Transcender Trilogy Complete Box Set

by Vicky Savage

  I inhale deeply, struggling for words. Though I’m sickened by the thought of it, I understand he lived in a different world. “No. I would never judge you. But that must have been a hell of a way to grow up.”

  He shrugs. “It was all I ever knew until I came here. My life was no better or worse than anyone else’s.”

  “Did you ever wish you could have another job? One that wasn’t so violent.”

  “No. I was good at it.”

  My throat feels thick and dry. “Do you ever miss it … that life?”

  He looks away for a moment. “I have no enemies here. In Demonstadt I killed only men who wished to kill me or my people. I never killed for pleasure or sport. It was a service for my country.” His voice is thick with emotion.

  The realization of the kind of life Urick endured on his home earth crashes down on me. How does a boy, or anyone for that matter, ever recover from that kind of fear and brutality? My eyes swim with tears, and I’m embarrassed and ashamed. Getting to my feet, I turn and brush away the tears with my fingertips.

  “Why are you crying?”

  I shake my head. “I’m just so sorry. Sorry for what you had to go through, and sorry for being such a jerk.”

  “Do not pity me.”

  “I don’t. It’s just … I shouldn’t have questioned you that way.” I hate that I’m crying right now, but this night has not gone at all the way I planned.

  “Save your tears for something important.” He stands and surprises me by gently drying my cheeks with his thumbs. “Do not let these people see you cry. Show them your true strength. They will respect you for it.”

  His words prop me up, and just in time, too. The click-clack of footsteps echoes in the hall, and Lieutenant Michaels and Officer Ross appear at my cell door.

  “What’s this?” Michaels says when he sees Urick. “You’re not supposed to be in there.” He glares at Ross.

  Urick obliges by shifting out of the cell to a spot directly beside Michaels.

  “Jesus! Don’t do that in here,” Michaels says flinching. He unlocks my cell door. “Your hearing is set up in Courtroom One. Come with me, both of you.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  Courtroom One looks pretty much like the rest of police headquarters. The walls are hospital white, and the glare of the lighting is painful on the eyes. Instead of bare concrete, though, the floors are covered with thin, gray industrial carpet. Plastic chairs line the spectator area. The judge’s wooden bench is perched on a raised platform at the back of the room, flanked by four large flags. We pass through a short metal gate to an area with two long wooden counsel tables and an assortment of chairs.

  Ted King and Narowyn occupy one of the counsel tables. Michaels ushers me over to them. Urick joins Watterson in the row of seats directly behind us.

  Narowyn stands and embraces me. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, just nervous.”

  I take the chair between Ted and Narowyn. Ted pats my arm reassuringly. “We should be underway soon.”

  The metal gate behind us creaks open and a tall woman with a porcelain complexion and a dark, angular bob steps through, followed by a small entourage. The woman and her male counterparts wear robes similar to Ted’s except in a maroon shade. They sit at the counsel table opposite ours. Two men dressed in navy blue suits take seats behind them.

  “Who are they?” I whisper to Narowyn.

  She leans in. “The prosecutors are seated at the table. The man with the dark hair is Director Canto. I assume the other man is one of his assistants.”

  I glance at the two men. It’s obvious which one is Canto. His suit is finely tailored, his black hair impeccably coifed, and he’s staring at me intently with lethal brown eyes. He exudes a kind of dangerous power. Remembering Urick’s words, I give him an eff-off jut of the chin, and look away.

  A door opens behind the bench and a woman in red robes steps out onto the dais. “All rise,” she says. “This honorable court is now in session. Chief Judge Robert Laurence presiding.

  Everyone stands and Judge Laurence steps out of the same door and places a pile of papers and an electronic tablet on the bench. His robes are a dark, royal blue. “Please be seated,” he says.

  He scans the faces of those present in the courtroom. Tipping his head to Narowyn he says, “Mrs. Du Lac, welcome.”

  “Thank you, your honor,” she says.

  He squints toward the back. “Is that Director Canto, I see?”

  “Yes, your honor,” the director says. “Good evening.”

  “Well, well, quite a notable gathering this evening. Shall we begin? The court will come to order.” He strikes his gavel with a crack, and then taps his computer screen to life and dons a pair of black reading glasses. “This is an emergency hearing for a Writ of Habeas Corpus, brought on behalf of Jaden Beckett to address the matter of her arrest earlier this evening.”

  The judge looks over at me. “Is that you, young lady?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say.

  “Your honor,” Ted whispers to me.

  “Your honor,” I add.

  “Are you by any chance related to Eleanor Beckett, the chairman of the Arumel Societal Commission?”

  My heart wrenches at the mention of my mother’s name. So, she has a mirror here. I could happily have gone the rest of my life without knowing that.

  “No, your honor. I’m new to Arumel.”

  “I see.” He turns again to his computer screen. “Well then, Ms. Beckett has been charged with grand theft in the form of one automaton belonging to the Inter-Universal Guidance Agency. Is that correct Ms. Prosecutor?”

  The judge removes his glasses and looks to the woman sitting in the first chair at the prosecution table. She stands. “Yes, your honor. Elaine Crawford on behalf of the people. To be more accurate the accused is charged with extracting the mass storage data and stealing the memory module of an automaton belonging to IUGA and transferring it into another automaton.”

  Judge Laurence nods. “And Mr. King you have filed papers indicating that the arrest of Miss Beckett and the confiscation of the automaton in question is a gross miscarriage of justice that needs to be rectified at,” he checks his watch, “ten fifteen on Saturday night.”

  Ted stands. “Yes, your honor. The unlawful arrest and detainment of Miss Beckett constitutes sheer harassment. IUGA has filed a false complaint against her in retaliation for her civil lawsuit against it and the fact that she has successfully obtained a restraining order barring its employees and representatives from any contact with her. In addition, we are gravely concerned that agents acting on behalf of IUGA may attempt to harm her while she is in police custody.”

  Judge Laurence leans forward and squints at Ted. “Is that so? Well, Mr. King, you filed this motion, so I will hear from you first.”

  Ted goes over the general allegations of our civil suit against IUGA for the judge. He recounts the facts of the automaton attack against me in Connecticut and refers to the IGC Court restraining order against IUGA. He then addresses the issue of the stolen property charges.

  “The automaton in question with its mass storage unit and memory module intact had been discarded by IUGA,” Ted says, “and was recovered in a lawful operation carried out by the Transcender Police Force, with Miss Beckett’s assistance, to prevent the data’s imminent destruction. The automaton’s memory data is of vital importance to the pending civil action. Further, we believe if IUGA is granted custody of the automaton in question, it will proceed with its plans to destroy the material evidence he possesses.”

  “Thank you Mr. King. All right, Ms. Crawford, go ahead with your response.”

  “Your honor, this is a case of theft for personal gain, plain and simple. We have evidence in the form of a partial facial identification placing the accused at the crime scene with a group of co-conspirators, who took pains to conceal their identities.” She holds up two black and white photographs. “You should have these in your file,” she says. “We didn’t h
ave time to make copies for Mr. King.”

  The judge takes a few minutes to examine each photograph carefully. He raises his eyes to the prosecution table. “Ms. Crawford, where were these taken? It appears to be a refuse dump.”

  “It’s an IUGA parts facility, your honor,” Crawford says.

  Ted gets to his feet. “Your honor, may we see the photographs?”

  “Most certainly.” The judge hands the photos to his clerk who walks them to our table. One photo is of me barfing on the ground next to Ralston’s beat-up head and torso. My chin and mouth are partially visible. The other is of Ralston being strapped to Urick’s back.

  Judge Laurence continues. “Ms. Crawford perhaps you will explain to me what use IUGA planned to make of an armless, legless, dented automaton torso that appears to have been thrown onto a refuse pile. You’ve stated in your complaint that the property is worth in excess of one hundred thousand Confederation Dollars. This looks like nothing more than scrap to me.”

  “Your honor,” Crawford says, “the memory components of this automaton are beyond value. They are chock full of confidential propriety information belonging to IUGA. The agency believes the Transcender Society intends to use this information to damage IUGA’s operations. Director Canto has given a sworn affidavit that the automaton remains had been placed on the scrap pile in error and, therefore, technically had not been abandoned. Hence it still belongs to IUGA.”

  “May I respond, your honor?” Ted asks, returning the photos to the clerk.

  “Certainly,” Judge Laurence says.

  “As clearly shown in these photos, the garbage heap on which the automaton was discovered was located outside the fence surrounding the IUGA facility. Various companies in the area routinely place scrap on this pile to be picked up by a county truck and taken to the public incinerator. It’s our position that IUGA intended the automaton and its memory data to be hauled away and destroyed. The law is well established that once property is abandoned by the owner, it can be claimed by anyone.”

  “What about IUGA’s assertion that the automaton remains were placed on the scrap pile in error?” Judge Laurence asks.

  “Even if the property was abandoned in error, which we dispute,” Ted says, “it certainly was no crime for the Transcender Police and Miss Beckett to recover it in order to preserve material evidence in a pending lawsuit. This is not an instance of corporate espionage, as the prosecution would have you believe.”

  “All right people,” Judge Laurence says, stacking his papers in a neat pile and placing the photographs on top. “I have your positions. Give me a few moments here.”

  He taps some keys on his computer screen and jots some notes on his electronic tablet. Removing his reading glasses, he looks up and announces, “I’m ready to rule.”

  Resting his hands on the bench, he says, “My findings are these: The question of whether the robot was thrown on a refuse heap in error or because IUGA expected it to be removed and incinerated is not one that needs to be addressed in this forum. Nor is this court obliged to reach the issue of whether the memory data was taken as part of a lawful Transcender operation.”

  He leans across the bench, addressing the prosecutor. “In fact, Ms. Crawford, I’m a bit mystified as to why this criminal complaint was ever issued. Where is the criminal intent here? As far as I can see from your own photographs, any reasonable person coming upon this garbage pile would have presumed the property had been abandoned by its owner and was, therefore, free to be claimed. Mr. King is quite correct on the law in that regard. If the property was thrown away in error, the agency is free to bring that up in a civil lawsuit. It is not a matter for the criminal courts.”

  “But these people were wearing gear to thwart the security cameras,” Crawford says. “Clearly this was a covert operation to gain corporate secrets.”

  “I don’t care what they were wearing, Ms. Crawford. Taking abandoned property is not a crime, and I trust I will not see any further complaints from your office based upon similarly flimsy facts, no matter who has provided a sworn affidavit.”

  “No, your honor,” Crawford says. Her posture is defiant, despite just having had her nose tweaked.

  Judge Laurence focuses on me. “Miss Beckett I apologize for the inexcusable inconvenience this has caused you. I’m ordering that all charges against you be dismissed, and any reference to your arrest be expunged from the record. You are free to go.”

  “Your honor,” Crawford says. “One item still remains to be resolved. The automaton is here in police custody. IUGA has requested that it, or its memory data at least, be immediately returned to the agency until the civil court can resolve this issue.”

  “If I may, your honor?” Ted says.

  “Yes, Mr. King.”

  “Mrs. Du Lac has gone to considerable expense to have the memory data transplanted into a new automaton shell. As the data’s ownership is still in dispute, it would be highly inequitable to require Mrs. Du Lac to turn over a two hundred and fifty thousand CD automaton, or to render it useless by removing its memory data. The Transcenders are willing to post a bond to insure the return of all memory data to IUGA should a civil court find in its favor.”

  “That sounds reasonable to me,” Judge Laurence says. “Accordingly, I order the automaton be returned to Mrs. Du Lac upon the posting of a five thousand CD bond.”

  Judge Laurence stands and gathers his papers. Everyone in the courtroom stands also. “Good night people,” he says. “Try to enjoy the remainder of your weekend.”

  Narowyn hugs me and shakes Ted’s hand. “Thank you so much, Teddy. We appreciate your coming out so late.”

  “My pleasure, Nary. I suggest you transfer the funds for Ralston’s bond immediately, if possible. Watterson can wait and return him to the Chateau this evening. I don’t recommend leaving him here overnight.”

  “I’ll do so at once.” She picks up her tablet. “Jaden, give me a few minutes to arrange this, and Urick and I will accompany you home.”

  * * *

  When we reach the Chateau, Asher’s waiting for me in my darkened apartment. Callie’s sitting next to him on the couch. My apartment has been tidied-up, and all traces of the party, except the fresh flowers, have disappeared.

  “You didn’t have to wait up for me, Ash. And I can’t believe you cleaned up.”

  “I had lots of help. We were all concerned about you—especially this one.” Callie nudges my hand, and I tickle her ears. “Kind of puts a damper on the party when the host is arrested and carted off to jail, but at least your friends had someplace pleasant to hang out and wait for word.”

  “Did Narowyn call you?”

  “As soon as the judge ruled. Your guests went to bed relieved. Can I fix you something?”

  “No. I’m a little tired. I think I’ll just turn in.”

  “Can’t blame you for that. You have tons of leftovers in the fridge, if you’re hungry.”

  We walk together to my door. “By the way, you need to help me think of something nice to do for Urick,” I say. “He really propped me up tonight. I’d like to get him a gift, but all I can think of is a tattoo.”

  He laughs. “Urick’s kind of an enigma. I have it on good authority, though, that he loves flowers.”

  “You’re such a liar!”

  “No, I’m serious. I’ve heard he’s always bringing lilies or daisies or whatever into the police barracks.”

  “Okay, flowers it is. I’ll take some of these arrangements over to the barracks tomorrow. Thanks. And Ash, I mean thanks for everything—for taking care of things here and waiting up and all.”

  He uses his fingertips to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Just try to stay on the right side of the law, please. I don’t like worrying about you like that.”

  He grazes a kiss across my eyebrow and slips out the door. His scent lingers in the air, and I wonder for the hundredth time why I can’t just fall in love with Asher. I’ve always found him attractive, and he’s one o
f the most decent men I’ve ever known. But my mom always used to say, “The heart wants what the heart wants.” Or, in this case, doesn’t want. It’s pointless trying to make sense of it.

  FORTY

  Autumn unfolds gradually in Arumel. The air takes on a fresh, clean flavor, and the days grow slowly shorter and cooler. The grounds of the Chateau reflect the change of seasons as the gorgeous red and purple flowers of summer give way to the bright oranges and russets of the autumn leaves.