You Have Been Judged: A Space Opera Adventure Legal Thriller (Judge, Jury, & Executioner Book 1)

by Craig Martelle

  “I’m going to claim executive privilege and go after these bastards. Looks like the planet Yoll for me, the seat of the Queen’s empire. I’ll hire some Yollin toughs to accompany me...” Grainger tapped the interface to request the funds and contacts. Having only glanced at the case, he already assumed the Yollins were behind it. He hoped to find facts to the contrary, but wasn’t confident that he’d be proven wrong. He had a nose for these things.

  “Next up is a cozy murder mystery on Shaiboloa. The reason they’ve asked for our help is that it’s within the ruling circle. Ten of them went on a leadership retreat, but only nine returned. The location was secure, so it suggests one of the inner circle is the murderer.”

  “That sounds interesting,” Rivka remarked.

  “Mine,” Chi blurted.

  “You know the rules. First to claim it gets it.”

  “What rules? I don’t know the rules. How about ‘ladies first?’” Rivka wondered.

  The two men started to laugh and high-fived each other. “Now you do. Congratulations Cheese Blintz, you’re going sleuthing on an island getaway. Better go. They’re in a hurry.”

  “Nice.” Rivka pouted as she looked at the last file. “You suck.”

  “Gotta go, Nethers. See you when we get back. Since the Shlongmeister won’t tell you the rules, here’s another one you need to know. After one of these, first back buys the first round, to be reimbursed by the last one back. The best story gets to pick first next time. Capital crimes buy shots. And there’re a few more. I’ll shoot you a list before I Gate out of here.” Chi shook Rivka’s hand, gave Grainger the finger and walked out.

  Grainger pointed to his datapad. “Let’s see what the universe has in store for you.”

  Rivka started reading the file. “You have got to be shitting me.”

  “It’s a trade dispute that could escalate into a war between neighboring planets. That is a big deal. We would usually send a more experienced Magistrate, but that’s not what this one needs. Pretarians and the Keome are aliens who have a common ancestor, but they’ve both developed on their own worlds. Both are hotter climates than humans are used to. Part of your last upgrade in the Pod-doc will help you deal with that. Pretaria is an arid planet, desert-like, while Keome is rocky. You’d think they’d get along famously, but they don’t. This accord is their first attempt, and it has gone off the rails in a big way.

  “Magistrates to the rescue as part of the Federation arbitration commitment. We do it, not the usual toadies and lawyers, in case there is any subterfuge. As Federation signatories they are both obligated to comply, and should we find one of the governments conducting illegal activities to contravene the agreement, we can mete out immediate punishment. We are in a unique position to stop governments from playing that game. They all try it, but we make sure they don’t get away with it. Punish the individual and let the government save face before they return to the negotiating table. On a personal note, I’m curious how your gift will work with aliens other than Yollins. These folks are both very tall and very alien.

  “All righty, then! I’ll see you when you get back. Good luck, fair winds, and peace, fellow human.”

  Rivka opened her mouth as if to ask a question but Grainger swirled past, slapping her hard on the shoulder, and was gone.

  Red entered the room to make sure that Rivka was okay. He shrugged and headed back into the corridor, closing the door quietly behind him.

  “All righty, then,” Rivka repeated. “What the hell does that mean? What if my gift doesn’t work, motherfucker? I get a sore neck from looking up at angry aliens? That sounds cool. Trade dispute, could lead to war. Very alien. Good luck. Let me get a big bucket and fill it with hopes and wishes and see how long that will last us,” Rivka told the empty room. She cradled her head in her hands for a moment.

  “All righty, then,” she repeated with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

  Rivka scrolled through the case file quickly, instantly memorized the salient points of law from both Pretaria and Keome, and left the room. “Come on, Red, we’re going to stuff our faces with real chow before we have to eat that garbage on our ship.”

  “I like the ship’s food,” Vered replied as he headed toward Rivka’s favorite restaurant.

  The EI moved the ship away from the docking port and flew it into space.

  “Chaz, take us out of the main shipping lanes and hold station,” Rivka requested.

  “Of course. May I ask why?”

  “You can always ask, but I may not always answer, so please don’t take offense.”

  “I can’t take offense. I don’t have emotions as you understand them.”

  “I want to finalize some things with my crew before we Gate to Pretaria. You are so efficient that once we start the process, we’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I’m not ready to be there that quickly, so let’s hold up until we are.”

  “Thank you, Magistrate.”

  Rivka looked at the speaker from which Chaz projected his voice and shook her head. EI, my ass. He is as smart and as sentient as I am. I’ll play along, though. I wonder if EIs get lower pay than AIs?

  “All hands on deck!” Rivka called. Red had checked the ship thoroughly to ensure there were no stowaways, as well as no traps. He kept a wary eye on Jay.

  Red cradled his hand oddly, and Rivka nodded toward it. He uncovered it to reveal three parallel razor-thin lines from which blood seeped.

  “What happened to you?”

  “I fucking hate cats.”

  “It looks like Hamlet doesn’t like you much, either.”

  “You leave him alone!” Jay called as she put the finishing touches on a character in her mural.

  “That’s taking shape nicely, Jay. What do you call it?”

  “I call it the ‘doesn’t-have-a-name mural,’” she replied, setting her palette aside and heading for the sink to wash out her brush. “Until it does.”

  Rivka sat in one of the recliners, which conformed to her body automatically. She sighed. “I could get used to this.”

  Red was running the food dispenser. “You just ate!” Rivka exclaimed.

  “I don’t eat like I want to when I’m on the clock, no matter how much you tell me to.” He studied the food as microwaves heated it. Jay glanced furtively in his direction before making a face at the concoction getting nuked.

  “Fair enough.” Rivka accessed her datapad. “We are going to arbitrate a trade dispute. No kidding, that’s what we got for a job, but as with all jobs, we’re going to do the very best we can to be fair to all parties within the confines of the law. These two worlds are on the brink of war, which would be disastrous to both. The Federation likes having access to their space, so a war would put a crimp in Federation trade. They want this resolved peacefully, but they weren’t willing to commit the Force de Guerre or the Bad Company. I guess Magistrates come cheap.”

  Rivka continued to scroll through the case file, then transferred part of the data to the mess deck’s viewscreen.

  “Here is a graphic of the two worlds. They are in an identical orbit, but separated one-hundred and eighty degrees. They are both hot and dry, being equidistant from the same sun. The people are descended from a common ancestor, but those on each planet have evolved some unique traits. They are all seven to nine feet tall. The Pretarians have leathery orange skin with kidney-shaped yellow eyes. The Keome are tall with chameleon-like skin, but they developed multiple long arms and have eyes on both sides of their heads.” She flashed pictures of both races on the screen.

  “What are those?” Jay asked, pointing at the neck of a Pretarian.

  “They have a penchant for wearing a lot of clacking beads,” Rivka read. “That’s what it says right here. Clacking beads. That’ll be interesting.”

  Red watched with mild disinterest as he shoveled his food into his mouth.

  “For you, Red, it looks like there may be some subterfuge between the parties. I think in these kinds of negotiations, there always i
s. I have no idea what or who. We’re going to have to root that out. Each group is allowed to bring five people into the arbitration. Our translation chips have their languages uploaded, so our interaction with them should be seamless.”

  “I’ll stay closer to you than usual until we find out what kinds of attacks are possible.”

  “’Possible’ is a pretty broad range,” Rivka suggested.

  “That’s what I got to work with,” Red countered, pointing to a note at the bottom of the screen. “Says Keome and Pretarian foods are toxic to humans. Your nanos will help if you ingest it, but it’ll put you into a world of hurt. I insist you don’t eat or drink anything they offer.”

  “That goes for all of us,” Rivka agreed.

  Jay finished cleaning her brush. “All of us?” She twisted her mouth back and forth. “I’m going with you?”

  “Yes. Watch what there is to watch. I need someone to bounce ideas off. Between you and Red, I think we’ll be able to work through this.”

  “Who is going to take care of Hamlet while we’re gone?”

  “We’ll return to the ship to eat and rest, so I think that answer is ‘all of us,’” Rivka told the girl.

  “Not me,” Red replied definitively through a mouthful of something unidentifiable.

  “You said you hate dogs, too.” Rivka looked up from her pad.

  “Yep. Dogs, too.”

  “You know that the other Magistrates are werewolves?”

  “I knew there was something off with that bunch,” Red declared, getting up to return his dish to the food unit for recycling.

  “You did not!” Rivka laughed. “And it doesn’t matter. We each have our secrets and special skills. It’s what makes us who we are. Chaz, prepare to Gate. We have two worlds to save.”

  13

  Pretaria, looking brown and uninviting, filled the main screen.

  “It’s amazing that life evolved in such a place.” Rivka rubbed her chin and clutched her datapad tightly. She wondered how long it would take her to feel confident when starting a new case. “Do you have clearance to land yet?”

  “Not yet, Magistrate. No one is answering my request.”

  “I’d say keep at it, but you already know that. I’ll be in my lounger. That’s right, all of you heard it. I’m claiming that chair as inviolably mine.”

  “Inviolably?” Red wondered

  “Means ‘don’t touch it.’”

  “I figured as much.” Red never took his eyes from the planet’s image. Rivka could see the wheels turning—what kind of threats come from a desert planet or a chameleon-like race of multi-armed creatures? “How many aliens will be in the negotiations, and who is in charge of the site’s security?”

  Rivka shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll have to ask. You may need to coordinate with their security.”

  “I’ll do that before we touch down,” Red replied and walked briskly away, calling back over his shoulder, “I’ll be on the bridge.”

  Rivka stayed in her recliner and reviewed the information on the monitor, scrolling through screens of Federation law regarding arbitration.

  Jay cleared her throat. When Rivka blinked and looked up from the screen, she found Jayita staring at her from a turned-around chair.

  “That looks like the most boring shit I could imagine.”

  “It’s the law: the ins and outs of the process, pitfalls to avoid, and points to keep before all parties. It’s the roadmap to civilized society.”

  “So you say,” Jay countered. Rivka didn’t want to argue. Jay wasn’t that much younger, but they were worlds apart when it came to experience with the universe. “They aren’t going to play nice.”

  “What do you mean?” Rivka leaned forward, put her elbows on her knees, and held her face as she fixed her eyes on the young woman.

  “Everybody wants something, and all of them are willing to lie to get it. When you understand what they want, you’ll be able to shape your lies to counter theirs.”

  “Is that how you think?”

  “Everybody lies,” Jay affirmed softly.

  “To some extent, yes,” Rivka agreed. She kept her focus on Jay. “What are you proposing?”

  “Nothing. Just keep your eyes open. Assume the words are lies, but watch what the body does. It can’t lie—unless the aliens don’t act like humans, but I’ve never seen that. Everyone, human and alien alike, gives their shit away.”

  “You are thinking of something. Do you want to be my eyes? Watch the aliens for tells and let me know when they aren’t being completely truthful? I can pin them down. What good is my authority if I don’t use it?”

  Rivka didn’t want to pull rank or flash the badge or do any of the variety of things that would declare superiority without actions that had earned respect.

  Jay shrugged.

  “You’ll be with me, but try not to yawn.”

  “Trapped in a conference room with two groups of angry aliens arguing over a document. That sounds like a great time!” The sarcasm was heavy.

  Rivka took a deep breath. “The paper is simply a vehicle by which they can vent and fume. It keeps them from attacking each other. If it breaks down into a fight, get behind me. We’ll let them duke it out until we can seize control of the situation. I hope it doesn’t devolve into that.”

  The Magistrate shook her head. The only thing she could think about was an alien scrum instead of the arbitration that was supposed to happen. Or maybe a hockey match would break out. She wasn’t sure which, but if that was what happened, the other Magistrates would change her name from “Nethers” to “Brawling Betty.”

  “I have the security detail on track. We’re heading to the landing coordinates now, Magistrate,” Red yelled from the bridge.

  “There is an intercom,” she replied.

  Rivka didn’t argue with Red when he led the way from the ship. As soon as the hatch popped, a wave of heat boiled through it. The big man leaned into it as if walking into a hurricane, but there was no wind, only the intense heat.

  “Buck up,” she told Jay. The young woman gritted her teeth and nodded tersely. Red motioned, and they walked out side by side. Rivka’s golden-blue hazel eyes adjusted instantly to the near-blinding light and her pupils contracted to pinpoints. Jay shaded her eyes with a hand. She blinked quickly and squinted against the brightness, even after her hand blocked most of it.

  A small delegation of Pretarians was waiting for them. Using her peripheral vision, she took in her surroundings. A small landing field with three total ships. Three were spaceworthy: hers, the Keome vessel, and the intra-atmospheric transport belonging to the Pretarians.

  Rivka thought she was prepared to meet creatures that were seven feet tall, but every member of the delegation was at the high end of the scale at nine feet, and they wore platform boots as well, making them even taller.

  “Everyone lies,” Jay whispered craning her neck at the Pretarian delegation.

  “I bet the Keome sent their tallest as well.”

  Jay nodded. “Couldn’t be outdone by those stubby Pretarians.”

  Red finally stepped aside to allow the women to pass and a new blast of hot air hit them in the face. Jay gasped, but Rivka kept her features neutral as she struggled against the heat, her nanocytes kicking into high gear to help her compensate. Neither Red nor Jay had that crutch to lean on.

  Rivka tipped her head slightly in the way of a Pretarian greeting. Each in turn did the same, nodding their heads by swinging their necks, their beads clicking and clacking. The sounds were unique to each individual. Rivka wondered briefly if she would have been able to pick up the differences had her hearing not been enhanced, then accepted what was.

  “That was a beautiful greeting. Thank you for sharing the sound of your art.” Rivka nodded once again. The Pretarians repeated their ritual. They didn’t offer a hand since shaking was a human custom, but Rivka needed to touch them.

  “We humbly welcome you to Pretaria, the lead planet in the Pretarian system,
” the tallest and widest of the reception committee said. “I am Delegate Maseer, and this is the team Pretaria has entrusted with these most delicate and critical negotiations.”

  “The human custom is to shake hands to greet each other, and we do it when we make agreements, too. It keeps us grounded.” She thrust her hand out and Maseer looked at it, then at his fellows.

  “We’ll work on that,” Rivka offered after it became uncomfortable. She smiled and made to slap him on the shoulder, but it was out of her reach.

  “Meet Rhonali, Tinashi, Ngobo, and Sinraloo.” Maseer pointed as he said their names.

  One by one she nodded as she walked down the line. The last one, Sinraloo, held out his hand. Rivka hurriedly took it, smiling at the Pretarian as she did, despite the alien thoughts that washed over her. Just like the planet, Sinraloo’s mind was awash in browns and despair. His abject hatred of the Keome blazed vividly at the front of all his thoughts.

  Rivka let go. “Shall we?” she asked as she forced herself to look away from the angry one.

  Maseer led the way toward a nearby structure.

  “I hope they have air conditioning,” Jay whispered.

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Rivka muttered in response. Red closed in behind them, and Rivka turned back to find him sweating profusely and turning pale. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” he rasped, not sounding fine.

  Rivka glanced back and forth between him and the building, which didn’t seem to get closer as they approached. Red started to stagger, and she leaned back into him just as his eyes rolled back in his head. She stumbled beneath his weight but balanced him until she could let him fall over her shoulder. She hefted him in the fireman’s carry. Jay was starting to sweat.

  “If we could hurry,” Rivka called as the delegation moved ahead. Maseer picked up his pace without looking back. The long legs of the Pretarians helped them to move quickly, and Rivka found herself running to catch up. Jay jogged alongside, her breathing getting more ragged with each step.

  They entered the building to find that the temperatures weren’t much different, but they were protected from the pounding of the sun.