Your Life Is Forfeit: A Space Opera Adventure Legal Thriller (Judge, Jury, & Executioner Book 4)

by Craig Martelle

  “Can we tap your communications so we can trace where he’s transmitting from?”

  “Sure. What do you need from me to make that happen?”

  Lindy removed one of Ankh’s small discs that gave him the ability through proximity access to break into computer systems. “Set this on top of your computer. We’ll do the rest.”

  He put the disk on a small box on the side of his desk.

  Ankh, can you hear me? Lindy asked using her comm chip.

  “Out of range. If you’ll bear with me,” she said. The candidate was confused but waited as directed. Lindy removed her datapad. All the team members carried them because of the data that Ankh and the AIs could share.

  She tapped out a message. Disc installed on B’s computer. Can you access and tap communications that come from Tod Mackestray?

  Ankh didn’t have to type. The communications were routed directly into his brain, so his answers came at the speed of thought. Done. When will comm occur?

  “When do you expect to hear from him next?”

  “After payment, which I have no intention of making.”

  Lindy stifled a groan. “Can you make the payment?”

  “Risk all of my savings?” he asked pointedly. “I don’t think so.”

  Ankh. No contact unless payment. Can you spoof Mackestray into thinking he’s been paid?

  Need payment information, Ankh replied.

  “Do you have the bank information where Mackestray said to make the payment and how much was this going to cost you?”

  “The initial amount was three and a half million credits. I guess my belly laughter convinced him of the complete insanity of such a number. The current price is half a million, but he said it was enough to guarantee victory.” The candidate held out a handwritten note with a long string of numbers and a deposit identifier code.

  Lindy sent the information to Ankh.

  “Well?” Bandersnatch finally asked.

  “He’s working on it. How long did it take you to come up with half a million?”

  The candidate sat back and smiled. “Nearly all my entire adult life.”

  Done.

  “And there we are. Ankh has made the payment and tapped your computer. Now we wait.” Lindy turned toward the Capstanian, who had finally calmed down. “What’s her story?”

  “She contacted the Blokite and arranged the meeting. She’s my campaign manager.”

  “Win at all costs, huh?”

  “That’s her take. She’s now fired, which makes winning secondary to putting food on her table.”

  “Is she going to rat us out to the Blokite?” Lindy wondered.

  “I sincerely hope not.”

  “A friend of mine says hope is a lousy plan.” Lindy pointed her railgun at the former campaign manager. “Can’t have you helping Tod Mackestray escape. He’s wanted on multiple planets, and could be responsible for thousands of deaths on Leed’s Planet. We have information that suggests his meddling helped that world devolve into a bloody civil war. He is a very dangerous man.”

  “I didn’t know,” she cried.

  “What the hell did you expect, when you deal with someone who says they can guarantee an election? That doesn’t pass the sniff test. I refuse to win in such a way, but now my hands are tied, thanks to you, hellspawn!” He shook his fist at her anew.

  Lindy looked from one to the other. “Don’t tell me. You two had a fling, didn’t you?”

  The female started crying again.

  “Not my finest hour,” Bandersnatch admitted.

  “What’s with politicians and their genitals? It seems to be a universal constant, like the speed of light, the structure of a hydrogen atom, and politicians lay pipe.” Lindy shook her head. “Forget I said any of that. It’s not my place to judge. I’m only trying to do my job, which is to catch this guy and hold him so the Magistrate can question him. Simple as that.”

  “Can I go back to work?” the candidate asked.

  “The campaign must go on, but now that we’ve paid Mackestray, there could be significant external influence, which should invalidate the results. I don’t know your election law. The Magistrate would be the best one to ask for a legal opinion.” Lindy pointed with her thumb. “How do we guarantee that she doesn’t run to the Blokite and tell him everything we’re doing?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You stay here,” Lindy shook a finger at her. “I mean right here, on the couch where I can keep an eye on you. If I leave, I’m trussing you up like a bistok for a barbecue and taking you with me.”

  “I’m not a criminal!” she whined.

  “You contacted a criminal in order to influence an election. In my small mind, that makes you a criminal. Once again, I’m not qualified to render a legal opinion, but I can hold you for the one who will. You will be judged.”

  More crying. This time, Bandersnatch rolled his eyes.

  “Yes, you can get back to work now.” Lindy smiled while the former campaign manager blubbered. The bodyguard left to find a chair where she’d sit in the hallway and wait for Mackestray to raise his digital Blokite head.

  “Execute Snatch Capstan,” Tod Mackestray ordered.

  “The program is running,” Margaret replied.

  The Blokite leaned back as he often did to watch his AI work. “I don’t deserve you, Margaret,” he remarked.

  “But here we are, traveling the universe together, making a difference in so many people’s lives.”

  “Some may say that’s a bad thing, but if you can afford it, why not? Who says that the people who paid for the big chair are going to do a worse job than the ones who convinced the voting drones to check their box? Can we trust elections to the people? No, I say!” Mackestray pounded his fist on the table for emphasis. “Why leave something like that to chance? He’s the president because of pure dumb luck.”

  “And who wants that on their office door?” Margaret snipped. She’d spent much time with the Blokite and had adopted his sense of humor.

  “Indeed. Ha!” He laughed in the way his race did, without any head movement. “I’ll let our boy know that he should start working on his victory speech.”

  Mackestray tapped out a message and pressed Send.

  “There you are,” Ankh said.

  Jay’s ears perked up. Usually, Ankh didn’t talk when he was engaged in cyberspace. She pulled a chair close and watched.

  “Indeed,” Erasmus added. The Crenellian and the AI submerged themselves in the digital existence of cyberspace, tracing the message back along the pathways it had taken to get to Candidate Bandersnatch’s computer. They ran along beams of light, avoiding red herrings that would lead them astray. Into space they went, where physical boundaries meant nothing more than a few-nanosecond-longer jump between nodes before jumping back to the planet. Three times the signal bounced into space before returning to Capstan. When light shone into the dark alleys of digital deceit, the scum of cyberspace never knew that they had been seen.

  “Hello, Margaret,” Ankh whispered, feeling the power swell within his chest as he prepared to combat an enemy AI, starting with slowly isolating it. Once its fangs were removed, he could learn its secrets. After that, he could put it into solitary confinement or eliminate it, overwrite its code with ones and zeros, turning it into binary’s version of emptiness.

  Erasmus circled behind and observed, looking for places where Margaret could jump and run. Plato’s stepchild closed the doors, one by one. From Margaret’s perspective, all her avenues remained open. She wouldn’t realize that she had become the prey.

  Good hunters never let prey know when they were coming. Ankh virtually winked at his closest friend, the AI who lived in his head, separate but together as they corralled the unsuspecting AI, all the while digging through the creation’s signature to find the physical location.

  “You can’t hide from us,” Ankh whispered.

  Jay watched the Crenellian and wondered. She stayed close to intercept Hamlet or Floyd i
f they tried to bother him. She secretly cheered for him, knowing that in his domain, he was a superhero. From his digital palace, he made others great, like Jay with her speed; like the Magistrate with her cases.

  “Find him, so we can stop him from hurting people.” Jay maintained her vigil over her friend while the wombat snorted in her sleep. “Everything happens for a reason, doesn’t it, Floyd?” She adjusted her chair so she could stroke the wombat’s thick fur while she waited for Ankh.

  The truck drove casually along the outskirts of the main city.

  “I think he’s going to the freighter port,” the driver guessed.

  There’s a spaceport for freight. We think that’s where he’s going, Rivka relayed.

  They are in for a surprise when we get there. I’m trying to figure out how to get out of this truck without being seen.

  Slip over the back gate and crawl underneath? Isn’t that a rear dump? Rivka asked. Regardless, we can’t let that ship leave, whatever kind of ship it is.

  What if K’Twillis isn’t on it?

  We still can’t let the ore freighter leave. It’s filled with product stolen from the bowels of the planet. The Capstanians can sell that to pay for recovery of the land. That will probably cost whatever K’Twillis was going to make from this. It chaps my ass that he’s been doing this, but he’s innocent until proven guilty. I need to talk to him.

  I have a railgun with a full magazine. That ship isn’t going anywhere. I think this truck won’t be going anywhere after this either. I’ll try going underneath it, and while I’m down there, I’m ripping out hoses and breaking shit.

  Sounds right up your alley. We’ll pull in at a safe distance from your truck so we don’t alarm the driver. Anything you need?

  I suppose a sandwich is out of the question?

  A sandwich is always good. It’s the timing that’s out of the question. Tighten your belt. It could be a while before we eat. Rivka signed off but watched the flashing dot on the screen. It turned where the driver had thought it would.

  “He’s going into the freighter area. Will there be security?”

  “Yes. If he turns up ahead, there will be a line of vehicles checking in, but there’s no inspection, and it won’t take him long to get through. I’ll slow down so we aren’t in line behind him.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.” Rivka leaned toward the windshield watching the traffic, looking in each vehicle to see if there was a Blokite or an Aborginian.

  “Are you going to kill him?” the driver asked out of the blue.

  “What makes you ask that?”

  “We don’t have capital punishment on Capstan, but there are some criminals who don’t belong in the same society as the decent people.”

  Rivka wondered what his definition was of decent people, but not enough to ask. “It’s a path that once you’ve gone down it, it’s hard to step back from. The line between a capital crime and a lesser felony starts to blur. Who watches the watchers? I never set out to kill anyone, but in the end, the psychopaths find their own way to the chair.”

  “Is this guy you’re chasing considered to be a psychopath?”

  “I won’t know until I question him, and then I’ll know for sure. I think we’ll be questioning two serial criminals. K’Twillis the Aborginian is scum, but he hasn’t caused the loss of life that Mackestray has. I need more facts, and then I’ll consult with my higher-ups. What I know for sure is that the universe will be a better place with these two in Jhiordaan or pushing up daisies.”

  “Daisies?”

  “Yes, flowers. A human expression for being dead and buried.”

  “Of course. Pushing up daisies. I’ll have to remember that, but probably have to change it to pushing up glavodines, a nice yellow and red flower that is unique to Capstan.”

  “You’ll have to show me one of those. I get to travel to a number of planets, but rarely get the chance to stop and smell the glavodines.”

  “Another human expression?”

  “It is.”

  The van joined the line of traffic behind a passenger car. The truck carrying Red was pulling away from the guard station. Rivka looked from her datapad to the area beyond the fence and back to the datapad as she tried to figure out which freighter was carrying the contraband.

  When they were waved forward, Rivka sat quietly in the passenger seat while the driver flashed his badge. “Just taking a look around on a routine patrol,” he lied. The guard waved them through, covering a yawn as they accelerated away.

  “Right. Fourth left and we should see him.” Squarish and rough-colored spaceships were lined up, filling every spot in the freighter port. Industrial-sized loading systems operated on rails between the ships. The truck had pulled up to one of these. They saw Red jump over the tailgate and slide under the truck, but then the truck backed up and turned around.

  Red? That can’t be good.

  I’m hanging on under here. This guy is pissing me off. And K’Twillis, too. I’ve had about enough of their crap.

  Our goal is to capture him. Keep that in mind, please, Rivka tried to sound calm but was never sure how her intent passed via the comm chip.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When the vehicle finally stopped moving, the driver climbed out and tried to make eye contact with the loader operator, who was face down in his cab. The driver bent down to pick up a rock. He threw the first one away and kept looking at the ground.

  The driver is looking on the ground for something, Rivka reported.

  I see him. I’m hugging the belly of this trailer as tightly as I can. They’ll probably find my fingerprints on it ten years from now.

  The driver straightened, smiling. He hefted the stone and flung it at the cab of the loader. It cracked off the windshield and achieved the desired effect. The driver waved and pointed to his load. The operator gave him a series of hand signals that probably had nothing to do with unloading the truck. The driver reciprocated. Red was crawling underneath, cutting hoses and slashing tires on the side opposite the driver.

  The loader dropped his flat bucket and motioned for the driver to dump the load into it.

  Tell me you didn’t cut the hose to raise the trailer.

  Oops, Red replied.

  The driver started slamming things inside his cab before getting out, slipping on gloves and bending down to check the underside of his trailer. Red crawled out from under the truck and snuck around behind the driver, slamming his face into the truck frame. The driver crumpled.

  Red ran at the loader operator, aiming his railgun and waving at the Capstanian to get out.

  “Cover is blown,” Rivka told the driver. “Get us in there. I need to get on board that ship right now and keep it from taking off.”

  The driver spun the tires and sped toward the truck. At the last second, he dodged to the side and drove across the rough tarmac, skidding and bouncing to a stop by the hatch. Rivka jumped out and leapt, catching the bottom stair as it started to retract. She rode it up and shot through the open hatch.

  Red stopped messing with the loader operator and ran toward the aft end of the ship. He took aim and sent three rounds from the railgun into the space where he guessed the engine would be located. And then he fired more rounds, bracketing the area. Something popped inside the ship, and a thin tendril of smoke trailed from one of the holes made by the impact of a hypervelocity dart. Red sprinted to the open hatch. The steps had been retracted, and Red couldn’t jump high enough.

  He motioned frantically for the van to move under the hatch. The driver complied and Red climbed on top, finally able to jump and grab the bottom ledge. With a deep growl, he pulled himself up and crawled inside.

  I’m in, he passed over the comm chip.

  About time, Rivka shot back. I’m heading for the bridge.

  Ship is disabled. I shot the engine.

  Find K’Twillis, she ordered. I’ll start with the bridge and interrogate anyone I see. Check main stowage.

  Red ran down the corrido
r, stopping when a man appeared in the space ahead, drawing a figure eight in the air before him with an exotically shaped knife.

  “Vered!” the man called.

  Red was going to shoot him but stopped. “You know my name?” Not the most profound of comebacks, he thought, shaking his head.

  “Of course. The one who comes before is usually the lesser man, the one who doesn’t measure up. But here you are, back to beg for your old job, but it’s not available.”

  “You have me at a disadvantage, and you are also mistaken. I’m here to eliminate the position, which I suppose means putting you out of work. You seem cool to the idea, but you’ll warm up.”

  “Billister. Remember that name for the short amount of time left in your life.”

  Red unhooked his railgun and dropped it in the corridor. He pulled two knives, both smaller than the security chief’s, but Red wasn’t dissuaded.

  “Save your breath,” Red replied. “You’re going to need it.”

  He crouched low, arms spread wide as he approached. Billister backed up slowly, angling his blade back and forth to catch the light. Red examined his new enemy, looking for weaknesses. He was smaller but probably quick. If he wasn’t enhanced with nanocytes, he would be slower than Red. In that case, it would be over quickly.

  The man seemed to be overly confident. It was the way of career criminals. They never thought they’d get caught.

  A battering ram slammed into Red’s side, jamming him against the bulkhead. He felt a couple of ribs give way, but he was enraged and couldn’t feel the pain. He slashed at the leafy branch with one knife and twisted until he was free of the pressure, then went after the trunk, beginning the deadly dance of knives against Aborginian bark.

  His rifle was on the far side, and Billister was at his back. His back!

  He dropped beneath an outstretched branch, hit the deck, and lashed out with a steel-toed boot. He caught Billister mid-stride, right in the goolies. The security chief was lifted into the air and landed face-first. Red dove beyond the unconscious man, rolled back to his feet, and crouched once more.