take long to break into the apartment block and climb up to the roof. “Get over to the edge.”

The lead Marshal stopped on the edge. “You want us to climb down here?”

“I want you to jump,” Belinda said. There was only a metre between the two apartment blocks. Down below, the mob was gathering, some of them carrying bottles of liquid. It didn't take a military genius to realise they were Molotov Cocktails. “Move!”

“You have got to be fucking kidding,” Hammerfest said. “I can't jump that far.”

“Then stay here for the mob,” Belinda said. The noise from below was growing louder. She had no doubt that anyone who fell into their hands was in deep shit. “You –
Marshal
. Jump!”

The female Marshal hesitated, then ran towards the edge and jumped. Fear propelled her forward, Belinda noted, for she landed safely. The others followed her one by one, just as bullets started to crack through the air around them. Belinda made her own jump, then activated her implants, hunting for the source of the bullets. A sniper was perched on top of a nearby tower, shooting at them. She lifted her rifle, took careful aim, and fired a single shot back, using her implants to assist her. The sniper jerked, then tumbled off the tower and fell to his death.

Hammerfest gaped at her. “Nice shot,” he said.

Belinda concealed her amusement. There were Marine snipers, specialists, who routinely fired at targets over three kilometres away and hit them, often without them ever knowing they were being scoped out for death. Indeed, the snipers were so lethal that they were often too good for urban combat, or simply couldn't take the long-distance shots they so loved. Sniping wasn't one of her MOS, but she’d had enhanced training and implants to assist. It would have been more astonishing if she’d missed.

“Keep moving,” she ordered. She glanced down at her terminal, but there was no ETA for backup. “And run for your lives.”

They jumped three more buildings in quick succession, then reached the end of the row of apartment blocks. Belinda cursed as more bullets started flying around them, then led the way down the metal steps, grenades in hand. As soon as the mob appeared, she primed the grenades, then threw them down towards the mob. There was a thunderous explosion and the mob recoiled, with dozens injured, perhaps killed. They reached the bottom and started to run.

“You killed them,” the Marshal said. “You ...”

“There isn't a choice,” Belinda snapped. “Kill or be killed.”

She swore as shooters started to open fire, raining bullets down towards the team. It was a struggle to find cover; she barked orders to her men, using them to lay down covering fire in hopes of suppressing the shooters. Where has the weapons even come from? She shook her head, then looked back towards the mob. It had collected itself and was starting to advance again. Belinda looked around, trying to see a way out, but saw nothing. If they ran, they would be exposed to the shooters; if they stayed where they were, the mob would get them ...

“Cover me,” Hammerfest said. He sprang out of cover and opened fire, keeping his finger on the trigger and spewing out bullets towards the shooters. His fire was hopelessly inaccurate, but it forced the shooters to duck for cover. “Hurry ...”

A shot struck him as Belinda rose to her feet and began shooting herself, with calm dispassionate precision. His body struck the ground, bleeding from a head wound she knew would be fatal, unless he was rushed to hospital at once. There were no Marine Corpsmen around, no medics who would save his life ... she silently noted his death, then shouted for the rest of her team to follow her. The shooters stayed down long enough for the team to put some distance between itself and the mob. And then another shot rang out ...

... And the female Marshal tumbled to the ground.

Belinda swore, first silently then out loud as her partner turned back for her. She could admire loyalty, but it was clear that his partner was already dead. Gritting her teeth, she scooped the body up with enhanced strength and inspected it rapidly, while the remainder of her team covered her. There was no point in trying to revive her, Belinda saw at once. The bullet had torn through her brain, killing her instantly.

The snipers seem to like headshots
, she thought, savagely. First Hammerfest and ... it struck her, suddenly, that she didn't know the woman’s name.
And they have us in their sights
.

“Stay low,” she snapped. She would have preferred to abandon the body – there was no way it could be carried safely – but she had a feeling the dead woman’s partner wouldn't allow it. “And run ...”

Her terminal buzzed. Help was on the way ... she glanced at the screen, then urged her team to run faster. High overhead, she heard the sound of rotor blades as a pair of helicopters swooped overhead, decked out in the silver and gold livery of the Civil Guard. Belinda hoped – prayed – that the locals didn't have any HVMs in their illicit armoury or the helicopters were dead. It was alarmingly obvious that their pilots had no experience flying over a combat zone.

But instead the mob just melted away and the guns fell silent.

One of the helicopters flew top cover, twisting and turning to show off the weapons underneath its stubby wings, while the second dropped down to the ground. Belinda hesitated as the rest of the team scrambled onboard, wondering if she should run back for Hammerfest’s body, but when she looked the body was missing. The mob must have scooped it up, she realised, as she climbed into the helicopter. She gritted her teeth as the noise of the engines grew louder, then the craft shuddered as it rose into the air and made its way out of the area.

“We could have died there,” Abdul said. He was one of the other teammates, someone who had seemed in awe of Hammerfest – and uncertain what to make of Belinda. “We could have died.”

“We could have died,” Belinda agreed. Very few of the planet’s Civil Guardsmen had been anywhere near a genuine war zone. They’d been on the verge of panic when the mob had appeared, despite having weapons and discipline. “But we made it out alive.”

She felt another pang when she thought of Hammerfest. He'd been a thug, a brute, probably a rapist ... and he was dead. She held no affection for him – he wasn't a good-natured brute, like some of the Marines she’d known, but a violent thug – and yet he’d died bravely. If he’d been a Marine, she knew, she would have taken whatever risks were necessary to recover his body. Instead, she felt nothing ... and it bothered her that she felt nothing.

You fought beside him
, Doug said.
Doesn't that give you a bond even though he would have forced himself on you if he’d had the chance
?

I would like to have seen him try
, Pug injected.
I happen to know what you used to stick up your ...

“Shut up,” Belinda said, out loud.

Abdul stared at her. “I didn’t say a word!”

Belinda shook her head, then peered through the hatch as the helicopter made its way over the city. It was clear that another riot or set of riots was underway, with smoke pouring up from a dozen locations and more helicopters flying over the city, weapons at the ready. She couldn't hear much over the noise of the helicopter, but her audio-discrimination programs insisted that there was quite a bit of gunfire over the city, as well as the noise of angry crowds. Terra Nova might be on the brink of complete anarchy.

She turned her attention away from the hatch and peered towards the Marshal. He looked broken, his head resting in his hands Belinda felt another pang of sympathy, then shook her head. Death was part of life for anyone who fought to defend civilisation, from Marines to the lowest Police Officer. She understood grief, but she also understood that grief could not be allowed to dominate a person’s life.

And who are you to say that
? Doug asked her.
You've kept us around as part of your mind
.

Belinda sighed, then ignored the voice.

The helicopter flew over the centre of the city and dropped down towards a military camp established in the middle of the Central Park. Belinda felt a moment of sadness for how much natural beauty had been destroyed, then braced herself as the helicopter hit the ground hard enough to shake the entire craft. A team of armed Guardsmen surrounded the helicopter, as if they expected to be attacked at any second. Belinda smiled as she rose to her feet, noting just how tired the remainder of her team looked. They didn't have anything like her endurance.

And you might want to pretend to be wasted
, McQueen offered.
You can't afford to look too good
.

Belinda nodded as she stepped outside. Central Park had been utterly devastated. The trees had been cut down to provide landing zones for helicopters, while tents had been erected to serve as barracks for the conscripted security forces. Belinda wondered why they hadn't simply taken over a few nearby buildings, but she had a feeling the answer probably involved large bribes. Why go for the smart and practical option when it would put a few wealthy noses out of joint?

“Have the body moved to the tent,” Fraser said. He was sitting in his wheelchair, seemingly unbothered by their tired faces. “What happened, Lawson?”

Belinda looked at her remaining men, then looked back at Fraser. “The shit hit the fan,” she said, simply. “And we had to run.”

She met Abdul’s eyes. “Get him somewhere to lie down,” she ordered, indicating the Marshal with one hand. “I’ll finish up here.”

“You seem to have lost a man,” Fraser said, a clear note of warning in his voice. “And one of the Marshals ...”

“Snipers, sir,” Belinda said. “They caught us in the open.”

She thought, briefly, of the warehouse the Civil Guard had found, crammed with weapons destined for the Nihilists. Had there been another delivery that had been completely missed? It was quite possible. Terra Nova’s security struck her as disturbingly lax.

You can’t secure a whole planet as easily as a military base
, McQueen said.
Planets are big
.

And we found a lot of crap in that base we secured on Tannins
, Pug added.
How many porn magazines and drugs crap did we recover and burn
?

Fraser eyed her for a long moment. Belinda wondered, absently, what he was thinking. If he had an inkling that something wasn't entirely right with her, he might well have insisted that she return to civilian life – if, of course, it was an option. But if the Governor was insistent on cripples returning to duty, it was unlikely he’d be able to discharge her without some very searching questions being asked.

“Go get some rest,” he said, “and make sure your men do too. There may be more questions later.”

“Yes, sir,” Belinda said. She needed to think – and assess what she’d learned, before she was sent out on another mission. And she needed to decide if the Governor was up to something or if he was merely taking harsh, but necessary steps. “Is there a tent for us?”

“Go back to the station,” Fraser ordered. “Your barracks are still there.”

Belinda nodded, then turned and walked towards the edge of the park. It wasn't far to the station, she knew, and most of the streets would be deserted. She’d have a chance to think about her next move.

“And Lawson,” Fraser called after her, “good work.”

“Thank you, sir,” Belinda said.

But we fucked up
, she thought, as she rounded up her men.
A little less luck and we’d all be dead
.

However, the Empire had good reason to believe their system was workable. Had they had the funds to keep it balanced, they might have been able to maintain law and order throughout the Core Worlds, even after the Fall of Earth.

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

Isabel was dead.

Glen stared down at his hands, half-convinced they were covered in blood. Isabel was dead. His partner of five years was dead. And ... and he no longer felt as if he could go on.

It had been a long time since they’d first been introduced. She’d been a rookie, newly-trained; he’d been nervous about working with her, knowing that rookies made stupid mistakes every day. But she’d done well and they’d become friends as well as partners, working together ... and now she was gone.

I always thought I’d die first
, he thought, bitterly. Isabel had had so much to live for; her partners, her children, her career ... Glen had only ever had his career. She’d been able to go home and relax, while Glen had only ever been able to brood.
It should have been me who was killed
.

He shook his head, angrily. The mob would never be brought to justice, he knew, not when it was composed of thousands of people in one of the poorer districts of the city. And the bodies they’d found had probably been destroyed, or eaten, if there was any truth to the rumours about cannibalisation. The only evidence they had were the photographs they’d taken, which would be insufficient to lead them to the killers. Isabel had died for nothing.

It should have been me
, Glen thought.
Not her
.

“Glen,” Patty’s voice said. “Come into my office.”

Glen sighed, then picked himself up and walked into the office. It felt like too much effort to move, as if he just wanted to sit down and never move again. But somehow he managed to walk into her office and sit down. She pressed a cold glass into his hand a moment later, inviting him to take a sip. The cheap wine tasted like paint stripper against his tongue.