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

by Craig Martelle

  She started to follow the alien who left, but the rest of the group waved at her to go with them. The angled toward a different building.

  “Where did he go?” Rivka asked the first spokesman. He didn’t reply. “Makes me think the Keome were planning something untoward. It pains me to see subterfuge. A very smart person told me that everyone lies, and I have found that to be true. What mistruths are you going to tell me?”

  The alien continued to look forward, actively ignoring her questions. She looked to the others, and no one would meet her gaze.

  “No matter. I will find out, the crimes will be tallied, and the guilty punished.”

  19

  “Where’s Rivka?” Red mumbled as he came to. He shivered, and it felt good. He was in the ship’s mess deck, the lounge, the rec room; all the things they called the corvette’s communal space. “What the hell?” He noticed the IV. “Not again...”

  “Yup, again. Rivka is with the Keome.”

  “I have to get out there.”

  “Nope. She said to stay here, plus I can’t see where she’s gone, but Chaz is in constant contact with her. She gave some weird order that if we lost contact with her, the ship was to destroy the planet.”

  “Can it do that?” Red asked skeptically as he yanked out the IV and held a finger on the puncture wound.

  “Hey!” Jay slapped at his hand to take a look, then she carefully took the needle, tube, and bag and dumped it into the recycler. “I don’t think it can. I suppose it was a bluff because the Keome seemed to be as friendly as the Pretarians.”

  “Are we on Keome?” It finally dawned on Red that they’d left Pretaria.

  “Right again. Rivka said the climate was worse here. A few degrees cooler, but the humidity makes it stifling. She didn’t say it, but I will. You wouldn’t last thirty seconds out there. Me neither.”

  “Is that your attempt at cheering me up?”

  “Did it work?”

  “Not really,” Red told her.

  “Then no. I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do while she’s gone. She didn’t say.”

  “You said Chaz is in constant contact with her.” Red stood on unsteady legs, stretched, and continued to the bridge. “Chaz, I want to listen in on the Magistrate. Please pipe the feed to the speaker.”

  “I believe there is a privacy clause that comes into play here: attorney/client privilege,” the EI responded.

  “But they aren’t her clients. They are all suspects in an ongoing investigation, unless she’s doing something different. And still, they wouldn’t be her clients. Regardless, I’m her bodyguard, and I’m in here and not out there protecting her. If something happens, I’ll hear it and be able to respond.”

  “You will now be able to listen. Please inform me if you wish to speak to her, since our microphone is muted.”

  “Thanks, Chaz. You’re one of the team.”

  “Is this a compliment?” the EI asked.

  “It is, now stay quiet. I can’t hear what’s going on.” Red leaned back in the captain’s chair and closed his eyes to focus his attention.

  Rivka walked into the building, immediately thankful that an air conditioning system was functioning to remove most of the humidity and some of the temperature. Still nearly as hot as a cup of coffee, but it was a reprieve.

  The room to which they led her was empty, without a table or chairs or decoration of any sort. It was little more than a closet.

  “Here is a room you can use for your interviews,” the Keome said, dragging out the last word.

  “Thank you. The first interviewee will be the chairman of the welcoming committee, which would be you. The next will be Yus’ spouse. I need information that only she has. After I talk with her, I will give you the remainder of the names. There shouldn’t be more than three or four, I suspect.

  “But I had nothing to do with anything. I happened to be close when we received the call that a human had arrived...”

  Rivka interrupted him. “Thank you for the information, but I’d like to start the interview. The others can go.” She shooed them away and closed the door, leaving her alone with her surprised guest.

  “I have nothing to say,” the Keome told her.

  “That sounded like something.” Rivka reached toward the alien and stopped when she recalled Grainger’s near-hysterical laughter. Zombie. She shook her head and kept approaching the alien.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sounds like you have plenty to say, for someone who has nothing to say.” She trapped him in the corner and he held his four hands in front of him, but she parried the defense and grabbed him by one wrist.

  Horror! Getting touched by a Pretarian-lover. Hide the truth. They had worked with the Pretarians to torpedo the treaty. The hated Pretarians! But they had agreed on one thing—they couldn’t work together. Villains and scum!

  Rivka stepped back. “You have got to be shitting me! Does that make any sense at all?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” the Keome muttered weakly as he rubbed the spot Rivka had touched on his arm .

  “You worked with the Pretarians to prove that you couldn’t work with the Pretarians. They expelled me from their planet, yet you call me a Pretarian-lover. I’ll let you in on a little secret: I’m a Federation lover. A Magistrate in love with the law. The treaty, dutifully and legally enacted as part of a lawful request for arbitration, will remain in effect and be enforced by our considerable Federation assets. In other words, it sucks to be you.”

  “I didn’t say a word!” the Keome shouted.

  “I don’t need you to say anything, and it helps if you don’t. You’re kind of a jerk, and it’s painful enough to see the bigotry in your mind. I don’t want it slamming into my eardrums too.”

  “But I didn’t say a word!”

  “You said a shitload of words, most of them stupid and some of them demonstrating your complicity in a crime—the terroristic act of bombing the delegation, which leads to a second charge of murder. Since you and your cronies used a bomb, that falls under the reckless disregard for life standard, which makes it a capital crime. Do you understand the charges as I’ve stated them?”

  “What? What is this? I am Governor Prikasor, and I will not participate in this charade!”

  He tried to push past her, but Rivka was first to the door and blocked his way. “With four arms, you guys must be hellacious at Charades,” she remarked, leaning back, putting a foot against the door, and crossing her arms.

  “No!” he wailed.

  “Capital murder.” She glared at him. His veneer started to crack as he contemplated his role in the affair.

  “No,” he whispered.

  “Capital murder.” Rivka held her pose. “You do understand that I can carry out sentencing right now. You could have seconds to live.”

  The governor sat on the floor so he could bury his head in his hands. “What do you want?” he mumbled between his fingers.

  Yus’ wife was elderly. She limped into the ad hoc interview room looking for a chair, and was disappointed to not find one. Rivka leaned into the corridor where the governor faced the wall, shaking. “Hey! Get her a chair, and be quick about it.” The governor waved at someone beyond him.

  Rivka went back into the room. “I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am,” Rivka started. She’d never had to have the talk with anyone before. “I worked with Yus for only a short time, but found him to be a Keome of honor. He had a vision for the future that doesn’t seem to be popular—one where the Keome and the Pretarians work together. He knew what had to be done, and did it. The new treaty? He drafted that, in conjunction with Maseer, the Pretarian delegate. I believe they became friends.”

  “I told him it would get us killed, but I thought they’d want to make him watch as they tortured me. I expect they still will do something to me. The people are very angry.”

  “Help me to understand, because I don’t. I don’t know why the Keome would rather shrivel up and die than e
ngage in a joint trade deal with your sister planet.”

  “And that is where you err. Not our sister planet, but a cast-off; the refuse of what we were. We have nothing in common with them.” The door opened slowly and someone slid a chair in. Rivka hurried to move it closer to the elder.

  “The only thing you have in common is everything. You descend from a common ancestor, and most importantly, today you are both in a state of decline. If something isn’t done, both of your races will die. You would die for your hatred?”

  “Everything dies,” she said glumly.

  “An idea can live forever.” Rivka leaned over the woman, brushing her hand against the back of the elder’s arm.

  Sadness. And hope.

  “I promise you that I will find who did this, so we can show two worlds that there is a better way. The way of Yus and Maseer.”

  The Keome didn’t nod their heads, but the old woman raised hers and smiled. “I trust you, human, as my husband said he would trust you.”

  “Who do I need to talk with to root out the truth? Who would know? Tell me, and I will have them brought here.”

  “I cannot. My husband protected me by making sure I knew nothing of those who opposed him.”

  “But they can’t risk it. They’ll assume you know. You have no leverage over them. I’m sorry.” Rivka ducked her head as she tried to think. “You have to know a name to get me started. I’m pretty good at getting information.”

  “Klobis,” she whispered.

  Rivka leaned toward the older Keome. “I’ll take care of it. For your husband and for all Keome, I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  She helped the woman to her feet, and they walked out together.

  She watched the elder shuffle away before finding the governor. He tried to turn away, but she caught one of his arms. She pulled him down to her. “Bring me Klobis,” she growled.

  “Whatcha listening to?” Jay asked, entering the bridge carrying Hamlet.

  “The Magistrate. She asks questions and they don’t answer, but she hears them anyway. Is she a telepath?” Red scrubbed at the start of a beard. He needed to shave.

  Jay shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  “I guess not, but I don’t like the thought of other people in my head. I think weird shit.”

  “And sex, I suspect.”

  “I’m a guy,” Red replied.

  “Are you going to put some clothes on?”

  Red looked at himself, realizing that he was still in his boxers. “I’ll be damned. Where are my clothes?”

  “Really? You went this whole time and never realized that you are parading around the ship in your underwear?”

  “I’ve been preoccupied. My client is out there, and I’m not protecting her. The least I can do is listen and try to be comfortable that she’s not in danger when I know that she is.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because.” Red wanted to leave it at that, but decided that Jay deserved more of an explanation. “Despite the extra arms and eyeballs, these people are just like the Pretarians. They can’t be trusted.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “If you tickle a wombat they will laugh.”

  Jay opened her mouth as if to reply. Red laughed until he heard Rivka start to talk, then held a finger over his lips and leaned closer to the speaker.

  “Klobis,” she said dryly. The alien was huge. Not tall, but wide, in contrast to the other Keome Rivka had met. His was a decadent life, one that didn’t require manual labor of any sort. Add that to eating too well, and the result was Klobis.

  “I heard Yus’ bag suggested you talk with me.”

  “Yus’ bag? Is there no end to your putrescence?” she asked.

  “Since you have to ask, no. Why am I here?” the alien asked, trying to loom over the puny human. Rivka stood her ground.

  Just a little bit closer. “Why did you coordinate with the Pretarians?” she asked and grabbed him by his closest arm. She leaned forward, expecting him to pull away, but he pushed toward her instead.

  Power. Control. Leader of a world in decline was better than having a good life and being no one.

  She staggered backward as he sought to pin her against the wall, then twisted sideways, using her small size to dodge him and then used her immense strength to throw him face-first into that very wall. She twisted one of his arms behind him while trying to kick his legs apart, but Klobis wouldn’t budge.

  The huge Keome used his other three arms to push himself clear. Feeling herself falling, she lashed out, driving the toe of her boot between his legs. She connected, and the fight ended with the Keome curled on the floor, whimpering. Rivka rolled him over and grabbed him by the ears to stare into the eyes on the back of his head.

  “I know why, but how did you do it?”

  Leverage. Threaten the families. Hostages. Luxuries. Sometimes both.

  “Who planted the bomb?”

  An image of Yutta jumped into Klobis’ mind. A willing martyr. He wanted nothing more than to keep Keome from falling under Pretarian power. Klobis handing over the components of the bomb. Klobis giving the order. Klobis talking with Sinraloo, plotting a backup in case Yutta failed.

  “Don’t you understand? Neither of you has anything. Both of your planets are poor, and your people suffering. The treaty will change all that. You are fighting to be the king of the anthill while the throne on the mountaintop stays empty. You could have climbed something that mattered, but you chose to wallow in the cesspool of your own filth. Klobis, I, Magistrate Rivka Anoa have found you guilty of terrorism, conspiracy to commit murder, multiple counts of attempted murder, and the murder of Yus. Your plea is irrelevant. I sentence you to death for crimes against your people.”

  “Wait,” the Keome cried, before finding his last vestiges of strength and shouting, “I SAID WAIT!”

  Rivka reached around his head and tucked her elbows close to her body as she pushed and pulled while driving upward with her legs. The Keome’s neck snapped with surprising ease, and she almost fell over.

  “Justice is served,” she panted.

  Her chest heaved, not from the effort, but from the power of the emotions flooding through her. She slowed her breathing, straightened her shirt, and opened the door.

  Rivka motioned for the governor. “You have been manipulated your whole time in power by people like him. It’s time to think for yourself. The Pretarians are not your enemy, only creatures like Klobis. Clean up that mess in there, or not. It’s your call. My job here is finished.”

  The Magistrate forced her way through the crowded hallway and outside into the heat. “Chaz, fire up the ship. We’re going back to Pretaria.”

  20

  “Where in the hell did those ships come from?” Rivka demanded.

  “I don’t know, but they are interfering with our ability to Gate. Our gravitic shields are in place.”

  “Are they going to fire on us?” Jay asked in alarm. She started to tremble.

  “It’s okay. Dying in space is quick and easy, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Holy shit, Red! Is that your idea of being comforting?” Rivka risked a quick glance over her shoulder before returning her attention to the main screen. “Open a comm channel, Chaz.”

  “Channel open,” the EI reported.

  “My fellow spaceships,” Rivka started, hesitant to call them enemy or friend or anything that would grant them legal status. She was confusing herself. Red groaned. “We interpret your activities as a prelude to attack. Please cease your emissions immediately.”

  The Magistrate waited. “They’re not answering.”

  “The channel is open, but I can’t be sure they received the message,” the EI replied.

  Rivka swallowed and pursed her lips. “Repeat the message and send a call for help to the Bad Company just in case.”

  Jay cried out and ran from the bridge.

  “Not everyone takes their impending doom well,” Red suggest
ed before he took another bite from one of the noxious protein bars he found so appealing.

  “Can you tell if these are Keome, or Pretarian, or something else completely?”

  “Those are Keome vessels, and if my records are complete, they represent the entire Keome fleet. The interference has ceased.”

  An image appeared on the screen. Four arms and chameleon-like skin—a Keome. “We had a request from Keome to detain you for questioning.”

  “Who did the request come from?”

  “Governor Prikasor.”

  “Please connect me to the governor, if you would be so kind.” Rivka smiled at the screen. The Keome considered the request before waving one of his arms at someone behind him. With eyes in the back of his head, he didn’t need to turn to face them.

  The image was instantly replaced by a new one. The governor looked at her.

  “You have a lot to answer for!” he shouted.

  “I do, but not to you. I have conducted myself in accordance with Federation law, which are the rules that guide my actions. Do you want me to come back down there? Because if I do, I’ll be charging you with conspiracy? I know you were in Klobis’ pocket.”

  “I was not!” he denied adamantly.

  She had been bluffing. His response led her to believe that he wasn’t associated with Klobis, but someone above him had been.

  “Who do you answer to?” she asked.

  “The Keome in the capital province. I answer to them every two years when they vote.”

  “Klobis was guilty as sin. Defending him doesn’t make you an associate, but it does make me wonder about your understanding of what’s going on under your nose.”

  The image appeared to freeze as the governor assumed a statue’s pose.

  “Who are your advisors—the ones who tell you what is going on, and where to focus your energy?” Rivka asked. No one is giving orders, but they are manipulating him nonetheless.