The Thin Blue Line (The Empire's Corps Book 9) (v5.1) (32 page)

“I’m sorry about Isabel,” Patty said. She sat down next to him, rather than behind her desk, and patted his shoulder awkwardly. “She was a good cop.”

“I know,” Glen whispered. They always said the dead were good cops, even if they’d been corrupt or incompetent. There was no point in slandering the dead. But Isabel had been more than just good, she’d been brilliant. He mentally replayed some of their shared cases and cursed, feeling the bitter pang of loss. She’d been a
very
good cop. “She deserved much better.”

“Yes, she did,” Patty agreed. “We will hold a ceremony for her as soon as the city calms down.”

Glen shook his head. There were more riots underway, he’d heard as he’d stumbled back to the station. People rising up and attacking the very infrastructure that kept them alive, no longer caring about the law or the prospect of being punished. By the time the day was over, he was sure, hundreds – perhaps thousands – would be dead and thousands more would be in the makeshift prison camps, where feeding them would be one hell of a burden on an already overstretched system. Or maybe the Governor would just start sending them off-world as quickly as possible.

“And when,” he asked, “will that be?”

“I do not know,” Patty said. She patted his back, trying to offer comfort. “I wish I could give you a few days off, Glen, a few days to yourself.”

“I know,” Glen said. He wasn't sure what to feel. Part of him suspected he would have taken the opportunity to put a gun in his mouth and blow his head off. “You need to keep us working.”

He sighed and stared down at the floor, trying to understand. He’d seen so much evil in his time, ever since he’d graduated; he’d seen everything from murder and rape to theft and mass slaughter. Humans were very good at inventing new crimes and carrying them out, all the while practicing very old ones. He’d lost his innocence long ago, if anyone truly kept theirs in the Empire. And yet, Isabel had kept going.

And now she was gone.

“I should be assigned to the riot squad,” he said. “The investigation into the Nihilists has hit a dead end.”

“So it would seem,” Patty agreed. “We can try to sweep the house for evidence, but they would have covered their traces.”

Glen looked up at her. “What about your source?”

“Gone silent, for the moment,” Patty said. “He could easily have been silenced, or he could have gone into deep cover. We will have to wait to see if he resurfaces.”

She took a deep breath. “I can't leave you on the case, Glen,” she added. “You’re far too involved, now.”

“I know,” Glen said. He hated the thought of leaving the case unfinished, even if the rioting had torn him away from his duty, but there was no choice. Isabel’s death had destroyed his objectivity. Hero Cop would have made a big fuss about being removed from the case, he knew, yet Patty was right. He
was
too emotionally involved. “Who will take over?”

“Davis, I think,” Patty said. “He broke a leg yesterday and he’s confined to the station, so he can handle the number-crunching and deploy snatch squads if necessary.”

“He won’t be able to do the legwork himself,” Glen objected. “What about Gwen? Or Patrick?”

“They’re both assigned to street patrols,” Patty said. “I can’t spare any able-bodied officer.”

She sighed. “Your next assignment will be quite different,” she added. “You’re going to go into space.”

Glen blinked. “Space?”

Patty straightened up. “This is all highly classified, at least for the moment, so you have to keep your mouth shut,” she warned. She waited for his acknowledgement, then went on thoughtfully. “Our Governor is going to hold a summit of the various planetary leaders and military officers, men and women who control the remains of the Empire. This summit will, hopefully, devise a new system of power-sharing that will allow us to salvage as much as possible from the wreckage.”

Glen frowned. “You think the Empire’s already gone?”

“Earth is gone,” Patty said, bluntly. “I think nothing will ever be the same again.”

She paused, then met his eyes. “They want an Imperial Marshal to handle security,” she told him. “I’m assigning you to the role.”

“I see,” Glen said. He wanted a chance to sit down and think, but he knew she’d want an immediate answer. Besides, he wasn’t really being given a choice. “Where is the conference being held?”

“Island One,” Patty said. “The Governor himself will be in attendance, as well as leaders from across the Core Worlds. I don’t need to tell you, I hope, that you will need tact and diplomacy as well as a badge and a gun.”

Glen smiled, despite the grief threatening to overpower him. “How many officers will I have under my command?”

“The Island One security staff,” Patty said. “You may have others, but I’m still trying to see who can be reassigned without crippling us still further. It will be a challenge.”

“Yes,” Glen agreed. “It will be.”

Under other circumstances, he suspected, he would have enjoyed the challenge. The most secure location he’d ever visited had been heavily guarded, with guests subjected to full body and cavity searches before they were allowed to pass through the gates. But he rather doubted that senior government and military officials would allow him to conduct such searches as they arrived for the conference. There would be too great a risk of a diplomatic incident. He would have to rely on other methods to secure the conference location.

At least it isn’t on the planet’s surface
, he thought.
That would have created a nightmare
.

And Isabel would have enjoyed it too ...

The pang of bitter guilt tore at his heart. How could he go to Isabel’s family and report her death? But he would
have
to go ... he owed them an explanation. And they would hate him for getting her killed ...

“I’ll have the files transferred to your terminal,” Patty said. “Barring unexpected delays, I will expect you to be on Island One in four days. I would suggest that you take the next day off to rest, but I know you won’t.”

Glen nodded. “How long will the conference take?”

“Fucked if I know,” Patty said. She shook her head, slowly. “How do you think the Governor can convince a hundred suspicious individuals to work together? It didn't work out that well in the days of Mountbatten the Great.”

“No,” Glen agreed. “It didn’t.”

He sighed. Mountbatten the Great had been a warlord in the days before the Unification Wars, one of the few historical figures to be remembered in the dying days of the Empire. He’d been a conqueror, absorbing nearly a thousand star systems under his banner, but he’d been assassinated by one of his subordinates, who had then proven unable to keep the warlord’s empire under his control. The disparate generals and admirals had ripped it apart, then started to fight each other. And then their territory had been swallowed up by the expanding Empire.

At least the First Emperor managed to provide for his own death
, Glen thought, without heat or anger.
His Empire wasn't dependent on him
.

But it wasn't a pleasant thought. The Empire had been centred on Earth, on the Grand Senate and the Admiralty. Now, Earth was gone and all its subordinates – including Terra Nova’s Governor – were effectively independent. Would they choose a new Emperor, he asked himself, or would they start fighting to remain independent? A thought struck him and he leaned forward. Would they even come in person?

“I think some of them will send representatives,” Patty said, when he asked. “The guest list has yet to be finalised.”

“I see,” Glen said. It would definitely be a challenge. “How long should I prepare to stay on Island One?”

“As long as necessary,” Patty said. She smirked. “There are staff who will tend to your every need, of course. You’ll be cosseted and treated like a king when you’re off-duty. I will expect a full report when you return, of course.”

Glen groaned. “You do realise I can't afford it?”

“You do realise that the Governor is paying for everything?” Patty asked. “You’ll have a place to stay and access to the services, when you’re off-duty.”

Glen nodded. Island One was a luxury resort, a giant space habitat resting in the Lagrange point between Terra Nova and its sole moon. Only the very wealthy could afford to visit, much less to live there. Even the staff were treated well, he’d been told. Competition for places on the space habitat was fierce.

Patty cleared her throat. “You can take Helen along,” she added. “There’s a school – a well-run one – on the station, so she can attend if she feels up to it. Or she would have the same access to the datanet as she’d have on the planet. Or she could even go exploring, if she wished.”

Glen nodded. Island One was
safe
. There was no need for a heavy security presence because no one ever got on to the station without being heavily vetted. Children could run freely through the streets – and the gardens – without needing to fear predators, bullies or murderers. It was a grim reminder, to Glen, that security was only possible if one had the money to spend. The common folk on Terra Nova would never know true security.

“It will remind her of her home,” he said. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Has there been any news of her parents or their ship?”

“None,” Patty said. She lifted an eyebrow. “I thought you would be watching for any contact.”

“I didn't look,” Glen said, embarrassed. How could he explain that he’d been dreading the day her parents returned to Terra Nova? And yet, wasn't it thoroughly selfish of him to treat her almost as a pet? He should be hoping for some settlement of Helen’s affairs. “I was busy.”

“Careless,” Patty reprimanded him. She shrugged. “Take care of her, but remember that protecting the conference comes first.”

“I know,” Glen said. He hadn't forgotten his duty. “Is there any other business?”

“Try to relax, then start planning,” Patty ordered. She pointed a finger at the glass in his hand. “And finish that before I take it back.”

Glen considered it, then passed the glass back to her. He’d never cared for heavy drinking, even when he’d been a young man. It was too easy to allow alcohol to take control, then move on to hard drugs and completely waste his life. He’d walked into far too many opium or cocaine dens where the victims would just lie there and inject themselves, only to be kicked out when they ran out of credit. They often died shortly afterwards.

“A wise choice,” Patty said. She placed the glass on her table, then helped Glen to his feet. “I wish I had more comforting words to offer you, Glen. All I can really say is that the pain will fade eventually.”

“I know,” Glen said. But he didn't really believe her. His wife’s death had left him in mourning for years. Even now, thinking of her brought nothing, but pain. And Helen was the same age as his daughter would have been, had she lived. “It’s no comfort right now.”

He shook his head. Death was a constant risk in his profession. The man he tried to arrest might have a concealed weapon, the woman he caught robbing the till might be desperate enough to fight rather than surrender quietly, even children could be vicious when rounded up by the security forces. He’d lost count of the number of mourning ceremonies he’d attended in his time, for Marshals and Civil Guardsmen who’d died in the line of duty ... he shuddered, bitterly. Isabel had deserved better than a cold patch of land somewhere near the city. The only consolation was that her body wouldn't be violated by the thugs who’d killed her.

“I know,” Patty said. “Go get some rest.”

Glen nodded, then walked out of the door. Outside, the station seemed as busy as ever, although he could tell it was being run on a skeleton staff. The vast majority of Patty’s subordinates were out on the streets, trying to bring them back under control. He paused outside the operations room and peered inside, catching sight of dozens of red icons flashing on the giant street map. There were hundreds of crimes, from simple theft to outright riots, being reported. And most of them, he knew, wouldn't be handled. The Marshals simply didn't have the manpower.

“Glen,” a voice said. He turned to see one of the auxiliaries, civilians who volunteered to serve with the Marshals. “I had her body moved down to the morgue and placed in a stasis chamber. Do you happen to know if she had any particular requests?”

“I haven’t had a chance to open her will,” Glen snarled. Patty would take care of it, once the chaos died down. It was one of her responsibilities. “I imagine she would have wanted to be buried with the rest of us. Leave her body in stasis for the moment.”

“Yes, sir,” the auxiliary said.

He scurried off before Glen could give in to the temptation to strike him. Auxiliaries were often strange and rarely trained, unless they’d had some prior military or policing experience before volunteering to assist the Marshals. Most of them, in his opinion, were oxygen thieves. But it helped free up manpower to patrol the streets.

But the snatch squad’s leader did very well
, Glen thought. He hadn’t expected anything beyond thuggish behaviour from the snatch squad – they’d barely been active a week and they’d already earned a bad reputation – but the blonde-haired woman had been brilliant.
She saved most of our lives
.

“Riot on Langford Street,” someone called, from inside the operations room. “Dispatch a squad to investigate.”

“New prisoners, forty-two male, twenty-five female,” another voice said. “They’re being sent to Clearing House Alpha.”

Glen shook his head tiredly, then walked down towards the garage. His car was waiting for him, gleaming in the brilliant light. He sat down in the driver’s seat and breathed in the faint scent of Isabel, then cursed himself under his breath. No matter how much he missed her, he would never see her again, never have her watching his back as they carried out a raid or arrested people on the streets. And one day, it would be his body in the morgue, with his new partner mourning his death.

Maybe it’s time to leave
, he thought, as he started the car.
Finish the Island One job first, then hand in my retirement and go to a colony world
.
Or maybe even stay on Island One
.