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

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Please,” Helen said.

  After a moment, Glen nodded.

  Chapter Nine

  This is not an easy task. Many of the examples I outlined above consist of flawed humanity responding to problems they faced at the time, which then became enshrined in law. The legal hatred of homosexuality might well date from a time when breeders were of vital importance and, thus, homosexuality could not be tolerated.

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

  “This is your room,” the hotel bellhop said. “I trust it is to your liking?”

  Belinda peered past him into the small room. It was simpler than she’d expected, with a large bed, a small table and a small washroom, complete with shower and wash basin. The room wasn't really big enough for more than one or two people, but she’d had worse. She’d had to share a barracks with nine men back when she’d been a Rifleman, years ago. Compared to that, the hotel room was almost luxurious.

  “It is satisfactory,” she said, flatly. She turned to look at the bellhop, absently noting how he tried hard not to look at her chest. “Do you offer room service?”

  “The menu is in the desk,” the bellhop said. He gave her a smile that was probably intended to be seductive, but he wasn't old enough to pull it off. “My name is James, My Lady. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”

  Belinda smiled back, then strode into the room and placed her bag on the desk. She’d once spent a week working in a hotel along the Rim and it was astonishing what some guests asked for – and got, if they paid enough money. James might just get lucky with an older female guest, if she wanted some company for the night. His superiors would turn a blind eye as long as his duties were completed to their satisfaction. But she knew he wouldn't be getting lucky with her.

  “Thank you,” she said, instead. “And goodbye.”

  He closed the door, which clicked to indicate it was locked. Belinda wasn't impressed. If she couldn't pick the lock with a hairpin, or a standard terminal rigged to serve as a hacker system, she would be very disappointed in herself. The door wasn't meant to be completely secure, anyway. All it was meant to do was deter thieves who had slipped past the guards on the ground floor and made their way up to the guestrooms.

  She opened her bag, then carefully checked the room for bugs. There were two, an audio pickup hidden within the light over her back and a visual pickup in the doorframe, ready to record pictures of her undressing. She wasn't unduly surprised; these days, there was no real expectation of privacy anywhere, unless one paid enough money to guarantee it. The recordings could be accessed by local law enforcement, if they requested them, or anyone else, if they supplied a sufficient bribe. She studied the location of the bug for a long moment, then carefully plotted out ways to block its vision if necessary. For the moment, she would just have to endure knowing that the hotel staff could peek in on her whenever they felt like it.

  Idiots, she thought, as she unpacked her bag, then lay down on the bed. A quick check revealed that the hotel was using a very basic datanet monitoring system, intended to record everything the guests did online. There was no warning notice barring them from any particular parts of the datanet, she noted, which struck her as ominous. It seemed the hotel either didn't care to make legal warnings or threats ... or that the staff were watching for opportunities to blackmail their guests, later. Somehow, she wasn't too surprised.

  She opened her implants and activated a handful of hacking programs designed by the finest WebHeads in the Marine Corps. The hotel’s system barely even spluttered as she inserted her commands into the system, then took over, ordering it to ignore everything she did through the network. A handful of minor changes would make it harder for anyone to zero in on her particular access, although she knew there were limits to how far she could go without being caught. It wouldn't be hard for investigators to deduce the use of a neural link and a simple scan of her brain would reveal the link – and much more besides.

  Closing her eyes, she drew on the vast tidal wave of data and started to try to search for additional pieces of information. But there was very little, beyond censored news bulletins and reassuring broadcasts from the government that didn't seem very reassuring at all. There was no barrier to accessing the entertainment networks – pop-ups in her head invited her to download the latest pornographic videos, or view endless bland crap from Earth before the Fall – but there was very little hard data on the datanet. Even the omnipresent datanet forums seemed to have been closed down.

  They’re trying to make it harder for panic to spread, she thought. It was standard procedure if the shit was threatening to hit the fan, but she couldn't help thinking that it was a mistake. Rumours would spread faster than anyone realised, rumours which would be impossible to counter before they had already reached far too many people. But the people can still talk face-to-face, spreading the word from person to person.

  She poked through the datanet, looking for the links she knew had to exist, the links that would allow her to access the government’s datanet. But, no matter how she tried, she couldn't break into the network through her implants. The system looked to have been altered to the point where standard access codes, even hacker tools, wouldn't work properly. It was an impressive achievement, she had to admit, but it was also worrying. What was the government trying to hide?

  Opening her eyes, she undressed and climbed into the shower, careful to keep the links to the datanet open. If she couldn’t get into the government’s files, she could pull more out of the civilian datanet than they might have realised, including the names and details of government officials. But there were just too many for her to process properly, she realised, numbly. The Governor seemed to be assembling his own private army. Everyone with military experience was being called up to serve at the Governor’s pleasure. Was it a sensible precaution in the face of chaos, she asked herself, or a sign of something more sinister?

  And there was nothing on the planned conference at all.

  Belinda finished washing herself, then strode back into the main room, disconnecting the links. There was no point in trying to hack the system further, not now. She would need to be in close proximity to a government-owned node without access codes of her own, she suspected, and she’d have to find a node first. It would be tricky, unless she got very lucky; she knew, all too well, that most such nodes were concealed within military bases. But there were other ways to get access to government codes.

  She dressed – a shirt that was just tight enough to draw attention to her breasts and a skirt that hung down to her knees – and then picked up the information brochure the hotel had supplied for its guests. One page detailed all the various pubs and nightclubs around the centre of Landing City, including one that largely catered to government employees having a drink after a hard day at work. Belinda rather doubted they knew what a hard day really was – she’d spent weeks on campaign before she’d submitted her name for Pathfinder Selection – but it hardly mattered. The pub would be a good place to start trolling for potential sources.

  Picking up a small handbag, she carefully noted where she’d left everything and then walked out the door, taking care to lock it behind her. It was possible that someone would search her bags while she was out, although she had nothing to hide. She walked down to the elevator, then rode down to the ground floor and made her way out onto the streets, aware of eyes following her as she left the building. She’d dressed, after all, to attract attention.

  Night was slowly falling over Landing City as she walked towards the pub, but despite the threat of the imminent curfew people were thronging around, eating, drinking and trying to enjoy themselves. And yet, Belinda could sense a tension in the air that reminded her of countless worlds about to undergo a massive social upheaval. The population wouldn't be partying so hard if they hadn't been trying to convince themselves that everything was normal. Most of the younger people – including some barely entering their tee
ns – had eyes that revealed their desperation. They knew, even if they didn't want to admit it to themselves, that their time was running out.

  She sucked in her breath as she saw the pub. It was larger than she’d expected, with hundreds of men and women inside, drinking beer and chatting to their friends and workmates. They had the same attitude as the people outside, she noted, but there was a nastier edge to it, one that worried her more than she cared to admit. These people were prepared to be nasty because they still had jobs, yet they were also unwillingly aware that they could lose their jobs very quickly. The world had turned upside down.

  Switching her audio-discrimination programs into primary mode, she scanned the crowds for a likely target. Seduction had been one of the classes for Pathfinders – it wasn't part of the normal Slaughterhouse training – but it had also been largely intuitive. There were men who would think it was normal to have a beautiful woman chatting them up and men who would find it instantly suspicious. The trick, she’d been taught, was deducing the method most likely to work for one’s prey and using it ruthlessly. It was only five minutes before she spotted a suitable candidate sitting at the edge of the room.

  A wallflower, she thought, as she made her way towards him without being obvious about it. He was in his early thirties, if she guessed right, but he had a haggard expression on his face that made him look older. It was obvious he wanted to join in the conversation, in the mindless drinking and women-chasing his peers engaged in after work, but it was also clear that he simply didn't have the nerve. Belinda concealed her amusement as she sat down facing him. Unless she was completely wrong, this was going to be easy.

  “I don’t like the crowds here,” she said, by way of introduction. “How about yourself?”

  “I don’t like them either,” he said. He looked up at her, allowing her to see his face clearly. It would have been handsome if he’d taken proper care of himself. “But ...”

  He looked back down at the table, trying to avoid staring at Belinda’s chest. She could practically read his thoughts; lust, a desire for her, and yet a fear that she would reject him in a manner so crushing that it would destroy whatever was left of his pride. Such a man feared humiliation because he’d been humiliated so often. Belinda had a feeling that he wouldn't advance in the Civil Service, if only because he couldn't make the connections his fellows could by chatting to their superiors. But at least he wouldn’t be kissing their buttocks in public.

  “My name is Benny,” Belinda said. It was close to her real name without being too close for comfort. Her target wouldn't have any clear memories of her after she was done, but there was no point in taking chances. “I’m new here.”

  “Welcome to Terra Nova,” the man said. “My name is Julius. Julius Stevenson.”

  Belinda smiled at him, then ran his name and face through the datanet, wondering what it would turn up. Moments later, she had her answer. Julius Stevenson was listed as a low-level Civil Service official, a data-entry officer. He was a suitable target for a first attempt at gaining government-issue codes, she decided. At the very least, he might be able to tell her who to target next.

  She chatted about nothing for long moments, wondering absently when he would find the nerve to buy her a drink. It was nearly ten minutes before Julius offered, so quietly that it was clear that he expected rejection. Belinda smiled, accepted the offer, then kept chatting to him as he drank several more glasses in quick succession. She had a feeling he was nerving himself up to ask her if she wanted to go somewhere more private.

  “This place is getting too loud,” Julius said, as someone turned on a jukebox and heavy metal music started to play. “Do you want to go elsewhere?”

  “Yes, please,” Belinda said. She took his hand, noting with some amusement that he was swaying slightly on his feet. This was not a man who drank heavily, she deduced, from how quickly the alcohol had affected him. Her presence had affected him more than he’d realised. “I’d like to go elsewhere.”

  His nerves clearly grew worse the further they moved from the pub. Belinda, feeling an odd moment of sympathy, made it easier for him by kissing him as soon as they were alone, then smiled inwardly as he tried to kiss her back. He was either out of practice, part of her mind noted, or he had never been in practice. Moments later, his hand was groping her bottom through the skirt. Belinda pushed herself against him, then pulled back. He made no attempt to keep her close to him.

  “Not here,” she said. “How close is your apartment?”

  Julius’s apartment turned out to be a single-room compartment in a towering block that looked like a smaller version of Earth’s cityblocks. Belinda allowed him to lead her inside, his hands roaming her body as though he had never touched a woman before, then pushed her fingertips against the back of his neck. The hidden injector didn't even hiss as it shot a light sedative into his body, sending him staggering to his knees. He was out before his body hit the ground. Belinda picked him up effortlessly, then carried him to his bed and laid him out on the sheets. There was a grin on his sleeping face that seemed remarkably out of place.

  She smiled back, then started to search the apartment for anything useful. Julius, like most civil servants, had kept copies of all of his personal documents, stashing them in a hidden safe behind a painting on the wall. Belinda snorted to herself – hiding a safe behind a painting was so old that it was the first place anyone would look – then started to work on the combination lock. It clicked open within seconds, allowing her to open the metal hatch and bring out the paperwork. A glance at each page, using her implants, allowed her to record what she saw for later study. And then she found the access datachip.

  “Twit,” she said, out loud. Julius would be in deep trouble if his superior found out just how easily she’d stolen his access codes. “You’re lucky I’m going to blur your memory.”

  She used her implants to access the chip, then copied the codes over into her neural link. It was easy enough to test them, although she was careful not to try to actually hack into the sections outside Julius’s authorisations. That would have to wait until later, once she’d parsed out enough of the system to be fairly sure she could hack into it without immediate repercussions. If she had been designing the system, she would have made sure it was capable of tracking any access, even if it seemed to have the right codes. Hell, she would have ensured the system was inaccessible outside heavily guarded and secure locations.

  Julius moaned in his sleep. Belinda looked up from where she was carefully replacing everything where she’d found it, then frowned. She knew what she had to do, now; she had to inject him with something to blur his memories, then walk away and leave him alone. His imagination would give him an encounter that had ended well for both of them. She'd seen it done before. And yet ... part of her didn't want to simply walk away. She felt a strange pity for Julius, someone so out of place and yet trying to do his job.

  And someone who will be blamed for giving me the codes if I’m caught, Belinda thought, as she rose to her feet. He won’t have a chance.

  She looked down at him, torn between two conflicting emotions. The cold dispassion she’d been taught to embrace told her to drug him, then go; the other feelings she’d felt welling up inside her said otherwise. She could have stayed with him, reassured him that she was real, even made love to him. But she knew she couldn't risk it. Julius wouldn't be content with a one-night stand, not really. He’d want to see her again and again until he saw through her cover or she had to do something more drastic to cover her tracks.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered, as she pressed her fingertips against him for the second time. His body twitched against hers, then subsided. “But I don’t have a choice.”

  Julius moaned, again. Belinda watched him fall into deeper slumber, then kissed his forehead and turned to walk out the door, feeling oddly unclean. She’d done worse than drug someone for information before, ever since she’d become a Pathfinder. But why did she feel remorse now?


  You’re not quite a Pathfinder any longer, a voice said, and you’re no longer stable. How long will it be before you go completely mad – and rogue?

  “Shut up, Doug,” she growled, as she closed the door behind her. “You’re dead.”

  Chapter Ten

  Furthermore, prejudice will have its say when laws are written. There are no shortages of past legal structures that denied women equal rights to men (or vice versa), gave rights to parents denied to their children or made judgements based on such oddities as skin colour or age.

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

  “You know, you should get yourself a head-com,” Patty said, as soon as Glen answered the call. “You’d be woken in a flash.”

  “I always thought they were sinister,” Glen said. He glanced at his watch, then swore under his breath. It was five o’clock in the morning, an hour before curfew was due to be lifted. “And I didn't want more voices in my head.”

  “How very reassuring,” Patty said. His boss snorted, rudely. She’d called him out of the blue, which meant trouble. Unlike some of his superiors in the past, she’d been a Marshal and understood the value of a good night’s sleep for her men. “I’m afraid your suspension has been suspended. I need you back at the station.”

  “Wonderful,” Glen said, dryly. He would have been more enthusiastic if he hadn't been woken far too early in the morning. Spending time watching movies with Helen had been curiously enjoyable, to the point they’d both stayed up too late. “And my charge?”

  “Leave her in your apartment,” Patty said. “Does she have enough sense to stay there?”

  “I think so,” Glen said. He hastily ran through a mental checklist of everything that would have to be locked away, out of reach. “I can lock the door, if necessary, but if there was a fire ...”