Judge, Jury, & Executioner Boxed Set

by Craig Martelle

  “The black market, probably, but if this is all we have, then it’s a vanilla crime—more an internal issue than a Federation one. Everybody lies, right, Jay?”

  “I said that,” Jay replied proudly before taking a bite of her lunch.

  “But he was afraid. They are doing something that has him in fear for his life, but being a politician and opportunist, he saw a way to stuff a few credits into his own account. For him, selling out wasn’t as hard a decision as it should have been. But being complicit changes the dynamic. What did you two find out?”

  Lindy and Jay looked to each other, mouths full of spaghetti and meatball bar. Jay swallowed first.

  “The driver knows where the bodies are buried,” Jay said conspiratorially.

  “Really?” Rivka’s skepticism dripped from the single word.

  “He was trying to impress us. He doesn’t know anything,” Lindy clarified. “And that escort guy with the ridiculous name didn’t say anything. He stood there and looked angry the whole time. I wish you would have been able to use your thing on him.”

  “My thing?” Rivka wondered.

  “You know...” Lindy started to say before assuming the zombie pose.

  “Did Grainger put you up to that?”

  Red turned away and ordered another bar.

  “It was you!” Rivka declared, giving her bodyguard the royal stink-eye.

  “Probably not,” Red said to the wall.

  Rivka laughed and shook her head. “Chaz, prepare the ship and get us the hell out of here. We’re going back to S’Korr. When we get there, arrange a meeting with the contractors. And Ankh, I need you to bring your A game.”

  The Crenellian looked at her blankly. “I have no other game.”

  “I like your attitude, Ankh.” Rivka signaled for the group to gather round. Hamlet appeared and wove between legs on his way to nowhere important. “We’re going back to S’Korr, and this time, we’ll get into their system, thanks to our friend here. Red and I will meet with the contractors, hopefully including the one who met with Mandolin. Right now, we have a big steaming pile of nothing. After a quick hit on S’Korr, we’ll go to the next biggest economy on the list—Zaxxon Major. Any questions?”

  Lindy and Jay shook their heads. Red reached into his gear and handed the small pistol to Rivka. “Keep this with you at all times.”

  Ankh left for his cabin, returning quickly. “If you guarantee that I get to stay on board the ship, you can use this.”

  He handed Rivka a small device that looked more like a flashlight than a weapon. “What is this?” she asked as she waved it around to test the balance.

  “Please be careful. It’s something we’re testing as part of the research facility called R2D2. It delivers a focused neutron pulse which destroys organic matter. A short pulse injures unless the target is hit in a vital spot, and then even a short pulse can kill. You dial the setting here.” Ankh pointed. “Eleven is the maximum. One is the minimum, but both can kill. Don’t use eleven unless you want your target and everything near it dead. This weapon has no effect on inorganic matter.”

  “So, you can’t blow open a door lock with that?” Red wondered.

  “No,” Ankh replied simply.

  “Carry both,” Red told Rivka.

  “Soon enough, I’ll look like you,” Rivka grumbled.

  “Then you will be the best-looking Magistrate ever!” Red graced them with his most winning smile. Lindy laughed but snuggled up to the big man.

  “I’ll settle for the most heavily-armed Magistrate. Thanks, Ankh, and I agree—you don’t have to leave the ship if you don’t want to.” Rivka glanced at the members of her team. “Come on, people, we need to find those crimes!”

  The small humanoid looked up at Rivka for a couple of moments before sitting down and cradling Erasmus. His eyes unfocused as he lost himself communing with the AI.

  “Prepare for departure,” Chaz told the crew. “It should be a smooth ride all the way to S’Korr.”

  Jay followed Rivka onto the bridge.

  “Are you unhappy that people are complying with the law?”

  “I know they’re not,” Rivka shot back.

  “Maybe that’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you look hard enough you’ll see what you expect, even if it isn’t there.”

  “Wise beyond your years, Jayita.” Rivka steepled her fingers before her face, brow furrowed with concentration. “Chaz, cross-reference trade interference with predicate crimes.”

  “There are two secondary references.” Chaz scrolled the results across the screen. “Murder and extortion, but nothing related directly to trade deals.”

  “Duplicity and self-dealing don’t count.”

  “Nor embezzlement,” Chaz added.

  “You’re picking up this law stuff pretty well, Chaz. Is Lexi teaching you?” Rivka quipped.

  “The AIs don’t hang out with me. I find myself alone at recess.”

  Jay and Rivka made faces at each other. “We’ll play with you at recess, Chaz,” Jay replied.

  “I was hoping you would,” Chaz said, sounding upbeat; a change from his usual monotone.

  “Predicate crimes,” Rivka stated firmly, staring at the screen with the tenacity of a pit bull.

  Jay quietly left the bridge, closing the hatch behind her. Lindy and Red had disappeared, and Ankh was in a digital fog. She blew out a long breath before digging out her paints and brush. A little water in a small cup and she was back to her mural. She wanted to add the corvette and the promise of a galaxy full of adventure.

  She dabbled with an outline, not wanting to get too far into the delicate work as the ship bounced upward through the atmosphere. Once into the smoothness of space, she settled into adding the details.

  The ship bucked and twisted, throwing Jay and Ankh into the air to slam into the ceiling before the corvette righted itself and they fell back to the floor. Lindy cried out from her cabin. A cat screeched.

  “Buckle in!” Chaz projected through the sound system. “We are under attack.”

  “Let Erasmus take over,” Ankh said. “He has the combat experience of his forebears.” The ship bucked again as Chaz executed a series of erratic moves to foil the enemy’s aim.

  The ship smoothed its flight, banked, flipped on end, and fired. It maneuvered and fired four more times.

  “The enemy ships have been eliminated. We should probably leave,” Ankh advised.

  “I want to collect evidence on who those bastards were!” Rivka declared.

  “They were non-descript surplus fighter craft from the last Ixtali War. They were short range, which means there could be more. Far more than this ship can handle,” Erasmus replied.

  Rivka wanted answers. “Catalogue all ships in orbit. Can you make a high-speed pass across the bows of all the shipping, staying ready to Gate if more of those things appear?”

  “There is some risk involved,” Ankh suggested.

  “Do it while they are still on their heels.” Rivka studied the tactical display. Only twenty ships in orbit. “Make it so.”

  The corvette accelerated. “There are only four ships capable of carrying space fighters. Bulk cargo freighters aren’t configured for such operations, although the fighters could be strapped on the outside of the ship...” Ankh’s voice trailed off as he disappeared into a private conversation with Erasmus.

  “To get a definitive answer, we need to acquire close-up scans of all twenty ships.”

  “What about that one?” Rivka asked, but the corvette was already veering toward the ship that had turned away from the planet and was accelerating out of the system.

  “Gate engines are charged, preparing to Gate,” Erasmus reported.

  “Gate where?”

  The Gate formed and the corvette slid across the event horizon, popping into space at the edge of the Show Low system. The cargo ship was coming toward them.

  “Is that one of the four?” Rivka asked, even though she already knew the answer. It was a big ship,
with massive internal stowage.

  “It is,” Ankh answered, eyes still unfocused. The corvette raced toward the ship.

  “What are you doing?” Rivka asked.

  “Following your order, Magistrate,” Erasmus reported. “I am collecting evidence.”

  “Please don’t get us killed in the process,” Rivka requested much more calmly than she felt. The freighter grew larger on the front screen. The pace was alarming.

  “Fighters are launching. Stand by.” Erasmus’ voice faded.

  “Stand by for what?” Rivka dug her fingernails into the arms of the captain’s chair, forcing herself backward as the corvette targeted the nose of the freighter like a missile on a collision course. She screamed and turned her head sideways, squinting in morbid fascination at her final moments of life.

  A Gate formed, and the corvette flashed through an instant before the freighter slammed into the back of it. Before the Gate closed, a fantastic supernova blasted into the space the corvette had just left.

  “Enemy ship is destroyed,” Erasmus reported calmly. “I’m returning control to Chaz. I will analyze the collected data and deliver a report momentarily.”

  Rivka felt like her heart would explode from her chest. “We’re alive?” she wheezed. Empty space showed on the main screen. She unbuckled from the captain’s chair and lurched unsteadily to her feet.

  “Is everyone okay?” she asked when she left the bridge.

  No one spoke, just nodded.

  “I need a drink,” Rivka muttered. Lindy stood and stumbled toward the berthing. They watched her go, and she returned shortly with a bottle. She screwed off the lid, took a drink, smacked her lips, and handed the bottle to Rivka.

  The Magistrate upended the bottle and took a double swig before handing it back. Lindy took a small sip. Jay’s eyes brightened. Rivka held her hand up, but decided against it and waved the teenager to them. Jay took a sip, then a chug, before Rivka pulled the bottle away.

  “Red?”

  “No, thanks. I hate being out of control. No more space combat for you, Magistrate!” Red declared. Rivka threw her hands up at the accusation.

  “We struck a chord with some bad guys, and now it’s my fault?”

  Jay shuffled her feet and looked uncomfortable. “If you look for crimes...” she started.

  “The cockroaches come out of the woodwork,” Rivka ended for her.

  “The report is finished,” Erasmus said. “Would you like me to bring it up on the screen?”

  “I’ll look at it on the bridge. Tell me the highlights, if you would be so kind, Erasmus.”

  “The ship is registered in the Kleath Protectorate and owned by Kolston Incorporated, who licensed the ship for use by Dromet Shipping.”

  “Let me guess…they are a contract carrier who operates on commission and have no idea how those fighters got on board.”

  “You are correct that they operate on commission, but they only have one client.”

  “Tell me it’s Mandolin.”

  “It is not Mandolin. It is operated by Reemstar, a subsidiary of Breedin Company.”

  “Who does Breedin work for?”

  “That is where the trail gets convoluted,” Erasmus replied.

  “I think you and I have different definitions of the word ‘convoluted,’” Rivka countered.

  “At this point, I’ll bring in some ancillary information. I downloaded the ship’s log and all communications since we arrived in system.”

  “You had what…twelve seconds to do all that?” Jay shrugged. Lindy took another small drink and capped the bottle. Red finally calmed enough to hug her. Lindy embraced as much of him as she could, wrapping one leg around his knee. Rivka had to look away.

  “I had fourteen seconds, which was plenty of time to access their systems. You should listen to this, the last external communication.”

  The crackle seemed to come from an old-style radio. A pleasant baritone spoke simply. “Kill that ship and all within.”

  “Yes, Nefas,” replied another voice.

  Erasmus explained further. “The second voice was that of the captain. He ordered only two fighters when the freighter had eight aboard. He reasoned that if two couldn’t do it, he’d need the others to protect his ship. When he ordered the exodus from the system, he once again underestimated the corvette’s abilities. His launch of the final six fighters was to save himself, although by running, he conceded that his life was over. The captain thought he could at least save his crew.”

  “There is honor among thieves.” Rivka rubbed her chin. “My respect to the captain for trying to save his crew. Do you have their manifest and separate bills of lading? We’re looking for money laundering, bribery, kidnapping, murder… You know, the usual.”

  “Can you explain what murder looks like on a bill of lading so I can better refine my search?” Erasmus asked innocently.

  “A valid point,” Jay mumbled as she dug out her paints and rocked to an invisible beat.

  “I’m thinking out loud, Erasmus. Look for the links between the inconsistencies of deliveries that you discovered on the planet with what you found on the freighter.”

  “That is already done and in the report.”

  “Your efficiency and speed are greatly appreciated. One more thing, Erasmus. If you are going to make a kamikaze move like that again, please give me a warning so I don’t die of heart failure.”

  “Or pee yourself,” Red suggested.

  “I’m not going to look at your groin to see if you’re talking about yourself,” Rivka replied, holding his gaze.

  “I’ve been closer to death than that.”

  “When?” Rivka demanded, putting her fists on her hips.

  “How about now?” He stuck his tongue out and Rivka started to laugh, enjoying the calm after the storm.

  “Hold us here, Chaz. We need a little downtime before we head into another shitstorm.”

  “Yes, Magistrate,” the ship’s computer consciousness replied. Rivka excused herself to go to the bridge. Lindy giggled as Red pinched her butt on the way to her cabin. The Magistrate could only shake her head and close the hatch behind her.

  “Chaz, can you connect me with the High Chancellor, please?”

  The screen shimmered oddly for a moment, and the High Chancellor appeared. “Hello?”

  “I’m sorry to intrude, High Chancellor,” Rivka started to say, but Wyatt interrupted her.

  “Rivka! I was trying to make a call, and you appeared. I didn’t mean for you to feel unwelcome. I have to tell a Yollin that his appeal is denied. We’ll let him have hope for a little while longer. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

  “A crisis of faith,” she replied simply.

  “Sounds ominous. Please continue.”

  “I feel that a crime has been committed, and by looking for it, I find something. My ability to sense the thoughts of others gives me insight that is indefensible in court. It’s not real proof. Jay suggested the crimes were a self-fulfilling prophecy, and I’m starting to think she was right.”

  “Then your conscience is serving you well, Magistrate. You are wondering how probable cause works when you can tell if someone has committed a crime based on a single touch. You use that sense to dig deeper and find the crime, but if you needed an actual warrant from a neutral third party, you would never get one. And the argument that if they weren’t guilty, they wouldn’t have anything to hide is one that used to seem sound, but you know that it isn’t.”

  “It’s a specious argument. Everyone has something to hide, and not everyone else needs to know your business. Probable cause is a good criterion on which to base an investigation.”

  “Your conscience is serving you well,” the High Chancellor repeated. “And here is where I tell you the grim reality of your position.”

  Rivka shifted in the captain’s chair, unsure if she wanted to hear the truth as the High Chancellor was about to deliver it.

  “Magistrates are about keeping the
peace. That is secondary to upholding the law. The first is what we do, and making it happen within the second is nice.”

  Rivka closed her eyes. The High Chancellor continued, “With your gift, you have the opportunity to be the best of the best, ensuring that only criminals are punished. Your performance on Pretaria and Keome reinforced that. You didn’t convict any of the other players, only the ones who were most guilty. Hating another is not a crime. It takes a great effort to change attitudes, but it is impossible when someone is injecting rocket fuel into the fire. Remove that element, and then maybe we can have peace. Remove the murderers, the serial thieves, the rapists—the evil that most sentient creatures do. The Magistrates exist to excise society’s cancers.”

  “What if some innocents get caught in the tide?” Rivka wondered.

  “That is a risk we are willing to take, which is different from the more accepted policy that nine guilty go free to keep one innocent from being punished. But only the Magistrates have this latitude. All others will let the guilty go without the proof.”

  “Does that make us vigilantes?” Rivka leaned forward, looking intently at the High Chancellor. He moved closer, and his face filled the screen.

  “If you become a vigilante I will sanction you myself.” There was no humor in his voice. ‘Sanction’ in Magistrate parlance was the death sentence.

  “How will I know if I cross the line?” Rivka asked sincerely, tears welling up in her eyes.

  “You’ll know for the same reason that you called me. Your conscience will tell you. When you stop sleeping well at night, we will transfer you to a desk job, where you’ll hear court cases as well as settle disputes out of court. And you’ll wait by your comm for a call just like this one from someone you respect and admire, who is having a crisis of faith.”

  “I don’t want to let you down.”