The monitor had settled down again. This was a practiced and rehearsed speech, even though it was full of nonsense and may have been invented in the holding cell as he waited for us. I sent, “He is lying again. I am not sure we can save this guy from execution. Doctor, with my next question can you force him to feel dread and hope? And to be a lot more cooperative?” I hated asking for cooperative drugs, because it often just gave us what the accused thought we wanted to hear.
Addressing the pilot out loud, “You lying dog. You have confessed to pushing addictive drugs on your squad, probably over several years. You drugged senseless the crew members who came back with you. You participated in a violent attack upon your own ship that threatened to enslave the entire crew to the drug gang. Your accomplice in these crimes is a Martian terrorist. Your only hope of being alive tomorrow evening is to reveal everything, EVERYTHING, you know about this plot. AM I MAKING MYSELF CLEAR, TRAITOR?”
He shrank in the chair as we watched.
“Now let us begin again. Who is your Martian accomplice?”
“Her name is Mindy.”
“How long have you been working together?”
“She started to deliver the chikki to Raja's about three years ago.”
“Who does she work for?”
“I don't know. Raja's moves around amongst the fun fairs and entertainment centres, only staying for about a week at each place. Mostly, I find them on ESK, ESGAN, ESDENG and ESKEN. Mindy is always around somewhere. I think she works for the distributor that supplies their candies.”
“Did you go to Raja's before or after the recall was sent?”
He stopped talking. Marin slowly cranked up the dread while he was silent. I tried a different question, “How many times did you visit Raja's on this trip.”
Very quietly he squeaked out, “Three times.” Marin dialed back the dread to allow him to speak and upped the level of cooperation, almost to dangerous levels.
“What were the purposes of these visits. Be complete.”
“The first was to pick up my regular supply of chikki. Mindy told me to come back later, alone, to discuss future arrangements. That is how she phrased it, 'future arrangements'. After lunch that day, I met her and we went to Dominic's warehouse, the company that supplies most of our food. There was a shipment of explosives beside the food and she wanted my help in rearranging the packages to hide the explosives inside the pallets of food. I have done this before. She was dressed as a regular distributor, and I was dressed in uniform, so no one questioned us. She even got some of the regular workers to help with the heavy units. While we worked we discussed broadening the distribution of chikki throughout the fleet. It is good stuff; I was happy to do it. And it would pay better than my regular salary. We agreed to meet later that evening so I could pick up another package of chikki to distribute. After I left, the recall came, so I ran back to Raja's and asked them to call her. I don't know how to do it myself. She called me at the Lakshmi's Blossom as I was gathering my stuff, so Matma and I went to Dominic's again. That was when Mindy told me she would be delivering some palettes to the Mao in person and needed our help to get it loaded without being noticed. She gave us the spray we used to knock out the other crew members. I did not know it was addictive. Honest, I didn't. She gave me another pill that made me more alert and cooperative. I don't know what any of them were, only that I had to do what she said. Matma did too. Then we got our stuff from the hotel, went to the transport bay, and, and, came here.”
I called to Leilani and Marin, “I think we can guess that our stowaway is called Mindy by the people on the ESGAN. Leilani, is there anything else you want to ask?”
“No,” she replied, “but we also should talk to Sailor Matma Krishnamurti as well. She seems deeply involved in everything they did, including the last trip to Dominic's.”
“I will be grateful when this is over,” Marin replied. “I feel like a torturer.”
I did not dare say it, but that was exactly what she was, as were all three of us. Civilian interrogations were a lot less stressful for everyone involved. War does not permit careful legalities, and I was increasing sure that we were at war. I directed my attention back to the former pilot.
“Mark Lejeune, you will be sent back to your cell now. If you avoid summary execution, there will be a trial, during which you will be provided with a lawyer of your own choosing. Until then, do not attempt to contact anyone, because everyone on the ship will consider you to be a traitor and a personal enemy. I recommend you spend your time remembering everything you have done and everyone who might be part of this conspiracy, because it is only by telling the truth in detail that you will remain alive long enough to need a lawyer.”
We called in the marines. Marin undid the medical attachments, then the marines unbuckled him from the chair and dragged his unresisting body back to his cell. Watching him go, I realized that he had soiled himself in the terror we had induced. I looked over to Marin, “I am sorry, but bad as that was, the next one is likely to be worse. Damn, I said it again, didn't I?”
Leilani asked, “The Captain was worried about what we will find at the ESDENG. Do you know when we will arrive?”
“No,” I replied, “I did not think to ask. We should send a brief report to Captain Wang. Do you remember who owns Dominic's?”
“That was Euroam Agri, wasn't it? We have had trouble with the company before, but only indirectly because it owned several small pharmaceuticals that supplied raw materials to the illicit drug manufacturers. We were never able to prove anything and Dominic's itself has not appeared in our previous investigations.”
“Who owns Euroam Agri? I seem to recall the major shareholders were three of the less cooperative regional governments in Soam. We might have to keep a watch on the company from now on. We should ask Chandrapati and Evgenia to check on them as well.”
“Agreed, if we ever get back to that business.”
We put together a bullet list of items from the interrogation, with strong caveats because of the brief and cursory nature of the work:
The subject was Pilot Sailor Mark Lejeune.
The subject was not cooperative, changed his story constantly, and lied whenever he thought he could. All conclusions based on his testimony must be considered suspect.
The subject was almost certainly addicted and was pushing drugs to other crew members, especially the other members of his squad, and may have been doing so for three years.
The drugs were being distributed as a form of Indian candy known as chikki.
The subject picked up the chikki from Raja's Candy Emporium, which circulated amongst the earth stations.
The subject was working with a Martian woman whom he knew as “Mindy” and believed was the distributor for the candy sold in Raja's Candy Emporium.
Mindy is likely to be the stowaway who attacked the TDF Mao.
Mindy was well known to the employees at Dominic's warehouse and Raja’s Candy Emporium on ESGAN.
The subject described reloading pallets of food, arms and explosives.
It is likely that pallets of food loaded from Domenic's will contain concealed arms and explosives.
We would write a longer report in the morning, but feeling the pressure of time decided to start working on the stowaway. This time I called Marin to stand with us behind the glass panel. The marines had armour, but we three would be vulnerable if she carried hidden explosives.
The marines brought the stowaway in unconscious, explaining that the surgeon had put her into a coma while she had repaired the woman’s arms and legs. She thought it might be best to leave her that way until we were ready. So much for letting her stew in fear; she had been peacefully asleep the whole time. Marin had the marines strap her to a surgical table, and talked them through running a total body scan. We scrutinized the scan carefully. Leilani and I had met many people carrying concealed weapons, but Marin had more experience in removing them. It took a few minutes even to our experienced eyes, but there
was a sausage-shaped object faintly visible in her upper intestine where there should have been nothing but well chewed and partially digested food. Most likely it was a plastic grenade filled with an organic explosive. In her digestive track, it surely had no wires and would be triggered electronically by an implant. It would be possible to remove it robotically, but the attempt would probably detonate the grenade, which risked killing her before the interrogation even started. Searching through the available tools, Marin suggested we should try to block the signal from her head with an opaque helmet and from further down her body using nerve blockers like Leilani and I had in our legs. There was also a robotic surgeon built into a steel shield that could be placed over her body to block any shrapnel that might emerge. Whomever designed this theatre considered booby-trapped bodies to be part of the mission.
She must have swallowed the grenade just before starting her attack, maybe even pushed it down her own throat with an appetizer of anaesthetic. Anything for the cause, I thought. She had not expected to survive, and if captured expected to be able to kill some additional enemies with the concealed bomb. We would have to be careful.
Marin and the marines searched through the drawers and cupboards in the theatre until they found the opaque helmet and installed it on the stowaway's head. Despite its name, the visor was clear, but the helmet would block any neural activity from escaping her skull, especially the kind of signals used to interface with implants. She lowered the robot surgeon over the table until it covered the stowaway's body, and used it to install the nerve blocks, monitoring devices and pharmaceutical injectors.
I called to Leilani and Marin. “Before we start, I want to switch my voice for something that might be less threatening. I would like to try to be a concerned and soothing uncle, if I can. The language she used was Germano-Tamil, which was a popular pidgin in many cities with a mixed European and South Indian population. You probably want to activate that module for the auto-translator, which might take a while to identify it otherwise. It has been a long time since I spoke a word of it. I learned it in Argyric Mumbai, my first posting on Mars.” And the only posting I would admit was real.
I recorded the time and her identification as an unknown woman who had attacked the Mao. Marin jogged the drugs to bring her awake again. I called out in Hindi, “Mindy, Mindy, wake up!”
She was still groggy, but replied, “Yes? Who is it? Where am I?” Then she jerked in the restraints, remembering where she was, and that she should have been dead already. She uttered a single untranslatable Germano-Tamil obscenity, then went silent.
Leilani started in Hindi, “For the record, please state your name.” Nothing. She tried again in Mandarin, then English, then Russian. Mindy clearly knew Hindi, and since she worked on the earth stations was probably fluent in all four languages. Still nothing.
Marin reported, “Multiple attempts to trigger the grenade. She really does not want to talk to us.”
I decided to go directly for the concerned uncle who spoke Germano-Tamil. With a shudder, I forced myself to remember where I had met people who spoke Germano-Tamil on Mars. Most of them had followed a mixed faith that recognized a monotheistic God as the ultimate divine nature, with the full Hindu pantheon as manifestations of that one God. Karma was a common feature, expressing the unalterable will of the one true God. It was a good place to start.
“My child, what has brought you to this desperate place? Karma has guided you to perhaps the only ship in the fleet where you could receive a sympathetic hearing.” At least I hoped that is what I said, not having used the language in over ten years.
She startled at my voice. “Who the hell are you, Yama slaves? Am I dead already and merely awaiting damnation?”
“No child. You are on the Terrestrial Defence Force battleship Mao, which you attacked a few hours ago. Nobody was seriously hurt, so the offence may not be grievous, but we are deeply distressed at the pain that would have led to such an action. I believe you know people here on this ship. Please, what is the name that you are known by here?”
Marin had increased the pain killers while I spoke; even with the normal anaesthetics, two shattered arms and legs would hurt badly. When I asked for her name again, Marin jogged up the cooperation.
“Mindy. Everyone here calls me Mindy, like you said. Do you mean that prick Mark? He is an ass and a fool. He deserves to die alongside all his murdering, fornicating friends”
Clever, she was parroting back my own words without adding much that was new. However, the phrase “like you said” was a slip and told me more than her name. I expected the owners of Raja's Candy Emporium recognized Mindy as a code name, but used another name in their own records. I also wondered at the formality of the translated text. The words she used for “murdering, fornicating friends” were much more pungent in Germano-Tamil.
“Mindy, then. I understand you hate the Ghost. Even I hated the Ghost when I heard all the stories. I worked on Mars for a few years, long ago. I loved the people, loved the food, loved the excitement of opening a new world. But I hated the corporations I worked for, every one of them. Working conditions were terrible. I got out when I could. And that last governor...”
“Look bastard, I do not know who you are, but the Ghost was real. I met him. I shook his hand. He ate at our table. And then the mother-murdering schmuckdieb killed us all, everyone who had welcomed him. I lived only because I was visiting friends when he struck. I will kill him and any who serve him. The entire crew of this shit ship are Ghost followers. I WILL KILL YOU ALL!”
Had I met this woman on Mars? She would have been much younger, perhaps mid to late teens in Earth years. To distract myself, I thought a quick translation to Leilani and Marin, “In Germano-Tamil, a schmuckdieb is a thief who marries into a family, consummates the marriage, then kills everyone and claims the inheritance. Believe it or not, the court record claims it has happened several times.”
“Mindy, I despise anyone who would do such a thing. I fear you may have met bad companions in your work here on the Earth, who may have left you with the feeling that all Earth people are equally bad, but most people are horrified at such atrocities. Please forgive the crew of the Mao, most of whom were themselves just children during the war. Many of them lost families as you did. They seek only to defend their homes.”
“Bullshit, you are a bunch of Ghost Followers. Why am I still alive? Let me die!”
Again, the translator gave a toned-down version. Bulls did not exist on Mars, and the word that was translated as bullshit meant human excrement left at someone’s front door as an insult.
“Mindy, why should you die for the sins of the Ghost? Please, live and when this is over, enjoy a long and peaceful life.”
“Over? Shithole, this war is just starting. I will live forever as the hero who struck the first blow.”
“Mindy, please. There have been many arrests already and the fight is nearly done...”
“Hooo! You idiots really do not know what is happening, do you? You are all going to die. Justice is coming to the Earth! The Emperor is coming with vengeance that will make the Genocide look like children playing in a park. You want to know where to look, who to arrest next? You want to know where the Kingdom is going to start? It is too late, we are everywhere and his new kingdom is breaking out everywhere.”
And she quoted the Bible at us. “And they will say to you, ‘Lo, there!’ or ‘Lo, here!’ Do not go, do not follow them. For as the lightning flashes and lights up the sky from one side to the other, so will the Son of Man be in his day. But first he must suffer many things and be rejected by this generation.
“You rejected us, now you will face our vengeance. You thought I was dead in Syrtis London, but I have risen to life again! The Gandhi is going to die and everyone on it. As will the Kennedy, the Khrushchev, and the Deng. I have no home now, no reason to continue in this body. Kill me that I may live in glory!”
Oh, Mars, I thought, what have you done to the Son of Man, the Prince of
Peace, the Lord of Love? Is he nothing more to you than a soldier in the army of a vengeful emperor?
Then the grenade exploded. It must have had a timer; no signal for twenty minutes and boom. But I had fought on Mars and knew how the terrorist mind worked. I had been one.
“Marin, run another scan. Part of the grenade might still remain.”
“Yes, I have shut her down and run the scan already. I can see half of it still there. Probably to kill anyone who offers assistance. Why are we keeping her alive?”
“Because she clearly knows far more about this conspiracy than she has yet said. Extract the other half of the grenade if you can, then patch her together.”
“I hate her. She tried to kill us all. I hate you for dragging me into this.”
“I am sorry...”
“Shut up.”
By then she was back at work, a skilled doctor experienced in trauma surgery removing unexploded ordinance from a wounded enemy, saving a terrorist’s life for the welfare of people who would never know enough to be grateful. Mao be obeyed.
As she worked franticly, I composed another message to the Captain:
The subject is the Jane Doe who attacked the Mao.
The subject has a local alias “Mindy” and appears to be the same Mindy referred to by Mark Lejeune.
The subject refers to her attack as the “first blow” and expects devastating attacks on the Kennedy, Khrushchev, Gandhi and Deng that will start very soon.
The subject claims to have met the Ghost personally and has sworn to take vengeance.
Lord Banshee- Fairy Dust Page 16