by Gary Starta
Morton then countered the lawyer’s strategy in a calm demeanor. “Mr. Sayed, we are prepared to make our charges stick. We have several witnesses willing to come forward now that Mercer cannot have them killed as well.”
Sayed then paused to confer with his client. After a few minutes, the lawyer announced that Mercer was ready to give up the guards that killed Jackson if all charges would be dropped. “The guards acted on their own volition without the authority of Mr. Mercer,” the lawyer stated. “We will concede that the association’s employees are responsible for over zealousness in their policing of the situation. We assure you that both of these guards have since been terminated from employment at the association.”
“No deal,” Benson hastily replied to Mercer. “Besides, did they leave with Jackson’s dead body when you gave them their pink slips? If you give us their names and the location of Jackson’s body, we may save Mercer’s sorry ass from lethal injection.”
A guard then entered the room to inform Morton and Benson that Lt. Simms was waiting outside for them. “Excuse me for a minute, gentlemen,” Morton said.
Mercer did not fail to notice the sarcastic tone she used to accentuate the word “gentlemen.”
“I ought to sue your department for harassment, Ms. Morton. But I’ll let that drop if you just resign from your position immediately and come to work for the association,” Renee proposed. “I am living proof that a career change can do wonders.”
“In your dreams,” Morton retorted without missing a beat to put the womanizer in his place.
Out in the hallway, Simms filled in Sandra and Samuel about the retrieval of PI Volpicelli’s data net unit. “Maxwell the dog has found some very incriminating evidence on our Mr. Mercer,” the detective announced with guilty pleasure.
Morton, Benson and Simms strode confidently into the interrogation room like they meant business. Mercer wiped sweat from his brow as he immediately noticed the mood alteration in the CSI’s faces. He also felt great discomfort in seeing his old colleague, Lt. Simms.
“Do my eyes deceive me from the many hours I just spent in the hot sun? Tell me I am not in the presence of the infamous Renee Mercer once again,” Simms stated facetiously. “Is this the same man that could even intimidate internal affairs workers into silence? Well let’s just see if we can turn the tables.”
Benson then launched into a crusade that would have made a tv evangelist envious.
“A communication device, owned by the late Don Volpicelli, has been found intact thanks to the stellar detective work of Lt. Simms and a little help from man’s best friend.” Benson then paused to display the data net to Mercer.
“We thought all evidence had been destroyed when Mr. Volpicelli’s air coach crashed into the state forest. I bet you were counting on that, huh Mercer? “Well, thanks to a law enacted by federal judges a few decades ago, a video or audio tape made by the victim of a murder before his demise is admissible evidence in a murder trial. I’m sure Mr. Sayed knows very well that this law came into being when a judge was recorded by courthouse cameras naming people who had posed death threats against him. When that judge was killed, his attackers were arrested and put to death. Now Mr. Volpicelli will benefit from this legislation. This audio tape—recorded by the private investigator— clearly names Mr. Mercer as his attacker just minutes before his death. We will provide a full manuscript of the recording to you Mr. Sayed. You will see that Mr. Volpicelli charges your client with sabotaging his navigation system. It appears that Mr. Mercer rendered the vic unconscious with a blow to the back of his head. He then placed Mr. Volpicelli into his air coach in hopes that a fiery crash would transpire in the forest.”
Benson then paused to open the door to the interrogation room. A frisky golden retriever entered the room with his tail wagging.
“I want to introduce Maxwell to you Mr. Mercer. Max was Bob Schmitt’s pet. You know—the man you had murdered. Anyway, leave it to an animal to avenge his owner’s death in a peaceful manner. Max traveled a great distance to help find the evidence that will put you away. You could have still had your cushy job at the aeronautics association if you let the police handle the Phil Jackson incident. Was the cover up really worth it?”
Mercer paused a moment in a desperate attempt to hide the fact that his heart felt like it just dropped into his stomach. The soon to be ex security executive of the W.A.A., fought a dizzy feeling in his head which appeared to make his accusers spin around him like merry-go-round horses. “The investors, the government—and most importantly the public—don’t want to hear about how we almost allowed a space vessel to be sabotaged. Inspection agents would be on us like ants on honey. We could never fulfill the destiny of humanity if investors didn’t back our agency. I had no choice but to cover up the misdeeds of my employees.”
“I’ve got news for you, Mercer,” Morton replied. “Humanity doesn’t need your kind. You don’t know it; but the public can be very forgiving. The latest polls indicate federation citizens still trust their news organizations even after the Dana Jackson fiasco. So there you go. Like my partner says, was it worth it?”
An hour later, Mercer met his lawyer in his new office—a jail cell. Sayed reprimanded his client for lying to him.
“You told me that the association president Kenneth Copperfield set you up. The tape found by the dog clearly indicates that this is not the case. It’s just a matter of time before the whole world knows. I have to tell you that this data net recording will provide very convincing evidence to a jury.”
“Then maybe I’ll have to buy the jury,” Mercer quipped sarcastically. He knew all too well that he could no longer afford even one shot of banana liqueur after spending all his money on the high priced attorney.
Chapter 8: After Shock
Marisa Perez slept soundly with the aid of a chamomile-based sedative after surviving her bout with Mikola Petrovsky. She was expected to make a full recovery according to Jon Sanderson as she only suffered slight bruising to her throat. Her husband Mario patiently waited at her bedside for two full days before receiving a reassuring sign that she was going to be okay. When Marisa finally mustered the strength to offer a weak “hello” and hold his hand, Mario thanked God that he and wife still had a future.
The rest of Reliance Point was also in recovery mode. Linda Dougherty held counseling sessions for the couples who had gone from relaxing at a festival to running for their lives in a span of a few short hours. It pleased Dougherty that the the colonists did not sink to Petrovsky’s level when referring to the androids.
“I still believe the androids saved this mission,” Mia Carlisle told Linda at a recent session. “It was a shame Steven had to deactivate all of them over one bad seed. What will become of them?” she asked.
That was the trillion dollar question Linda thought to herself. “If the androids can be re-activated, how can I provide an assurance that they will cause no more harm?”
Linda continued to hold sessions to get more feedback on the situation. Deep down Linda knew she would get the androids back on line regardless of the feedback. “They have a right to enjoy the life that Dr. McElroy gave them,”she thought.
Dougherty noticed the White’s were uncomfortable about this subject during their counseling session. Daryl just stared at his wife in uneasy silence when Linda hinted that the androids could still provide valuable assistance to the community.
“I think we can raise the livestock and grow the crops just fine without their assistance,” Daryl stated defensively. “I can’t believe automatons could possess the hate necessary to shoot down a defenseless boy. I don’t know about you Linda; but I for one do not want to jeopardize any of our children’s lives just to give these machines a second chance.”
Linda tried her best to explain that the androids were subject to the thoughts and feelings of the human scientists they had replaced. “The androids could only be as good or bad as the human element which was integrated into their circuitry. The android who was
unfortunate enough to find itself linked with the engrams of Mikola Petrovsky probably had no choice but to succumb to the sickness of its human mind.”
“Is that your expert opinion, Linda? Can you assure us then that the other androids will not be sick as well?”
“Dr. McElroy explained in his message that the deactivation process would probably severe the android’s link with the human engrams. The organic portion of their brains most likely did not survive the abrupt shut down. We can only confirm this theory by turning them back on, Daryl. I believe the doctor’s androids were created to build a community—with or without their human enhancements.”
“I can’t believe you’re willing to take such a risk on a theory. I’m not so convinced as you seem to be that these androids are all benevolent creations. Why did the android Joyce Starkman seem programmed to terminate us? It was like she was controlled. If she was—does this means of control still exist?”
Linda knew Daryl had asked a valid question. She closed the session as pleasantly as possible noting that no action would be taken to reactivate the androids until the matter could be further studied.
All the androids save Mikola Petrovsky laid dormant on the floor of the municipal building’s meeting room. Petrovsky’s lifeless body had been bound and locked in the building’s storage closet for security purposes. Only Jon Sanderson was allowed access to the dormant automatons. The plastic surgeon made repairs to Joyce Starkman’s foot and returned Mikola’s tongue and teeth back to their normal shape. Sanderson had concluded that James Starkman was damaged beyond repair. A slim hope remained that the android boy could regain consciousness through re-activation.
Ruby the bug kept a vigilant watch over the Starkman’s from a nearby window. The insect’s patience would be tested as a waiting period of no less than two weeks would have to elapse before a decision could be rendered regarding the androids fate. The decision to mandate a waiting period was made arbitrarily by Matt Dougherty. As the acting captain, he did not require a group vote to enforce laws which were considered a matter of security.
Linda knew she would have to come up with solid proposals for reactivation in these next two weeks. Her husband could only continue to deny re-activation if the androids were deemed dangerous. In order to resolve the issue, she would have to prove there was no security issue. However, Linda knew proving and convincing were two different matters. At least three of the colonists would be strongly opposed to the idea even if a hundred assurances could be made.
One of those opponents was Jon Sanderson. Like his character in the play, Jon had little tolerance for change. Linda’s mind flashed back to how Sanderson acted in the Holo-Voyage game. “He wanted to blast the alien life out of existence; even if it meant killing the entire crew.”
Linda also believed Mario Perez would be vehemently opposed to her wishes because of the attack on his wife.
And then there was Daryl White. However, White had peaked Linda’s curiosity when he noted that Joyce Starkman seemed like “she was being controlled.” Dougherty believed providing the answer as to who and how the control was implemented would be paramount in her research.
“I’ve got to go over all the personal logs of the scientists. If Petrovsky did use a form of mind control on Joyce—I’ve got to find out how he did it. He did have a gift for ingenuity, so some kind of technical control may have been possible.”
Linda then set about her task after making Matt promise no contact would be made with the federation for at least two more weeks. “I can still make Ceres a better place for all beings. I just have to prove that the danger was solely confined to Mikola Petrovsky. And I have to prove it soon.”
The counselor then realized she was going about her task like a lawyer. “Sometimes lawyers make bargains to get their way. I’ll just have to offer my friends some type of reassurance.”
Chapter 9: To the Letter
An hour after Renee Mercer had been transferred from the interrogation room to his new silent reflection suite (jail cell), Sandra Morton sat alone in the crime lab’s cafeteria. Samuel had agreed to join her for a well earned cup of coffee but Morton knew her partner was fulfilling some compulsive desire when he didn’t arrive on time. Sandra was pleased that she had finally found a coworker she could respect and trust as a friend. “I knew something on Volpicelli’s recording gave Sam an itch he needed to scratch.” The ability to predict Benson’s behavior solidified her theory about the younger forensic scientist. “This ability to know what he’s feeling will come in useful on future cases.” Morton subsequently fought a romantic notion which suggested that type of bond might be good for other things as well.
Surmising that Benson was in one of the evidence analysis labs, Sandra was compelled to find out if her assumption was correct. It didn’t take long for theory to become fact. Samuel was indeed hard at work, bent over a piece of carpeting the CSI’s had lifted from the elevator in Bob Schmitt’s apartment building.
Sandra entered the room with a grin spreading from ear to ear.
“What’s the smile for?” Benson asked defensively as if he just got caught sticking gum underneath a table.
“Look at you. We have more than enough evidence to put both Turner and Mercer away for life and here you are working on another piece of the puzzle,” Sandra explained.
“Well, you know our motto: We never give up,” Sam pointed out. Benson then allowed himself a small smile which Sandra warmly returned. The lead CSI suddenly caught herself gazing into Samuel’s blue eyes for a second or two longer than she thought was appropriate. “This is still is a crime lab, after all.” Morton’s conscious wanted to scold her biological impulses like a parent warning a child not to over eat. However, Sandra found her conscious was not quite strong enough to ward off the several kinds of hunger she wanted to feed.
“Why don’t we have dinner, Sam? We have tomorrow off, thankfully.”
“Sounds like a plan. I will be studying the backs of my eye lids for a good part of tomorrow. Andrea has already assigned us a heavy case load starting the day after tomorrow.”
“Well what gives with your evidence?” Sandra finally asked as though she needed to justify her visit to Benson.
“I had to know if the loose belt buckle Volpicelli reported on his data net recording matched the imprint in the carpeting we found on the elevator. My analysis tells me we have a solid match. This buckle, which Turner re-attached onto Schmitt’s belt, is what left the imprint on the rug. Turner did drag his victim onto the elevator rather than using the stairwell.”
“No detail too small,” Morton laughed with a healthy dose of pride for her partner’s diligence. “Speaking of evidence, I understand Maxwell the dog has found a new home. Lt. Simms is training him for K-9 duty. I guess the dog kind of grew on the tough SOB.”
“Maybe Maxwell will take some of the retentive nature out of Simm’s asshole,” Benson joked. He then asked Morton where she’d like to dine.
“Anywhere but a hangout for aeronautics workers,” Sandra replied wearily.
“Agreed.”
As the pair exited the crime lab, Benson turned to Sandra. “Hey, I was just thinking. When do you think they’ll need forensic investigators on Ceres?”
“Very soon, Sam. Very soon.”
It had been nearly two months after the Virginia crime lab took down Renee Mercer. Book publisher Suzanne Kennedy was busy firing off a transmission for her off world author, Linda Dougherty.
The publisher wanted to update Linda on the “events of the century” which had occurred over the last few months. Little did Kennedy know the events on Earth paled to what was transpiring on the new colony. “Dear Linda:
I want you to know that changes have been made for the better back here on Earth. The W.A.A.’s administrative staff has been forced to resign—one of them is now behind bars facing a life sentence. The association told me off the record they feared your sensitivity to some civil rights related issues pertaining to the integration of robots
into society—both here and on Ceres. They forced me to put a hold on the publication of your manuscript because of this. The good news is that I now have a green light to publish your writings with no threat of censorship. The press has also been granted permission to conduct interviews of the colonists. I’m sure you will be bombarded with transmissions by the press in the coming weeks.
The new association executives will not enjoy the kind of manipulation their predecessors had grown accustomed to. A government watch dog agency has been put together to keep a close eye on their business. I also understand a bright young lawyer named Brooke Lawrence is on a mission to start a grass roots campaign to change federation laws. She wants cybernetic beings to enjoy all the rights humans do. Lawrence, who won a Pulitzer prize for exposing former security executive Renee Mercer, told me she will keep a close eye on the space association’s new administration herself. The world was horrified to find out that Mercer had three space techs murdered concerning a cover up involving robot sabotage. The association tried to conceal the fact that a disgruntled worker tampered with a robotic employee in an effort to undermine the public’s trust of AI’s.
The dirt on the aeronautics association continues to mount as I write this correspondence. The popular air coach holo-stickers the space agency sold to promote the Ceres mission have also been tainted with scandal. The public greedily bought up these stickers with the belief the money raised would support the Ceres mission. It turns out the first act of the watch dog agency was to recover the monies the agency misused. The money never went to support Ceres—but it did cushion the wallets of top World Aeronautics Association executives very well.