The Thin Blue Line (The Empire's Corps Book 9)

by Christopher Nuttall

  It was a surprisingly long list. She’d seen arrest lists for planets in open revolt that were shorter. There were thousands of names, most of them belonging to the Governor’s political or commercial opponents. Thomas Augustus wasn't included, thankfully, but there were quite a number of CEOs included, all of whom worked – had worked – for Earth-based corporations. Belinda puzzled over it for a long moment, then guessed that the Governor was clearing the decks for a nationalisation of all corporate-owned facilities. Or, at least, the facilities that were owned by corporations based outside the system.

  Most of them are gone, Belinda thought. Just about every interstellar corporation had been based on Earth, even if the manufacturing complexes were elsewhere. They hadn't had a choice, not when they’d needed to keep the Grand Senate sweet. Jobs for the boys and girls on Earth went down well, particularly when it was accompanied by large bribes. But their CEOs are still being pains about who actually owns the complexes.

  She sighed. She’d never studied economics – it was hardly one of her five Military Occupation Specialities – but she'd seen enough broken-down societies to understand what worked and what didn't. There was no time for a dispute, as Augustus had said, over who owned what when the economy was on the verge of collapse. But the CEOs might fear losing everything if, by some miracle, their superiors survived and demanded an accounting of their time in independent command.

  Shaking her head, she filed the information away for later consideration and started to review everything else. Her suspicions about how badly undermanned the various security forces actually were stood confirmed. She’d wondered why Bella had been accepted and then sent to a snatch squad; now, she understood that the security forces were desperate. They simply didn't have the manpower to keep a lid on the whole planet if it exploded into chaos.

  And someone is trying to make it do just that, Belinda thought. But why?

  She worked her way through the evidence, piece by piece. But nothing seemed to make sense. The Nihilists had shipped a vast quantity of arms to the planet – and then lost them, in an astonishing display of incompetence, to the Civil Guard. And then they had launched attacks on the planet’s infrastructure that had been unredeemed and unredeemable failures. And then there had been the riots ... which the Governor had used as a justification to invoke the Emergency Powers Act, giving him the right to clamp down on the entire planet ...

  Did the Governor, she asked herself, arrange for the attacks himself?

  It was a bitter thought, but one she found very believable. She’d seen too much of the Governor’s family – and just what they’d been prepared to do to an innocent boy to maintain their power. Surely, if they were prepared to cripple the Crown Prince, they would be prepared to mount a few false flag operations and start a few riots. And dangling guns in front of the Civil Guard rather than risk them falling into the hands of genuine Nihilists?

  It would be dangerous to risk using them too much, she thought. Arming terrorists and rebel groups had a tendency to backfire. And yet, everyone knows they’re a threat. Their mere existence justifies all kinds of precautions.

  She sighed, then started to look for files on the conference. There were, it turned out, quite a number, all hidden behind the firewall. It was almost a relief to discover, finally, some evidence it actually existed – and that it was going to take place.

  Because, in truth, she’d been starting to have doubts.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Empire’s law enforcement rested on three services; Planetary Police, the Civil Guard and the Imperial Marshals. In theory, the Planetary Police would handle law and order, the Imperial Marshals would handle interstellar criminal affairs and the Civil Guard would handle riots, rebellions and outright military invasions that were beyond the ability of the police to handle.

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

  “So we have a few leads?”

  “Yes, boss,” Glen said. “But not many. Most of the prisoners were just swept up in the riots, while the ringleaders fucked off as soon as we arrived.”

  “Surprise, surprise,” Patty muttered. “It wasn't as if we wanted to contain everyone within the central district.”

  Glen nodded in agreement. Trying to trap all of the rioters would have resulted in more deaths, injuries and property damage. Patty had made the right call, although he knew the Governor and the Civil Guard might feel differently. No, they would feel differently. Who cared about death or injuries when there had been a chance to capture some of the people behind the riot?

  But they’d still give a damn about property damage, he thought, sourly. We’d just have to make it clear that there would have been more damage.

  He sighed, recalling the preliminary reports from the central district. It was early days, they’d been warned, but the shop owners were looking at over ten million credits worth of repairs before they could open for business. A staggering sum of money at any time, Glen knew, yet many of the owners would have difficulty raising it, given the current state of the economy. It would be easier to sell the patches of land they’d turned into shops, assuming they owned them directly, and then go into business somewhere else. No wonder the owners were loudly demanding the harshest of punishment for the rioters.

  “I am sick of this,” Patty announced, shaking her head as she paced her office floor. “And it’s been getting worse. Do you know who’s been targeted?”

  Glen shook his head, worried. He’d worked with Patty for over nine years and he’d never seen her so frustrated, or worried for the future of the Marshals themselves. But Earth was dead and all the old certainties had died with it. The Marshal service might find itself split up and scattered over a dozen independent states, or simply abolished altogether. It was not a pleasant thought.

  “The Governor has been targeting his political enemies,” Patty said. “I believe the snatch squads have rounded up over three hundred people, either political or economic enemies of the Governor. It’s only adding to the chaos, Glen, rather than stamping on it.”

  Glen winced. “Why?”

  “Fucked if I know,” Patty said. She shook her head. “It might be a response to the prospect of a change in government, now that Earth is gone. But no one knows just how the government will function in the future anyway. So it could be something altogether different, Glen. We might face the prospect of our esteemed Governor becoming Emperor of Terra Nova. Where are our loyalties then?”

  Glen considered it. He’d sworn an oath to the Empire, as had the remaining Marshals. But, without Earth and the Grand Senate, what was the Empire? Glen had no illusions about the popularity of the Empire’s rule, at least outside the Core Worlds. Hundreds of worlds, ranging from stage-one colonies to ancestral homes, would take advantage of the chaos to break free, now their oppressors were dead. But losing so many colonies would devastate the Core World economies.

  And if the Empire was gone, who gave the orders?

  He sighed. There was no room for idealism in a Marshal. He knew far too well just how the Empire worked, how those born to power wielded it and how those born without power rarely managed to reach the rarefied levels of the Grand Senate. Hell, even in the Marshals, external power and influence could ensure a promotion or demotion for someone who pleased or offended the Empire’s power structure. And he found himself curiously unconcerned about losing the Grand Senate. And yet ... what would take its place?

  “I don't know,” he confessed.

  Governor Theodore Onge had been selected by the Grand Senate, at least officially. In reality, he’d won the post of Governor because his family had always held the post of Governor, at least in the last seven hundred years or thereabouts. Certainly, the power structure of Terra Nova was designed to support their primacy. But without Earth’s backing, he asked himself, was there a prospect for change? And, if there was, would the change be better or worse?

  And what price the Marshals, he asked himself, if the
Governor could arrest his political enemies and hold them without trial?

  “Me neither,” Patty said. Her voice tightened. “It would be so wonderful if we could just enforce law and order without having to worry about politics.”

  Glen couldn't disagree. There were crimes that were thoroughly illegal to all levels of society, but there was no point in prosecuting if the criminal happened to be from the aristocracy. No matter how disgusting the crime, he knew, as long as the victims happened to be lower class no one from High Society would give a damn. And then, politics made it impossible to actually bring justice to the economic criminals too. The corporations that slowly killed their own workers would never face justice, because they were too intermeshed with the Grand Senate. And he knew of far worse crimes in the Empire ...

  What is the point, he’d asked himself more than once, of punishing the little fish when the bigger fish swim freely?

  “It would,” he said. “But would we be allowed to operate independently?”

  Patty shrugged. “Probably not,” she said. She paused, looking him up and down. “Have you made any further progress on tracking down the Nihilists?”

  “I’ve been dealing with the aftermath of the riot,” Glen pointed out, crossly. “I haven't had time.”

  “That could come back to haunt us,” Patty observed. “Unless the riot was actually staged by the Nihilists ...”

  “The body count was surprisingly low,” Glen noted. But he couldn't disagree. The Nihilists presented the greater threat by far, if only because they had no goal beyond killing as many people as possible, yet he hadn't had time to go after them since the riots. They just didn't have the manpower to spare any longer. “And none of the suspects showed any trace of Nihilistic beliefs.”

  Patty shrugged. “You may be reassigned in the next few days,” she said. “I’ve been asked to put forward an officer for special duties and your name came up.”

  Glen stared at her. “With all due respect ...”

  “I don’t need respect,” Patty said, darkly. “Right now, I’m trying to balance a dozen competing requirements. Do you realise that the Governor is building up yet another security force, composed of people who are effectively mercenaries?”

  “I hadn't known,” Glen said. “Why ...?”

  “He doesn't trust us,” Patty said. “I’m not really sure he trusts the Civil Guard either.”

  She shook her head. “We have too much of a reputation for upholding the Empire’s laws, I guess,” she added. “And the Governor is starting to think about his own political future.”

  Glen frowned. “You think he means to declare independence?”

  “He’s already effectively independent,” Patty said. She cleared her throat. “You should be aware that you may be reassigned at any moment. If that happens, transfer your files on the Nihilists to me and I’ll make sure someone else is assigned to chase them.”

  “Yes, boss,” Glen said. “Where am I going?”

  “Right now? Home,” Patty said. “And make sure that partner of yours gets a good night’s sleep too. You both need it.”

  Glen felt a sudden rush of affection for his boss. She looked out for her people, unlike some of his previous superiors – and the Civil Guard’s commanding officers. For every officer who genuinely gave a damn about his subordinates, there were ten who stole their pay, forced them to work overtime or simply treated his men like shit. No wonder some Civil Guard units were composed of brutes or in a constant state of simmering upheaval. It was hard to blame them for wanting to mutiny if they were treated so badly by their own leaders.

  “I should stay here,” he said. “I ...”

  “Go home,” Patty said. “I’ll expect to see you at your desk at 0900 tomorrow and you’d better be sober.”

  Glen snorted – Marshals were not encouraged to drink, smoke or take drugs – but obeyed, walking out of the office and heading to Isabel’s cubicle. She'd fallen asleep at her desk and was snoring loudly, so Glen poked her gently and then half-carried her down to the garage, where their car was waiting. She was still half-asleep when he drove her back to her house and handed her over to her partners, then drove to his apartment. This time, there were more security officers on deployment, who insisted on checking his ID before they let him through the garage gates.

  Bastards, he thought. The Governor’s conscription program was not a great success. Far too many corporations were also interested in recruiting security staff, particularly from experienced military or police officers. The men and women defending the apartment block really should have been part of the new force, but their new employers would ensure they weren't conscripted. Unless, of course, the Governor decided to make himself some new political enemies by insisting the corporations give up their manpower.

  He sighed heavily as the elevator rode up to his floor. Where did their loyalties lie if the Governor decided to make himself Emperor of Terra Nova? It would have been outright treason a year ago, but Earth and the Grand Senate was now gone. Who held ultimate authority in the Empire now? And how many people would really give a damn if the Governor seized power for himself? And how much difference would it really make?

  The thought didn't comfort him. He knew of local authorities, even Colony Marshals, who’d gone into rebellion against the Empire. They’d seen too much abuse of power to stick to their neutrality – and they’d been loyal to their new homeworld over the Empire as a whole. It was hard to fault their decision when justice was a joke and the people they were meant to protect were abused by their far-distant masters. But the Governor of Terra Nova was part of the old power structure. Would it really make any difference if he declared himself Emperor?

  He pushed the thought aside as he stepped into his apartment. Helen was sitting on the sofa, watching the news. The newsreader was babbling on about the Governor’s plans for an economic revival, starting with a financial program to give a boost to industries that had faltered after the Fall of Earth, but Glen was not impressed. In his observation, any attempt to infuse government money into a corporation ended up with most of the money being stolen.

  “Welcome home,” Helen said. She stood and smiled at him, looking younger than ever. “I finished the last set of puzzles.”

  Glen smiled back at her. “I think we’ll have to get you more,” he said, although he wasn't sure where to go now. The riot had convinced a number of shops to close and, as far as he knew, they hadn’t reopened. He had a nasty feeling that there might be food riots in a few days, if the shops stayed closed. Not everyone kept enough food to tide themselves over for more than a few days, not when buying so much food could result in being asked hard questions. “Or perhaps find you something new to watch.”

  “I didn't like Family High,” Helen confessed, as she followed him into the kitchen. “They were all so stupid!”

  “It’s all the rage,” Glen protested, without heat. Family High was an entertainment drama for young children, featuring handsome men, beautiful women, pimped out dresses and a complete absence of any real consistency. But then, given that the show had been running for over twenty years, it was hard to keep the storylines consistent. “Don’t you like the stars?”

  “They’re stupid,” Helen said. “Shelia won’t marry Austin because Austin is a dick, but she’s willing to make love to him, while Henry is too much of a coward to declare his love for her and Robert is too busy stealing the family jewels to give a damn about his girlfriend. And they all wear those silly dresses, when they’re not walking around in the nude.”

  “I think the show is meant to showcase the dresses,” Glen said. He didn't know why the producers bothered. Most of the dresses were only available on Earth, which meant they had been largely unavailable even before Earth had died. “Or perhaps cause civil unrest.”

  He smiled at the thought as he sorted out the food. “What would you like to do this evening?”

  “Play chess,” Helen said. She gave him a suddenly nervous look. “Do you play?”
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  “I’ve been known to,” Glen said. “We’ll have to use the viewscreen to represent the board, though. I don’t have a physical one.”

  “Uncle Rolf used to play me,” Helen said. “He used to bet sweets that I couldn't beat him.”

  Glen concealed his amusement. “My uncles played cards with me,” he said. “It wasn't until I was nine that I realised they were actually letting me win, so they could give me some pocket money.”

  Helen snickered. “And what did you do then?”

  “I kept the money,” Glen said. “They were trying to give it to me, after all.”

  He smiled at the memory as he placed the food on the table. His uncles had wanted to teach him something about the value of earning money, rather than simply being given cash for nothing. It was against the law – there were laws stating that children had to be given pocket money by their parents, no matter what they did or didn't do – but Glen hadn't cared. Earning it for himself, at least in theory, felt better than simply taking it. And yet, it had been a struggle to rise out of the dependency culture when he’d become an adult. So many people never managed to escape.

  They’ll have to escape soon, he thought, darkly. What happens when the economic crash finally destroys the welfare state?

  “Glen?” Helen asked. “Are you alright?”

  “I was just thinking,” Glen said. How long could Terra Nova afford to feed its unemployed and unemployable population? “Maybe we should go live somewhere else.”

  Helen looked down at her food. “But what about my parents?”

  Glen winced, feeling an odd chill gripping his heart. When had Helen managed to make her way into his heart? What would he do if she was taken away? Or what would she do if her parents were arrested and exiled for their role in shipping weapons to Terra Nova?