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

She stood and made her way out of the cabin and up into the bridge.
Happy Wanderer
was a small freighter, with a five-man crew, all Marine Auxiliaries. On the face of it, she’d been told, there was nothing to set her apart from the thousands of other independent freighters in the galaxy, apart from her drive. And even
that
was explained, if inspectors bothered to demand answers. Standard procedure was to pay little attention to starships unless they intended to offload cargo or take it onboard.

And even if they do
, she thought, as she stepped through the hatch,
manifests and papers can be faked
.

The bridge was dreadfully cramped, somewhat to her surprise. She found a chair and sat down, watching the main display as
Happy Wanderer
made her way into the system, heading directly towards Terra Nova. The system was heavily industrialised, with cloudscoops supplying a network of industrial plants second only to Earth’s, but even her inexperienced eye recognised that the number of starships and spacecraft making their way through the system had fallen sharply, practically overnight. The cluster of warships orbiting Terra Nova itself looked isolated, while the Naval Base seemed half-empty. Or maybe she was just imagining it. She’d never set eyes on the system before the Fall of Earth.

“The traffic has definitely fallen sharply,” Captain Rogers confirmed. “They might have started heading out to greener pastures.”

Belinda couldn't have faulted the starship crews for wanting to run, even though their absence was damaging what remained of the galactic economy. The Core Worlds were on the brink of anarchy, with suddenly-independent governors and admirals considering private bids for power. It was no place to try to make a living when one’s ship might be snatched without warning by a private navy and pressed into government service. Hell, it was quite possible that
Happy Wanderer
wouldn't be permitted to leave Terra Nova.

“We won’t be going too far,” he added, “but we won’t have the ability to intervene openly.”

“I understand,” Belinda said. She would be on her own. If there were any retired Marines down on the surface, they weren't registered with the Corps. But she rather doubted there would be any, not when military veterans were poorly regarded in the Core Worlds. They tended to prefer heading out to the Rim, where their training and experience brought high salaries and genuinely satisfying work. “Just stay within communications range and I’ll call you if I need you.”

Hours passed slowly as the starship made its way into orbit and headed towards the nearest orbital tower. Belinda spent the time silently analysing the reports from the sensors and accessing news broadcasts from the planet itself. Most of them were so bland she
knew
they were censored, but what little slipped through the censors was alarming. Terra Nova was definitely on the verge of social collapse. The planet might not be
quite
as vulnerable as Earth – there was no planet-wide network of megacities and cityblocks – yet it was definitely at risk. And there were twenty billion people on the planet’s surface ...

“We’ve been offered a dozen charters already,” Captain Rogers said, when she commented on that. “I think everyone with a lick of sense is trying to get the hell off the surface before the shit hits the fan.”

Belinda shrugged. The entire Imperial Navy, at the height of its strength, would be hard-pressed to evacuate an entire planet in less than a decade. Terra Nova had far too many civilians for any uplift, even if they could be relied upon to cooperate without panicking or demanding that they were left alone on the planet’s surface. The vast majority of the planet’s population were doomed, unless their Governor actually
did
manage to save part of the Empire. Belinda distrusted the Onge Family through bitter experience, but the Commandant had been right. There was no other option.

“Just keep telling them that you’re already chartered,” she said. The last thing she needed was to have the
Happy Wanderer
sent off to a different star system. “And remind them that you won’t be staying long enough to take up a new charter.”

She returned to her quarters to collect her gear as the freighter slowed, then docked at the orbital tower with a faint bump. Belinda smiled to herself, knowing that the mission was about to begin, then glanced at herself in the mirror. The shipsuit clung to her curves in all the right places, leaving little to the imagination even though she was completely covered below the neck. It would suffice, she was sure, to distract attention from her. She checked her belt one final time, feeling naked without her pistol, then started the walk back through the ship to the personnel airlock. Captain Rogers was waiting for her there.

“Good luck,” he said.

“Thank you,” Belinda answered.

Captain Rogers saluted her, despite his sloppy uniform and generally unmilitary appearance, then opened the hatch for her. Belinda stepped through and took a breath, tasting the unique smell of Terra Nova as the hatch closed behind her. She couldn't help thinking that it smelled of fear.

“Please proceed to security gate five,” an automated voice said. “Please be advised that objects on the list of forbidden contraband will be confiscated without warning or compensation if found in your baggage. Possession of any such items may also result in criminal charges, with a maximum penalty of permanent indenture or exile.”

Belinda snorted and made her way down the stairs and into the security compartment. Like Earth’s orbital towers, the security gates were set below the docking ports, but above the elevators that would take passengers and crew down to the surface. The complex was surprisingly deserted, at least of passengers. There were more armed security guards, fingering their weapons noticeably, than there were people passing through the gates. It was unlikely, she decided, as she removed her bag from her shoulder and placed it into the scanner, that anyone could slip any weapons through the barricade. But then, she wasn't planning to try.

The security guard studied her, his eyes hidden behind sunshades. Belinda didn’t – quite – roll her eyes. The trick of hiding one’s eyes to make oneself more intimidating was an old one, probably predating the human race’s first fumbling steps into interstellar space. She surrendered her ID papers upon request, then settled back to watch how carefully he went through them. The documents should pass any level of inspection, she was sure, but she would learn a great deal by just how
thoroughly
they were inspected. It was barely five minutes before he looked up at her again.

“You’re not staying on your starship?”

“No, sir,” Belinda said, trying to look irritated at the question. It was the normal response, even though the question was actually surprisingly reasonable. What sort of idiot would
want
to go down to the planet’s surface when chaos was threatening to sweep over the entire world? “I’m taking a few days leave and trying to look up a few of my old comrades.”

“You might find that difficult,” the guard observed. “Anyone with any valid military experience is being conscripted into the SDF. You might find yourself co-opted too.”

“I’ll take that chance,” Belinda said. Was he actually trying to do her a favour? Or merely urge her to return to the ship instead of forcing him to process her paperwork? “It’s been far too long since I’ve seen them.”

The guard passed her the folder of documents, then smiled. “You have permission to spend up to four weeks on the planetary surface,” he said. His voice became bored as he rattled off a well-practiced speech. “Should you wish to remain longer, without employment, you will have to apply to immigration officers down below. If you take up any form of employment, bear in mind that you will become liable for planetary tax as well as imperial tax. You will not be permitted to access any form of public funds and any attempt to do so will be considered a criminal offence. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Belinda said.

“Good,” the guard said. “Money?”

“I have enough,” Belinda said, shortly. She didn't want to show what she'd brought, if it could be avoided. They might start slapping extra charges on her if they thought she could pay. “And I will return to the ship long before I run out of cash.”

“Glad to hear it,” the guard said. He waved a hand towards the scanner. “If you’ll step into the unit ...”

Belinda made a face, as any passenger would, as she stepped into the scanner. Warning messages popped up in front of her eyes as the scanner went to work, her implants hastily accessing the control processors and feeding back false responses. The system wasn’t advanced enough to detect some of her implanted weaponry, she noted, but it would certainly detect her other enhancements. And if they had a reason to think she merited further investigation, they would definitely discover her true nature.
That
would be inconvenient.

She glanced over towards the guard and saw him staring down at the display, a faint leer on his face. He was studying the curves of her body, she realised, rather than her innards. It was annoying, but it was a relief. She just hoped he didn't plan a strip-search as well, even though it would be technically legal. The last time she’d undergone the dreaded Conduct After Capture course, she'd been stripped and then poked and prodded in places she hadn't known she’d had. It wasn't an experience she cared to repeat.

“You seem to be clean,” the guard said, finally. He waved for her to step out of the scanner. “Follow the red line down to the elevator, Miss Lawson. The next one departs in thirty minutes.”

Belinda thanked him, then took her bag and walked down the corridor, uneasily aware of his eyes following her until she turned the corner. She’d expected the inspection – it was standard procedure whenever someone wanted to pass through security and go down to a planet – but she couldn't help feeling slightly defiled. Once, she knew, she would have taken it in stride, endured whatever she had to endure to get close to her target. Now, she felt ... uneasy, or worse.

Mary O’Donnell would be shocked
, she thought morbidly, remembering a legend among the Pathfinders. She’d endured far worse than a brief grope to get close to
her
target – and then she’d killed him and ripped his gang apart from the inside. They’d never known what sort of viper was crawling closer and closer to them until it was far too late.
Look how far you’ve fallen
.

She forced the thought aside as she stepped through the sealed hatch and into the elevator cabin. Unlike the shipboard elevators, it was large enough to pass as a lounge, complete with comfortable chairs, a small bar and a large viewscreen showing the outside universe. It was also almost completely deserted, apart from a handful of spacers and businessmen who eyed her carefully, then looked away when they decided she was harmless. One of the businessmen rose to his feet as she stepped up to the bar and made his way towards her, his eyes following the curve of her bottom. Belinda sighed and braced herself for a chat-up line she
knew
would be awful.

“Let me buy that for you,” he said. He gave her a smile that was probably meant to be seductive, but looked rather like he was too pleased with himself to care about her feelings. “I can afford it.”

“I’m sure you can,” Belinda said. She was tempted to hit him – in her experience, businessmen were rarely interesting – but resisted the temptation. Instead, she took a measure of sadistic delight in ordering the most expensive drink on the menu and signalling the bartender to prepare it before her unwanted admirer had even managed to check the price. “I’m sure this drink will get you whatever you want.”

The businessman smiled at her. No doubt he felt the same way.

“I’ve just signed a contract to produce material for a massive expansion of our shipbuilding program,” he said, as they sat down at a table. He sat too close to her, although not close enough she could legitimately call foul. Somewhat to her disappointment, he hadn't blinked at the steep price tag for her drink. Instead, he’d bought the entire bottle. “Would you care to join me for a celebration?”

“It could be done,” Belinda said, with the private thought that if he kept gulping expensive liquor like it was water he wouldn't have any money left soon enough. “But what sort of contract have you signed?”

The businessman – his name turned out to be Thomas Augustus – was quite happy to chat, a trait made more pronounced by his rapid descent into intoxication. Belinda sipped her drink and listened, carefully, as he boasted of his successes, starting with his ownership of a private manufacturing concern. Most of his boasting seemed to be nothing more than empty bragging, but – reading between the lines – Belinda started to realise that Augustus might own an industrial node that had no connections to anyone outside the Terra Nova System. It was, as strange as it might seem, the easiest one to repurpose for local purposes. The contact code he’d given her certainly indicated that he was a wealthy and well-connected man.

She made a mental note to look into it as Augustus sagged against her, then collapsed into a drunken stupor. Belinda briefly considered placing him in an embarrassing position, then thought better of it and arranged his body so he was lying on the seat instead. Once he was comfortable, she leaned backwards and closed her eyes, then started to use her implants to access the planetary database. It was a disappointing experience. The datanet was heavily censored, with all of the interesting files behind heavy protections she couldn't break without careful preparations. And she certainly couldn't risk attempting to do so while she was on an elevator. It would be far too easy for counter-hackers to trace the attempt back to her.

Augustus didn't wake up for hours, almost until the elevator had finally reached the ground station. He looked too woozy to do anything, but go home and sleep, so Belinda left him a copy of her contact code and walked out of the elevator before he could say a word. The security on the ground-side was noticeably thinner than it was in orbit, but she couldn't help noticing that there were hundreds of armed guards and soldiers on the streets. It looked as though the Governor was trying to make a show of force, using the appearance of strength to try to keep the civilians under control. But how quickly, Belinda asked himself, could be regroup his forces if the shit hit the fan?