It felt like no time had passed before she heard the buzzer. Jacqueline shook herself awake and glanced at her handcom; it was 2am. Who could be calling at this hour? Amethyst didn't need someone to open the door for her, unless the fingerprint sensor was bust again; who else would want to visit so late at night? Jacqueline was tempted just to stick her head back under the covers and ignore the sound, but what if it was Amethyst? She couldn't leave her friend outside for the night. Muttering curses under her breath, she rolled out of bed, pulled a thin nightgown on to cover herself and stepped out into the living room.
Someone was banging on the door, she realised. The metal square seemed to be on the verge of exploding inwards, allowing whoever it was outside to get in. She glanced at the monitor and blinked in surprise as she saw a university cop and three Civil Guardsmen. What were they doing outside? She couldn't think of anything she might have done to attract their attention. Perhaps it was just a routine test of their security ... she reached for the handle and opened the door. The next moment, she found herself shoved backwards by an immensely strong man.
“What ...?”
“Shut up,” the man barked, as he pushed her into the wall. Jacqueline was too stunned to offer any resistance, even when her nose was rammed into the metal. He caught her hands and pulled them behind her back, slipping on a pair of handcuffs. “Name?”
It took several moments for Jacqueline to reply. “Jacqueline, sir,” she said. They’d been advised to always cooperate with the university cops when they first entered Imperial University, but she'd never heard of the university cops breaking into someone’s apartment ... the sensation of being handcuffed was eerie, as if she was looking down at herself from outside her body. “I ...”
He swung her round and glared at her, his breath smelling faintly unpleasant. “Where is your roommate?”
“I ... I don’t know,” Jacqueline stammered. A small army of Civil Guardsmen seemed to be staring down at her, their eyes flickering over the thin nightgown. She suddenly wished that she’d paid more attention to those rumours. Some of the stories told by the arrested students had been horrific. “I don’t know.”
“Your roommate is your friend, right?” The man demanded. “And you don’t know where she is?”
Jacqueline shook her head mutely.
“Not much of a friend,” the man sneered. His hands ran over her body, searching her – although quite what he thought she was hiding in the thin nightgown was beyond her. “Sit here” – he pushed her to the floor as he spoke – “and wait.”
Jacqueline sat, barely able to feel her hands because the cuffs were on so tight, and watched in dismay as the Civil Guardsmen searched the tiny apartment. Amethyst’s room came in for special attention; everything she had inside was dragged out into the living room and inspected, one by one. Jacqueline couldn't help staring as they went through her friend’s clothes, as if they expected to find something hidden inside her undergarments. She’d thought that only happened in bad entertainment flicks. There was a crash as something shattered and she winced. Even if they left without doing any more damage, it would take hours to clean up the apartment.
“That’s my room,” she protested, as several Guardsmen opened the door and headed inside. “You ...”
“Shut up,” one of the men barked.
Moments later, they were emptying her possessions out into the living room too. Jacqueline couldn't help blushing as they found her small collection of sexy underwear, including a pair of thongs that her first boyfriend had given to her. He’d spent more credits on them than she’d been able to put aside from her BLA every month, something that had touched her heart before she’d discovered that he was cheating on her. The remarks the Guardsmen made left her feeling helplessly exposed and vulnerable as they pawed their way through her possessions. All they had to do was look at her and they would see most of her secrets.
“Add a charge of hoarding to the list,” the man who had cuffed her said, dropping three of the ration bars to the floor in front of her. “Don’t you know that stockpiling food is forbidden?”
Jacqueline stared at him, then felt tears welling up inside her. She’d heard rumours ... but she'd never really paid close attention, even after so many students had been arrested without charge. There were so many laws, rules and regulations on Earth that it was impossible to keep them all straight; pretty much everyone broke one or more laws every month, without even knowing it. But three ration bars was hardly a large stockpile ...
“I ...”
She started to cry, great heaving sobs that seemed to rack her entire body. The Guardsmen stared at her, then returned to searching the apartment. She barely noticed when they put the datapad she’d been issued by the university in an evidence bag, along with a random selection of clothing. The man who’d cuffed her produced a bottle of something from his belt and pushed it gently against her lips. It tasted thin and mildly unpleasant, but she gulped it down gratefully. She was almost grateful for the hand he put on her shoulder, even though she knew it shouldn't have been comforting.
One of the Guardsmen let out a shout of triumph. “I found it!”
Jacqueline blinked. Found what? Amethyst’s private collection of dirty pictures? A small stockpile of alcohol and pleasure drugs? She honestly couldn't imagine her friend having anything that might interest the Guardsmen; God knew neither alcohol nor pleasure drugs were actually illegal. Besides, if they’d started arresting students for overindulging themselves they would have to arrest most of the campus.
One of the Guardsmen shoved a book under her nose. “Do you know what this is?”
Jacqueline shuddered in recognition. Richard – the boy who had so impressed Amethyst – had given Amethyst the book. Jacqueline had never read it, but she had a feeling that wouldn't be enough to save her. Richard had warned them that the book was thoroughly illegal. But she hadn't even known that Amethyst had kept the book in their apartment.
“The possession of a book on the banned list can earn the possessor exile from Earth,” the Guardsman said, softly. “Tell me; where did your friend get the book?”
He shook Jacqueline roughly as she started to cry again. “You can talk to us now or you can talk to us down at the station,” he said. “If the latter, you may be charged as an accessory to your friend’s crime ...”
Jacqueline struggled to think clearly. She was tired and upset and sore – and no matter how much she flexed her hands, she couldn't break the handcuffs. They seemed almost to be getting tighter and tighter. Amethyst was her friend, but Amethyst was gone – and left her to face the Civil Guard. And her parents would be broken-hearted if their daughter was exiled from Earth, if they ever found out what had happened to her. So many students had been lost in the confusion that they might never learn the truth.
“Help me help you,” the Guardsman said, gently. “Tell us the truth and you will have nothing to fear.”
“There was a boy,” Jacqueline confessed, finally. She ran through the whole story, despite the Guardsman’s frequent interruptions, concluding with the meeting they’d had at the nightclub and her decision not to go back. The whole affair had seemed thoroughly pointless to her. If half of what Richard had told them was true, what the hell could they do? “I ... I don't know anything else.”
“Your friend seems to have become a domestic terrorist,” the Guardsman informed her. “Did you know what happened to her?”
Jacqueline shook her head, frantically.
“I believe you,” the Guardsman said. He stood up. “Stay there,” he added. “I need to speak to my superiors.”
Jacqueline scowled at his retreating back. Stay there, he’d said. As if she had any choice! Shame welled up within her as she realised that she’d betrayed her friend, but if Amethyst had become a domestic terrorist ... what should she have done? She just wanted to be a student ...
Sure, part of her mind whispered. And what hope do you have of finding a job now?
She felt tears
falling on her breasts as she started to sob again. Everyone knew that their records followed them throughout their lives. Even if the Civil Guardsmen didn't charge her with anything – and it dawned on her that they could charge her for not betraying Richard at once – she’d still be recorded as the friend of a known terrorist. The job market would be permanently closed to her.
There was another crash as one of her entertainment devices was dropped on the ground. Normally, it would have outraged her to see the device treated so roughly – they were expensive; hers had been a gift from her parents that had been several years worth of birthday presents rolled into one – but now she found it hard to care. Instead, she just stared down at the floor, wondering if she could just close her eyes and forget the world. Her parents were going to be so disappointed in her ... they’d hoped that their daughter would be the first in the family to escape the BLA. But it didn't look as if they were going to get their wish.
“You’re going to have to come with us to the station,” the Guardsman said, as he returned. “There will be other questions for you.”
Jacqueline stared at him in absolute betrayal. He’d pushed her into talking ... and he wasn't even upholding his end of the bargain! But then, it had been stupid of her to think that he could just let her go. Even if she wasn't under arrest, she was someone who could identify Richard and Amethyst ... and the others she’d seen at the nightclub. Of course he wasn't going to let her go!
“Can ...” She started to cough and had to clear her throat before she could speak again. “Can I get dressed first?”
“No time,” the Guardsman said, helping her to her feet. “I’m afraid we have to leave now.”
“But ...”
“But nothing,” the Guardsman said, sharply. His voice hardened. “The first priority is getting you to the station as quickly as possible. You will be provided with clothes there.”
Jacqueline swallowed, hard. Everyone was going to see her marched down the corridors and into the Civil Guard aircar, wearing nothing more than a thin nightgown and a pair of handcuffs. She would never recover from the embarrassment and humiliation of being under arrest ... even if she wasn't under arrest, the witnesses would certainly think that she was under attest. They’d probably take photographs and upload them to the university network. If someone could take photos of their girlfriend in the nude and share them, there was no reason why they couldn't share photographs of her. Or videos ... it was the middle of the night, but she knew that plenty of students would still be awake. There were no classes, after all.
The Guardsman caught her arm and pushed her towards the door. “Walk slowly,” he ordered. His voice was firm, unwilling to tolerate any more arguing. “Don't speak to anyone, apart from me. Keep your eyes lowered ...”
Jacqueline barely heard him. Her mind was swimming, as if she were on the verge of fainting. If he hadn't been holding her, part of her mind realised, she might have collapsed ...
And her parents were going to be so disappointed in her.
The thought mocked her as she was shoved out of the apartment, leaving everything familiar behind.
Chapter Twenty-Six
This was nicely illustrated by the death of Grand Senator Medici. It is difficult to put together the precise details, but it appears that Medici intended to start a program of mild reform in his family’s holdings. However, his family refused to tolerate his program and rebelled against him. At first, he was merely stalled in family meetings. Later, as he spoke to other families and tried to get them to join his program, he died in suspicious circumstances.
There was no real investigation. Medici’s body was cremated and his ashes were scattered on his family’s private vacation world – and his reforms, as minor as they were, undone before the flames had finally died. No one genuinely believed that the death had been an accident and the rest of the Grand Senate took note. In future, reformers would have to be very careful – or die.
-Professor Leo Caesius, The End of Empire
Brent had never considered himself political.
Like most of the students at Imperial University, his life had revolved around enjoying himself as much as possible – and doing as little work as he could get away with. He'd only joined the protest march against rising food prices because a girl he'd been interested in – and her very adventurous girlfriends – had joined the march. None of them had expected the match to turn into a riot – or, after the Marines arrived, to wake up chained to a railing in a disused stadium. The Civil Guard couldn't do that; the students knew their rights. But their rights had been ignored ...
Worse had happened. His would-be girlfriend had been mistreated while she was in their custody. Brent didn't know exactly what had happened, but his imagination filled in the details in graphic detail. The girl had been a bubbly outgoing sort, with more boyfriends and girlfriends than anyone else he knew. Now, she shied away from physical contact, particularly with men. The look in her eyes as she’d met his, even from across the room, had sent shivers down his spine. He didn't know for sure, but rape seemed the most likely answer.
She hadn't been the only one to be traumatised – or angry. Brent had become angry; how could someone – anyone – do that to innocent students? The mood of sullen anger and resentment pervading the campus had become rage; Brent had spent hours talking with other angry students, considering what they could do to strike back. There had no weapons, but some students knew where they could get some – or how to make their own. The next time the Civil Guard threw its weight around, they were in for a nasty surprise.
The students had known the moment the Civil Guardsmen entered the apartment block and made their way swiftly to the fifteenth floor. Brent had organised his little group at once, convinced that they were coming for him. Instead, the Guardsmen had headed to an apartment shared by two girls and gone inside. Brent had puzzled over that – as far as he knew, neither of the girls were anyone important – but used the time to get organised. Their only chance was to get in and out as quickly as possible.
He could hear banging and crashing from the raided apartment as his team took up position, but there was no point in trying to go any closer. Most of the students living in the apartment would pay no attention – there were louder noises every night – and those who did were chivvied away by the Civil Guardsman standing outside the door. Brent felt a flicker of sympathy for the girls – he knew what it was like to have his room searched without permission – while he waited with his team in an open room just around the corner. Finally, the banging and crashing seemed to come to a halt.
Gambling, he made a show of walking around the corner – and almost stopped in surprise. There was one girl, looking small and pathetic compared to a Civil Guardsman wearing bulky armour, her hands cuffed behind her back. The nightgown she wore was so thin, almost translucent, that he could see her breasts and the patch of hair between her thighs. She looked so helpless that he felt a surge of rage, even as he ducked back around the corner. How could the Civil Guardsmen treat anyone like that? No doubt they would entertain themselves with her as they flew back to their barracks ...
He motioned to the rest of his group as the Civil Guardsmen came around the corner, the girl in their midst. Few of them had any real experience with aggression, but they all remembered being mistreated during the protest march. There was a moment of hesitation, a moment where it could all have ended right there and then – and then Brent charged forward, screaming a rebel yell as loudly as he could. The Civil Guardsmen had bare seconds to reach for their weapons before the students started attacking them with baseball bats.
Brent knew better than to aim for their armour; the advice passed on by the handful of students with violent experience had been that the armour took a lot of force to crack. Instead, he aimed for their exposed faces and slammed the baseball bat right into their head. One of the students yelped as a Civil Guardsman slammed a fist into his face, but the others kept pushing forward, knocking the Guardsmen down
by sheer weight of numbers. Brent found himself staring down at one of the Guardsmen, but he barely saw him. Instead, he saw the look on his would-be girlfriend’s face as she’d shied away from him after her period in custody.
“Brent! Wake up, damn it!”
He came back to himself in a rush and stared down at what remained of the Civil Guardsman. His baseball bat was dripping with blood; the Guardsman’s face had been smashed to a bloody and utterly unrecognisable pulp. They’d taken down all of the Guardsmen, although four students had been wounded, one badly. And the girl they’d arrested had fainted dead away.
“Get her cuffs off,” he ordered.
He scowled as the students exchanged glances. How did one unlock a pair of cuffs anyway? They looked strong enough to need a molecular debonder to break – and none of the students had access to one. He didn't even know if there was one in the university. Shaking his head, he rolled the girl over – unable to avoid noting that her nightgown had ridden up, exposing a cute ass – and examined the cuffs. There was a fingerprint sensor on the metal cuffs. He smiled as he manoeuvred the closest Civil Guardsman over and pressed his fingertip against the sensor. The cuffs unlocked and he pulled them away from the girl before they could lock themselves again.
“You two, take her to the upper levels,” he ordered. Their plans would have to be advanced, he knew; he keyed his handcom, sending a message to the rest of the group. “The rest of you, come with me.”
The Empire's Corps: Book 03 - When The Bough Breaks Page 24
