The Thin Blue Line (The Empire's Corps Book 9) (v5.1) (48 page)

Marshal Singh appeared from the basement. “The shelters are jammed,” she called. Another loud crack from high overhead underlined her words. “And something has fucked the control processors.”

“Someone’s head is going to roll,” the Governor muttered.

Glen rather suspected that none of them were going to have time to exact revenge, but he pushed the thought aside. There were no spacesuits in his supplies and he rather doubted they could trust any from Island One, if there were any in reach. The houses wouldn't be airtight and, in any case, the drones could smash through them. A dull quiver ran through the entire habitat ring, suggesting that one of the spokes had already been severed. It wouldn't be long before the entire structure started to tear itself apart.

“Think outside the box,” Belinda said. “Anything
inside
the box will already have been countered.”

“I know,” Glen said. Patty’s superiors, whoever they were, would have had plenty of time to work their way through the standard responses and devise a counter to each and every one of them. They needed something unexpected. But what? “I ...”

A thought stuck him and he smiled. “Get yourself off the hub,” he ordered. “I know where we’re going.”

Belinda sounded doubtful. “Where?”

Glen told her.

***

Belinda shook her head at the plan, but she couldn't think of a better one. The worrying possibility was that whoever was behind the plot had already thought of it and taken countermeasures. Their plan would have succeeded already if she hadn't been there, she knew, and it might still succeed. But there was nothing more she could do in the hub.

She picked up Helen and checked her, again. The implants remained completely shut down, but Helen was barely breathing. It was quite possible she was already brain dead. Belinda looked down at the girl’s pale face for a long moment, then slung Helen over her shoulder and walked through the hatch. Outside, the nerve gas stung her face, but did no harm. She could only pray that Helen was similarly immune.

They used Pathfinder-level tech to create her
, she thought, grimly.
Whoever did this to her is very well connected. But who
?

The thought tormented her as she finally reached the shuttlebay. A handful of maintenance technicians lay on the deck, their bodies torn and broken. Belinda looked around, expecting to see a drone emerging from the shadows to attack her, but saw nothing. The drones must have been redirected to the forces attacking the spokes, she decided, as she hunted through the room for spacesuits and survival balls. There would always be a handful hidden away, no matter what regulations said. People who worked in space tended to get properly paranoid about their environment – or they ended up dead.

“I’m sorry, Helen,” she said, as she found a ball and pumped it up. “But you’ll have to go in here.”

There was no response, but she hadn't expected one. She finished pumping up the ball, then inspected the emergency pack. The control nodes weren't scrambled, suggesting that whoever had hidden the balls in the emergency locker hadn't wanted them found by security officers. Belinda wondered, absently, if they’d been running a smuggling ring, then decided it didn't matter. All that mattered, right now, was getting off Island One before the structure started to come apart.

The spacesuit in the next locker was in good condition, but the radio was useless. Belinda poked it twice, then gave up in annoyance and picked up the ball holding Helen. If she made it out alive, she resolved, she would have sharp words with the designer of Island One, even if she had to dig him up and reanimate him first. Linking everything together had no doubt seemed a good idea, but it had made sabotaging the entire station remarkably easy.

She carried Helen’s ball over to the airlock, then opened the hatch and stepped inside. There was a dull hiss, then the outer hatch opened, exposing them both to the vacuum. Keeping a firm hand on the ball, she triggered the gas jets and boosted them both upwards, away from Island One. Helen’s distress beacon sprang to life, screaming for help.

Belinda could only pray there was someone listening.

***

The drones seemed to grow less frantic as the small party made their way towards the underground station. Glen looked from face to face, noting just how many had been killed in the chaos, then hurried them down into the station. The children, bringing up the rear, looked utterly terrified. The sounds from high overhead were getting louder, suggesting that the transparent canopy was on the verge of shattering. And when it did ...

Inside, the transit tubes were waiting for them. Glen motioned for the armed men to guard the entrance, then walked over to the nearest tube and went to work. It was sealed, but not tightly enough to prevent him from inserting a multitool and powering the entrance from a single power cell. The hatch hissed open, revealing a train large enough for fifty people.

“Get the children in here,” he called, as he clicked on the life support. Thankfully,
that
was a separate system. “Fill up the rest with delegates. And at least two armed men with them.”

The children hastened past him, into the tube. Glen took a moment to ensure that the main control processor was completely deactivated – the main computer might reason that it could take control of the trains, override the safety precautions and then slam one train into another – then stepped back out. The transit trains were airtight, a safety precaution that had been largely forgotten in the days since Island One had been built. Glen only hoped they would remain airtight long enough for them to escape.

He wondered, briefly, what had happened to Belinda, then opened up the next train. This one was smaller, but it still held enough room for thirty passengers. Glen hurried the remaining delegates into the tube, then turned to the third one, just as the drones started to force their way into the station. There was only one way in, he knew; the walls of the compartment were sheathed in hullmetal. If the drones had carried anything capable of burning through, they’d all be dead by now.

“We can't hold them indefinitely,” Marshal Singh called. “Not if we want to get into the tubes.”

“Hold them long enough,” Glen called back. He opened up the third tube, then motioned for the remaining servants and staff to get inside. “We don’t have much longer ...”

The habitat shuddered, a dull sensation that – this time – refused to fade. Glen turned, just in time to see the drones falling back, taking to the air and flying away from the station. They must have decided the station was impregnable, he guessed, as he motioned for Singh to take her place in the tubes. He followed the drones back to the surface and looked up as the shuddering grew worse. Giant cracks were forming high overhead as the transparent canopy finally started to shatter. Beyond it, he could see one of the spokes coming apart. It wouldn't be long now.

A deafening crash echoed through the structure as a piece of the canopy broke loose and fell inwards, striking the inner wheel with all the force of a large asteroid. The ground seemed to heave beneath his feet as shockwaves ran out in all directions, knocking over trees and buildings. He hoped – he prayed – that the hullmetal that made up the wheel’s outer layer would remain intact. If it didn't, they were dead.

The temperature started to drop rapidly as earthquakes ran through the giant structure. Glen watched, almost hypnotised by the sight, as the air started to flow out of the wheel. It moved slowly, hesitatingly, but there was no escaping the fact that Island One was dying. He wondered just how many others were still alive on the wheel, how many were going to die because they hadn’t been able to gain shelter in time. Losing Island One, and many of the wealthy residents, would do considerable damage to the economy.

They won
, he thought, as another piece of debris struck the ground.
The conference has been torpedoed and some of the delegates are dead. And the remains of the Empire will die with them.

He flinched as the shockwave slapped his face, knocking him to the ground. The shock jarred him out of his trance. He pulled himself to his feet, then turned to run back to the trains, cold terror snapping at his heels. He’d done some training for emergency decompressions, but they’d always assumed that survival gear would be within reach. If it wasn't, the instructor had pointed out, there was no point in doing anything other than kissing one’s ass goodbye. Only a heavily-enhanced human could survive in outer space without protection.

The train was waiting for him, door gaping open invitingly. Glen jumped inside, then pushed the door shut with all his might. And then the shaking really started.

***

Belinda turned her spacesuit so she could watch as Island One slowly tore itself apart. It was slow, slower than she’d expected, but there was a cold inevitability about it that sent chills down her spine. The spokes shattered, one by one, throwing pieces of debris into trajectories that would impact the wheel. Belinda doubted they carried enough weight to smash the hullmetal, but they would definitely mess up the interior. If there was anyone left on the surface, they were dead.

A movement caught her eye and she shivered. The hub was stronger than the spokes, but it was starting to come apart anyway. More pieces of debris spiralled out into interplanetary space, some drifting towards Terra Nova as they were knocked away from the Lagrange Point. The planetary defences would stop them long before they posed a threat, she hoped, if the defences remained intact. No matter how she tried, she couldn't get an idea of how the fighting had gone. The flashes of light in deep space told her nothing.

And, oddly, it was surprisingly beautiful.

I’m sorry, Glen
, she thought. She wondered, briefly, if there was a prospect of sharing a life together. Her emotions were such a tangled mass that she had no idea where she stood. But if he was dead, there was no point in tormenting herself.
I’m sorry
.

She had failed, she knew. The conference had failed. Even if it were to be reconvened somewhere else, on Terra Nova perhaps, there would be so much suspicion it would be impossible to come to an agreement. She peered into interstellar space and wondered just how many people were going to die, if civil war broke out. There was little hope of salvaging anything from the wreckage now.

And then light flared around her as a shuttlecraft approached.

Belinda closed her eyes, taking a moment to centre herself. If they were about to be picked up by enemies, she wanted to fight. But she was tired, so tired. It was hard to think straight any longer. Perhaps this truly was the end.

No giving up now
, Doug’s voice said.
You’re not dead yet
.

I know
, Belinda thought.
But what do I do now
?

You survive
, Doug said. His voice held nothing, but confidence. He'd always believed in her, once she'd proved herself.
It isn't in you to give up while there’s breath in your body.

The shuttlecraft opened its hatch, then slipped forward, sucking both Helen’s ball and Belinda’s spacesuit into its gaping maw. Belinda grunted in pain as gravity reasserted itself and she plummeted to the deck, then staggered to her feet as the inner hatch opened, revealing two men in white uniforms. The uniforms were unfamiliar, something that bothered her more than she cared to admit. It was yet another sign of the collapse of the unity that had made the Empire strong.

“Greetings,” one of them said, as she pulled off her helmet. Her voice was concerned; she leaned forward, holding a medical scanner towards Belinda. “What happened to you?”

“You need to get a stasis tube,” Belinda said, ignoring the question. She’d try to save Helen, because it was the right thing to do. Glen would thank her for it, if he’d survived. She wasn't used to caring this much about someone who wasn't a Marine.

Oh, you’ve got it bad
, Pug mocked.
Not that I can blame you. He could give you something you couldn't get from your past boyfriends
.

Belinda ignored him. “And then you need to start looking for survivors”, she ordered. Glen’s crazy plan might have worked. But even if it had, there wouldn't be long before the life support failed. “They’re in the transit cars.”

“Understood,” the woman said. “We’ll get right on it.”

“Good,” Belinda said. She wondered about the fighting, then cursed herself. She’d have to tell them something, just to stop the crossfire. “And get me to a radio. I have something to tell the fleets.”

“If you think they’ll listen,” the woman said doubtfully, “you can certainly try.”

And so the Empire continued its steady descent into catastrophe.

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

Glen hadn't been sure what would happen to him after he'd been rescued from the transit car, once the various fleets had backed off. There had been a long debriefing, a brief – and very polite – chat with the Governor and finally an invitation to leave the system on a starship belonging to the Marine Corps. His superiors had raised no objections, which rather suggested to him that Belinda must have arranged it. It didn't bother him, not really. He missed her more than he cared to admit.

He missed Helen too. The girl had brought something into his life he’d known was missing, but she’d been a disguised weapon. He mourned for the young life, ruined by the shadowy masterminds behind the attack on Island One, and swore privately that he would do whatever it took to bring them to justice. And yet, if his private theory was correct, it would be almost impossible to find them. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Marines could help. The thought had encouraged him to board their starship when he'd known he could easily refuse.

But, when his starship had docked with another ship, he found himself escorted through a maze of gunmetal-grey corridors and into an advanced sickbay. The room was impressive, the very latest in Imperial medical technology. There was only one bed in the room, surrounded by a faint blue glow that warned of an active stasis field. And, lying on the bed, was Helen.