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

by Christopher Nuttall

  And we could have tested it properly too, Belinda thought. She knew the Governor had only had a month to set up the conference, but surely he could have assigned additional firepower to guard the conference chambers? Or was he worried about having so many armed guards around proud and touchy men? He wasn't the Emperor, after all, or even a Grand Senator.

  “It's a good thing they’re not going to charge us for this,” Marshal Alongside said, when they were back at the huts. There was no dining hall, it seemed; the food was served in a massive clearing, in the open air. “The food here is staggeringly expensive.”

  Belinda glanced at the menu. Growing up on Greenway and then serving in the Marine Corps had left her with very little food snobbery. The more she ate, the better; taste was always a secondary concern. Food was food – and childish likes and dislikes were embarrassing liabilities in the field. But if she'd had expensive tastes and the money to afford them, Island One would have had something for her. There were hundreds of dishes on the menu, sourced from all over the galaxy. She couldn't help wondering how long they would still be available as interstellar trade ground to a halt.

  “Indulge yourself,” Glen said, “but no alcohol. Or anything else that would render you unfit for duty.”

  “Like drugs,” Belinda offered, brightly. She pretended not to see the sharp look Marshal Singh aimed at her. “There’s a whole list of available substances here.”

  Glen looked annoyed, although not at her. It took Belinda a moment to realise that most of the substances were illegal, even on Earth and the Core Worlds. Seeing them offered so blatantly had to offend his lawman’s soul. But then, he’d never seen the luxuries offered to Prince Roland to keep him from actually trying to think for himself. There had always been one set of laws for the rich and another for the poor.

  “Eat what you can,” she advised. She tapped the menu, choosing a large steak and fries for herself. It would provide enough substance for several days, if necessary. “And then we can get some sleep.”

  Night slowly fell over Island One as they ate, the giant light-tube dimming until the stars started to come out overhead. They seemed to be moving slowly, something that puzzled her until she recalled that the wheel was spinning. Flickering dots of light, high overhead, had to be the network of security satellites and automated weapons platforms surrounding the Island One. It looked impressive, on paper, but Belinda had no illusions. They wouldn't be able to stand up to a determined assault.

  “Look,” Helen called. “What are those?”

  Belinda followed her gaze. Dancing flickers of light hung in the air, spinning through the trees at the edge of the clearing. There was a faint buzzing as they grew closer, barely audible even to her enhanced hearing, then faded away as they withdrew into the forest and vanished. It was an utterly charming sight.

  “Fireflies, I think,” she said. They might well have been enhanced by the biologists, but there was no way to be sure. She'd never seen them glowing so brightly before. “They only come out at night.”

  She had to smile at Helen’s expression. The girl would have grown up on her starship, spending only a small amount of her life on space stations or settled asteroids. None of them, she suspected, would be like Island One. RockRats had a tendency to grow wild gardens in their asteroids, but Traders tended to shy away from plants and gardens. They preferred to grow their foodstuffs in vats.

  But they miss out on natural beauty, she thought, as her enhanced vision caught sight of other animals moving through the trees. A snowy white owl flew overhead, calling out to its prey as it faded into the distance. None of the animals seemed very scared of humanity, something that amused her; it was unlikely that Island One’s residents tried to hunt. Or maybe they did, on the far side of the wheel. There was no shortage of land space that could be turned into a hunting ground.

  But it wouldn’t be quite the same, she mused. Nothing like hunting for real.

  She looked down at her steak and fries as they arrived, then started to eat. Helen had ordered a burger and fries on Glen’s advice, although Belinda doubted Helen could eat the whole meal. The burger alone was larger than her head! The other two Marshals had ordered meals from other worlds, featuring very rare animals. They probably cost more, Belinda noted, than their entire salary for the year. She wondered, vaguely, what Stacy and the others ate, then decided she didn't want to know. Island One’s residents would never notice if their staff ate steak and fries every day.

  Her steak was perfect, absolutely tender. She shook her head in amused irritation, wondering what Augustus would have made of Island One. He probably owned a home on the habitat, judging by the list of other wealthy men and women who had places to stay well away from Terra Nova. Keeping Violet on Island One might not have been a favour to her though, Belinda knew. It was quite possible that the kids were spoilt brats.

  Or would they play with the servant families?

  The thought made her shudder. Greenway hadn't had any real social classes, but there had been some colonist families who were more equal than others. On Earth, it would be literally impossible – would have been literally impossible, she corrected herself – for someone from a lower class background to meet and befriend someone from the Grand Families. Even if they did, there would always be envy between the two. What would happen if Island One ever had to exist on its own, isolated from the rest of the universe?

  “You’re being quiet,” Glen said. “Penny for your thoughts?”

  “My thoughts are a credit apiece,” Belinda said. “I’ll be glad when this is over?”

  And what will I do then? She asked herself. I can't go back to the Pathfinders – or even be a Rifleman.

  The ghosts offered no answer. But then, she hadn’t really expected one.

  Helen yawned, then pushed the rest of her burger aside. Belinda scowled, remembering precisely what her mother would have said about wasting food, then decided it wasn't really Helen’s fault. Besides, she’d eaten three-fourths of the burger and all of her fries. It was impressive, given how thin she was. The genetic engineers must have given her one hell of a metabolism.

  “Come on,” Glen said. “We’ll go back to the hut.”

  Belinda followed them, allowing her enhanced senses to peer through the darkness. The lake was glowing faintly, allowing her to see fish still swimming in the water. She started as a much larger fish swam through the water, then vanished back into the darkness. It didn't loom harmful, but she would have been astonished if she'd been swimming and run right into the creature. She wondered, absently, if it only ever came out at night.

  The interior of the hut was brightly lit, somewhat to her amusement. Glen lowered the lights, then escorted Helen into her bedroom and pointed her towards the bed. Helen didn't argue, a sure sign of tiredness; she merely picked up her bag and started searching through it for nightclothes. Belinda watched, then turned and walked onto the balcony. Silence descended at once, even to her enhanced ears. The only sound she could hear was water lapping against the stilts, far below.

  “She’s in bed,” Glen said, as he walked out beside her. “And I think she was completely exhausted.”

  “She probably did some exploring while we were in the security complex,” Belinda said, practically. “You make a good dad.”

  Glen looked away, his face twisting into bitter grief. Belinda cursed her own mistake under her breath. Standards of medical care in the Core Worlds had been slipping for years, at least partly because of an obsession with quotas rather than actual healthcare, but it was still rare to lose a wife and child in childbirth. She couldn't blame him for latching on to Helen, even if it was potentially quite dangerous. He still wanted to be a dad.

  But what will you do, Belinda asked silently, when her parents come back?

  She sighed, then reached out and tapped his shoulder. “Fancy a midnight swim?”

  “I don't have any swimming gear,” Glen said. At least he could swim. Roland hadn't been able to swim until Belinda had
taught him. “I could find some ...”

  “Or you could swim naked,” Belinda said. She had to fight to keep from giggling at his expression. For a man who’d grown up on Earth, he had a surprising amount of body-modesty. “It’s not very cold down there.”

  She shucked off her shirt, then her trousers, before she could think better of it, dropping them down on the wooden balcony. Glen stared at her in disbelief as her underwear landed on top of the pile of clothing, then she turned and made her way down the steps into the water. It was warmer than she’d expected, warm enough to be comfortable instantly. Compared to the water tests of the Crucible, it was paradise itself.

  “Come on in,” she called. “The water’s lovely.”

  Glen hesitated, then undressed too. Belinda turned away, granting him some privacy as he stepped down to join her, concealing her amusement at how he tried to look everywhere, but directly at her. His reaction was definitely odd, for a man from Earth. People were so closely jammed together in the megacities that modesty was rare. Women had a harder time of it, but then they always did. Rape was so common on Earth that it was barely noticed by anyone other than the victim.

  Bastards, she thought.

  She winked at him, then swam away with easy strokes. Glen followed her. He wasn't as good as her in the water, even without augmentations, but he was better than she’d expected. There were no deep swimming pools on Earth, at least in the megacities. Someone might get hurt or drowned and then there would be lawsuits. The last time she’d looked, the liability waivers on Earth were hundreds of pages long and covered contingencies she rather doubted happened in real life.

  “We shouldn't get distracted,” Glen said. “I ...”

  Belinda ducked beneath the water, then caught his feet and yanked, hard. Glen went down under the water as Belinda popped up again, then surfaced, coughing and sputtering.

  “You need to relax,” Belinda said. She kicked herself upwards, allowing her breasts to bobble in front of her. His eyes followed them, then he looked away. “Really.”

  Glen splashed her with water, then gave chase as she started to swim away from him. Belinda giggled, then let him chase her back to the hut and up the steps, then into the shower room. It was easily large enough for two people ... she saw him hesitate, then sighed. He was far from unattractive, and it had been far too long.

  Try harder, Pug offered. Most men are too dumb to notice that you’re trying to seduce them.

  Shut up, Belinda thought. Please.

  She looked at Glen and threw caution to the winds. “Come here,” she ordered, and pulled him into the shower. She felt his body respond to her as soon as she touched him. It would have been grossly unprofessional at any other time, but it felt right now. “We both need to relax.”

  He opened his mouth, then stopped as she kissed him. His arms encircled her and held her, tightly. Belinda smiled to herself, then kissed him again as she felt him hardening. It had been too long for both of them. She felt him tense as she pushed him down and straddled him, then relax as she kissed him again. And then she mounted him and pushed down, hard.

  Afterwards, they washed themselves clean, walked over to the bed and fell asleep, hand in hand. And the ghosts in her head remained silent.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  And laws were now being passed for the benefit of the powerful, rather than the population as a whole. Who could respect a law that destroyed all businessmen without powerful connections? That criminalised activity that was utterly harmless? That took law enforcement officials away from serious crimes to enforce laws that made no sense or destroyed lives?

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

  Glen jerked awake as he heard someone screaming, then looked around as one hand scrabbled for the pistol he normally kept within arm’s reach. Beside him, Belinda sat upright, one hand extended in a pointing gesture that would have looked absurd, if he hadn't known how many weapons implants had been inserted into her body. She looked at him, then jumped out of bed and headed towards Helen’s room. Glen followed, after yanking on a dressing gown. The last thing Helen needed to see was both of them naked.

  “Stay here,” he ordered, as he opened the door. Helen was rolling backwards and forwards on her bed, tangling in her bedding, screaming even though she was still asleep. “Helen!”

  Helen’s entire body shook violently, then fell limp on the bed. Her eyes opened a moment later, wide and frightened. Sweat dripped from her forehead as she stared at him, numbly, as if she wasn't quite sure where she was. Glen remembered the nightmares she’d had earlier and cursed himself for assuming they’d gone away for good. He should have organised some help for her before they reasserted their grip on her mind.

  He stepped forward, sat down next to her and wrapped her in a hug. Her entire body was shaking, her nightclothes so drenched in sweat that he thought for a horrified moment that she’d wet herself. He hadn't seen anyone have so violent a nightmare since raiding a den of drug addicts who’d cut their star dust with something that definitely wasn't even remotely safe to smoke, even in small doses. Five of the seven young men he’d seen hadn’t survived the experience. But Helen wasn't taking anything to make her have such awful nightmares.

  “It’s ok,” he said. She clung to him as if he were a life preserver. “It’s going to be ok.”

  Belinda stepped into the room, wearing a dressing gown that concealed almost all of her body. Glen couldn't tell if she was trying to be reassuring or if she was regretting their one-night stand. He cursed his own weakness, but without heat. It had been far too long since he’d last slept with anyone and, despite Isabel’s best efforts, he’d never dated anyone since his wife had died. Part of him would always wonder if he’d killed his wife and unborn daughter by getting her pregnant.

  “Dreams can be really bad,” Belinda said. She knelt beside Glen and stroked Helen’s head. “What did you see in your dream, Helen?”

  “They were cutting me open,” Helen said. “I could feel them cutting into my body and ...”

  She shuddered, again. “It hurt so much and it just wouldn't stop!”

  “It sounds like a bad nightmare,” Belinda said. She looked over at Glen. “Has she had these nightmares before?”

  “Sometimes,” Glen said, grimly. “Do you think there’s a real problem?”

  “Maybe,” Belinda said. “but I’ve always had odd dreams when I moved from posting to posting.”

  Glen scowled. He’d had nightmares too, shortly after his wife had died, and they’d never truly faded. Patty had advised him to visit the headshrinkers, but he’d never cared to risk his career to their whims. Headshrinkers were rarely helpful, while a word from them could destroy a career, if said to the right person. He hadn't wanted to be told that he had a rare psychological disorder and be summarily sacked. It had happened far too often.

  He considered checking to see if there was a psychologist on Island One, before dismissing the idea. Even if there was, he didn't want to see Helen sectioned by the mental health authorities or thrown into care ... or, for that matter, face the barrage of accusations he knew would be hurled at him. Every little dispute could be blamed on abuse, even if the so-called victim denied it. And the stigma from such accusations would never fade away.

  Years ago, he'd arrested a young man whose social worker had ruined his life. It had been hard, very hard, to blame him for murdering the silly bitch. But the law was inflexible when the suspect was poor. He’d been transported to a colony world, where he’d been sentenced to twenty years of indentured servitude. Somehow, Glen suspected that he’d be happier as an indent than a citizen on Terra Nova.

  “You’ll be fine,” Belinda said. “We just have to learn to move with the changes in our lives.”

  She helped Helen to her feet, then led her towards the shower. Glen watched them go, then stood and walked back into the main room, where he checked the terminal. Thankfully, the soundproofing on the hut was good eno
ugh to prevent the others from hearing the screaming and charging in with guns drawn. The chances of an accident would be far too high.

  He sat down at the desk and checked his messages, then sighed. What had they been doing last night? Had it been a one-night stand or the start of something better? Or was he just being a silly old man worrying about it. Neither of them had time to consider the prospects for a relationship when they were meant to be securing Island One, with a dangerously understaffed force. The security staff weren't that bad, he’d decided after he’d reminded them of the dangers involved in taking anything for granted, but they were still undermanned and inexperienced. Glen had been seriously considering begging for extra manpower when it had become clear there would be none to be had.

  The important messages were short and to the point. Island One would receive its first guests later in the day, including the Governor, Patty and Thomas Augustus. Glen had heard of him – who hadn't? – and suspected he would make a reasonable delegate to represent Terra Nova’s industry. The remainder of the delegates would arrive over the next two days – there was some leeway built into the schedule – and the conference would begin as soon as they were all assembled. It was, Glen suspected, a testament to the sheer urgency of the conference that most of the formalities were being skipped.

  And that no one has any actual experience of holding a summit conference, he added, in the privacy of his own mind. He’d checked, just out of curiosity, and the last time the Empire had ever negotiated with anyone as an equal had been towards the end of the Unification Wars. Normally, they’d just send a battlefleet to hand out the demands and administer a thumping if anyone decided to reject the demands.