Poor bitch, he thought. What were the Marshals if they couldn't prevent the citizens from being abused. It’s definitely time to leave.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Needless to say, it didn't work out as planned. The Empire’s colossal budget-crunch in the years prior to its collapse effectively crippled the Planetary Police forces. Local governments placed more and more responsibilities on the Civil Guard, trusting the Guardsmen to handle everything from street patrolling to criminal investigation.
- Professor Leo Caesius. The Decline of Law and Order and the Rise of Anarchy.
Belinda lay on her bunk, staring up at the ceiling.
The secure datanet held no secrets from her, not now. She could poke into any datacore connected to the network, without triggering any alarms. But she knew, better than most, just how easy it was to believe that she knew everything. All she really knew was what was entered into the database and it could easily be lies, or simple mistakes. The Marines had faced too many situations on the ground that simply didn't match the data in the Empire’s files.
But what she’d found had left her with a dilemma. The conference was to be held on Island One. It wasn't a bad decision, she had to admit; Island One would be far easier to secure than any facility on the planet’s surface, even one on a island thousands of miles from the closest city. And yet, getting there would be difficult. The Governor had no reason to allow her to visit Island One, let alone stay there. She wondered, briefly, if Augustus would be attending – the files suggested the Governor wouldn’t be alone – but how could she ask him? It was impossible to ask him without revealing her cover.
She sat upright as a low chime ran through the complex, followed by an announcement.
“Attention, all personnel,” it said. “The Governor will be addressing the population through all channels in ten minutes. You are required to watch.”
Belinda silently cursed the announcer under her breath as she swung her legs over the side of the bunk and dropped down to the ground. Typical bloody bureaucrat, working a nine-till-five job and forgetting that others had to work different hours. Her team, trying to catch a nap in the male barracks, would be shocked awake, then would have to somehow look presentable while they listened to the Governor’s speech. She gritted her teeth, pulled her boots on and inspected herself in the mirror. Thankfully, she looked reasonably presentable, once she bound her hair into a ponytail.
She walked down to the lounge and frowned, inwardly, as she saw just how few officers and men were present. Clearly, the riots were proving an even bigger drain on manpower than she’d been led to expect. She wondered, as she found herself a mug of coffee, just what the men on the streets would be expected to do when the speech began. Stop fighting to contain the rioters just to listen? Would the speech be pumped over the channels dedicated to the security forces? She wouldn’t have been surprised.
“Ah, Lawson,” Fraser said, as he wheeled his way into the room. “Coffee would be very nice, thank you.”
Belinda bit down the response that came to mind and made Fraser a mug of coffee, taking a petty revenge by preparing it to Marine standards. It was rare to come across a Marine who didn't insist on taking it black, no sugar, although she had a suspicion it was nothing more than a display of pointless macho behaviour. She’d always preferred to drink with milk, no sugar. Fraser showed no reaction when she put the mug on the table next to him, somewhat to her disappointment. Instead, he just started to drink.
“Your team will be reassigned later today,” he warned her. “I don't have a position for you, yet.”
“That’s quite all right, sir,” Belinda said, truthfully. She needed time to think, not another mission into a hellish part of town. Terra Nova would soon need more soldiers than the Empire had deployed at the height of its power to maintain order. “I will await your orders.”
She wondered, absently, what he had in mind as the viewscreen ticked down the seconds to the Governor’s speech. There were no shortage of officers who would look for a young and pretty personal assistant, but in truth she didn't think Fraser was that type. Besides, he was stuck in a wheelchair. And he was smart enough to know not to waste someone’s talents.
The viewscreen darkened suddenly, before clearing to show the face of Governor Onge. He didn't look much like the Grand Senator, Belinda discovered, but he did look as though his face had been carefully designed to project an impression of strength and resolve. The politicians believed that looks were important, that people would vote for politicians who looked good, and unfortunately they tended to be right. But then, voting hadn't changed anything for years. The Empire was a dictatorship of the aristocracy in all, but name.
But that might change, Belinda thought. Who knows what will happen now the Grand Senate is gone?
“My fellow citizens,” the Governor said. “We have seen many changes in the last three months and some of us have speculated that they mean the end. There have been riots on the streets and mass civil discontent as it has sunk in, slowly, that Earth is gone. The Empire has changed ...
“Yes, the Empire has changed. It has not fallen, but it has changed.
“I understand that many of you are worrying about the future,” he continued. “I cannot blame you. So much is at stake, so much is at risk, now that Earth is gone. Old certainties are crumbling everywhere. From the highest to the lowest, everyone has been asking the same question. Where do we go from here?”
Good question¸ Belinda thought. The Governor sounded convincing, but he would. She’d seen enough to know that the speech would have been practiced time and time again, then recorded. This was no live broadcast from Government House. Where do we go from here?
“I have been in contact with many other planetary governors who are facing the same questions and issues as myself,” the Governor said. “Without Earth, are we doomed to fragment into thousands of competing planets, a nightmare that will eventually lead to interstellar war on a colossal scale? Or will we seek a way through the chaos and emerge stronger than ever before? I intend to work for the latter.
“We are one empire. Earth may be gone, but the Empire lives on.”
Unlikely, Belinda thought, coldly. The Core Worlds might buy into imperial unity, but the outer worlds would think differently. And what do you want to do about it?
“We will hold a conference in two weeks that will determine the future of the Empire,” the Governor said. “That conference will sort out the niggling questions of just who own what, allowing us to restart the economy and defeat the economic crash. There will be jobs for everyone as we move to replace Earth. Everyone who wants a job will be able to work towards getting one.”
Belinda frowned. Earth’s industry had once been the largest in the known universe, but it had only ever employed a small percentage of Earth’s eighty billion strong population. And even Earth had had trouble finding enough educated men and women to work in the massive industrial complexes out in the belt. The educational system would need to be completely reformed, quickly, to produce more educated workers on Terra Nova, yet she doubted that was even possible. There were just too many rotten teachers and a complete lack of discipline within the system.
And even if they do succeed, she thought, they still won't be able to provide jobs for everyone.
The Governor was still speaking. “I ask all of you to have patience and bear with us as we move through the storm,” he said. “There is a light at the end of the tunnel. But we must not break down the engine before we finally reach that light and progress forward into a whole new world. I thank you for your time.”
He bowed, then his image vanished. In his place, there was a Talking Head who promptly started to expound on the meaning of it all. Belinda tuned the woman out as soon as she realised that the woman knew nothing, at least nothing new. Judging from the way she spoke, she didn't entirely agree with the words put in front of her. But defying her bosses was a good way to get sacked, without even the prospect of another job. Bel
inda shook her head, then turned to leave. She needed to think.
“Report to my office tomorrow morning,” Fraser said. “I may have a job for you.”
“Yes, sir,” Belinda said. “I’ll be there.”
She left the room, thinking hard. The Commandant had said that the conference had to go ahead, which meant she had to be there. She knew, without false modesty, that a Pathfinder would make an excellent security officer. But she also knew that she wouldn't be able to board Island One, not without assistance from someone on the planet’s surface. As a newcomer to Terra Nova, it was unlikely she would be allowed within a hundred miles of the conference. She needed a way to get onto the security team.
Augustus might be able to get me up there, she thought. But I’d have to tell him everything.
She frowned as she accessed the files again and skimmed through the list of assigned agents. One name – a familiar name – jumped out at her. Glen Cheal.
He won’t want to see you, Pug warned. His partner died on your watch.
But he could get me to Island One, Belinda thought back. And he has an excellent motive to keep the delegates safe.
If you convince him of your identity, McQueen offered. And what happens if he refuses to listen to you? Or reports you to planetary security?
Belinda frowned. Technically, there was nothing wrong with her being on Terra Nova, but she was definitely using false papers, rather than openly declaring herself to be a Marine. It was possible they’d shrug – it wouldn't be the first time Pathfinders had posed as other ranks – but it was equally possible they’d be outraged. Belinda had seen both reactions in her time, when the local authorities had been less stressed, or independent. The prospect of having to fight her way out or submit to captivity was thoroughly unpleasant.
“I’ll take that chance,” she said out loud, as she downloaded the file. Glen Cheal was older than her, she noted, and a widower. Oddly, there was no hint he’d shown any interest in women since his wife had died. “And what other choice do we have?”
She checked the security situation, then collected her paperwork and walked out of the station. The streets were nearly deserted, save for roving patrols of Civil Guardsmen, but she could hear the sound of rioting in the distance, carried over from the poorer parts of the city. It was worse in the megacities, she knew, where everyone was confined in towering blocks of concrete and steel. When riots began, she knew from her experience on Earth, they spread like wildfire. But how could she blame them, when they were confined to a tiny apartment and trapped within a CityBlock that might as well be a prison?
They could leave, if they wished, Doug pointed out. There are no shortages of flights to colony worlds. And there are bonuses to anyone who leaves voluntarily.
After being so ill-prepared for life, McQueen countered. What can they learn about life on a colony in a CityBlock school?
Belinda shrugged as she reached her destination. It was tiny, compared to the CityBlocks of Earth, but it was still large enough to house over five thousand people in reasonable comfort, as well as providing them with free food and drink. And it was more orderly, according to the files, unlike the CityBlocks of Earth. It was a testament to the sheer durability of the design that only a handful of CityBlocks had failed completely before the Fall of Earth, despite constant attacks on their infrastructure. Honestly! What sort of idiot would attack the systems keeping him and his family alive?
An idiot from Earth, she told herself. Someone too ignorant to know where air, food and water comes from.
She snorted, then walked into the main entrance, showing her security ID as she passed the guard. The guard didn't look very alert, she noted, as she walked past him; he might have looked intimidating to a local, but she knew she could have forced her way past him if necessary. He didn't even seem to carry a weapon, apart from a stunner. It wouldn't be effective if someone wore protection, or injected themselves with a stimulant beforehand.
They prefer the illusion of protection to the reality, McQueen said, as she entered the elevator. It demanded a security code, but a quick twist of her multitool ensured the device came to believe she’d provided one. And besides, someone could get hurt. And sue.
Belinda rolled her eyes. Lawsuits were almost unknown on her homeworld, where taking the blame for something that was one’s own fault was considered the honourable way to behave. There was no need to hire lawyers, not really. But, on Earth and the rest of the Core Worlds, anything could serve as grounds for a lawsuit. Even coming to someone else’s assistance could result in a lawsuit, if something went wrong. It explained a great deal about Earth, Belinda felt, and why it had collapsed into chaos. No one dared assist anyone else for fear of becoming the next victim.
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.”
&n
bsp; 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.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
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 ...
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