The Thin Blue Line (The Empire's Corps Book 9) (v5.1) (16 page)

“They’ll want answers,” Sharon said, jerking a hand towards the wall. “And what do I tell them?”

“That the whole affair is classified,” Glen said, rising to his feet. There would be time to go through the files he’d borrowed – stolen – later. “You won’t have to worry about losing your job.”

Sharon looked doubtful. Glen didn't blame her. It was illegal to dismiss someone because they’d been called to the colours, let alone interrogated by the Imperial Marshals. But Doyle could probably find another reason to dismiss her, if he tried. Glen sighed, then made a mental note to have a short talk with Doyle afterwards. The whole affair couldn't be left in the past until Glen and his superiors confirmed that there were no suspicions levelled at the shipping firm. He could delay clearing them for as long as he chose.

And how,
he asked himself as he rose,
does that make you any different from all the others who exploit their positions?

He watched Sharon leave the room, then had a long heart-to-heart with Doyle. The man seemed somewhat relieved, leaving Glen convinced he had a guilty conscience about
something
. But there was no time to follow up on it, not now. He checked his watch, then walked out to the car and climbed behind the wheel. There was just enough time to go home to check on Helen before driving to the office the terrorists had hired. It was unlikely they’d left any clues behind, but he had to check. And then he could start going through the remaining files from Doyle. Who knew what else the man had been doing?

But only if it’s a major crime
, he reminded himself.
You don’t have time to waste
.

Legally, the older one in the partnership will be guilty of statutory rape (an act that is always criminal because the victim is assumed to be incapable of granting consent) and thus can be charged with child molestation. But if one person is sixteen and the other fifteen, with both parties having raging hormones, is that actually a criminal act? Many readers would, I suspect, argue no. It is not a criminal act.

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

“I was surprised to hear from you again,” Thomas Augustus said.

Belinda gave him a charming smile.
She
was surprised he’d answered her message so promptly, inviting her to dinner at the largest revolving restaurant in Landing City. Indeed, she’d barely had time to catch a few hours of sleep before his personal car arrived to transport her to the restaurant. Clearly, she’d made a much greater impression on him than she’d thought.

Or he’s embarrassed about falling over in a drunken stupor
, she thought, privately.
I’m surprised he even wants to look at me after embarrassing himself so thoroughly
.

“You left your code with me,” Belinda said. “And I don’t know many other people in Landing City.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Augustus said. He stood and waved a hand towards the window, indicating the towering skyscrapers outside. “What do you make of our fine city?”

Belinda had several answers for that, but most of them would be far from helpful. “Old,” she said, after a moment. “Living history.”

“That’s true,” Augustus said. “The other cities on this planet might be alarmingly like Earth, but Landing City is spread out for miles. Government House” – he pointed to a block of lights in the distance – “hasn’t really changed since the planet gained self-government. It’s a piece of living history too.”

Belinda nodded. She had no idea what building on Earth had served as the model, but she had to admit the towering white edifice was very impressive. And, compared to some of the skyscrapers, it looked tiny. The building would be very hard to defend if an insurgent force took control of some of the surrounding buildings and used them to pour fire into the heart of Government House.

She looked around the room as Augustus sat down. The restaurant was very impressive, although there was a creaking sense of age that reminded her of some of the Imperial Navy’s older battleships. There were gold and silver artworks everywhere, while the waiters were dressed up to the nines, with snooty expressions they directed towards every guest who didn't have at least a million credits in the bank. Even reserving a table in advance, according to the datanet, cost a thousand credits. Belinda was morbidly impressed that Augustus had been able to organise one on such short notice.

“But enough of that,” Augustus said. He smiled at her, then picked up the menu. “Order whatever you want, my dear. My treat.”

And then you plan to lure me into bed,
Belinda thought, sardonically. But she wasn't too surprised.
If you knew what I was would you still want to go to bed with me
?

She pushed the thought aside as she opened the menu. The prices were literally staggering, even something as simple as fish and chips cost over a hundred credits. A quick scan of the wine list revealed some bottles that were unique, so rare she had a feeling that they were literally impossible to price. She was mildly surprised they hadn't been scooped up by a collector and stored in a high-security vault.

“Eat whatever you want,” Augustus said. “I’m paying.”

Belinda lifted the menu to hide her smile. On Greenway, her first date had cost her boyfriend – she couldn't remember his name, only that he’d been one of the few to match her sharpshooting skills – a handful of credits. They’d packed a picnic and taken it into the mountains to eat, well away from anyone else. She rather doubted that the richest man on her homeworld could have afforded to eat with Augustus. But he seemed confident.

“I’ve never eaten anything like this before,” she said, instead. “What should I try?”

“The Chef’s Special is always unique,” Augustus said. “Or, if you want something
really
fancy, you could try the fish. They cook it in a special sauce, then serve it with vegetables – all naturally-grown, of course. None of that vat-grown muck here!”

“I’ll try the Special,” Belinda said. She placed the menu to one side and looked up at him. “I always wondered why they don’t make vat-food taste better.”

Augustus, as she had expected, launched into a long explanation. Belinda already knew most of it – the Empire didn't want people to become
dependent
on vat-food, let alone processed algae – but Augustus had a few private thoughts of his own. There might be an obligation to look after the less fortunate, yet there was no comparable requirement to let the poor think they had a right to eat nice food. It wasn't an uncommon attitude, but it caused Belinda a pang of guilt. There was no need to spit on people who had no hope of climbing out of the poverty trap.

“I provide jobs for thousands of people who want to better themselves,” Augustus concluded, as the waiter arrived. “They can buy whatever they want with my wages.”

“I’m sure they can,” Belinda said. “What do you do for a living?”

Augustus snorted. “I own an industrial node,” he said. “Didn't I tell you that?”

Belinda nodded. Augustus started to talk rapidly, outlining his work and how he planned to expand the node without the crushing presence of the Empire’s bureaucracy. The Governor himself, apparently, had agreed to relax taxation and regulation in exchange for some unspecified service, something that Augustus remained tight-lipped about. Belinda listened, sometimes asking questions, as Augustus bragged. Reluctantly, she had to admit that if half of his bragging was accurate, he had good reason to be pleased with himself. In an age where the Grand Senate had drained innovation and inventiveness to the bare minimum, he’d built himself a private industrial empire that would be in a good position to take advantage of the Fall of Earth.

“But that’s enough about me,” Augustus said, leaning forward slightly. “Tell me about yourself?”

“I was a soldier, then a spacer,” Belinda said, activating one of her implants to ensure she kept her cover story straight. Most civilians wouldn't recognise discrepancies when she talked about the military, but there was no point in taking chances. “I ended up leaving the service after ... an incident and started travelling instead.”

“I always wanted to travel,” Augustus said. He shook his head wistfully. “What was the most remarkable sight you ever saw?”

The Slaughterhouse
, Belinda thought. But it wasn't something she could say out loud.

“I saw the Silver Strand on New Paris,” she said, instead. She
had
seen it, once upon a time, when her unit had passed through the system. “It was spectacular when the sun rose above the horizon and the space elevator began to glow.”

“It must have been remarkable,” Augustus agreed. “What else did you see?”

“There was the Hanging Gardens of Babylon,” Belinda said, recalling a planet on the edge of the Core Worlds. There had been a nasty insurgency there, but it had been in its closing stages when her unit had been deployed and they’d found themselves doing nothing more than mop-up duties. “They claimed to have plants from every world in the Empire in their gardens.”

“I can't imagine you liking a garden,” Augustus said. “You always seem so ... untamed.”

Belinda found herself flushing. “The gardens were nice,” she said, defensively. “And surprisingly peaceful.”

She paused. “Why don’t you go travelling?”

“I don’t dare take my eyes off my business,” Augustus said. “I have no one I can trust to take over, really.”

Belinda lifted her eyebrows. “You don’t trust your children?”

“They’re brats,” Augustus said, tiredly. “My eldest daughter blows through her allowance within the first day of the month, while my son and younger daughters refused to study anything useful at university. And to think they wanted to go to Imperial University on Earth!”

“That would have been bad,” Belinda said, remembering the student uprisings in the last days of Earth. They’d ended badly for everyone involved. “They aren’t interested in following in your footsteps?”

“They’re only interested in money,” Augustus said. “Gabrielle would spend everything I built up in a few months, if I let her, while the other three want to give it all away to various social justice parties. Where did I go wrong?”

“You made their lives too easy,” Belinda said, quietly.

“I know,” Augustus said. “But was it wrong of me to want them to have a good life?”

Belinda considered it. Her father had always remarked that suffering built character, but he'd also never had the money to spoil his children rotten. She'd grown up on a farm, helping her parents feed the animals and tend to the crops from a very early age. And she’d often had to hunt to keep her family fed.
And
she’d never been allowed to make allowances for her behaviour.

“I think you have to strike a balance between teaching them the value of hard work and deliberately depriving them,” she said, finally. “Getting too much too easy just makes them accustomed to getting whatever they want, when they want it. And if they never develop the ability to work hard as children, they will find it very hard to learn as adults.”

“I wish my wife had thought like that,” Augustus said. “She always spoilt the children rotten.”

He must have an open relationship
, Doug said.
That’s not uncommon among the very rich.

Belinda shrugged, wishing she could erase the voices from her head. “You probably need to take a heir if you find your natural-born children unsatisfactory,” she said, dryly. “Or send them off to reform camp. Or the Marines.”

Augustus snorted. “What did the Marines ever do to deserve them?”

The waiters reappeared before Belinda could think of an answer, carrying two large silver trays of food. Belinda eyed the stew in front of her with some concern, realising that it was easily large enough to feed several people at once. She wouldn't have any difficulty eating the stew, thanks to her implants, but a more normal person would have struggled.

How the rich live
, Pug muttered, in her head.
And to think this is all fiddling as the planet starts to burn
.

Belinda ignored him. Instead, following Augustus’s lead, she started to tuck into her stew, silently blessing her trainers for the etiquette lessons. Augustus seemed to watch her with a strange level of interest, both lustful and – at the same time – more curious than anything else. Belinda puzzled over it for a long moment, then dismissed the thought as the first explosion of taste hit her tongue. The stew was an astonishing mix of meats and various spices and other flavours.

“The chef is rightly proud of his work,” Augustus said, as he carved his way through a colossal steak. It was so large that Belinda couldn't help wondering if it had really come from a live animal or if someone had grown it in a vat, perhaps with proper treatment to make it taste natural. “I always have something different when I come here and it’s always something good.”

Belinda nodded, chewing her food. “The news is curiously bland,” she said, when she finished swallowing. “Is there something I’m missing?”

“The Governor has the news censored,” Augustus said, darkly. “I have to pay extra just to access the standard uncensored datastreams. The general public cannot be allowed to know about the problems we’re having right now.”

Belinda leaned forward, showing interest. “Problems?”

“I don’t have any ties to Earth,” Augustus said. “Problem is – just about everyone else in the space industry does, or
did
. No one knows what’s going to happen to their industrial plants, so hundreds of trained workers are being laid off and I can't snap them all up for myself. Those men represent a reserve we cannot afford to lose, but everyone is dragging their feet on recognising that Earth is gone and doing something with the remaining industries in the system.”

Belinda made a show of looking confused. “Can’t they be passed to the heirs?”

“It’s impossible to tell who the heirs actually
are
,” Augustus pointed out. He took another bite of his steak, then gestured vaguely with the fork. “The corporations that owned a good two-thirds of the planet’s industrial might were based on Earth, where most of their CEOs lived and worked. They tended to assign managers to handle their affairs here, but those managers didn't really own shares in the industries.”