The Thin Blue Line (The Empire's Corps Book 9) (v5.1) (17 page)

“That makes sense,” Belinda said, slowly. “The stock exchanges were based on Earth.”

“Precisely,” Augustus said. “Now, if
I
were in charge, I would put the whole question of ownership to one side and just concentrate on restarting production. Sure, we’d be short of quite a few essential pieces of equipment, but we could fill those holes with a little effort and then start replacing what we lost over the last month. But, right now, there are too many interested parties to permit the Governor to take control and restart production. I’m trying to handle orders from so many people that I can't hope to fill them all.”

“Ouch,” Belinda said.

“And, to add insult to injury, no one really knows how much money is worth any longer,” Augustus added. “Everything ran through the Imperial Central Bank on Earth. Now the bank is gone and the value of the credit is falling through the floor. Interstellar trade is doomed unless we can re-establish some idea of what money is worth from star system to star system. And if trade dies, the remains of the Empire dies with it.”

Belinda looked down at her stew. “They didn’t seem to question the price of this meal,” she said. “Or is that different?”

“Anything local can be backed by locally-owned industries,” Augustus said. “But anything interstellar ...”

He paused. “Are you all right for money, right now?”

“For the moment,” Belinda assured him. She had no idea if Augustus was being kind or if he was trying to find a way to control her, but it hardly mattered. “I’m not planning to stay indefinitely.”

“I saw your file,” Augustus said. “I could easily find a job for you.”

Belinda had to smile. “Do you always make job offers to women you meet on the orbital tower?”

“Only the ones who might offer something to my company,” Augustus said, sardonically. “And you might. We need more security experts right now.”

“Because of the potential for riots?” Belinda asked. “Or is there another reason?”

“Both,” Augustus said. He finished his steak and pushed it to one side. “You do realise there’s a good chance you will be conscripted?”

“I know,” Belinda said. She wasn't a native, but the Governor didn't seem to care. His growing army was trying to round up as many people with military experience as it could, including off-worlders. Hell, the whole
concept
of off-worlders being mistrusted was new to the Core Worlds. Once, the populations would have been largely interchangeable. “But I don’t plan to stay here.”

“I think the penalties for desertion will be rather high,” Augustus said, dryly. “You need to be careful.”

“I will,” Belinda said. “But I’ve always preferred being a free agent or a starship crewperson, rather than one employee among millions.”

She gave him a coy smile, then changed the subject before he could ask an awkward question. “And what were you planning to do for the rest of the evening?”

“It would depend on what you want to do,” Augustus said. He took a breath. “But I would like to start by apologising for my behaviour on the orbital tower. I can endure space, but not the orbital tower’s elevator.”

“You’re forgiven,” Belinda said. She watched coolly as the waiters cleared away the table, then offered the dessert menus. “Would you like to dance on the lower floor?”

Augustus smiled. “Why not?”

Belinda felt another odd burst of guilt as he held out a hand, then led her to the stairs leading down to the lower levels. The Augustus she’d met on the orbital tower’s elevator had been a drunken fool, but this one was something more sympathetic. Somehow, she didn't
want
to seduce him, then steal his access codes. Or worse. And yet, what else could she do?

“It’s been years since I danced,” Augustus said, as they reached the dance floor. A handful of couples were already moving across the floor, swinging to the beat of the tune. There didn't seem to be any real steps, merely moving up to the windows and back again. “Come on ...”

“Attention,” a sharp voice said. The musicians stopped playing and looked around in confusion. “This is a security warning. All guests are warned that there is a security emergency on the streets. This building will now go into lockdown; I say again, this building will now go into lockdown.”

Belinda stepped over to the window and peered down to the streets below. The normal eye couldn't have seen more than a blur, but her enhanced eyes had no difficulty in picking out the signs of a budding riot. Crowds were gathering in the twilight, scattering the handful of security guards on the streets. It would take time, given how badly the police and military were scattered, to handle the growing crisis.

Augustus caught her arm. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Belinda lied. She could make her way out, she suspected, but she would have to leave Augustus and the other guests behind. Somehow, that seemed unthinkable. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

But if we determine that it is not a criminal act, we open the floodgates for claims that a relationship between a 15 year old and a 40 year old would also not be a criminal act. The law deals in absolutes and precedents and is incapable, quite often, of recognising the subtle points of a situation.

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

“So,” Helen said. “How was your day?”

“Tedious,” Glen said. He’d gone to the office the Nihilists had rented, but – as he’d expected – they’d cleared out months ago. “And yours?”

Helen gave him a shy smile. “I worked my way through the puzzle chip,” she said. “Most of them were simple.”

Glen had to smile. He’d purchased puzzles and educational games intended for someone two or three years older than Helen ... and she considered them
simple
? But then, she
had
grown up on a starship, where puzzle-solving was often a matter of life and death. And she hadn't been held back by the rest of her class, as she would have been if she’d grown up on the ground.

The thought caused him a pang. If she stayed with him – and part of him
wanted
her to stay with him – she would have to go to school. Homeschooling was illegal, even if he’d had the time and ability to educate her himself, and she’d find herself badly isolated in a normal school. Quite apart from her origins, she’d be smarter and more adaptable than the rest of her classmates. She wouldn't have a comfortable time of it.

“I can find you a more advanced one,” he said, although he wasn't sure where to look. There weren't
that
many levels above the one she’d completed. “What would you like to do this evening?”

“Watch a flick,” Helen said, after a moment. “I was saving them for when you came home.”

“Something mindless,” Glen said, dryly. “I’ve had to use my brain all day and it deserves a rest.”

Helen giggled.

He sent her to choose the flick she wanted to watch, then stepped into the kitchen and started to cook. It had been a long time since he’d cooked for more than one person and he wasn't quite sure of the quantities of food he should use, but he was parsing it out step by step. And he could simply reheat anything they didn't eat when it was cooked. By the time he’d started to heat up chicken and pasta, Helen had returned, carrying two datachips in her hand. Glen glanced at the titles and rolled his eyes.

“
Hero Cop
and
Law Enforcer
?” He asked. “Don’t you have something more entertaining?”

Helen looked surprised. “What’s wrong with these?”

Glen snorted as he reached for plates. “They were written by someone who knows nothing about police work,” he said. “There are so many mistakes in them that ... that it explains why we get so many idiots signing up for training. They think we’re like Hero Cop with his Lantern Jaw of Justice.”

Helen looked down at the table. “I always liked action movies,” she confessed. “My mother used to think it was weird, but my dad had a vast collection and we would watch our way through them, one by one. They’d never let me watch anything fantastical.”

“I’m not surprised,” Glen commented. Fantastical movies were often anti-science as well as utterly unrelated to any form of reality. They were popular in the Core Worlds, but rather less so along the Rim. Besides, the basic background plot was always the same. The elders know better than the younglings and should never be questioned. “But I never got to watch cop shows when I was a child. They were too violent.”

Helen smirked. “Worse than some of the sex flicks I’m not supposed to have watched?”

Her face shadowed. “My father had a collection of those too,” she added. “My mother caught me watching one a year ago and went mental.”

“You're too young to watch,” Glen said, as he started to ladle out the food. “It causes too many problems down on a planetary surface.”

Helen frowned. “It does?”

Glen nodded. The Empire’s entertainment producers might have been deprived of the chance to produce anything with a plot, so they’d been forced to compensate with sex. Their latest flicks showed everything from couples enjoying an intensely sexual relationship to orgies involving multiple couples or every form of depraved sexuality under the sun. Glen wouldn't have cared if they’d been aimed at adults, but far too many of them were aimed at children who didn't understand the dangers of indulging in such acts. It helped keep the masses quiet, he knew, yet the price was far too high. How many of the problems the Marshals had to deal with among teenagers stemmed from watching endless streams of pornography?

It might not be so dangerous in space
, he thought, although he didn't blame Helen’s mother for being furious.
In space, the difference between fantasy and reality is harder to forget
.

He passed Helen her plate of food, then sat down to eat his own. It tasted blander than he’d expected – normally, he would have added more spices and sauces to give it some kick – but it hardly mattered. After a hard day at work, all he really wanted to do was cram more fuel into his body and then go to sleep. But staying up to watch a flick with Helen sounded good too.

“The chicken tastes odd,” Helen said. “Is that normal?”

Glen took a bite, rolling the piece of meat around his mouth. “I think so,” he said. “It’s just the preservatives they force into the meat.”

Helen gave him an odd look. “Preservatives?”

“People sue over everything,” Glen said. “If someone bought a piece of rotten meat, they’d sue. So the shopping malls inject preservatives into the meat to ensure it lasts longer and no one gets hurt eating it. And if it doesn't taste as good as it should ... well, it’s for the good of society.”

“And to ensure they can keep the meat on the shelves longer,” Helen added.

Glen smiled. “How cynical,” he said. “But yeah, you’re right. They’ve been known to keep pieces of heavily-preserved meat on the shelves for weeks, then remove it just before the meat reaches its expiry date.”

Helen looked at the piece of meat on the end of her fork. “But don’t people sue over the taste?”

“Probably,” Glen said. He sighed. Half of his time as a rookie had been spent dealing with safety precautions forced on society by endless lawsuits. It had been nightmarish because the vast majority of decent citizens couldn't afford to keep up with the regulations. “If there’s a chance to make money from a lawsuit, Helen, someone will take it. And leave everyone else to clear up the mess.”

He finished his meal, then dropped the plate in the sink. Helen had insisted that she be allowed to do the washing up in the daytime, rather than leaving it for Glen to do later. Glen had argued, but not too hard. Helen needed to do
something
to feel that she was earning her place in his home, if only to keep her from becoming an over-entitled kid like too many of the little bastards who ended up in holding cells. It spoke well of her parents, he decided as he poured himself a mug of tea, that they’d trained her to do a portion of the work as soon as she could walk. There were too many children on Terra Nova who never learned the basic life skills until they moved into an apartment of their own and discovered just how hard it was to manage a household.

And some of them never learn at all
, he thought, morbidly.

Helen led the way into the sitting room and inserted the chip into the viewscreen, then sat back on the floor as the endless series of warnings against piracy popped up on the screen. Glen rolled his eyes – nothing, not even the most advanced encryption available to commercial interests, had been able to prevent electronic piracy – and poured himself a drink as the warnings scrolled on. No one, as far as he knew, paid any attention to them. They were just annoying, as were the series of trailers that followed. And if there had been a way to switch past them, he suspected, there would be fewer pirate copies on the streets.

“These trailers are all the same,” Helen complained, as Glen sat down on the sofa behind her. “Why don’t they come up with anything different?”

Glen smiled as yet another fire-breathing dragon flew across the screen. “Because they’re not allowed to have a decent plot,” he said. “It’s easier to indulge in ridiculous special effects and gut-wrenching violence than try to get a story idea through the censors. Everything has to be as clinched as possible.”

Helen turned to look back at him. “Why?”

“Don’t want the masses getting ideas,” Glen grunted. “You couldn't have a resistance movement on a colony world that actually had a
point
. That might start people thinking.”

He sighed. It hadn't been
that
long since he’d watched Colony Wars CXI – a remake of a remake – where a colony world had revolted against Earth. The leader of the revolt had been a sadistic coward, so fearful that it was hard to see how he’d ever worked up the nerve to revolt, while his behaviour had been so reprehensible that only utter depravity explained why his followers hadn't revolted against
him
. And he’d made a point of gloating, as often as possible, about how he was starving Earth. The whole flick had been nothing more than an exercise in poorly-disguised propaganda.