Rath's Trial (The Janus Group Book 4)

by Piers Platt

  Goons, she thought.

  The day before, she had seen two soldiers beat an old woman senseless, clubbing her with their rifle butts. She had no idea what the woman had done to attract their attention, but she had been appalled at the casual violence they displayed.

  Even goons can be dangerous.

  Vence continued up the street and glanced up, studying the third floor of the apartment building across from her. Her informant’s window blinds were all down, but today, the blind in the last window on the right was halfway up.

  Already? That was fast.

  She crossed the street and walked one more block, stopping to wait with a small group of people at a bus stop. She started another of the strange blue fruit while she waited, leaning against the bus shelter. As she ate, she let her left hand fall to her side. Hidden behind her coat, she felt blindly along the underside of the bus shelter’s railing, and her fingers quickly bumped into a small, magnetic case. Vence detached it from the railing, and tucked it into her pocket.

  The bus arrived a minute later – Vence threw out the remainder of her fruit, and then boarded the bus. She switched lines twice, and spent some time window-shopping in one of the city’s bazaars, doubling back on her route several times to ensure no one was tailing her. Satisfied, she ducked into a filthy public restroom, changed identities, and then made her way to her hotel room.

  Inside, she opened the magnetic case, and withdrew the data drive she had provided her informant. She plugged it into her datascroll and opened it, scrolling through the files.

  Vence gave a low whistle.

  She tapped on the screen, opening up the video chat program. Paisen’s face appeared a moment later.

  “Got something for you,” Vence told her. “My agent came through this morning.”

  “That was fast,” Paisen said.

  “Yeah, that’s what I said. Their cyber-security must be for shit. I’m sending the files over now.”

  Paisen studied her screen for a time. “Fuck me. This is their entire order of battle.”

  “Looks like it,” Vence agreed. “I saw readiness ratings, training schedules, unit equipment inventories … there’s a lot to go through.”

  Paisen exhaled noisily. “We need to hire an analyst,” she mused. “Or a team of analysts.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Vence agreed.

  “Pay your agent,” Paisen told her. “They’ve earned it. Then pack up and join me. I’m going to need an extra set of eyes to review all of this stuff.”

  “You got it. I’ll need to figure out transport, but should be there tomorrow. How are the others doing?”

  “Only had a few reports come in … well, speak of the devil. Tepper’s dialing in right now. Hang on, I’ll conference him in.”

  On the screen, Vence saw Tepper’s face appear next to Paisen’s. He wore camouflage paint, and Vence could see a tree trunk behind him.

  “Hey,” he said, whispering. “Is it a big deal if most of the Jokuan army appears to be training on planetary invasions?”

  “Really?” Paisen asked.

  “Yeah, really,” Tepper told her. “Wick, Rika and I have been shadowing a mechanized division for the past three days, and all they’ve been doing that whole time is loading up on deep space transports, then disembarking under different conditions. Daytime, nighttime, under fire, you name it. These guys are planning to start a war.”

  “You have video?” Paisen asked.

  “Hours of it,” Tepper confirmed. “We found something else, too. I think you better come see it for yourself.”

  28

  After her release from the infirmary, Dasi was given ten days off to complete her recovery. She and the other cadets who had elected to get implants were moved into a new barracks, where they waited to join the next class of cadets and complete their training. Dasi spent the time studying the written test materials, and toward the end of the week, she started exercising again.

  While out on her first run, a message appeared from Six in her heads-up display.

  >>>If you would like, I can coach you while you conduct your cardiovascular activities.

  “Okay,” she said aloud, gasping for air. The week of rest had left her in worse shape than she had realized.

  >>>According to my online research, your stride length is too long, and your feet are not striking the ground appropriately. Try shortening your stride and landing more toward your toes when you run.

  “Okay,” Dasi said. She jogged for another half mile, and found that the new stride helped – she had covered the distance faster than the first half mile she had run, according to her internal GPS and timer.

  “It’s working,” she managed.

  >>>Yes. Try sprinting for the next eighth of a mile. Multiple studies have shown that short, intense intervals of exercise have helped improve your body’s ability to consume oxygen.

  Dasi finished her run exhausted, but feeling more confident than she had in weeks. After she showered off, she ran into several classmates who were headed to the range.

  “Can I join you?” Dasi asked.

  The cadets drew their pistols from the armory, and jogged as a group over to the range. Dasi took a box of ammunition, loaded her magazine, and then hung up her target, cranking it out to the ten meter mark. She slipped her ear and eye protection on, and then loaded the pistol.

  She lined up the sights, controlled her breathing, squeezed the trigger slowly … and again, the bullet hit the target off-center, nearly a foot from where she had thought it would land. Dasi sighed.

  >>>May I assist you?

  A red reticle appeared in Dasi’s vision, hovering over the floor several feet in front of her pistol.

  >>>That dot represents my best approximation for where the pistol round will land.

  Dasi grinned and shook her head. You’re on it, Six.

  She lifted the pistol, and the dot moved with it, sliding up to cover the target’s head. Dasi exhaled, let her finger rest on the trigger, and ignored the sights, concentrating instead on the dot. She pulled the trigger slowly and smoothly. The gun bucked in her hands, and a hole appeared just below the middle of the target’s head.

  >>>My apologies. I forgot to account for the effect of gravitational pull on the projectile. Please try again.

  Dasi stifled a laugh. Don’t worry about it. That’s the best shot I’ve ever taken, she told Six. She lifted the gun and fired again. The round punched through the exact center of the target’s head.

  Let’s make this a little tougher.

  She set the gun down at her station, and cranked the handle to move the target farther back, pushing it out to the farthest position, at thirty meters. Then she picked up the pistol and lined up the reticle, this time shifting her point of aim to the target’s chest. She fired three rounds in quick succession, and then zoomed in on her eye implants. All three had landed in a tight cluster, inside the target’s ten-ring. Dasi looked down at the pistol, and raised her eyebrows.

  Hot damn, Six.

  >>>I am happy to be of service.

  * * *

  Dasi sat cross-legged on a couch in the barracks lounge, propping her datascroll across her lap. On a whim, she turned the large viewscreen above the couches on, selecting a news channel before turning her attention to her studies. She was halfway through one of the practice exams on court proceedings when a Special Bulletin alert graphic appeared on the viewscreen above her. Dasi stretched her arms over her head, yawning, and then turned the volume back up.

  “… return to our regular coverage in a few minutes, but right now we have some breaking news. Exor Davy, a senior official in the NeoPuritan Church, was arrested earlier today on charges of tax evasion and fraud. Officials say the arrest marks the culmination of several months’ worth of work by a special investigative task force, led by District Attorney Jace Hawken.” A picture appeared on-screen of the district attorney – to Dasi, he looked young for a D.A., with short, black hair and piercing green eyes that contrasted with
his ebony skin. “Here with us to discuss the news is our senior legal correspondent, Mors Timpan. Thanks for joining us, Mors.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Now, the NeoPuritan Church has been one of the fastest-growing organizations – religious or otherwise – in recent memory, with membership booming over the last several years, and the Church even winning a number of Senate seats along with that expanding base of support. Is that growth the reason why they’re coming under legal scrutiny today?”

  “Partly,” Timpan replied. “But there have also been a number of articles published in the past year that raised serious questions about the practices that go on within the Church. There are many who would say that it has fewer similarities to a religious order than it does to a pyramid scheme, frankly.”

  “That’s a scathing accusation,” the anchor pointed out.

  “I’m not saying it’s true, I’m just saying that’s a narrative that some journalists have put forth, based on their investigations into the Church. So I’m not surprised that the Church is on law enforcement’s radar.”

  “So then why is this a big deal?” the anchor asked.

  “A couple reasons,” Mors told him. “For starters, the fact that they built up enough evidence to make an arrest on a senior member of the Church is impressive. The Church is notoriously difficult for outsiders to penetrate, so this investigative team means business, apparently. But to me, the bigger story here is the nature of the investigative team itself.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, this is just speculation,” Timpan suggested.

  “Go on,” the anchor urged him.

  “I think this investigative team has been given special purview for this effort. I think, in effect, that they get to ignore the typical rules around Interstellar Police jurisdiction, and pursue their investigation across planetary borders. Think about it: Hawken is a district attorney from Anchorpoint, but several months ago he stepped down quietly, announcing plans to pursue a special project. Well, now we know what that project was – an investigation into the NeoPuritan Church. But he didn’t arrest Davy on Anchorpoint, he arrested him on Grimalni. And Hawken isn’t going to be prosecuting Davy – he handed that job off already, to a local D.A. on Grimalni. I think what we’re seeing here is the justice system’s first real response to the interstellar threats they face today – the Guild, for instance.”

  “I’m not sure I follow,” the anchor commented.

  “Normally, Interstellar Police and prosecutors work solely within their jurisdiction, and if a criminal leaves that jurisdiction, they coordinate with the police wherever he went to arrest him, and ship him back to where he committed the crime.”

  “Sure, that sounds right.”

  “Well, none of Exor Davy’s alleged crimes were committed on Anchorpoint – yet District Attorney Hawken investigated and arrested him. I think he and his special team were formed with the specific aim of combatting criminal threats that span multiple planets in the Federacy. Those criminal groups have benefitted from the inefficiencies that arise when different police departments have to coordinate across planets. But now Hawken and team have the freedom to investigate crimes in any jurisdiction. They can go anywhere, just like the criminals can. It’s the NeoPuritans’ bad luck that they were first in line to be investigated, and I would expect more arrests within the Church in the future – this is just Hawken’s opening salvo. More broadly, I think with the advent of this special, go-anywhere investigative team, we may be seeing a new age in the pursuit of justice in our Federacy.”

  “Fascinating stuff,” the anchor said. “Mors Timpan, chief legal correspondent, thanks again.”

  Dasi muted the broadcast again.

  Six, what do you think?

  >>>What do I think about what, Dasi?

  About that report.

  >>>I think the expert’s estimation is probably accurate. The Senate is under tremendous popular pressure to develop tangible changes to security and law enforcement procedures in response to threats like the Guild. Forming a special task force like this one is a natural first step.

  Do you think they’re going to try to go after the former guildsmen next? Could they go after me for my involvement?

  >>>It’s likely the former guildsmen are a target, yes.

  And me?

  >>>I don’t know, Dasi.

  29

  Paisen waited, watching as the spacecraft passed overhead, the turbulence from each wave of ships tossing the tree tops above. They were a motley collection of vessels, from dedicated military transports to converted cargo ships and small spaceliners. But each held several hundred soldiers, and she had no idea what their sensor capabilities were. So she waited.

  After a minute, the last ship thundered past, and disappeared from sight among the trees to her right. She checked the map in her heads-up display, listened for any sounds of movement over her enhanced implants, and then stood carefully.

  “Vence!” she hissed.

  The contractor appeared silently to her left, and Paisen started with surprise – the younger woman had been much closer than she had realized.

  “Let’s go,” Paisen growled. Better get used to this fucking kid showing me up all day long.

  They crossed another kilometer in silence, moving ghost-like through the trees in their shaggy ghillie suits. Paisen checked herself for a weapon, touching her hip subconsciously where she would have worn a pistol, and finding only her water canteen. She shook her head ruefully. Nothing like hanging out right next to a few thousand unfriendly troops with nothing but a bottle of water. But at least we still have our Forges.

  Paisen heard a birdcall up ahead, and a piece of mossy ground lifted up, resolving itself into Tepper’s arm, which waved once at her. She changed course slightly, and hurried over, joining him on the ground behind a rotting log.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “You got me to come out of my nice, cozy apartment. Now what was so important I had to see it for myself?”

  “That is,” he said, pointing past the log.

  Paisen shielded her eyes from the sun and followed his finger, increasing the magnification on her cybernetic eyes.

  Nearly a mile away, across a wide patch of open ground, an immense prison encampment sprawled across the grassland. A deep moat ringed the camp, and Paisen saw pairs of soldiers patrolling the outside of the moat. Hastily-built guard towers stood at intervals along the moat, with armored tops sporting automated machine gun emplacements. And inside the camp, Paisen saw a shambling mass of people in tattered rags.

  Paisen sucked in her breath. “A prison camp?”

  “Death camp,” Tepper corrected. “We’re still trying to piece it together, but I think they’re all insurgents from the civil war, and their families. The ones that lost the war.”

  Paisen counted barracks buildings silently, and accessed her internal computer’s calculator function.

  “Fifty, sixty thousand people, maybe?”

  “More or less,” Tepper agreed. He nodded toward the moat, where a group of prisoners were slowly shoveling dirt into the wide trench. “See that work party? They’re on graves detail. Every day they bring out the dead, drop them in a section of the moat, fill it in, and then dig a new ditch behind it. They’re slowly moving the moat inwards, shrinking the camp as more people die off. Look, you can see the rows where the old moats used to be, where the grass is still sparse.”

  “The whole camp’s surrounded by a mass grave,” Paisen said, scowling.

  “Mm-hm. Yesterday they buried almost a hundred people. Men, women … children.”

  Paisen turned, leaning on her elbow to look at him. “Did you get a recording?”

  Tepper nodded, and tapped his forehead. “Yeah, I got it in here. We did some bad stuff for the Guild, you know? Like, I’m not real proud of those eleven kills. But this …?” He shook his head, at a loss for words.

  “Yeah,” Paisen said. “Send me those recordings, and all your notes.”

&nbs
p; “What are you going to do?” Tepper asked.

  “I’m going to tell the Senate Intelligence Committee what we found here.”

  “Why don’t you just send them a message?” he asked.

  “Too important,” Paisen said. “I need to be there in person.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to brief them in person? At Anchorpoint?”

  “It’s the only way to make sure they understand the severity of the threat.”

  “Last time I checked, you and Rath were still at the top of the Interstellar Police ‘Most Wanted’ list,” Tepper pointed out.

  “I’ll be careful,” she assured him. “And Rath’s not on the list anymore – they caught him.”

  “What?” Tepper asked, eyes wide.

  Paisen nodded. “We’ve been out of the loop out here, but it’s been all over the news – he got picked up on Scapa about a month ago. They’ve got him on trial for murder.”

  “Well, shit – are we going to go help him out? I can’t speak for the rest of the team but I’m pretty sure they’d be up for it. We all owe him as much as we owe you.”

  “I think he’s going to need our help,” Paisen agreed. “But first, I’ve got to report this in.”

  “You want me to come to Anchorpoint?”

  “No,” Paisen said, shaking her head. “I’ll take Vence with me. I need you here: you’ve got command of the team while I’m gone.”

  “What are my orders?”

  “All of the military activity is in this sector, so round up everyone else and bring them here. Establish two-man observation posts overlooking their spacecraft staging areas – the ones north of here you sent me the coordinates to. I don’t care about training missions, but if it looks like they’re loading up for a real operation, fueling for deep space, let me know ASAP.”