by Tom Shepherd
Tyler grinned. “You’re taking me out to dinner at state expense?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. You’ll be treated to the finest cuisine our judicial lock-up can offer.” The Chief Prosecutor motioned to his armed companions, who swarmed into the room and laid hands on Tyler.
Julieta flicked her hand downward, but Tyler shook his head sharply. She could probably kill them all, but what good would that do for their client, or the whole Star Lawyers team, for that matter?
“I’m Dr. Julieta Solorio. I examined the defendant to see if he is healthy and mentally sound.”
“And is he?” Yerzail said contemptuously.
“He is.”
“Then do not return, and consider yourself lucky.”
Tyler grunted. You’re the lucky one, dickhead. She could’ve put two rounds through your eyes and killed these goons before your body hit the floor.
“I demand the right of counsel,” Tyler said.
“We will appoint one for you,” Yerzail said. “A Quirt-Thymean.”
“I want Sub-Prince Erkinood Atbarasoo.”
Yerzail frowned, as if the idea soured his stomach. “How do you know His Royal Highness?”
“Track him down. He will represent me.”
Yerzail laughed. “He is too busy to defend an off-worlder like you.”
“I demand Sub-Prince Erkinood Atbarasoo. Do you really want my father to learn you refused my right to legal representation of my choice?”
Yerzail drew himself upright. “I will inquire of the Prince. When he refuses, I will find a suitable replacement from our Poverty Defense Bureau.” The Chief Prosecutor nodded and his guards escorted Tyler away.
“Julieta, find Demarcus,” he called over his shoulder in Spanish. “Check on Lovey. No jail breaks!”
“Si, no problemo.”
Thirteen
Dr. Julieta Solorio watched as Lovey Frost yanked off the medical leads and slid from her bunk in the Patrick Henry’s holographic healing center. Julieta had found a multi-species hospital program with intensive care ward in Chief León’s database, and with a few adjustments she set the healing devices to human physiology and adapted the Henry’s technology to dispense drugs and supplemental oxygen therapy. To supervise her patient 24/7, Dr. Solorio downloaded a full medical education into six of the A.I. programs stored in memory. Given the fluidity of artificial intelligence programming, she found converting holographic whores into competent medical specialists surprisingly easy.
The combination of intensive holographic supervision and specialized drug therapy available from the Quirt-Thyme Orbital Hub worked a nearly supernatural healing on the arrow-pierced body of Counselor Frost. Two weeks after the attack, she had almost fully recovered. But almost wasn’t good enough for Dr. Julieta.
“I’m uncomfortable with you diving into this crisis. Your body needs more time to heal,” Julieta said as Lovey Frost pulled on her Matthews Corp yellow jumpsuit.
“Boss-man needs my help.”
“What if they arrest you, too?”
“Then I’ll get plenty of rest, won’t I?”
“Counselor—”
“Look, I’m not going down there to defend Prince Zenna. I’m representing Tyler.”
“He requested Sash as defense counsel.”
“Fine. I’ll grab the little blue shit and drag him along.” Lovey picked up her datacom pad from the bedside table. “Is this thing real or holographic?”
“I got it from your apartment. What else can I do for you?”
“Get me a ride to the capital city.”
“All right, but I’m coming along.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, Doctor.”
“You need a bodyguard. Whoever programmed those robots to kill is still out there.”
Lovey smirked. “Bodyguard—and you’re qualified?”
“I have non-medical skills.” She raised the long skirt just enough to reveal a compact kinetic blaster strapped above each slim ankle.
“All right, my Terran sister,” Lovey said. “Let’s kick some blue ass.”
“Who do you really work for, Yerzail?” Tyler leaned against the cell wall and scratched his nose, which took some effort considering the heavy chains.
When the Chief Prosecutor smiled, snowy teeth dazzled from a midnight blue, humanoid face bracketed by short, doggy ears. But unlike the smooth roll of Mr. Blue’s cadence, Kamariikaa yipped like a coyote in the night. Not a respectable wolf howl, just a damned yappity-yap.
“You ask too many questions, Tyler Matthews. It makes powerful people nervous.”
“I’m human. It’s what we do.”
“Dangerous habit. Let me remind you. While the ancestors of both our species were arboreal herbivores, Homo sapiens came down from the trees because they were curious. My Quirt-Thyme precursors left the triple canopy because they were hungry.” The Prosecutor smiled again. “Do you want lunch?”
“Hell, yeah.” He rattled the shackles. “Let me out of this dungeon, and I’ll treat.”
The Prosecutor laughed softly. “Not likely.”
“Then let me remind you, herbivore.” Tyler grasped the chain and leaned toward the metal bars separating them. “As soon as my ‘curious’ ancestors hit the forest floor, our menu expanded to red meat.”
The Prosecutor smirked. “Threating me with cannibalism?”
“Justice. When we square off in that courtroom, I’m going to eat your lunch, bitch.”
“Humans… You talk tough, but inside you are just monkeys cackling over who gets to pluck the lice from their females’ hair.”
“Well, Mr. Blue-balls, if I’m a harmless bug eater, why did you chain me to the wall?”
“All I need to do is say one word and the guards will—”
Lovey Frost’s spear-tipped voice stabbed the air. “Will what, Mr. Chief Prosecutor?” Julieta and Sash stood behind her.
“Counselor Frost, and my Lord Sub-Prince Erkinood Atbarasoo! What a pleasant surprise. Tyler Matthews and I were discussing cultural differences between our peoples.”
“Yerzail Kamariikaaa,” Lovey said coldly, “may I remind, you the father of this young man is the wealthiest, most powerful person in the Terran Commonwealth. A human benefactor of peaceful star nations, who patrols shipping lanes and drives pirates away from galactic commerce. A man who personally commands more ships and fighting personnel than the whole fucking Quirt-Thyme Empire.”
The Chief Prosecutor bristled. “Did you come here to visit your client or threaten the peace?”
“No threats have been made, M’lord,” Sash said.
“Correct,” Lovey said. “I am merely acquainting you with the background of the person you’ve chained to that god-damned wall. And I am speculating that, if you do not release him immediately, you will soon have the opportunity to explain your theory of custodial management in person to Tyler Noah Matthews III.”
“Now that sounded like a threat,” Sash said. “And a very good one.”
“Don’t worry about Dad,” Tyler said. “Mom is your real problem.”
“That would be my aunt,” Julieta said. “Fleet Admiral Bianca Solorio-Matthews, who defeated the pirate armada at Jump Gate Alpha. She is highly protective of Family members. And since we entered Quirt-Thymean space, multiple attempts have been made to kill us.”
“Doctor Solorio, I assure you—”
“You don’t need to assure me of anything,” Julieta said. “I don’t command two thousand combat and support ships.”
Yerzail took a deep breath. “What can I do to demonstrate the equanimity of our system?”
Lovey smiled politely. “Release Tyler on his own recognizance, immediately.”
“He is facing charges of regicide,” Yerzail protested.
“Defending a regicide,” Lovey corrected.
Yerzail waved a blue hand. “You simply don’t understand our law. Representing a king-killer makes one an accomplice aft
er the fact.”
“Tyler Matthews is an honorable man,” Sash said. “He will not depart without clearing his name and securing the acquittal of his friend, Prince Zenna-Zenn.”
“Besides, our ship is parked on your Orbital Hub,” Julieta said. “We can’t leave without clearance from Quirt-Thyme flight control.”
“I suppose,” Yerzail said quietly, “in the spirit of inter-species concord and galactic peace, we could expand his place of pre-trial confinement to include the planet Annistyn and our Orbital Hub.”
“We accept your terms,” Frost said. “Now, may I speak with my unfettered client?”
Yerzail rattled orders to the guards and excused himself to pressing duties elsewhere. When Tyler’s wrists slipped from the irons he hugged Lovey Frost, who accepted the embrace stiffly. Julieta was less restrained. She kissed his cheeks and mussed up his yellow hair. Sash grinned and called Tyler his homie, but he got no hug.
Tyler turned again to Lovey. “Counselor, I apologize for resisting your presence on the team. I was probably wrong.”
“Probably, Ty?” Julieta said.
“Most likely. Very likely. And thank you, Lovey, for bailing me out of Yerzail’s medieval sex-toy exhibit.”
“Boss-man, you are a complete pervert.” Lovey smiled. “Which means I’ve finally found something to like about you.”
“Let’s book,” Sash said. “Before the porkers change their minds.”
Tyler led the way past empty cells toward the security checkpoint guarding the lifts to the surface level. Guards passed them through with a hand wave, suggesting the Chief Prosecutor had entered Tyler’s negotiated terms of release into the justice system computers.
“Has anybody seen Demarcus Platte?” Tyler said.
“I spoke with him on my datacom. He’s waiting at the Patrick Henry,” Julieta said. “Says he has new information about the case against Mr. Blue.”
“So, how do I return to the Orbital Hub?” Tyler glanced at Lovey. “Came down in a Mindorian casket. Long story.”
“Every twenty-three minutes a shuttle departs from a liftoff pad half a kilometer from here,” Sash said. “If we hustle, we’ll catch the next one.”
Tyler headed for the lift to the street level above the confinement block. Everyone followed him into an empty elevator. Once the doors closed, he addressed the group. “I’ll return to the Henry, but I want the rest of you to stay on Annistyn as a Recon Team. The evidence we need is down here.”
“I’ll check Quirt-Thyme official records,” Lovey said. “Or maybe it should be somebody who reads Pharmaadoodil.”
Sash shook his head. “The Judicial Center computers can rendered anything you need in Terran or Spanish or a number of human languages.”
“Julieta, find Yumiko and move her from the sidelines back into the game. I suspect she has more information about the night the King died.” Tyler looked at the blue Quirt. “Sash, you need to locate other witnesses who were at the palace the night the High King died.”
“I can think of a few,” Sash said.
“I’ll find Yumi-san,” Julieta said, “but you realize we’re asking her to investigate her own crime?”
“I’m still not convinced she did it,” Tyler said.
“Did what?” Sash said.
Julieta shook her head. “I want to agree, Ty, but she confessed.”
“Everybody confessed to everything,” Tyler said.
Lovey said, “Confessed to what?”
“C’mon, Lovey,” Julieta said. “I’ll walk you to the Judicial Center.”
“Wait, wait! I want to hear, too!” Sash hopped after them.
Back aboard the Patrick Henry, Chief León told Tyler that Inspector Demarcus Platte was aboard and wanted to see him. Paco also reported a priority message from J.B. at the Meklavite planet where Charlie Matthews was being held. Tyler temporarily delayed listening to Inspector Platte’s findings to hear J.B.’s message.
Settling into the comfy leatherette chair at his cabin work station, Tyler touched a green square and J.B.’s face appeared in the viewscreen. His brother was transmitting from the bridge of the Legal Beagle, and from the look of the readouts at work stations behind J.B., the yacht-corvette was not parked on the Mek colony world but floating somewhere in space. This was a one-way communication, transmitted eighteen hours ago, so Tyler had to hold his questions for a return message after J.B. finished speaking.
“Hey, Ty. Hope things are okay at your side of the galaxy. The Farroleok-7 neighborhood is providing a never-ending series of wild times. Everybody’s fine, although we had two more attempts to kill us.
“We are returning from a quick trip to Lerrotica, the largest moon. To understand Lerrotica, think Patrick Henry before we liberated it from the Pleasure House track.
“Uncle Charlie was in hog heaven up there. Well, he would’ve been, if a local mobster hadn’t put a price on his head. By the way, I think Charlie has the hots for Parvati. Well, I can’t say I blame him. She is exotic, beautiful and dangerously alluring.
“Oh, speaking of our holographic crew—great news! Arabella is alive and well. That message you forwarded to Rodney contained a quantum-compacted full copy of her program, which brought her back to us in time to save the Beagle from smashing into— you know, I’m doing an awful job bringing you up to speed. Too tired to think straight. Let me give you the bare facts in better sequence.”
For fifteen minutes, J.B. summarized the situation for his brother, starting with their arrival at the Colony world of the matriarchal Meklavite Union. He explained how Uncle Charlie had run afoul with the socio-political system through a “business venture” he launched, marrying hundreds of Mek women and “lending” them to men overnight for expected compensation.
J.B. narrated his encounter with T’paeken Heirzos, the Quirt-Thymean who came to Lerrotica decades ago and became the self-appointed manager of gambling and pleasure excursions on F-7’s terraformed moon. Heirzos put a hit out on Charlie for operating a prostitution business without his approval, but he relented after Rosalie saved his life from a team of dispatchers. The Quirt mobster let it slip that he was the brother of High King Bandu-Jeewan, and that a generation ago he had killed their father, Emperor Karlott-Poozel, in self-defense.
On J.B.’s authority as a senior partner, Star Lawyers formed an alliance with the exiled Quirt-Thymean mobster-prince to topple the corrupt government of Farroleok-7, or at least force the women rulers to drop the charges against Uncle Charlie. In return for his help, J.B. promised to return to Annistyn and clear Heirzos from charges of regicide.
Another blue king, murdered? Tyler’s head spun as he tried to integrate all these developments. He re-played the message twice. J.B. doubtless was expecting a quick reply, but Tyler didn’t know where to begin. Tell him about the situation here at Annistyn, or address the problems J.B. faced? He needed a few hours to process the new information before attempting a coherent return message.
Tyler ordered a mug of coffee from his dispenser and took it with him to the conference room to meet with Demarcus Platte. Two uniformed blue aliens with typical Quirt floppy ears waited at the oval table with Demarcus. They rose when Tyler entered the room.
“Inspector, what have we here? I wasn’t expecting visitors. Sorry I took so long.”
“Sir, may I present District Chiefs Yalu Kamadari and Jadan Khurana,” Demarcus said. “Chiefs, this is Tyler Noah Matthews IV, Managing Partner of Star Lawyers, Incorporated.”
They exchanged greetings with Tyler in the Terran language, to include offering handshakes, which suggested they had dealt with humans previously. What was the metaphor Rosalie taught him, the equivalent of How are you?
“Are you gentlemen well and satisfied?” Tyler said.
“My stomach rests easy,” Chief Yalu replied.
“And mine,” said Chief Jadan.
“Let me offer some snacks, anyway.” Tyler called Dorla and asked her to rustle u
p some pastries, tea and hot chocolate.
“That is very kind, Counselor.” Jadan remarked.
“Please, take your seats. It is good you speak Terran standard, because I confess to complete ignorance about your native tongues.”
Chief Yalu shook his ears. “The tongues of which natives?”
The Quirt-Thyme Empire was ancient and prosperous, but compared to human languages Quirts lived in a metaphor poverty zone. Tyler explained native tongues meant indigenous languages, and Yalu visibly relaxed. Jadan smiled slightly; Tyler suspected he had understood the expression the first time.
“So, what’s the agenda, Inspector?” Tyler said to Platte.
“Their jurisdiction is the grounds of the Imperial Compound. Chief Yalu is responsible for the palace guards and physical security, and my old friend Chief Jadan heads up the Criminal Investigation Division.”
“Two chiefs, one compound?”
“Yes, sir. The palace complex is the largest walled enclosure on Annistyn. Forty-three square kilometers and almost a million souls work or live here. Government agencies and their support staffs, judicial and legislative bodies, resident nobility, and the Imperial Household itself.”
“Military personnel, too,” Jadan said. “Some are billeted within the walls, others reside in satellite bases or civilian housing in the city.”
Yalu smiled, a typical white grin set off by the deep blue Quirt face. “Many fine restaurants and dinner theaters, too, where good-good food is served.”
Dorla arrived with a tray of bear claws, strawberry tarts, and other pastries. A pair of dark haired women, newly activated holograms who looked distinctly Latina in flamenco dress, brought more goodies—bagels, cream cheese, assorted jams and preserves. Finally, a strikingly beautiful Asian woman in a light blue, wide sleeved cloak worn over a skirt—Chinese?—arrived with hot tea, coffee, and chocolate served in handle-free sipping cups.
Tyler often reflected on the genius of the Eastern tea cup. No handles. Never scald your mouth on a drink you cannot hold with a bare hand.
“These pastries are delightful,” Yalu said. “What is this beverage called?”