by Tom Shepherd
“I dunno about letting a heathen like you testify, let alone a dim-witted roly-poly. And who could cross examine?”
“The acting prosecutor, Mr. Koshka, also speaks Groxbitz,” Tyler said.
Judge Carman frowned. “That true, Félix?”
“It will be in a few moments, Your Honor. I’m Tali’auon.”
“Jannies are too stupid to testify. No offense, fatso.”
The Groxbitz chirped and whistled happily.
“He says, ‘None taken,’” Halabi translated.
Félix nodded. “Right.”
Carman scratched his head. “Still, I dunno…”
“An experiment, Judge,” Tyler said. “Then decide.”
Jool-Gheri nodded and the Judge cleared his throat. “Bless me, if I can lifeguard this ocean of mingers for two decades, one experiment with a dim-witted beast isn’t too much to endure.”
Tyler said, “Your Honor, set your datacom for math computation.” He asked Leefie to ticked off a string of random numbers—squared, cubed, multiplied, square rooted, and so on. After a few minutes he asked the Judge for the final number. Before Carman could reply, the Groxbitz whistled and beeped happily.
Halabi translated the number into Terran, and Félix confirmed it.
“By gaw, that’s right,” the Captain-Judge said. “Merciful Saints, have we been eating sentient beings all these years?”
“Yes,” Halabi said. “And the Most High God will call us to another Judgement Seat one day, where each person’s deeds will be weighed by the scales of Divine Justice.”
Tyler leaned to Suzie. “I don’t believe that, but it still scares me.” He returned to the witness. “Mr. Garekdakt, do you have anything else to say to this court?”
Halabi translated. “You are mean. We never hurt you. Go away.”
Judge Carman nodded. “Do the people want to cross?”
André Mercier and Félix Koshka shook their heads. The judge excused Garekdakt Keemon-Gadoka, who rolled out the side entrance silently.
“About the original case against Capitão Tavares?” Tyler said. “Move for dismissal. The people have not met their burden of proof.”
“Well, I don’t know, laddie—”
“Do it,” Jool-Gheri said.
“Motion granted! Of course you’re free to go, Flávio. And kindly put in a good word for us with your Parvian friends. Uh… meaning no offense, ma’am, if he isn’t a friend of yours.”
“I like his chest hairs. Not too much silver for an old man.”
“Your honor, may I address the court?” Tyler said.
“Why not?” Carman said. “We’ve heard from Jannies. Witnessed a little justifiable homicide. The floor is yours.”
A crew of five Groxbitz whistled into the court to begin clean up, but the Judge tried to run them off, kindly this time, until Mr. Blue protested.
“Let them stay. They are citizens of this world,” Prince Zenna said.
“All right.” The judge turned to the Groxbitz. “You are no longer on the menu, lads. Will you stay to listen?”
They beeped and sang a melody that sounded like an accordion playing Mozart backwards. The five settled on the floor and wiggled their appendages like wagging puppies. The excused witness, Garekdakt Keemon-Gadoka, rolled back into the courtroom and joined its comrades.
Tyler walked to the rail separating spectators from the attorneys and surveyed the crowd. Here it goes. Emergency Plan Number One.
Twenty-Four
“Listen up, all you mangy dogs,” Tyler said. “I have some career advice for you.”
The gallery responded with muted grumbling.
“Leave this planet now, and never come back. Lieutenant Zarx has informed me a Parvian fleet is inbound to blast this town to rubble in thirty-six hours. Two dreadnaughts, three battlecarriers, and seven heavy cruisers. After Port Royal is a charred hole, Parvian ground forces will land to execute any survivors. They won’t fire on the Groxbitz cities, but you are not welcome there.”
The Groxbitz piped a howl of ecstasy. Garekdakt Keemon-Gadoka rolled over to Tyler and hugged his leg, then returned to his compatriots.
When he recovered from the surprising show of Groxbitz affection, Tyler continued his address to the courtroom.
“You can’t stay here. And you can’t go back to a life of piracy. My mother will be looking for you, so will the Parves.”
More grumbling. What are we supposed to do? We ain’t farmers or clerks. Privateering is all we know!
“Glad you asked,” Tyler said. “I have been authorized by my father to offer you the following deal—”
“Like the kind your mother gave our lads at Burl Cain?” someone shouted.
“Hey, buster, I got them a stay of execution, and the Terran Commonwealth will be offering those crews the same career plan I’m about to propose you. Unless you participated in the attack on the Star of Parvia, then you’re totally fucked.”
More grumbling.
“Listen first, then complain,” Tyler suggested. “For the first time in history, M-double-I will issue letters of marque.”
The stirring in the gallery ceased. They knew the gist of Tyler’s defense of Flávio Tavares was true. He could not be spying for Matthews Interstellar Industries while working as a privateer, because the Matthews Family had steadfastly refused to support privateering. Every ear strained to hear what came next.
Tyler continued. “These documents will authorize lawful attack on any and all shipping, civilian and military, fielded by Tsuchiya Galactic and its Sakura House subsidiary, or any other star nation who aligns itself with said organization.”
A woman wearing a long brown coat and sporting three blasters in her belt stood in the middle of the gallery. “What, you’re saying we can destroy anything Tsuchiya sends out?”
“Not destroy. Defeat, capture, seize as war prizes. We will pay twenty million credits for every ship you impound. Or you can sell the vessels as scrap, salvage, or recommissioning in somebody else’s fleet.”
A member of the jury asked, “What about prisoners?”
“If you sail under our letters, there will be strict rules about captives. We pay one million per head for every live prisoner. Nothing for corpses. You must not take prisoners to sell as slaves. All wounded must be cared for. Prisoners must be turned over to Matthews Corp for processing and prisoner exchange.” Tyler added, “And I don’t want to hear a single complaint that somebody didn’t get medical care or wasn’t fed species-appropriate food.”
“Matthews!” someone in the back called. “What if we attack a ship and the fighting gets lively and we destroy it?”
“Submit your logs and sensor records. If it’s them or you, fine. We’ll pay twenty. But God help your ass if the destruction was unnecessary.”
“What about privateers away from Libertalia, hunting prizes?” the three-blaster woman asked.
“If they weren’t involved with the attack on the Parvian liner,” Tyler said, “they will have an opportunity to join the home team. Pass the word along. The offer expires shortly.”
“Why not take chance, get away?” a Dengathi Frogman called from the crowd. “Milky Way big galaxy. Why not ambush ships at Gate like always?”
Tyler frowned. “Maybe you weren’t paying attention. Lieutenant Zarx, do you care to reply?”
Jool-Gheri never moved from the edge of the defense table. “We have your ship registrations and crew manifests. We know what worlds you represent. We know the cities of your birth. We know where your families live. The Republic will find you.”
Silence hung in the air a long moment. Her words were chilling and unmistakable, and every sentient being in the room knew it was not an empty threat. Tyler broke the cold stillness.
“Do you fucking people not know who you’re dealing with?”
“Tell more about amnesty, war prizes,” the Dengathi questioner asked.
Tyler explained the details again and took questions for about an hour. Pirates wante
d him to answer too many hypotheticals—what happens if we do this and they do that?
When it became apparent the crowd understood the basic rules, he asked the Judge if they could set up recruiting tables in the back of the courtroom and get everyone registered who had not participated in the attack on the Star of Parvia.
Carman raised his hands in a shrug to heaven. “Well, lad, I suppose you can have the back few rows of the court to set up your recruiting booths. The courthouse won’t be standing much longer anyway, according to the lovely Parvian Lieutenant.”
“Captain Matthews,” Ziyad Halabi said, “some of us are not starship crew. We are merchants, craftsmen, ground-based ship repair people, and yes, farmers.’
“Aye, laddie,” Carman said. “And judges.”
Halabi said, “How do we escape this place, or must the noncombatants die here while pirates obtain their freedom?”
“We’ll have a civilian register, too. You can hop a ride off world to Commonwealth space, although you may have to fly with privateers to get away from Libertalia. My people will work out the details.”
The Captain-Judge nodded. “Please be allowing me first place on a transport out of here. I hear the voice of Ireland calling me home.”
A large crew of Groxbitz gleefully tore out the rear bench seats and retrieved four small tables and chairs for Tyler’s recruiters. Flávio Tavares, Lovey Frost, Mr. Blue, and Julieta Solorio took their places and a long queue of pirates and non-combatants formed, eager to sign onto the new venture or escape the planet.
Tyler recalled André Mercier and Félix Koshka from their brief stint at the prosecution table and made them an offer.
“You’re both attorneys. We’re Star Lawyers Corporation. Are you interested in probationary status on our legal team?”
André hefted his metal case. “But I am the hologram. Will I not slow you down, dragging this valise with me everywhere?”
Suzie laughed. “Pardonne-moi, Advocat Mercier. Our base ship is the Patrick Henry, crewed mostly by holograms. We can free you from bondage to that metal suitcase. Is that acceptable?”
“Oui, c'est magnifique!” he said.
“Félix?” Tyler said.
“I dunno why you want me.”
Suzie replied in Russian. “Vy govorite na vsekh yazykakh.” You speak all languages.
“You’re a Tali’auon polyglot and an attorney,” Tyler said. “That is a very useful skill set where we do business.”
“You don’t know anything about me. And I’m on record stating I hate your father.”
Tyler shrugged. “That’s a large club. You’ll get lost in the crowd.”
Koshka smiled broadly. “Well, if you want to save me from the Parves and pay me handsomely, who am I to complain?”
At that moment a shriek rang out from the back of the courtroom. “The bitch broke my hand!”
Tyler excused himself to investigate. Julieta sat behind a table while a stubbly faced pirate in a leather coat supported his wrist with the uninjured hand. She glanced at Tyler.
Flávio spoke first in her defense. “It was justified. That cabrão could not keep his hands to himself.”
“Asshole thinks signing up includes the right to squeeze my boob.” She wagged a finger at the man in leather. “All hands are welcome, but not on my tits. Those are invitation only. Now, put your good hand on the datacom screen, and if you reach for the other breast I’ll break your dick this time.”
“After he signs up, please repair any fractures,” Tyler said.
“All right.” She looked at the DNA registry. “Thank you, Weapons Mate Ardice Kalapok. Go stand over there and I’ll take care of the injury after we’re through here. Unless you want me to stop registering your comrades to tend to your wimpy little wound.”
A black privateer growled, “Get where she told you, Ardy!” The man in leather limped to a corner and leaned back, cradling his arm.
Suzie and Jool-Gheri were locked in a tearful embrace when he returned to the well from the registration tables. He suspected what they were discussing while he was gone.
“Do you need a ride off world?” Tyler said.
“No, Captain. I have a small shuttle parked at the spaceport. My people will come for me. I was saying goodbye to my new friend.”
“How did your fleet find Libertalia?” Tyler said. “It’s thirty thousand light years above the Milky Way, inside a globular cluster that is accessible—I thought—only by a secret jump Gate.”
“We have known about this place for years. But most acts of piracy occurred far from here, and the lawbreakers returned to Port Royal only occasionally. After the colossal defeat at your Alpha Gate in Suryadivan space, the bulk of the privateer vessels gathered here for repairs in what they thought was a secret haven.”
“So, your fleet has been en route Libertalia for weeks?” Tyler said.
“Yes,” Jool-Gheri said. “When Hideki Tsuchiya made overtures to my government about a joint attack on Port Royal, my father negotiated a berth for me aboard Kaito’s ‘advance scout ship’ as he called it. Kaito thought I was a foolish girl, so he allowed me to sit in on planning meetings where he discussed prosecuting Capitão Tavares. He explained it was part of the Sakura House strategy, divide and conquer. I suspected other motives, other players in the shadows.”
Tyler nodded. “You have neo-expansionists in your government. Someone recruited Orson Brick, who produced credentials which convinced Augusto Cellar he was authorized to attack the Star of Parvia in the name of the Republic.”
“With permission of your Commonwealth government,” Jool-Gheri said, “my people have already removed the spy Orson Brick from your Embassy at the Quirt-Thymean capital of Annistyn. We will get the truth.”
And Tyler knew that all the gods of all peoples everywhere could not stop the Parvians from visiting an apocalyptic retribution upon whoever sponsored the attack on the Star of Parvia.
Suzie touched her arm. “Luv, what else do you know?”
“I know you must find the ancient horror before Tsuchiya does. When he learns we have declared war on New Osaka, he will not hesitate to use any weapon available against the Parvian Republic.”
“You trust us that much?” Suzie said.
“The Matthews Corporation is shrewd and self-interested in business, but neither you nor the Terran Commonwealth expand by conquest. You are traders, miners, explorers. It is your historical pattern. So, yes. We trust you.” Then she added quickly, “For now.”
“We’ll miss you,” Tyler said.
“Yes, very much,” Suzie said. “You will always have a berth on a Star Lawyers vessel.”
She flashed a smile, and for a second she was the bouncy teenager again. “The galaxy is big, but the heart finds a way.”
She kissed Suzie lightly. Then Sunny embraced Tyler and gave him one of the top-five, open-lips, mind-blanking French kisses of his life. Better than Veraposta or Leola, and those Quirt-Thymean babes knew how to kiss.
Suzie cleared her throat after the smooching lingered with no end in sight. “Excuse me, luv. He’s taken.”
Jool-Gheri broke it off, sucking on his lower lip as she disengaged. She laughed and said, “Not bad, for a human.”
They said final goodbyes, and when she was gone Suzie crossed her arms. “All right. We’re even.”
“Let’s get these bad guys converted to white hats, then you can demonstrate ways to improve on that tasty goodbye peck.”
She guffawed. “Oh, that’s a clever bit of switcheroo. You know I have to shag you to exhaustion tonight, right?”
“After we get this registration done, you’re on.”
As tempting as a night of love making with Suzie sounded, he knew they would be busy until every evacuee had a place aboard an outbound ship. All those who refused the deal were on their own. He couldn’t help the suicidal few who tried to flee from the Republic’s wrath.
Nor could he take passengers in the Howling Tadpole, because he wanted no outsiders
to travel with his crew as Flávio led them to the House of the Silent Moons. But lingering doubts clawed at him.
Will the Parvians allow the Terran Commonwealth to claim salvage rights to something they were calling the ancient horror?
Had Kaito really fled the system, or was the Sakura House frigate waiting for them somewhere in deep space? And did Flávio really know how to find the abandoned Imperial battle station, or was it just a ploy get him free? Speaking of that, why did Tavares return to Port Royal for trial when he could have escaped into the billions of stars in the galaxy?
Too many questions still lingered. His legal mind wanted to cross examine all players and learn the truth. But for now, getting off planet would have to suffice.
Twenty-Five
Seven hours later, the job of registration almost complete and the evacuation underway, Tyler called for his crew to pack up and prepare for liftoff. Dorla Léon had come to relieve Lovey and Mr. Blue. They left when she arrived, taking Suzie with them, but Julieta refused to go until the last person was registered, especially the civilians. Since only a few people remained, Dorla and Julieta divided the task between them. Flávio stood, stretched, and sought out Tyler Matthews, who lingered to supervise the operation.
“I will see you at the ship,” the Capitão said. “There is something I must do.”
“What’s so important?” Tyler said. “We gotta get off world, Flávio. Now that you’re free, our real mission begins.”
“You must trust me. This delay is vital.”
“Why?”
Tavares paused, took a breath and said, “I must retrieve someone from custody. Colin has given me the keys.”
“Who are we talking about?”
“May I explain later aboard the Tadpole?”
“Hell, no. If I’m hauling another passenger, I want to know who the fuck it is.”
“Someone held as a hostage, like human bail, to compel me to return for trial.”
“Who, Flávio?”
“My son.”
The impact of those two words sank through Tyler like a bomb dropped on a city at night. How could the secret stay a secret now?