Jump Gate Omega

by Tom Shepherd

  Esteban dismissed the feeling as a byproduct of dread for his sister’s fate. He quickened his pace to keep up with the surprisingly powerful strides of Cousin Rosalie, and he slipped a hand into his pocket and found comfort in the blaster J.B. had issued to the Recon Team, as Tyler called them. Esteban sighed. Family is everything. He prayed for Julieta’s soul and jogged to catch up with Rosalie.

  They picked their way through twisted, sizzling streets and made it halfway to the shipyard when attackers fell upon them. They were a mixed gang of humans and aliens including several the. The pack carried clubs and stun weapons, and a bolt from a Zenji stun rod knocked Esteban down. He never got the blaster from his pocket.

  The last he remembered before blacking out was Rosalie screaming, followed by barking-laughter from the thugs.

  Nine

  In the corridor outside the site of Paco León’s trial, they found another defense attorney waiting for a different case to be called. J.B. paid him to brief them on the opposition, Navy Lieutenant Lovey Frost.

  The report was not good. Port Authority Prosecutor Frost was a burgundy-haired, caramel-faced, hard-assed military lawyer of African descent. Although she served in the meager Terran Commonwealth naval forces, Navy politicos detached her from fleet duty and posted the energetic young officer at Sedalia, ostensibly as part of the government’s program to bolster understaffed court systems on colonial worlds.

  Tyler suspected a secondary motive—to keep big corporations from converting the courts into servants of company policy. She did not receive her salary from Matthews Interstellar, and from the look of her, Tyler decided a bribe was not in order. Her portfolio showed Lovey Frost lived up to her surname but showed very little love to the opposition.

  They waited at the back of the courtroom while Lt. Frost launched her opening statement. Tyler instantly recognized the presiding judge, Honorable Herman J. Wildermuth, an almost legendary old fart who handed down verdicts on a dozen colonial worlds. His Honor had reached his eighties, still sharp enough to cut down a rambunctious lawyer. Tyler decided to behave himself, if possible.

  “Good morning, Your Honor,” Frost said. “The gruesome details of the knife-fight at the casino stand undisputed. Paco León stabbed to death the Kazloŭ businessman, Captain Erlak Epond-Delta, before a house filled with law-abiding gamblers. Your Honor was among them, I believe.”

  “I am not here as a witness, Lieutenant.” The Judge frowned at the defense counsel, a Quirt-Thymean. “Nor do I intend to recuse myself.”

  “Oh, please don’t, Your Honor,” the blue alien said. “There are many judges in this town far worse than you.”

  “As a non-human attorney, you get a little leeway. That was its limit.”

  “Thank you. When is lunch?”

  “Continue, Lieutenant Frost.”

  “I am almost complete,” Lovey said. “Paco León is guilty. He must be punished. Do not let him get away with cold-blooded murder when the evidence is so overwhelming and the crime is so foul. The Port of Safe Harbor asks for mind-wipe and re-identification, followed by ten years’ rehabilitation duty in the water acquisition point at Wakumba Oasis.”

  “Damn, she’s a beguiling, brown siren,” Tyler whispered.

  J.B. grunted. “And she’s got Chief León by the rocks.”

  “Naw. We’ll win this.”

  They lingered at the rear of the packed gallery until she finished her opening. Lovey’s sonorous voice rose to an impassioned plea to the Judge, who would decide the case without jury.

  “Does the defense have any motions before opening statement?” Judge Wildermuth said.

  The pudgy, blue alien had ears like a beagle puppy. He slouched in a chair beside Paco. The azure humanoid unmistakably hailed from the remote Quirt-Thyme Empire. Although the affable Quirt-Thymeans rarely ventured far from their vast domains along the Outer Arm, Admiral Bianca Matthews had a longstanding friendship with a female member of the blue race, Fleet Captain Gertzel, who served as her second in command.

  “Only a question, Your Esteemed Honor.” The Quirt rose with painful slowness. “When is lunch?”

  Tyler called from the rear of the courtroom, “Your Honor, new counsel. May we cross the bar?”

  Every head turned to the Matthews brothers, who sauntered down the aisle and stopped short of the wood railing separating spectators from practicing attorneys.

  “New counsel, which side?” Wildermuth said.

  “They’re not Port Authority,” Lovey Frost huffed.

  “Co-counsels for the defense,” Tyler said.

  “How delightful,” the blue alien said. “Lunch will come sooner.”

  Tyler ignored the court-appointed defender. “Mrs. León engaged our firm to represent her completely innocent husband. Right, Dorla?”

  At the rear of the courtroom a smiling Dorla León stood and waved. When that gesture drew a sharp rap of Wildermuth’s gavel, she flopped to her seat.

  “One motion, Your Honor,” J.B. said. “Move to drop all charges.”

  Frost leaped to her feet. “On what grounds?”

  “Self-defense is not a criminal act.”

  “This was murder!”

  “Hold your fire, Counselors,” the Judge said. “I run an orderly court, and I’ve never seen you two gentlemen before. How about we start with names and credentials?”

  “Matthews,” the elder brother said. “I’m J.B. Matthews, and my brother is Tyler Noah Matthews IV.”

  “And what brings the sons of Noah before me? Shall I expect a flood on this desert planet?”

  Tyler chuckled. “Good one, Your Honor.”

  “We are members of the Terran Bar,” J.B. continued. “My brother and I respectfully invoke the right of legal reciprocity in this honorable colonial court.”

  “Matthews Interstellar owns the planet, so I suppose your credentials are acceptable.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. My father needs this man free and back to work.” J.B. thumbed at Paco. “He is too valuable to lose over a bar fight. His importance to our Company—hence to the management of this spaceport and everyone who lives here—cannot be overstated.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Matthews. I think you’ve overstated it nicely. Motion denied. And I am ruling this escapade qualifies as your opening statement.”

  “But, Your Honor—”

  “Port Authority has filed all the proper affidavits and stated the charges clearly.” He glanced at the trim, black prosecutor. “Lieutenant Frost, I assume you’re prepared for cross.”

  “I am, Your Honor.”

  “The defense may proceed with its case after a brief recess. Bailiff, remove the prisoner.” The judge banged the gavel and everyone rose as Wildermuth fled out a side door.

  “There goes a guy in a dress who badly needs to pee,” Tyler muttered.

  “Thank God,” J.B. said. “We’re not ready.”

  The bailiff came to take Paco away, but J.B. asked for a moment to consult with their client. The blue defense attorney touched the defendant’s arm with a single finger. His large, dark eyes filled with tears.

  “I regret deeply, friend Paco.”

  “I did it,” Paco said, head low. “I deserve to be punished.”

  “Was this guy a good citizen or oxygen thief?” Tyler said.

  “He was a bad man, sir.”

  “So, you performed a public service,” Tyler said. “We’ll pull you out of this hole.”

  The bailiff escorted Chief León to the side door, where Dorla waited. She gave Paco a quick hug, and he disappeared into the corridor. Mrs. León took off her feathered cap and sat in the galley, stoic and silent.

  Tyler turned to the azure alien with the floppy ears. “What’s your name, Counselor?”

  “Blue.”

  J.B. smiled. “That’s it?”

  “I have a Quirt-Thymean name, but it would take more than a ten-minute break to recite. Most humans call me Mr. Blue.”

  Tyler laughed. “Great old song. I was go
ing for Dumbo.”

  J.B. shot Tyler a glance that reminded him of Dad.

  “I know that Terran story!” Mr. Blue said. “So sad, so sweet.”

  “Tyler, focus,” J.B. said. “Paco is on trial for his life. When they wipe your brains, the old person no longer exists.”

  “Which means he can no longer certify our ship,” Tyler said. “Mr. Blue, remind me how this legal system works.”

  “Sedalian courts do not allow defendants in the courtroom,” Blue said. “Too many blaster fights.”

  “Frontier justice,” J.B. grumbled.

  “The procedure starts with the prosecution explaining the offense to the Judge,” the Quirt-Thymean said. “They call no witnesses, except to rebut ours. So, we need to disprove the People’s statements about Paco’s actions that night. It is all very backward.”

  Tyler frowned. “Guilty until proven innocent. Like the old Napoleonic Code.”

  “Yes,” Blue said.

  “What do they allege, precisely?” J.B. said.

  Blue took out his data pad and read from notes. “On the date specified, Chief Warrant Officer Paco León entered the Shady Lady Casino at nine-thirty-two p.m. local. He sought out and confronted a Kazloŭ entrepreneur, Captain Erlak Epond-Delta.

  “According to eyewitnesses, the defendant accused the victim of ‘abusing women.’ An argument ensued, during which the deceased pulled a knife on Chief León. In the struggle, Epond-Delta received several stab wounds to the chest.

  “An emergency medical team arrived, but the victim was unresponsive. Safe Harbor Coroner Armstrong Dewire pronounced him dead at the scene. The body was cremated twelve hours later. One hundred sixteen eye-witnesses signed statements attesting to these facts.”

  “Fast-moving legal system,” Tyler said. “Murder last week, cremate the victim a day later, trial today.”

  “Yes, Mr. Matthews. And if found guilty, mind-wipe by sunset.”

  “Paco was clearly the victim of aggression,” J.B. said.

  “That is true, but it does not matter, sir. A death occurred.” Blue closed his pad. “Friend Paco is lucky there is no premeditation, or he could face death by hanging.”

  “Chief León claims the smuggler abused women,” Tyler said. “What women?”

  “I do not know,” Blue said.

  “Any physical evidence?” Tyler said.

  Blue showed holo-images of a thin coil, about the size of a human hair. “Two of these coils fell from the victim’s stab wounds. It is a composite shaped by nanites, but I was not able to determine their function. This suggests the murder weapon injected nanocoils into the victim. His body teemed with bio-mechanical infusions, but laboratory facilities on Sedalia-3 are too meager to determine what kind of nanite fibers shot from the coils to run wild inside him.”

  Tyler raised a hand. “Wait a minute—wasn’t the murder weapon the smuggler’s knife?”

  “Mr. Tyler, it does not matter whose weapon was used,” Blue said. “Chief Warrant Officer Paco León injected Epond-Delta with lethal nanites.”

  J.B. checked a sample coil and handed the holo-projecting data pad to Tyler. “Recognize it?”

  Tyler pulled out his datacom, took a reading, and nodded. “Matthews Corp product. The victim was a cyborg.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. Paco didn’t kill him.”

  “We got this, Indigo.” Tyler gave Mr. Blue a thumbs-up.

  Blue glanced at Tyler’s hand. “You have ten of them, unless you mean opposing digits only.”

  Tyler laughed. “It’s a human thing.”

  “No, I have opposing digits, too.” He flexed his knobby blue thumbs.

  Judge Wildermuth returned five minutes late with a thick ham sandwich on dark bread. “Call your first witness, Mr. Matthews.”

  “We only have one,” J.B. said. “The defense calls Dr. Armstrong Dewire.”

  Tyler visually searched the courtroom and asked Blue, “Where is this mook?”

  “The Coroner has an administrative office down the hall. He must stay nearby during all murder trials, so he stays here a lot.”

  Lovey Frost flicked dark red bangs from her brow and leaned forward, elbows on the table, as the Matthews brothers began their game.

  J.B. started slowly. “Dr. Dewire, can you tell this court how the deceased… uh... deceased?”

  The Coroner shrugged. “Paco killed him in a knife fight.”

  “Move to strike,” J.B. said.

  “Objection,” Frost said.

  “He was called to testify to the cause of death, not who did it,” J.B. said.

  “But I was in the casino,” Dewire said. “I saw him stab that prick again and again.”

  The Judge shook his head. “Sustained. Dr. Dewire is free to testify to what he witnessed, counselor. That’s why we call him a witness.”

  J.B. tried again. “All right. Please let the record show the witness referred to the deceased as a prick.”

  The court reporter, a round-faced grandmother in black hijab without veil, looked up from her desk beside the bench. “It already does, Your Honor. Right here…‘I saw him stab that prick…’ I’ve got the word. Prick, prick, prick.”

  “That will do, Mrs. Sajadi,” Wildermuth said.

  She mumbled, “He said prick. I wrote prick.”

  “Your Honor,” J.B. said, “I meant the record should indicate—”

  Wildermuth banged his gavel. “The court stipulates the deceased was a prick. Proceed, Mr. Matthews. You’re starting to bore me.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” J.B.’s voice was placid, but Tyler knew he was fuming inside.

  “Mr. Matthews, your next question?” Wildermuth took a bite of his sandwich.

  “I have a question,” Mr. Blue said. “May I have a sandwich?”

  “No.” The judge took another bite and spoke while chewing. “Proceed, counselor.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” J.B. approached the witness box. “Dr. Dewire, you certified the prick in question—”

  “Don’t push it, son.” The judge took another bite.

  “You certified the victim dead at the scene. On what did you base your diagnosis?”

  “My medical scanner found no vital signs. No heartbeat, respiration, or brain activity. He had wounds to the flesh of his chest, which caused a major loss of blood. He lay in a pool of blood. He was dead, by every indicator.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Lovey Frost’s burgundy hair bobbed as she leaped to object. “Asked and answered. Does the defense think Captain Epond was faking his death? If so, he did a pretty convincing job.”

  “Your Honor, before you rule on whether I may ask Dr. Dewire if he is sure the deceased was deceased, I would like to draw your attention to People’s Exhibits 16 and 17.”

  The Judge called for a bailiff to retrieve objects from the evidence table and bring them to the bench. “What am I missing here, Counselor? All I see is a knife and a squiggly piece of technology.”

  “The Prosecution claims Chief León stabbed Captain Epond with a high-tech knife that had the ability to inject aggressive nanites into the victim’s bloodstream. Yet, Lieutenant Frost offers no knife with that capacity into evidence. The only stabbing instrument recovered, People’s Exhibit 16, is an old-fashioned steel blade with saw teeth on the upper edge.”

  Lovey had an answer. “The People contend Chief León introduced the nanites by smearing the blade with micro-paste. Since nanotechnology operates at the molecular level, that much would do.”

  J.B. shook his head. “Yet, she offers no physical evidence of this mysterious nanite paste, or how it appeared on the victim’s knife. Judge, it’s only a knife, iron age technology.”

  “It does seem to be a knife.” Judge Wildermuth held up the data projector. “Tell me about the little twisted hair.”

  “Your Honor, this is preposterous!” Lieutenant Frost said. “One hundred witnesses saw Paco kill him.”

  “No, they didn’t,” J.B. said. “They saw our client stab Ep
ond in self-defense, but the wounds were not fatal.”

  “Yes, they were,” Dr. Dewire said from the witness box. “Judge Wildermuth, I know something about human physiology. Those stab wounds killed him, whether or not Paco injected nanites into the victim.”

  “No, they didn’t!” J.B. growled.

  Tyler signaled his brother—hands flat, like a sports coach urging restraint. Dial it back. Keep your voice down. You’re the calm brother.

  The Judge turned to J.B. “This court deals in facts, Mr. Matthews. Dr. Dewire is an expert in forensic medicine. I’ll have to defer to him on wounds suffered by a human body.”

  “Precisely, Your Honor,” J.B. said. “But the victim, Captain Erlak Epond-Delta, was not human. The Matthews Corporation manufactured that coil. It is used exclusively in cyborg systems, to guide nanites into the bloodstream, usually for maintenance purposes. It wasn’t injected by knife; it fell out when Paco withdrew the blade. The victim was a humanoid-cyborg, engineered to resemble a human to the cellular level, with nanite technology and special systems to repair damaged organs.”

  “Your Honor, even if they are members of the Family,” Lt. Frost said, “how could the defense possibly know so much about an obscure product manufactured by the highly diverse Matthews Corporation?”

  “Because last year Tyler and I spent several months quashing a patent challenge on this class of nanotech. Right, Ty?”

  “Mars-based, amateur league start-up that claimed our technology belonged to them,” Tyler said from the bench. “We put ’em out of business with the countersuit.”

  “Even if that is true, the victim was a living, sentient being,” Frost said. “Chief León’s actions ceased his vital functions, killing him.”

  “Also not true, Your Honor,” J.B. said. “Gravely injured cyborgs typically shut down and enter hibernation mode to repair themselves at the molecular level. If left undisturbed, Captain Epond would have awakened when the damage was undone.”

  Frost laughed. “You expect the court to believe that?”