by Piers Platt
“No,” Rewynn agreed. “We simply unleash them. The Jokuans will cleanse the galaxy for us, rooting out the rich and corrupt … and where they go, we will bring salvation and enlightenment in their wake.”
35
“By the accepted definition of the term, Mr. Kaldirim is a serial killer. He has killed over fifty people that we know of, and possibly more besides.” District Attorney Anguile stood facing Rath, fixing him with her stern gaze. Rath kept his chin up, but he found it hard to maintain eye contact with her, especially knowing the jury was studying him closely, too. “He is a mass murderer. But we’re not here to get justice for all of those victims. Today we’re here to ensure that Arthin Delacourt’s killer gets the justice he deserves.”
Anguile strode across the courtroom and gestured to the viewscreen, where a slideshow began. Rath watched as still images from the Suspensys attack appeared on the screen. “In my years as a prosecutor, it’s rare that the evidence is so clear, and indisputable. I’ll recount it, briefly. Mr. Kaldirim admitted to his girlfriend that he hired a janitor and a hacker to effect a cyber-attack on his behalf. When that failed, he approached Ms. McGovan and seduced her, spinning a tangled web of lies in a ploy to trick her into carrying out the murder for him. Again, he admitted all of this to her. Mr. Kaldirim then bluffed his way into the Suspensys facility using an assumed identity and his cybernetic implants. He still has those implants embedded today, and he was arrested carrying the same model of CreatePack device that he took into Suspensys during that attack. Mr. Kaldirim kidnapped Arthin Delacourt in his pod, and was shot twice by security guards. Scars on his body match those wounds exactly. And finally, Mr. Kaldirim dropped the pod from orbit, and Mr. Delacourt burned to death inside his pod.”
The slideshow ended, and Anguile cast her gaze over the jury, examining them. “Mr. Kaldirim has admitted that every word of what I’ve just said is true – and he admitted it twice. Once to his girlfriend, and later here, in this very courtroom. He did kill Arthin Delacourt. So the only thing you need to concentrate on now is whether he had a choice in the matter. He claims that the Guild would have killed him if he didn’t carry out his assignment. But we don’t have any evidence of that fact … apart from his word.”
Anguile raised a finger in the air. “But there’s an even bigger problem with Mr. Kaldirim’s story. He signed a contract with the Guild, agreeing to these terms. They told him what would happen, and he signed up anyway, knowing what his obligations would be. He claims that his life was at risk at that contract signing, but again, he’s asking us to believe him that this was the case, because he has no evidence. He’s asking you to take his word for it. Are you really going to trust a man who’s spent the last twelve years hiding his true face? Cloaking himself in lies? Are you going to believe a man who lied to the woman who loved him, in order to trick her into helping him to commit murder?”
She shook her head sadly. “I hope you’re not that naïve. Mr. Kaldirim signed that contract for one reason: he wanted the money.” On the viewscreen, a photo of Arthin Delacourt appeared, smiling. “Mr. Delacourt’s pod fell through Scapa’s atmosphere for over a minute before it burned up. Arthin Delacourt likely woke up, near the end. I want you to imagine the sheer terror when he realized what was happening to him. A defenseless, upstanding citizen of our great planet – murdered in cold blood, by Mr. Kaldirim. For money.”
* * *
Rath closed the datascroll and handed it back to Mishel. The lawyer eyed him inquisitively. “Looking for something?” he asked.
Rath shrugged. “Was hoping to get a response on a message I sent,” he said. But Paisen still hasn’t replied to my message. What the hell? How has she not sent me anything yet?
Mishel frowned. “You’re not supposed to be having any correspondence, you know. Anything I should know about?”
Rath smiled and shook his head. “You don’t want to know, Mishel.”
“Great,” the attorney said, scowling. “Just don’t make me an accessory to anything stupid.” He pointed at the conference room door. “She’ll be here in a minute. You sure you want to go through with it?”
“Yeah,” Rath said. “I’m sure.”
The door swung open, and Toira Anguile walked in briskly. “Mishel,” the district attorney said, nodding to him. “I enjoyed your closing arguments, as always. What can I do for you?” She shut the door and took a seat across the table from them.
Mishel looked at Rath, who nodded. The lawyer sighed. “Against my advice, my client would like to discuss a deal.”
“He’s ready to give up his accomplices?” Anguile asked.
“No,” Rath shook his head. “You just get me. I’ll plead guilty, but I’m not giving up any of my friends.”
“Why?” Anguile asked. “Mr. Warran, to his credit, has mounted an admirable defense on your behalf. Though I’m not sure it will be enough.”
Rath studied his hands, rubbing at his palm with a thumb. Then he looked up at her. “I’m tired of running from my past. I think I’m ready to take responsibility for it.”
Anguile studied him. “That sounds nice, but I’m a skeptic and a realist, through long years of experience. What else do you want? Life without parole, instead of the death penalty?”
Rath nodded. “Yes. I don’t want to die.”
Anguile pursed her lips. “I assume Mr. Warran already advised you of this, but I have no interest in that deal. I’m concerned that this deal just allows you to buy yourself – or your friends – more time to plot an escape. So I’ll take my chances with the jury, in order to see you dead.”
“You want names,” Rath said.
“I do.”
“How about a different name?” Rath suggested. “The man who hired me.”
Anguile’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you guildsmen never knew who hired you. The Guild designed it that way, to protect its clients.”
“True,” Rath allowed. “But I figured it out.”
“And you have proof?” Anguile asked.
Rath glanced at his attorney. Mishel cleared his throat. “We can give you a name. There’s circumstantial evidence to support his involvement, but … nothing concrete.”
“No,” Anguile said, without hesitation. “No deal.”
“Toira,” Mishel pleaded, “it’s a solid lead. And if it’s true, it’s a major coup for your office. I would jump at the opportunity to prosecute this person.”
Anguile sighed and contemplated the two of them. “I need to hear the name and the evidence, up front. Then I’ll consider your deal. But I’m not making any promises without knowing what I’m getting into.”
Mishel looked at Rath and shrugged. “It’s your call, but I wouldn’t take her offer. Not without a guarantee.”
“I’m not giving you a guarantee,” Anguile told Rath.
Rath chewed the inside of his cheek. “Fuck it. Gaspar Foss.”
Anguile laughed: a short, sharp bark of a laugh. “The senator? You’re joking.”
“I’m not,” Rath told her. “He hired me in order to frame Robald Delacourt. Check the timing – Delacourt was trouncing him in the polls; it was a desperation move to ensure Foss won the election.”
“Coincidental timing isn’t very good evidence, Mr. Kaldirim … as your lawyer has pointed out many times, quite recently.”
“I’ve been attacked twice since I arrived on Scapa,” Rath told her. “Both times, the men were NeoPuritans, Foss’ goons from his church. They were following Jaymy, in case I came back and started poking around. And when I did come back, he had them try to kill me, to silence me before I could figure out the role he played.”
Anguile drummed her fingers on the desk. “I need more evidence than that. I certainly have no love for the NeoPuritans, so I’ll admit I’m intrigued, but all you really have is a hunch. I need something I can convict on.”
“So consider the deal,” Mishel suggested. “My client just came to this realization recently – given time, he may be able to offer
you more pieces. There may be evidence in the Guild files he publicly released.”
Anguile stood. “I’ll consider it,” she said. “But—”
There was a rap at the conference room door, and Anguile’s assistant stuck his head in. “They reached a decision,” he told her.
“Already?” Mishel asked, standing. “Toira, we need an answer now.”
“No deal,” she told him. “It’s on the jury now.”
* * *
Judge Aurmine took the piece of paper from the jury foreman and read it briefly, before folding it up and handing it back. It struck Rath as strange that the court still used paper – an anachronism in a digital age. Why not just use a datascroll? Did they use datascrolls for a while, and then someone hacked one to get out of jail time? Mishel nudged him in the ribs and the two of them stood. The judge eyed him over the dark wood of her stand. Then she turned and faced the jury.
“Mr. Foreman, have you reached a verdict?”
“We have, your honor. On the count of murder in the first degree, we find the defendant guilty as charged.”
He continued reading the other charges – breaking and entering, conspiracy to commit … the list was long. Guilty, Rath thought, with a sigh somewhere between relief and resignation. Guilty on all counts. And it’s true, I am. And it’s what I asked for just a few minutes ago.
“We’ll reconvene for sentencing in one week,” Aurmine decided, breaking Rath’s reverie.
Mishel turned to Rath, disappointment and concern creasing his face momentarily.
“We’re not out of this fight yet,” he said, but even with his audio implants turned off, Rath could hear a tremor of insincerity in the lawyer’s normally confident tone. “There’s still a chance you get a life sentence, and then we can appeal.”
“Let’s hope so,” Rath said. “Otherwise I’ll be dead in a week.”
Mishel smiled, patting him on the shoulder. “Hang in there.”
“I’m okay,” Rath told him. “Mishel, I’ve been running away from my crimes for years now. It’s time I took some accountability for what I did. I’ve been trying to find a way to clear those debts, but maybe this is it. Maybe this is the only way to make things right.”
“What, by your death?” Mishel asked.
“No,” Rath said, shaking his head. “No, I’d still prefer that we avoid that. But maybe I can find some peace in jail.”
The lawyer shrugged. “Regardless of what you did, your choices now are what matter. And I think you can still do some good in the world. Alive, preferably, and out of jail.”
“Perhaps,” Rath said.
He turned away from the lawyer, and looked around the courtroom’s audience. He saw no sign of Robald Delacourt, but Jaymy was standing up near the back. They locked eyes for a second, and then the bailiff took Rath by the arm.
“Come with me.”
Across the room, Jaymy started to push her way up through the crowd, toward the front of the courtroom.
“Can I just—” Rath started to say.
“No,” the bailiff interrupted, and tugged Rath toward the side exit. He lost sight of Jaymy in the press of people, and followed the man reluctantly out of the courtroom.
36
“I don’t like this,” the command instructor noted, walking briskly down the hallway. Dasi hurried to keep up.
“Don’t like what, sir?”
“I don’t like it when people fuck with my trainees,” he told her. “I don’t care what their credentials are, or what they think they need, ‘for the good of the Federacy.’ We have policies and standards for a reason, Cadet.”
“Yes, sir,” Dasi agreed, confused.
He drew up in front of a door, stopping abruptly and turning to look at her. He spied a stray thread on her uniform, frowned, and plucked it away with practiced ease. “They’re going to try to dazzle you in there. Don’t get intimidated. Understand?”
“No, sir,” Dasi said, truthfully.
“Just listen closely to what they’re asking, and be careful before you agree to anything.”
“Yes, sir,” Dasi said, struggling to follow. “What are they going to ask me, sir?”
But the instructor ignored her question, and pushed the door open.
>>>Human communication can be quite unclear, Six observed.
Dasi followed the instructor into the office – the Academy commandant’s office, she realized, belatedly reading the stenciled letters on the frosted glass of the door. She felt her heart pounding in her ears.
Inside, the commandant looked up from his desk, and a young, dark-skinned man stood as she entered. He turned and eyed Dasi critically.
Oh shit! It’s that famous district attorney – Hawken, from the news. They found me. They know I helped Rath and Paisen!
“Hello, Cadet,” Hawken said, smiling and extending a hand. “I’m Jace.”
Dasi took his hand and shook it cautiously. “Dasi Apter, sir. Cadet Apter, I mean.”
“Cadet, this is District Attorney Hawken,” the commandant explained. “He’s here to talk to you about a sensitive matter. Have a seat, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dasi swallowed nervously, and her trembling hands found the armrests of the seat next to Hawken. She sat down; the command instructor leaned against a bookshelf next to the desk, and fixed her with his usual scowl, crossing his arms but remaining silent.
“Dasi, what we’re going to talk about has to stay within this room,” Hawken told her.
“Mr. Hawken has been named Special Investigator for Interplanetary Crimes,” the commandant noted.
“It’s a new position,” Hawken continued, “created by the Senate. I’m assembling a team of professionals from Interstellar Police and the Justice Department. We’re tasked with capturing and prosecuting major criminal organizations that span multiple planets.”
“Do I need a lawyer, sir?” Dasi asked.
He frowned, taken aback. “I don’t … think so? Why, have you done something wrong?”
“No, sir,” Dasi said, backtracking. “I just assumed, because you’re a prosecutor, that I was in some kind of trouble.”
Hawken laughed. “No! No, no. Nothing like that. I need your help.”
“My help, sir?”
“I want you on my team,” Hawken told her.
“But I’m still a cadet,” Dasi protested. “I don’t understand.”
“That’s one of the reasons I want you on my team,” Hawken said. “With all due respect to you two gentlemen,” he nodded at the commandant and instructor, “I need someone I’m absolutely sure has no ties to criminal organizations. Having an experienced cop on my team would be good, but … that would mean they’ve been around the block a few times. They’ve met people. They might have met the people we’re investigating. I’m not sure how to pick someone I can trust.”
“A cadet like me is less likely to be a double agent,” Dasi guessed.
“Yes. But I requested you in particular, because of your past experience.”
Dasi looked up quickly. “My experience?” Does he know about the Guild?
Hawken nodded. “I need someone who understands politics, and Anchorpoint.”
Dasi relaxed, slightly. “I thought you were investigating the NeoPuritan Church?” she asked.
“I am,” Hawken agreed. “But the Church has powerful folks protecting it, some of whom call Anchorpoint home.”
Dasi came to a sudden realization. “You’re not just going after the NeoPuritan Church; you want to take down the NeoPuritan senators themselves.”
A slow smile spread across Hawken’s face. He put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. Don’t tell.” He glanced at the command instructor. “She figured that out quickly.”
The command instructor grunted. “I told you she would, sir.”
Hawken turned back to Dasi. “That’s why I need someone who’s dialed into the Senate, someone that already knows who’s who, and how everything works.”
“Why not
a Senate Guard? They’re all Interstellar Police, too,” Dasi said.
“No.” Hawken shook his head. “Elite cops, and they do know the Senate, but they’re not investigators any more, they’re bodyguards. And with so much emphasis in their training on protecting the Senate, I don’t know how they might react to a role reversal.”
“But I’m still not a cop,” Dasi pointed out. “I don’t graduate for another three weeks.”
Hawken looked over at the command instructor. His scowl deepened, but he stood and placed a leather wallet on the commandant’s desk, and slid it over to Dasi.
“Cadet, graduation is a formality at this point. You’ve met all standards to complete this course,” the instructor growled.
Dasi opened the leather wallet, and found that it contained a bright, silver Interstellar Police badge, and an official police identity card with her name and picture on it. Dasi felt a thrill of excitement and relief. I did it. I’m a police officer.
“Congratulations,” the commandant told her.
“Normally you just get assigned to whatever duty station the Federacy deems appropriate, and you have no say in the matter,” the command instructor noted. “But in this case, since Mr. Hawken’s breaking the rules a bit, you can, too. You have the option here to say ‘No,’ Officer Apter.”
Officer Apter.
“What exactly are you asking me to do?” Dasi asked Hawken.
“My team is mostly lawyers right now – we’ve been piecing together the investigation, and then leveraging local cops to make the arrest, wherever the suspect is. You would be joining the team as our dedicated, full-time Interstellar Police representative. One of several, hopefully, as we continue to grow. But the sole cop for now. You’d help us build the case, gather evidence, and then make the actual arrest, when it comes time.”
“You’re on TV a lot,” Dasi commented. “I don’t want to be interviewed, or anything like that. I value my privacy.”
