by Tom Shepherd
“Stop, dispatcher! I kill this human.”
She laughed. “Like I care?” Julieta put two kinetic rounds through Tanis into the dog-man behind her. Both fell to the brick street. She executed the Zenji with a head shot. When she was certain his companions were dead, Julieta returned to Zervos, who lay in a small puddle of red on the street, coughing blood.
“You’re a doctor… help me!”
“This is your lucky day, Tanis. My cousin ordered me to arrest you, not kill you outright.” Julieta took a pocket-sized medi-kit from her jumpsuit. She knelt and injected the Segerian with nanites and painkillers and gave her oxygen boosters. “You have a punctured lung and a hole in your spleen. Regardless what Tyler said, the only reason you aren’t dead is my vow never to kill in revenge.”
“Thank you…thank you…”
“Don’t thank me, you traitorous bitch. There will probably be a bidding war over who gets to try, convict and execute you for espionage.”
She summoned a skimmer driven by yet another merry Groxbitz, loaded her captive in the back, and had her aboard the Tadpole under medical care in twenty minutes.
* * * *
Yumiko avoided the commotion in the street where people filing out of the courthouse for lunch had discovered Julieta’s handiwork. The petite Asian retraced her steps and worked sideways through the crowd until she spotted Nicolette’s red jumpsuit surrounded by five Sakura House swordsmen in their gray kimonos. They carried the traditional long and short swords, but also wore kinetic blasters on a waist belt.
Offering her life to Buddha, she thought of Tomoe Gozen, the medieval female warrior, which the Tale of the Heike said was always “ready to confront a demon or a god, mounted or on foot.” Then she cleared her mind and thought of nothing. Her consciousness had merged with bushido and the fighting spirit of her ancestors.
Yumiko’s hand found the hilt of her collapsed katana, whipped it from the pouch on her back, and bounded forward as it deployed into an arc of steel. As she had instructed Rodney Rooney, an attacker must strike true, for she has forfeited the advantage of surprise as soon as the blade clears its sheath.
“Release her, you cowards!” Yumiko cried in Japanese.
Nicolette screeched and shrank into a ball-shaped mass of chains and red jumpsuit on the brick pavement, arms over head protectively.
The five went for their blades but she decapitated the man on the left and severed the sword arm of his companion before steel cleared scabbard. This was not a tournament, and she gave no quarter. A lightning thrust and the armless man stopped writhing.
With three enemies remaining, the samurai in the middle made the colossal mistake of reaching for his kinetic blaster just as Yumiko engaged the man to his right. She deftly slid her blade down the shaft of her opponent and jerked into a disarming move, which forced him into the other man and blocked the aim of the blaster. Yumiko executed a defensive move that spun her behind them and completed the circle by slashing into the sidearm-pointing man’s shoulder and severing his backbone. His weapon clattered on the bricks.
Now the two remaining swordsmen separated, circling her. Yumiko preferred to await their attack rather than go on the offensive. In these situations, it was usually prudent to allow your opponent’s impatience to tempt him into a hasty move, but she knew by now their battle had attracted attention of the noonday crowds, especially after Julieta’s handiwork a short while ago. Her mistake in allowing the enemy to circle behind and in front of her meant she had to risk an aggressive move, although it would expose her back to the second man.
Just before she struck, a blaster shot rang out and the other man went down with a hole in his chest.
Holding the weapon across her breast, Nicolette spat in his direction and shouted, “Vive la liberté!”
Yumiko faced the remaining Sakura House warrior. He bowed deeply but quickly, sheathed his katana, and ran for his life. She wiped the red-stained blade clean on the kimono of a fallen warrior, flicked her wrist, and replaced the collapsed katana in her back pouch.
“We must go.”
“The chains,” Nicolette said, standing laboriously. “The headless connard over there—he has the key.”
Although a small crowd had now gathered, they parted to allow Yumiko and her liberated prisoner to pass among them untouched. A few murmured words of admiration or astonishment at the savage beauty of her work, which they had apparently observed from afar. Soon, Groxbitz appeared, blithely carried off the dead, and swabbed the street with mops and buckets, whistling while they worked.
Yumiko and Nicolette reached the Howling Tadpole unvexed by man nor beast. Julieta greeted them at the ramp and immediately started Uncle Noah’s executive secretary on fluids while checking her for injuries or pathogenetic troubles.
“I’m going back to the courthouse,” Julieta told Paco Léon. “Can you have Flávio’s loot shipped to Tyler by this afternoon?”
“I got a pair of heavy floaters and a crew of Groxbitz to load it. Dorla will stay here with Mr. Arrupt to secure the ship and remaining cargo.”
“And keep an eye on Tanis,” Julieta said.
“Locked away in the brig,” Paco said.
“Yumiko, will you remain here also?” Julieta said. “I’d feel better, with Nicolette aboard. Never know if Sakura House will seek revenge.”
“They will seek, Julieta-san. But they are not honorable enough to avenge themselves here.”
“Flávio gets acquitted quickly, we abscond from this suffocating rock.” She pulled on her breathing support and trudged down the ramp to an awaiting skimmer driven by a chubby pink Groxbitz.
* * * *
“The people call Capitão Lourenço Curilak,” Kaito announced.
Tyler shrugged. “Every circus needs a clown.”
“That’s not a happy clown, luv.”
Kaito approached his witness. “Tell this court what your job is, Capitão.”
“I command the Dead Dog Maker. Until a few days ago, I was Gatekeeper of Region One.”
“And now?”
“Waiting for my ship to be purged of the shit that son of a whore up-loaded into the MLC,” Curilak said.
Kaito said, “Let the record show the witness has indicated the chief defense counsel, Tyler Matthews IV.”
“Ain’t nobody taking records,” Judge Carman said. “I shot the crazy amphib bitch.”
“She will recover!” the green bailiff announced. Applause followed.
“Thank you, Leefie. Now, shut up unless called on. Don’t make me kill a tree. God knows this oxygen-starved shithole needs every shrub it can get.” He frowned at Kaito. “Well, on with it, laddie-sand.”
“Are you familiar with the defendant?”
“Flávio?” Curilak said. “Yeah, I know the cocksucker.”
“When is the last time you had contact with Capitão Tavares?”
“Attack on the Matthews Beta Gate.”
“Can you tell the court what the Capitão was doing at the Matthews Corporation Gate to Andromeda?”
“Having lunch with the cunt who commanded the place. We picked up comm traffic when he undocked to attack us.”
“By ‘us’ are you referring to the combined Free Enterprise-Sakura House fleet?”
“Yeah, yeah. We came in hot and found the Henrique fighting alongside the fucking Gate builders. We mixed it up pretty good. Our lads gave them hell. And then the Suryadivan navy shows up, so your Sakura House ships took them on while we finished off the Gate force.”
“What about Capitão Tavares?”
“He ran like a yellow dog. Disappeared into the starfield. I supposed he went FTL, but later I heard the fraidy-cat was hiding behind a moon.”
“So, Flávio Tavares was definitely fighting for M-double-I and against the Free Enterprise League at the battle of the Beta Gate?”
“Oh, yeah. Definitely fighting for Matthews, until he chickened out.”
“Your witness.”
Tyler leaned around Flá
vio and called to his African-American co-counsel. “Lovey, you want this guy?”
“I wish we had time to prep.”
“This ain’t a normal court, Lieutenant.”
She snorted. “When did we ever try a case in a normal court?”
“Lieutenant,” Flávio said, “This miserável sailed with me as helmsman aboard the Henrique. Cellar and Curilak attacked the Star of Parvia when I was in the hospital. He jumped ship before I could get my hands on him.”
She smiled. “Well, well.”
“Okay, Lovey.” Tyler said, “Super-important. You know what Jool-Gheri told us. This is our chance to get it into the record. Want me to—?”
“I got this, Boss-man.”
Curilak frowned when he saw Lovey Frost approach. “Hey, Judge, I don’t want no black bitch crossing me. I want Matthews, so I can spit in his eye.”
“You can’t pick your tormentors, Lourenço. And now you’ve pissed the lady off by casting racial aspersions at her. Didn’t that Jappo-chink prosecutor warn you about being tolerant in my court?”
“Thanks, Your Honor,” Lovey said. “I believe I can handle a little punk-ass bigot like the witness and maintain my professional decorum.”
Tyler could not constrain his laughter. Curilak shot him a deadly look.
Judge Carman sat back. “This could get entertaining. Proceed.”
“So, Mr. Curilak, since you know a black bitch when you see her, let’s cut the bullshit down to one question.” Lovey gestured to the jury. “Please tell your fellow privateers why you and Augusto Cellar waited until Capitão Tavares was hospitalized to attack the Star of Parvia?”
The effect of that single question was electric. Every person in the gallery leaped to their feet and shouted incoherently. Judge Carman tried banging his gavel to no avail, then fired a blast into the crowd. Fortunately, still on full stun. Weapons found their way into the hands of spectators, but nobody returned fire. When the bedlam subsided, Carman thanked the attendees and reminded them he still had the courtroom set to self-destruct if things got out of hand.
“Well, Lourenço, laddie. The black bitch—your words, no offense, lass—she has asked a question. And God help us if you tell a lie, because the lives of people on our homeworlds are at stake if we harbor someone fool enough to do something that reckless and lie about it. So, do you need this African beauty to repeat the question, or should I just shoot you now?”
“Captain-Judge, it ain’t like we up and attacked the Star because we was greedy or nothing. I mean, sure. We made good Galactic Credits, selling the ship for salvage and peddling them high-born humanoid slaves to the Lutzak on Redo-Shia 3.”
Judge Carman groaned. “Oh, Lord Jesus Christ and all the fuckin’ saints I ain’t prayed to forever.”
“But we got approval to do it!” Curilak said brightly.
“From whom?” Lovey said.
“He was an agent of the Parvian government. He said they was political enemies of the Republic aboard that liner.”
“And you knew this agent, how?” Lovey asked. “Do you hang at Parvian bars, have a Parve girlfriend?”
“Of course not. Augusto and me—”
“Augusto Cellar, the man Capitão Tavares fired as his XO? The man Capitão Tavares beat nearly to death after he learned what you had done aboard his ship the Henrique?”
“Yeah, him. It was all Cellar’s idea.”
Frost stepped closer. “You still haven’t told this court how you encountered this shadowy secret agent from Parvia who begged you to rape, pillage, and plunder one of their unarmed vessels full of wealthy and influential Parvians.”
Carman leaned forward. “This better be good, laddie, or you won’t be needing a breathing apparatus when they carry you from this courtroom.”
Kaito rose. “Your Honor, how can we believe a word this man says? He is obviously a liar and a fool. Sakura House repudiates his testimony and apologizes for putting him on the witness stand. We urge you to excuse him so the trial can continue.”
Tyler rose. “Judge, why doesn’t my learned colleague want to hear the answer of his own witness?”
“Aye, now that’s a bonnie question, laddie. And I fear where we’re going with the reply. But I’ll allow it.” He reached below the bench and pulled out a massive, high-powered thermal blaster. It looked like something capable of knocking a starship out of orbit. “Answer the fucking question—and nobody objects.”
Tyler sat. “Jesus, Suzie, these guys are seriously afraid the Parves are listening.”
“She is. Back corner. Hoodie.”
“Oh, shit.”
Lovey pressed the pirate harder. “Shall I repeat the question, Mr. Curilak?”
“Shoulda stayed aboard the Dead Dog. At least those holo-whores weren’t—”
“Lourenço!” Judge Carman pointed the enormous weapon at the witness. “Please answer the nice lady. I’d hate to close this courtroom while the Groxbitz repair the hole in the floor where you’re now sitting.”
Lovey Frost said patiently. “Who introduced you to the self-proclaimed agent that authorized you to attack the Star of Parvia?”
Curilak pointed a finger at Kaito Tsuchiya. “He did. Said his father, the old guy they calls the Shōgun, wanted to help the Parvian government rid itself of bad hombres. Them’s his words.”
“Is it your testimony,” Lovey continued, “that you attacked the Star of Parvia at the behest of this so-called agent introduced to you by Kaito Tsuchiya?”
“Yeah. We figured, we was doing them a favor, right? I mean, you know.” He laughed nervously. “Don’t fuck with the Parves.”
“Did you rape the women?”
“Well, sure. Why not? We was selling them to the Lutzak, and they’re the most bloodthirsty humanoid sons-of-bitches in known space.”
A rather short figure in a dark hooded jacket bolted down the aisle, kicking spectators aside who blocked her path. Reaching the well she bounded over the rail and pulled off her hoodie to reveal gleaming yellow hair and skin-tight, spring green uniform.
She packed two silvery sidearms at her slim waist. Carman raised the weapon but held his fire when she extended a hand to him, bowed to the Captain-Judge, and addressed the bench.
“I am Staff Lieutenant Jool-Gheri Zarx, an attorney representing the Parvian Defense Forces. In the name of the Republic, I claim the right of retaliatory justice.”
“Well, that sounds like a fair request.” Carman set the big gun crosswise on his bench. “What does it involve, lassie?”
“If it please the court—may I do this?”
She pulled her sidearms and blasted with deadly aim until Lourenço Curilak and all the assistant prosecutors from Sakura House were dead. The middle son of Tsuchiya alone remained alive.
To his credit, Kaito never blinked. Head upright, utterly still. The gallery also sat motionless, frozen by fear, as if a Parvian invasion force numbering thousands waited outside to cut them to pieces.
“My God,” Suzie gasped. “This lassie is a bloody Parvian dispatcher.”
“She’d better be,” Tyler agreed, “or we definitely do not want to fuck with the Parves.”
“The Judge swallowed hard and gave his ruling. “Yes, Lieutenant Zarx, I guess you can do that.”
“Son of Tsuchiya,” Jool-Gheri called to Kaito. “Your father has made an enemy of the Republic. Run from this building. We are coming for all of you.”
Kaito nodded and fled the courtroom, abandoning his co-counsels where they lay.
Tyler said softly, “Suzie, call Paco. We don’t need Flávio’s treasure chests anymore.”
“On it.”
He stood. “Your Honor, since the prosecutor has run for his life, I assume the people have rested. The defense calls a single witness.”
“There ain’t nobody to cross examine,” Carman observed.
“Why not appoint your two public defenders—André Mercier and Félix Koshka—to act on behalf of the Free Enterprise League?”
Carman eyed Jool-Gheri, who still grasped a weapon in each hand. “Is that acceptable, Lieutenant Zarx?”
“Perfectly.”
“And do you mind, if possible, ma’am, please don’t be shooting any more witnesses or court personnel. Even if they are low-down dogs who deserve death, as Curilak and the scum from Sakura House surely were.”
Tyler smirked. Right. I was with you all along, lass. Hooray for Parvia. Down with Tsuchiya. Please don’t kill me.
Jool-Gheri looked to Tyler, who said, “Put ‘em away, Sunny.”
She holstered the hand weapons and went to Suzie, rattling in Kaboolik. Suzie nodded and punctuated Sunny’s discourse with an occasional, “Bidat, bidat,” which Tyler took for, “Yes, yes.” When she finished, Jool-Gheri perched on the far edge of the defense table, watching. Tyler asked the court to give him a minute while Suzie summarized what Sunny had told her.
“Okay. That’s a game-changer,” he said.
“She didn’t technically lie to us,” Suzie said. “There is no frigate out there.”
“She answered like a lawyer under oath. Nice play.”
“Mr. Matthews, do you intend to call that witness?” Carman asked politely, one eye on Lieutenant Zarx at the end of the defense table.
“Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Halabi, come forward.”
A robed man with a mustache worked his way through the crowd and stood beside Tyler.
“Mormon-Muzzie Halabi.” Judge Carman frowned. “This your witness?”
“No, Your Honor. The defense requests Port Royal merchant Ziyad Halabi to interpret for our witness.”
Mr. Halabi said, “I am ready, Al-ḥamdu lil-lāh.” Thanks be to God.
“He is your witness? Must he speak Arab-talk?” Carman said.
“Not my witness,” Tyler said. “My interpreter. And not Arabic.”
“Well, get with it, laddie. I’m sure yon Parvian lass would like to escape this unwashed mob of scoundrels and sail homeward.”
“Defense calls Garekdakt Keemon-Gadoka.”
A fat, dark pink Groxbitz rolled in the side door, where all the others of his kind found egress to the well.
“This Janny?”
“My sanitation engineer,” Halabi said. “He keeps the market clean and well-stocked.”