Your Life Is Forfeit
Judge, Jury, & Executioner™ Book Four
Craig Martelle
Michael Anderle
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Your Life Is Forfeit (this book) is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2018 Craig Martelle and Michael Anderle
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
LMBPN Publishing
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First US edition, October 2018
The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2015-2018 by Michael T. Anderle and LMBPN Publishing.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Author Notes - Craig Martelle
Books by Craig Martelle
Books By Michael Anderle
The Your Life Is Forfeit Team
Thanks to our Beta Readers
Micky Cocker
James Caplan
Kelly O’Donnell
Thanks to the JIT Readers
Mary Morris
Keith Verret
John Ashmore
Kelly O’Donnell
Daniel Weigert
James Caplan
Larry Omans
Paul Westman
Peter Manis
Micky Cocker
If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!
Editor
Lynne Stiegler
We can’t write without those who support us
On the home front, we thank you for being there for us
We wouldn’t be able to do this for a living if it weren’t for our readers
We thank you for reading our books
Chapter One
“Look who the cat dragged in!” Red laughed as he finished another set using the bench press, turning the massive pile of weight over to Lindy. “What happened to your hair?”
“Don’t listen to him. Stretch, and let’s get you started,” Rivka told Jay, who was participating in her first post-Pod-doc visit to the gym.
Jay motioned for the Magistrate to join her in the corner for a private conversation. The two women huddled together, and Jay looked over her shoulder before whispering, “He’s right. After the treatment, my hair’s curly and I can’t do anything with it.”
Rivka shrugged. “My eyes weren’t always this color. The Pod-doc changes us.”
“But…” Jay protested. She pulled the collar of her shirt down to reveal a single black hair the length of her hand growing out of the middle of her chest. She wrapped it around a finger and yanked it out, tossing it aside. Almost instantly it reappeared, and within seconds it had grown back to its previous length. “I don’t like that, and I don’t feel right. I don’t feel stronger or more invincible or anything like you guys seem to.”
“After our workout, we’ll get some answers. Maybe your nanocytes need to settle in. Give them a vigorous shake-up, and you may be amazed.”
“What about this?” Jay pointed at the hair dangling from her shirt.
“I don’t know what to tell you about that. I can’t tell you it’s not weird.”
“I don’t want it.”
“There are a lot of things in life that we don’t want but get to cope with anyway. Maybe the nanos determined you needed it for some reason. Tiny alien rappelling lessons?”
Jay rolled her eyes as Rivka clapped her on the shoulder.
“Come on, we’ve got a lot of reps to do before we can call it a day.”
Lindy grunted with effort as she tried to keep up with Red. He beamed with pride after each completed rep and glanced at the stack repeatedly. “A new record!” he declared when Lindy finished and the plates thumped into the rack.
She stood and stretched. “Felt good, but that’s it. Unless I get my skeleton upgraded to titanium, I’m not sure my body can handle any more. I can feel my bones straining. How screwed up is that?”
Red laughed softly before giving her a sweaty hug. “I feel it, too. Maybe we’ve hit the limit of enhanced human endurance. Look at that stack!” The modified weight rack registered upward of a metric ton, and they were lifting all of it. “We don’t know until we go beyond.”
Rivka pushed Red aside and straddled the bench. She put her feet up and pushed the stack upward, easing it back into place after five reps. “I see what you mean.” She cut the weight to a single plate—a mere two hundred pounds—and pointed for Jay to take her place.
The young woman with the curly black hair looked skeptical as she laid back, braced herself and strained against the bar. The muscles in her arms bulged and tightened, but the stack didn’t move.
“That’s weird. She should be able to push that on her worst day,” Red remarked, pursing his lips and watching intently as he tried to figure out what was wrong. Lindy crossed her arms and clicked her tongue.
“Enough weights,” Rivka directed, not wanting Jay to be embarrassed or further skylined as incapable. The young woman looked worried as Rivka pulled her upright. “Time for some gentle sparring.”
She looked slyly at Red. The two contenders always ended up in the ring last. Rivka was smaller, but a heavyweight in ability. She trained hard with Grainger every chance she got. Being a Magistrate was dangerous enough without going at it half-assed.
“I’ll get to you,” she told him. “Come on, Jay. Let’s work on some counter-moves. Try to punch me in the head.”
Rivka raised her hands and bobbed lightly on the balls of her feet. The impact came before anyone saw the movement. Rivka’s head snapped back, and she found herself falling. She landed flat on her back and Jay rushed forward to kneel beside her, worry creasing her brow. “I’m sorry! I don’t know what happened.”
Red reached down and yanked Rivka to her feet. “Did you see that?” he asked.
“Maybe we should try the bag?” Lindy suggested, hoping to avoid being Jay’s next victim.
Jayita sat on the mat and hugged her knees. “I’m so sorry,” she stammered.
“For what?” Rivka asked. Jay mumbled unintelligibly.
Ankh? We could use your expertise in the Magistrate’s gym. Jay’s nanocytes are doing weird things, Rivka requested, using their internal comm system.
Interesting. I worked on the programming because we can’t have her all bulky like the rest of you. I’ll be right there, the Crenellian replied.
Rivka shook her head at the reply. “Ankh is coming. He said we’re bulky, and he couldn’t allow Jay to be like us, whatever that means. In the meantime, how about we do a little speed check?”
“I like being bulky.” Red flexed a massive bicep.
“I’m not sure I like being called bulky, but there are advantages in our line of work.” Lindy smiled at Red.
“Our line of work,” Red emphasized, swelling with joy at having found his soulmate. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
“My big, bad bodyguard,” Rivka cooed, flexing her bicep. “Am I bulky?”
Red looked away, and Lindy shrugged.
“You have been saved from our fate, it appears. Come and take a shot at the bag. I think you’re going to find a skill that none of us have.”
Jay reluctantly stood and faced off against the bag. She slapped it a few times.
“Not like that!” Rivka stood behind the bag, took hold, and braced herself. “Hit it like you’re fighting for your life. Practice how you play, as the saying goes.”
Jay bounced on her feet and punched—wildly, but blindingly fast. The only sign that she’d swung was the sound of her hand hitting the bag. Dents appeared where she’d struck. With each impact, Rivka grunted from the shock.
“Try to kick it,” Red suggested.
Jay bent at the waist as she executed a side-kick, sending Rivka off her feet to land in a heap. The bag swung freely as the Magistrate laid on the floor. Jay hopped and kicked it again. No one saw her foot as the bag careened off the ceiling. She tried to catch it when it flew back toward her, hitting Jay in the chest and knocking her to the floor opposite Rivka.
“Let me see if I understand this. You can strike at light speed but get knocked over by a feather?”
“We’ll work on that,” Ankh said.
“How long have you been standing there?” Red asked, surprised that the Crenellian had snuck up on him.
“Does that matter?” Ankh asked, looking up with his usual blank stare. Red shook his head and was first to look away. “I’ve programmed the nanos for maximum speed at the cost of strength. Jay will not have your density; her muscles are optimized for something more in line with her personality. Speed will save her life, not strength.”
“I would like to think that her mind will save her life rather than any physical enhancements,” Rivka offered.
“I’d like to think that you won’t put me in harm’s way.” Jay stood as tall as she was able, towering over the Crenellian but shorter than the other three. “Or Ankh.”
Red and Lindy waited for Rivka to answer. “Or that,” she muttered with little confidence.
Jay started to laugh. “So, I’m okay?”
“You are more than okay, Jayita,” Ankh stated. “You are faster than what they used to call vampiric speed. You will also be able to take a bullet without dying, although it’ll be painful and take a long time to heal. When your adrenaline pumps, you should be able to see a bullet in flight and step out of its way. You won’t be able to dodge a laser or most energy beams, unfortunately.”
“She’ll only be able to dodge some of the energy beams, but all bullets? Where has this been all my life?” Red wondered.
Ankh stared at the big man. Red found himself looking away yet again. Lindy caught his chin and pulled his face toward hers.
He smiled and shrugged. “He can probably kill us with his brain, so let’s not push it.”
Tod Mackestray was a Blokite. His squarish head topped his broad shoulders, giving the impression of a blockhouse on top of a small mountain. As wide as he was tall, he moved in a graceless waddle. Keen eyes on the front and sides of his head missed nothing and helped his focused mind assimilate information. That was critical in running his budding empire.
The only thing Tod sold was influence, from blackmail, threats, and protection rackets to simple leverage. The Blokite moved people into key positions and just as quickly moved them out. He thought of it like chess.
His bodyguards knew it was a dangerous business. At least once a week, the leveraged would try to strike back, but they were amateurs in the ways of the universe. He had yet to break into the highest ranks of power, but that time was coming.
And soon.
Mackestray’s lip curled when he thought about it. Upcoming elections. There was nothing democratic about it. The votes had been logged into the system before the first voter cast her ballot. The process didn’t matter since the outcome depended on the final tally. His boy would win by a sound one percent.
It was worth a cool million credits, which was still a steep discount based on influence from the back end. In Tod’s mind, having a hotline to the chairman’s ear was worth more than credits. The world would be shaped under his influence. And if the chairman tried to cut ties? The Blokite had the evidence of vote tampering that he’d share with the public.
It was called leverage, and Tod Mackestray used it like a surgeon used a scalpel.
Grainger sat in a dark corner where he could see out the vast All Guns Blazing window while also seeing the entrance, his double Flaming Buki Hole forgotten on the table before him.
The datapad next to the drink buzzed, drawing his eye. High Chancellor Wyatt. He looked around to make sure no one was nearby, tipped the screen, and tapped to answer. “What can I do for you, High Chancellor?”
“We have a couple big cases on the docket, and I don’t see that any Magistrates have been assigned.” The older man smiled, but his voice was cold.
“Not all cases,” Grainger replied. He tapped through his screens while the reduced image of the High Chancellor stared at him from the upper left corner. Two Magistrates were already on their way. He tapped a couple of buttons. “Jael and Chi are looking into the gang violence in the Tricott Cluster, and Buster is already digging into the government corruption case. I put two on one case, High Chancellor, based on what we learned working as a team. Sometimes it takes two sets of eyes to get the law and the case right. That one could be dangerous.”
Wyatt looked disappointed but answered pleasantly, “That fills two, but we still have a couple major issues out there, and we’re slowly building a backlog. What are you going to assign to Rivka?”
“She’s asked for some time off to take care of a personal matter.”
The High Chancellor sat up straight and leaned toward the screen. “What kind of personal matter?”
“She wouldn’t tell me, but I think she’s going after Red’s former employers—the ones who put a price on his head,” Grainger whispered at the screen.
Wyatt clicked his tongue and nodded slowly. “Then she is going to do legal work that needs to be done. Give her all the support she needs but won’t ask for, and log it as an official case sanctioned by me, classified to the highest degree. Our eyes only.”
“I’ll inform her at once,” Grainger said, but Wyatt shook his head.
“She shouldn’t keep secrets from us, so we’ll keep this under our hats, so to speak. She’s going to a dangerous place. I’ll inform the Bad Company that we may need their services.”
“Nothing like a mechanized combat unit and destroyer to emphasize certain legal interpretations.” Grainger checked over his shoulder. He was alone. “I’ll leave her to it. The Magistrate ships have trackers, so we’ll know where Peacekeeper is at all times.”
“Is that
the name she gave it? Maybe she needs a bigger ship. She has a way of rescuing the distraught and building followers.”
Grainger laughed easily. “She does indeed. I think the only thing keeping her from taking on more is the size of her ship. I think the corvette might be best.”
Wyatt delivered a genuine smile. “Keep me informed.” The older man’s face faded from the screen. Grainger shut down his pad, shoved it inside his jacket, and stood, promptly bumping into someone. Rivka looked up at him.
“Who you talking with?”
Grainger stepped back smoothly to stay out of Rivka’s reach. “When are you headed out?” he countered.
“After you give me some answers.” Rivka slowly extended her hand. Grainger picked up a plate and used it as a shield to fend her off.
“We all need our secrets, don’t you think? Maybe you tell me straight up: where are you going?”
Rivka stuffed her hand into her pocket. “You are correct, Grainger, but don’t let it go to your head. I’m sure you’ll be wrong next time. We find ourselves at an impasse, so with that, I’ll return to my ship. I have some prep work to do for my time off.”
“We got your back. Just let us know, and we’ll be there,” Grainger told her.
Your Life Is Forfeit: A Space Opera Adventure Legal Thriller (Judge, Jury, & Executioner Book 4) Page 1