The Thin Blue Line (The Empire's Corps Book 9) (v5.1) (34 page)

And so they became utterly dependent on the Government
, she thought. The unemployment rate on Earth had been over seventy percent. Most of the workers had gone into dead-end jobs that had barely paid a living wage, then lost half of their income to taxes.
And, no matter how the Government tried, it couldn't look after everyone.

She pushed the thought aside as the elevator stopped at the correct floor, then opened the doors. Belinda stepped outside, glancing around with interest. The walls seemed closer than the walls of Earth, painted in an eerie dark style that left shadows everywhere. Belinda felt a chill running down her spine as she contemplated the effect, wondering why it was tolerated on a world like Terra Nova. Anything could hide within the shadows, anything at all. But then, maybe that was the point. The residents didn't want to see anything that might hurt them.

Shaking her head, she walked down the corridor until she found the correct door. There was nothing on it, apart from a number; no name, no ID card ... there wasn't even a buzzer. She hesitated, then tapped firmly on the door. There was no response. A second tap brought nothing, not even a whisper of sound from inside the apartment. Cheal might be asleep or he might be elsewhere. Or he might be feeling paranoid. She rather doubted anyone would open the door to a visitor, now that night was falling over the city. The vast majority of the population would have locked their doors by now. There was no way to know without entering the apartment for herself.

Belinda hesitated, then reached for her multitool and pressed it against the lock. Breaking and entering wasn’t the best way to introduce herself, she suspected, but she couldn’t think of an alternative. There was a click as the lock opened, allowing her to enter the apartment. It was dark inside, but her implants allowed her to see through the shadows. Someone was talking in the distance, the faintly-tinny sound suggesting that it was a viewscreen or – perhaps – a datanet program. Belinda hesitated, listening carefully. No one seemed to have heard the sound of her entering the apartment. And that was worrying.

He lost his partner
, she thought, remembering how badly she’d reacted to losing her teammates. She might well have considered suicide if she hadn't known it was a form of giving up.
He might have killed himself – or drunk himself into a stupor. Or ...

“Freeze,” a voice snapped. The lights came on at the same instant. They would have blinded her if her implants hadn’t adjusted instantly. “Put your hands in the air!”

Impressive
, Belinda noted, as she obeyed. She didn’t normally keep her implants stepped up – they tended to pick up more sound than could be easily processed – but Cheal had managed to come up behind her, without being heard. There were few Marines who could have done it better, all Pathfinders.
Very impressive
.

“Put your hands behind your head, then get down on your knees,” Cheal ordered. “Interlock your fingers as you move!”

Clever
, Belinda thought. She obeyed, after considering her options. Cheal was too close to her for his own safety, although he would have been safe enough if she hadn't been an enhanced human. But knocking him out would have made it even harder to convince him to listen to her.
He must have been woken by my knocks and hidden himself behind me
.

“Lie down,” Cheal ordered, after a moment. “Hands behind your back.”

She grunted as she obeyed, feeling his gun pressing into her back. Moments later, he had snapped on the cuffs and searched her roughly, but professionally. He didn't take advantage of her apparent helplessness to cop a feel. Belinda smiled as he rolled her over, then stared down in disbelief. Whatever he’d been expecting to see as he nabbed someone he’d thought was a burglar, it hadn't been her.

“You?”

“Me,” Belinda confirmed. He
was
professional. Surprised or not, he kept his gun firmly pointed at her head. Clearly, he didn't have any great confidence in his cuffs. “And we do need to talk.”

Cheal looked at her for a long moment. “Very well,” he said, finally. “Talk.”

This was disastrous. The Civil Guardsmen were often deeply corrupt. They were certainly not trained to handle anything that required delicacy. Their conduct as policemen was poor, to say the least. Rumours rapidly spread that they took bribes (they did), they shook people down for money (they did) and that they sold prisoners to various colony trusts (they did). Faith in the Empire’s law and order plunged rapidly in the core worlds.

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

Glen had had to deal with burglars before, in his previous apartment. He’d certainly given them a nasty shock when he’d emerged from his bedroom, carrying his oversized pistol in one hand and a set of cuffs in the other. And he had very little faith in the security guards on the lower floors to keep unwanted guests out of his apartment. Indeed, he had no friends in the building and no one could visit without signing in at the desk first, which would alert him to their presence. He’d come out and positioned himself as soon as he heard the knocking ...

... And then arrested the leader of the snatch squad.

He stared at her in frank disbelief. There were so many contradictions surrounding her appearance that he
knew
she had to be playing a role. She looked young – he would have placed her age at twenty-five, perhaps younger – and yet she held herself with the ease of a seasoned officer. Indeed, despite being cuffed and searched, she didn't
look
helpless. Glen’s instincts were screaming at him, warning him that this was no one to underestimate. And he thought he would have known better than to underestimate her even if she hadn't saved his life.

And lost Isabel’s
, he thought, with sudden bitterness.
But at least she saved the body.

Talk,” he repeated. “You broke into my house.”

“You didn't answer the door,” Belinda Lawson said. “I knocked. Twice.”

“No one answers the door here,” Glen muttered. He’d expected someone trying to rob him, with an excuse prepared if the apartment had actually been occupied. And he’d given Helen strict orders to ignore anyone knocking at the door. The thought of what might have happened if someone had broken into the apartment when she was alone was horrifying. “I normally have people buzzed through the security gates.”

“Oh,” Belinda said. She sounded torn between amusement and irritation. “Do you know who I am?”

Glen shrugged. “A snatch squad leader of surprising competence?”

Belinda’s nose wrinkled at his words, as if she’d smelled something bad. “I assumed you would have read my file,” she said. “Didn't you have a chance?”

“Not really,” Glen said. There had been too many other files to read and, truthfully, he hadn't expected much from their escorts. They’d been incredibly lucky he was wrong. “I assumed you’d been conscripted, as they wouldn't have wasted experienced officers on us.”

“True enough,” Belinda said. “My file – officially – states that I was a military policewoman before I retired.”

“I'm sure that made you popular,” Glen grunted. Military policemen were rather less popular than regular policemen, at least among the ranks of those they patrolled. “Or is that a lie?”

“Yes,” Belinda said. “I’m a Marine. A
Pathfinder
Marine.”

Glen looked at her, then started to laugh. “You are a Marine,” he repeated. He allowed his voice to become sarcastic. “Correct me if I'm wrong, young lady, but aren’t Marines supposed to have bald heads? Your hair is long enough to touch your shoulders. And why are you wearing that awful uniform anyway?”

“A Pathfinder isn’t supposed to look like a regular Marine,” Belinda said, without heat. “And I'm undercover, which is why I’m wearing this uniform.”

“I think I’ve seen far too many posers in my time,” Glen said. “Do you know how many criminal thugs claim to have military experience? They get paid more if they manage to convince their masters that they can actually
fight
.”

And yet, despite the sheer unlikelihood of the situation, he couldn't help wondering if she was telling the truth. She’d displayed genuine combat skills during the riot, rather than running around screaming or firing madly into the maddened crowd.

He took a breath. “Prove it.”

Belinda looked up at him and smirked, then flexed her arms. The handcuffs shattered. Glen stared as pieces of chain fell to the floor – he’d checked the handcuffs personally before he’d signed for them and they were in excellent condition – and then watched as she tore the bracelets off her wrists. And she’d done it so quickly that he hadn't had a chance to raise his gun. If she’d attacked him ...

“Enhanced strength and reinforcement,” Belinda said. She ran her fingertips along her arm, trailing the bone. “A normal human, no matter how strong, could not have done that without damaging herself.”

“True,” Glen said. He glanced at her wrists, but the skin seemed utterly unmarked. If she was
that
heavily enhanced, she
had
to come out of a government facility. “How did you manage to pass through the security sensors?”

“I know how to spoof them,” Belinda said. She rose to her feel, her blonde hair spilling around her heart-shaped face. “Can we talk now?”

Glen looked at her for a long moment, then returned his gun to his belt. If she meant him harm, she could have killed him by now, the moment he’d relaxed after snapping on the cuffs. It had been brave of her to let him cuff her – he might have shot her at once or found something capable of holding her – and he felt a flicker of respect. And he found himself wondering if she was telling the truth.

“We can,” he said. “Would you care for a cup of coffee?”

“Milk, no sugar,” Belinda said, as she followed him into the kitchen. “I ... hi!”

Glen turned to see Helen, staring at the older woman. “This is Belinda,” he said, quickly. “She’s come to visit.”

Helen looked doubtful – how much of their conversation had she overheard? – but nodded and went back into the lounge. Glen hadn't really spoken to her since he’d returned from the station, choosing instead to sit in his room and brood. He felt a stab of guilt as he sorted out two mugs of coffee, then motioned for Belinda to take one of the chairs. She sat, with all the daintiness of a cat. Up close, now he knew what to look for, there were more signs of intensive training in her movements.

“I’m looking after her,” he said, by way of explanation. He hadn't missed the puzzled look Belinda had thrown at Helen. Glen’s file would not have mentioned a child living with him, either natural-born or adopted. “It’s a long story.”

Belinda crossed her legs as she sipped her coffee. “Mine is also a long story,” she said. “The short version is that I was sent here to make sure the conference, the conference the Governor just made public, goes ahead without a hitch.”

Glen’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have any reason to believe it would be threatened?”

“Quite a number,” Belinda said. She shrugged, expressively. “Do you have any idea just how many factions there are that would like to see the Empire shatter?”

“I could guess,” Glen said. “Do you have any information on
specific
threats?”

“No,” Belinda said. “I would venture a guess that most people haven't heard of the conference, not until now. But your Governor had to invite others and word might be spreading.”

“Very well,” Glen said. He sighed. “And do you have a prime suspect?”

Her eyes darkened, long enough to worry him. “I suspect that someone is planning trouble,” she said. “There are too many worrying signs. The warehouse full of weapons might just be the tip of the iceberg. But I don’t think it’s the Nihilists, unless they’ve learned how to be patient.”

“Explain,” Glen ordered.

“The Nihilists believe that life is ultimately futile and ending it, for themselves as well as others, to be the only sane response,” Belinda said. “Their attacks on the planetary infrastructure fit in with the pattern we saw on Earth, but they were too weak to succeed and only managed to place the security forces on their guard. The attacks were worse than useless, from their point of view.”

“I concede the point,” Glen said. He’d wondered the same himself. “But who else would be mad enough to launch attacks that could have devastated the planet’s population?”

Belinda’s blue eyes met his. “They started with a plan that was doomed to fail from the start,” she said. “It makes no sense, so I started wondering if they
meant
to fail. And then I started wondering who benefited from the failed attacks.”

Glen frowned. “But no one benefited from the attacks.”

“Someone did,” Belinda said. “The attacks – and the riots – gave the Governor a chance to declare a state of emergency and take supreme power for himself. And he’s been using snatch squads like mine to round up political and corporate enemies, people who might stand in his way. He’s now in control of the entire system, without anyone to oppose or countermand him.”

Glen felt his blood run cold. He’d never considered the possibility, except ... it did make a certain kind of sense. Without Earth, Terra Nova was the most important planet in the Empire. Whoever controlled Terra Nova would be in a good position to become Emperor in his own right, or at least shape and control the successor state as it took on shape and form.

“The warehouse,” he said, slowly. He’d wondered why the Nihilists hadn't hastened to scatter the weapons across a number of safe houses as soon as possible. “Were we
meant
to stumble across the weapons?”

“It’s quite possible,” Belinda agreed. She rubbed her chin, thoughtfully. “The Governor might be trying to ensure that he is in the best possible position to take power.”

Glen cursed under his breath. If it was the Governor ... there was no real hope of bringing him to trial. He could take what they had to Patty, but she’d point out that they had nothing more than suspicions, without any real proof. And even if they did have proof, who would try the Governor of Terra Nova? Three-quarters of the men and women in high places owed their positions to the Governor. They’d resist any attempt to remove him from power.