“Now who’s asking the obvious questions?” she asked, sighing with relief at the familiar banter.
“Not really. That was a guess, since you could have called me from anywhere and you’d still sound the same. That Ted guy is a genius when it comes to this stuff. We have it all, thanks to him.”
“I don’t know that Ted guy, but I’ll buy him a beer for making my life easier—assuming I’m still in a position to buy him a beer.”
“That sounds ominous. What did you do?”
“I counted on my insight to find the real perp, and I punished her and her husband by telling them that their daughter was condemned to Jhiordaan when I simply added her to my ship’s crew.”
“I thought it was a misdemeanor?”
“And I thought Magistrates didn’t deal with trivial crimes.”
“Point taken. It was a felony.” He made it sound like a question.
“The governor, I think it was him but didn’t bother to gather evidence on it, cooked the books to make it look like a misdemeanor. Their daughter did a lot of damage to get back at her parents. There’s nothing wrong with her. She just needed a change of environment and to get away from that toxic wasteland she called home.”
Rivka could hear Grainger breathing, but he didn’t reply.
“I guess I’m not cut out to be a Magistrate. My first case, and I wreak havoc on a Federation member’s space station. I jacked his lawyer in the ghoulies.”
“Lawyers are bastards! We should probably fire them all.”
“Hey!” Rivka countered. “In any case, we’ll be docking shortly. I’ll turn in my jacket and submit myself for punishment for my original crime.”
“Like bullshit, you will. If anyone has to apologize, it’s me. I threw you into the middle of a domestic squabble at High Chancellor Wyatt’s request. He knows that governor is a self-serving meathead.”
“Plausible deniability? No matter what I did, it would show that the High Chancellor was doing something. He saves face, and if it went south, it was my fault.”
“Something like that, but we had the utmost confidence in you. Sounds like you reached a solution that will work. I’ll talk with the High Chancellor, but I expect he’ll support your story. As for you, I look forward to your final report, but you will want to pick up fewer strays unless you want to buy a bigger ship out of your paycheck.”
“I can afford a bigger ship?” she asked.
“No, you can’t. Ha!” He laughed uproariously.
“I used to like you,” she told him as she prepared to leave her cabin.
“I’m the funniest guy I know. Wait until I’ve had a few Supernovas and really get going!”
The ship settled into its berth, and the now-familiar clunk of the retractable access tube sounded throughout the corvette.
“Going ashore, Chaz,” she declared.
“I’m sorry, but we are still in space.”
Rivka walked down the corridor to where Red was waiting to lead her onto the space station. “Come on, Jay. Let me introduce you to the team, and we need to buy you some new clothes.”
“I’m not going to jail?”
“Of course not. Why would I put a member of my crew in jail? And you’ll probably need to change your hair color too, just in case prying eyes are looking for you.”
“What if I don’t want to go into the Pod-doc?” Rivka asked. Grainger shook his head and sighed.
“You have to, because,” he replied as if that was explanation enough.
She stared at him, hands on hips, unmoving.
“A little bigger, a little stronger, and fix your shit so you don’t have to go back to the dentist. There was a minor glitch in your previous nano load.”
“You sent me into the cosmos with glitchy techno-bugs?”
He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, then nodded once. “Yes, I did.”
She looked back and forth to make sure no one was near enough to hear. “Are you making this shit up as you go? I’m not feeling the confidence.”
“And now you know why those folks with titles that sounded like ‘Grainger’ were given such a rough reception.”
“But the law...”
“The law doesn’t change. Interpretations may vary, but the law is the law. It is the foundation on which we built this universe. What you did in Intripas reinforced that. No one is above the law. No one can interfere with getting to the bottom of an issue. And when it comes time for Justice, no one gets in our way.”
“I thought Bethany Anne built this universe based on force of will and a vicious roundhouse.”
“And we’re here to keep it running smoothly when she’s not around. The Queen counts on us.”
“Fine.” Rivka undressed and climbed into the Pod-doc, closing the door behind her. The technician started spinning things up.
“A porn queen’s eyes?” Grainger whispered into the man’s ear.
“Hey, don’t sneak up on a guy like that.” He scrubbed at his ear as if it had been tickled. “You wanted exotic and unique. Well, there’s only one porn star with those eyes. Why do you know that?”
“I’m a Magistrate. We know everything.”
“Your AI probably told you.”
“A Magistrate never reveals his secrets,” Grainger replied. “Add two more centimeters in height, improved hearing, and give her the full combat package.”
“A full combat package? Have you been watching too many RoboCop reruns or something?”
“Sorry, she’s not a cyborg, but imagine if she was!”
The technician waved at Grainger to go away. “It’ll take about an hour,” he called to the Magistrate’s retreating form.
Red grunted as he hit the mat. That was three engagements in a row that Rivka had gotten the drop on him. “I like getting paid to work out, but I’m not good with getting paid to be a punching bag.”
“Or get beaten up by a girl.”
Rivka glared at Grainger.
“I didn’t say it,” Red replied, still lying on his back. “Magistrates are beating up on me. I see nothing else. Maybe I can get some Pod-doc time.”
Grainger didn’t say no.
“Maybe,” Rivka suggested as she returned to the weights and powered through another set.
“Where’s your crewman?” Grainger asked.
“This isn’t for her,” Rivka answered.
“She needs to be in shape.”
“Jay is recovering. The solitude is her choice, plus, she’s putting a nice touch of paint on the inside of the ship.”
“Did you name it yet?”
Rivka shook her head and wrapped her hands quickly to prepare for another sparring round.
Red crouched, balanced on the balls of his feet with his hands raised. Grainger nudged him out of the way. “My turn.”
Rivka shrugged, then dropped and spun trying to sweep the Magistrate’s leg. He stomped on her leg, which stopped her cold, and danced backward to give her space to get up.
She stood, keeping her eyes fixed on her opponent. She waded toward him, feinting to draw his attack, but he didn’t bite. He moved cautiously around the circle, working her impatience until she made an ill-advised attack. But she had learned a great deal in their matches, improving each day.
Rivka moved with him, remaining balanced and staying just out of reach.
Red made snoring noises and snapped his head as if waking up. “You guys are killing me. Get on with it while we’re still young enough to enjoy our off-time.”
The opponents continued to circle.
Grainger jumped forward, closing to within arm’s reach. Rivka delivered a flurry of blows, most blocked by her opponent. She shouted when a random uppercut caught him on the chin, but her joy was short lived. He fell away from her to clear space for a back kick that sent her flying out of the sparring area into the weight machine.
Rivka rolled to her back. Red paced from the spot of the kick to the machine. “Seven meters, give or take. That was a good one!”
And ego.
“A meeting of Magistrates?” Rivka asked.
“Yes. There will be five of us. You’ll get to meet a few of your peers, but there won’t be time for socializing. We’ll review new assignments, and by the end of the day I think all of us will be on our way out there to do our jobs and make the universe a safer place,” Grainger replied. “Let’s stop here first. I have something for you.”
“I hope it’s chocolate. This latest round of enhancements has given me a sweet tooth something fierce. I am shamelessly eating a pound of E&Es a day.” She wondered if she should worry about her seeming addiction to the newest product from Knox Chocolates, but decided to worry about it later. She had more important things on her plate.
“It’s not chocolate!” He shook his head as he pointed to a door and hurried that way.
“You made me this way with your damn techno-bugs.”
“They’re not mine. They’re the Federation’s bugs, and you better be nice to them.”
“I’m not sure I can demonstrate any higher respect for them than by feeding them nearly endless supplies of chocolate. And Coke. I find that I like the sugar in the Coke. Are you buying me a Coke?”
“No Coke!” He stopped to give her a hairy eyeball. “Can you think about something other than your stomach?”
“Sure, but not right now. I’m hungry. It’s been what…a good two hours since I last ate? Gotta keep the furnace stoked. That’s what it’s like when you run as hot as this little engine.” She thrust one hip out and stuck her nose in the air.
“I should have sent you to Jhiordaan,” Grainger muttered, grinning before motioning with his head to keep going. In the small storeroom, Grainger dug out a Magistrate’s jacket. He snapped his fingers and she handed his back to him.
“Nice! And it’s already a bit weathered.” She held it up to herself before trying it on. She sniffed it, but couldn’t place the smell. She turned left and right, admiring how she looked in the properly-fitting jacket. “Where’d this one come from?”
“That belonged to Magistrate Felcario Renaldo Squitieri. He died in the line of duty.”
Rivka started to remove the jacket, but Grainger stopped her.
“What greater testament to what we do than to have the tools of our trade carry on? These jackets let everyone know who we are. Perps who challenge us will find themselves on a slab in the morgue or breaking rocks somewhere. If you don’t make it, someone else will pick up the torch and keep going. What would the Federation be without the rule of law? Anarchy? Chaos? There would be no Coke, no Knox Chocolates, nothing being traded from one system to another if we didn’t have a legal framework in which business could be conducted and in which decent people can live their lives free from the intrusion of others.”
“I love the law,” Rivka stated. “I like fair pay for fair work. I like it when people aren’t afraid. We are their champions, standing between the lawless and civilized society.”
“People shouldn’t have to take up arms to protect themselves, so we do it for them. The only ones who should be afraid when they see this jacket are the criminals.”
“Especially when those criminals are the ones who are supposed to enforce the law.” In her memories, Rivka saw the governor and his wife sitting on their overstuffed couch in their decadent quarters as they tried to manipulate the law to their advantage. “Fuck those guys.”
Grainger nodded. “Indeed. And now we have a meeting to get to.”
12
“They call me ‘Cheese Blintz,’” a short man told her, flashing a broad grin. He laughed at Rivka’s curious expression. “Chi Siblinz is my real name, but these Neanderthals can’t seem to get that right.”
She leaned close. “Embrace the chi,” she told him, and winked.
“I like you already!” He made way for the other two in the plush meeting room.
“I am Jael,” a woman said in a deep voice. They shook hands.
“I’m Rivka. Rivka Anoa.”
“Rivka Rivka Anoa is a bit of a mouthful, but if that’s how your tribe names its kids, who am I to argue?”
“No, it’s just Rivka,” she replied, confused.
“Well, which is it? ‘Just Rivka,’ or ‘Rivka Rivka Anoa?’” the woman pressed.
“Neither!”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Meet Nether, our newest Magistrate!” the woman declared, stepping aside and motioning for Rivka to step forward.
“Now you see why I’m Cheese Blintz. He should have warned you.” Chi pointed at Grainger, who looked over his shoulder to see who Chi was pointing at.
The man offered his hand. “They call me Bustamove.” He was the same size as Grainger, with blond hair and piercing blue eyes. A thin scar showed white around the top of his head. He caught Rivka staring at it. “Almost lost my head in one of these meetings. They can be so boring.”
“Sorry,” Rivka mumbled quickly. “What’s your real name? I am not calling you ‘Bustamove.’”
“Buster Crabbe. My parents named me after some ancient movie star, or so I’ve been told. And the scar? Don’t mess with the trilobites. They’ll cut you.”
“But trilobites are tiny sea creatures...” Rivka started, and the other four laughed. She instinctively looked for Red, but he was in the corridor. It struck her that no one else had a bodyguard. “Why am I the only one to have a bodyguard?”
“You’re under the new budget. We’re old budget, so we have to get along without. You can thank me for getting it included,” Grainger told her smugly.
“Let’s all get in line to kiss your ass,” Jael said. “Liebchen.”
“Liebchen? Is that your real name?” Rivka wondered.
“Lieblen Schlongheim is my real name,” he admitted, enunciating slowly, “but that can never leave this room.”
“You gotta be shitting me.” Rivka looked from face to face.
Grainger shrugged and pulled out the chair at the end of the table. The others took their seats. Rivka sat in the last empty spot. They put their datapads on the table and started to tap commands.
Rivka kept her hands in her lap. Grainger stopped, turned to her, tapped something on his screen, and pointed to her datapad.
“Access Granted to Rivka Anoa: Magistrate Case Files.”
She touched the icon, and a full library appeared. She was fascinated by the sheer volume of information that was available. Even in law school, she hadn’t had access to an entire universe’s legal proceedings, precedents, and laws. She reached out a finger to start browsing when an icon popped up, turned red, and started spinning. Her only choice was to select that one.
She found Grainger smiling at her.
“I’ve put five files in the pending case directory. Take a quick look and then let’s discuss.”
The Magistrates started reading. Lawyers, doing what they did best; reading, assessing, fitting the actions within the legal framework, and seeing where they stepped outside of it. Some were easier to reconcile than others.
“Who’s up for a serial killer?” Grainger asked.
“Torah 7,” Jael replied. “I haven’t had a capital case in a while, and this culture is different. Look at how the law is written. It’s legal to kill people as long as the killer meets certain conditions under the law. Homicides, the killing of one person by another, are a daily occurrence, but murders, an illegal killing, are rare. And here we have a bunch of them. I think it’ll be a nice getaway.”
A nice getaway. Rivka picked her jaw up off the table.
“It’s all you, Jael,” Grainger agreed. She gave him the thumbs-up and stood.
“Time to get to it, then. I’ll see you on the flip side, Liebchen. Nice to meet you, Nethers.”
“Hey,” Rivka replied weakly, returning the thumbs-up. The Magistrate
left the room.
“And then there were four,” Grainger said ominously.
“Schlongheim?” Rivka wondered.
Grainger rolled his eyes and looked at the next case. “We have an R2D2 research facility that the brass thinks has been penetrated, but they expect it’s an inside job. Someone needs to go play computer forensics until you find the meat sack behind it.”
“Ooh, me! Pick me,” Buster exclaimed, throwing his hand in the air. “Pick me!”
“Why do you want it? You hate computers.”
“My EI has ascended. Philko is now fully intelligent, so he’ll do the heavy lifting. I want to see what kind of toys they’re working on, maybe get myself the newest model of a Jean Dukes Special pistol. You know they go to eleven.”
“I know. Philko, huh? Is he up for it?”
“Couldn’t be upper,” Buster replied.
“Bustamove it is. Wait one.” Grainger tapped and swiped furiously. “Your clearances have been transferred. Upon arrival, you’ll be given unrestricted access to everything in R2D2. Philko has the coordinates of the facility since they aren’t near a Gate, so you can jump right next to them.”
Buster waved to everyone while whistling an unsavory bar tune. He left without a word.
“I’ve heard of this crap,” Grainger started, making a face. The case file on the screen simply said Blood Trade. “It’s a holdover from Earth, the Blood Trade. Michael, Terry Henry Walton, and Valerie all fought against it, but it seems to have made its way out here. Entrepreneurs are kidnapping anyone who is enhanced—the more enhanced they are, the better it is—and then the scumbags are draining their blood to sell on the black market. Drinking enhanced blood boosts life and strength without having to go through a Pod-doc.
“These are rich people who don’t want to go to the Pod-doc or can’t because they are criminals. They get some of the benefits without any of the exposure. Once they start drinking the blood, they can’t stop. It’s addicting, so it becomes a drug crisis on top of the vileness of it all. Blood addicts are the worst sort—complete disdain for anyone else.
You Have Been Judged: A Space Opera Adventure Legal Thriller (Judge, Jury, & Executioner Book 1) Page 10
