Slave Trade
Judge, Jury, & Executioner™ Book Five
Craig Martelle
Michael Anderle
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Slave Trade (this book) is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2019 Craig Martelle and Michael Anderle
Cover by Jude Beers, Typography by Jeff Brown
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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First US edition, March 2019
The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2015-2019 by Michael T. Anderle and LMBPN Publishing.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Author Notes - Craig Martelle
Books by Craig Martelle
Books By Michael Anderle
The Slave Trade Team
Thanks to our Beta Readers
Micky Cocker, James Caplan, Kelly O’Donnell, and John Ashmore
Thanks to the JIT Readers
Daniel Weigert
James Caplan
Diane L. Smith
Larry Omans
Nicole Emens
Jeff Eaton
John Ashmore
Kelly O’Donnell
Misty Roa
Micky Cocker
Dorothy Lloyd
Paul Westman
If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!
Editor
Lynne Stiegler
We can’t write without those who support us
On the home front, we thank you for being there for us
We wouldn’t be able to do this for a living if it weren’t for our readers
We thank you for reading our books
Chapter One
Corran, Slave Pits
“Go fuck yourself!” She spat blood for emphasis. The Corranite threw his head back and laughed. When he finished, he fixed her with an intense glare. The captive was still furious. He turned, swinging one last time, knowing that it would do the trick.
The sickening crunch was followed by the sound of a body hitting the deck. He glanced down to ensure she was unconscious.
“When you wake up, we’ll talk again,” the fibrous alien promised. “Or I’ll talk and you’ll get sold, which is how it’s going to end up, no matter what.” He spat a yellow glob on her leg. “That’s a reminder to remember your place.”
Federation Border Station 7
Vered fired the railgun at the target bounding back and forth at the edge of his vision. Lindy fired and laughed as the disc disintegrated when her stream of hypervelocity projectiles ripped through it.
“I used to be better at this,” Red groused through a half-smile.
“If you’re letting me win, I’ll kick your ass upside-down and sideways.” She kept her railgun pointed into space while standing with a fist pressed to her hip.
“Did I let you hit your targets? Is that some mind trick that I’m unaware of? If so, I need to do more of it to keep the foreplay talk coming.” He winked at her.
She kicked at him, but he easily dodged the half-hearted attempt. “I may just kick your ass for the greater good of the whole galaxy.”
With a nod, they agreed to stow their weapons and call it a day. The hangar bay was empty at that time of morning. Peacekeeper was anchored to the deck behind them, and a forcefield across the broad opening that led to space kept the atmosphere in. Their target practice had used the emptiness as their backstop. The railgun projectiles would eventually stop moving. Until then, there was a designated no-fly zone in a cone away from the station.
It was nice to know lawyers who could do the paperwork to jump through those bureaucratic hoops.
Until Rivka presented Red with the bill for the no-fly-zone marker buoys. He almost had to sell his yacht to pay for them, but Ankh arranged a loan.
“It chaps my ass that I owe him credits,” Red complained.
“Why? We get to keep the yacht, even though most of our pay goes to its required maintenance and upkeep. Maybe you should rent it to people? I heard the Magistrate talk about some of her investments. Let your money make money, and if you don’t have money, let your property earn money while you’re not using it.”
“Then I could pay off our little friend that much sooner.” Red rubbed his face, and Lindy wrapped an arm around his waist.
“What would you do without me?
“Be bored. Lonely. Probably beg the Magistrate for more dangerous missions. Beat the shit out of bad guys. Yeah—that one. Beating the shit out of bad buys is a favorite way to expend excess energy in an otherwise meaningless existence.”
The smirk on Lindy’s face suggested she didn’t agree. She stopped as their datapads vibrated at the same time.
“Saved by the bell,” Red mumbled.
“Saved by the Magistrate’s impeccable timing, more like.” They scanned the message.
All hands are recalled. We’re leaving on our next case as soon as I get back to the ship.
“Do we have time for pizza?” Red asked, waggling his eyebrows at Lindy.
“That’s the first thing you think of? What’s the case?” Lindy wondered, watching Red tap furiously on his datapad. “I’m worried. Usually the magistrate explains more. Calls a meeting. We all chat, then we go. Something has her spooked. Plus, we’ve only been back for four days. We were supposed to get three weeks off. Are you listening to me?”
“The Magistrate can have some, too. I ordered one of those gross Moonstokle things for her. We better hurry to the ship,” Red said. Lindy rotated at the waist and drove her fist into his chest. It thudded against something hard.
She yowled in pain. “What the hell do you have in your vest?”
“What the hell are you punching me for?” Red shot back, screwing up his face at her pain and anger. “Dammit. I’m sorry.” He dropped to a knee to get a better look at her hand.
He grimaced, but quickly tried to cover it with a smile.
“It’s not as broken as i
t could be.” He sounded as hopeful and upbeat as he could.
“At least it’s throbbing less.” Lindy tucked her injured hand against her stomach, and with her good hand, tapped Red’s chest, undid the pouch, and pulled out a spare magazine for the railgun. “You brought extra ammo? Planning on missing a lot of the targets?”
“It’s contingency stuff. The Magistrate keeps me on my toes. I can’t risk failing her, which means everywhere I go, I have my gear. At least, most of it.”
Lindy turned to the ship. They hadn’t been more than fifty meters from it. There would have been time to return for any equipment they needed. At least that’s what she had thought. “You don’t think we would have had time to go to the ship?”
“No,” Red replied simply. “Just like the Magistrate doesn’t hesitate when it’s time to deliver Justice, I can’t hesitate when it’s time to protect her. I can’t leave her ass hanging out in the wind, and I won’t leave yours either. If someone came through that door,” Red pointed at the far wall, “they could cut me off from the ship, but I’d still be able to fight from cover there and over there until I could get to them and finish them.”
Lindy nodded slowly. “I’m sorry I let you down.”
“How so?
“By not being as ready as you.”
Red threw his head back and laughed. “I was ready for both of us. I have two spare magazines and extra water. Even an extra food bar.”
She pulled his face to hers for a fierce kiss before whispering, “I’m still mad at you.”
“What did I do now?”
“You weren’t listening to me, and then you changed the subject!”
“Magistrate explains, we chat, but this time we’re rushing off without knowing. I heard you just fine, but it’s all speculation, and I don’t like to speculate. How about we return to the ship, clean our weapons, and ask her when she arrives?”
“I’m still mad at you!”
All hands are recalled. We’re leaving on our next case as soon as I get back to the ship.
Rivka watched the message go. She wasn’t sure how much longer the prep work with Grainger would take, but she knew they’d be leaving soon. The initial case brief had her blood boiling.
Grainger and Rivka were side by side in the Magistrates’ conference room. Together they glared at the images on the screen.
“Slavery is legal on Corran,” Rivka spat, distaste permeating her words. Her face contorted as she spoke. “How is that possible? This is the Federation!”
“Corran isn’t in the Federation. Yet, that is. We’re close to bringing them on board, but until then, they can conduct business as they wish, since they’re still an independent planet. But,” he paused for effect and raised one finger, “they are on the border of Federation territory, and no one can transit Federation space with slaves.”
“Then how in the holy fuck are they still in business?”
“Slavers. The worst humanity has to offer is nothing compared to the Corranites. You need to find and cut their supply chain. Catch every Federation citizen involved and charge them. Justice needs to come swift and heavy.”
Rivka spoke through clenched teeth. “And if I have to knock a few Corranite heads?”
“Please don’t.” Grainger looked at his lap. “They have something or other that is necessary for both the miniaturized power supplies and the small Gate engines. The Federation is keen on sealing a long-term deal. You have to walk on eggshells where the Corranites are concerned.”
“After you said they were worse than any human slaver, you tell me to play nice with them? My fist is going to land squarely in their slaver faces if they don’t tread lightly around me!” Rivka declared. She stood and started to pace. “I have to turn a blind eye to the injustice in front of me to find the injustice behind me? Jurisdictional issues. What does a visa and access to Corran grant? She tapped her datapad. “Chaz, start taking notes, please.”
She walked back and forth but didn’t say anything further. Her forehead wrinkled with dismay, creating a single brow above a dark scowl. Grainger crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, tilting his head one way and then the other as if the changed angles would show him a different side of Magistrate Rivka Anoa.
“Corran law and protections of non-citizens. Everything the Federation has in regards to human and alien trafficking. Kidnapping and detention of sentient species. Cross-border transfers as they relate to Federation space.” Rivka recited the areas of law she wanted Chaz to research. “Is this shithole in the Corrhen Cluster?”
“How did you guess?” Grainger asked, his voice neutral because it wasn’t a surprise that she had guessed.
“Fucking Morinvaille was as much of the cluster as I wanted to see. What is the continued influence of the Mandolin Partnership out there? If I remember correctly, at least one ship of the pirate fleet escaped. I’m sure we’ll find that bastard again.”
“Maybe they’ve discovered the error of their ways, and now they’re plying the trade routes as mobile pet washers?”
Rivka nodded for a moment, but stopped and glared at Grainger.
“What are the chances of that?”
“Pet washing? Fairly low, I suspect.”
She groaned and clenched her hands into fists before continuing. “There’s no way they aren’t doing their thing. Their fleet will have grown, but not by much. We’ll have to deal with maybe three or four ships.”
“On a serious side note, you’ll need to get approval before asking the Bad Company for help. General Reynolds and Nathan Lowell need to be on the same page before Terry Henry Walton’s force can be brought to bear.”
Rivka crossed her arms and tipped her head back to examine the senior Magistrate. “Have you become a bureaucrat, Leibchen?”
“I have no ass left because I allowed the redeployment of strategic assets. The Bad Company’s budget is tied to paying gigs. They aren’t covered out of Federation funds. They are also expensive, orders of magnitude higher than what we spend, and they aren’t a Federation asset as far as the common woman knows. Therefore, we can’t pay for them unless there is a compelling need. And next time, it won’t be just my ass that they chew up and hand back to me, it’ll be my head. You know where shit rolls.”
“Downhill. Right to me. But it was a massive failure on the Federation’s part to allow things to get so bad that one little trigger sent an entire planet over the brink into civil war. I don’t buy it.”
Grainger started to laugh and leaned forward to hunch over the conference table. “We’ll all be buying it,” he finally managed to say. “We can get their approval in short order, or at least approval for some kind of asset. Your corvette is tough, but it’s not made to go up against a major warship of any sort. With the recruitment of the Harborians and their poor performance against the destroyer, they need more active deployments to earn their chops. War Axe is off the table unless Lance Reynolds and Nathan Lowell jointly approve.”
“Even if Terry’s wombat is with us?”
“That’s a completely different issue. He wants to come for a visit... Hey, are you trying to find a loophole in your instructions?”
“I am a lawyer...” Rivka started, but stopped when Grainger raised a hand.
“You know the intent of your guidance. Don’t make me take your ship and Red’s yacht away and sell them to pay your debt to the Bad Company. If they aren’t somewhere else doing their job, they’re not getting paid. And don’t blame them. You know Terry and Char would do anything for one of the good guys, and for some unholy reason, they’ve awarded you that title. Don’t fucking do it.”
Rivka flopped into the chair opposite Grainger. “This one already has me twisted into a knot. My first instinct is that the entire planet of Corran needs to be purged by fire.”
“It’s because you care, Rivka. Because you can’t stand to see the injustices of the universe put on display because one planet believes it’s okay to trade in sentient creatures. If you lose your ability to
look at these things dispassionately, you become both ineffective and a loose cannon. We can’t have either of those. You will be the best of us, and someday you’ll be sitting in this chair talking to other Magistrates about how to enforce the law, how to deliver Justice, and how to do it without losing yourself in the process.” He fixed her with his clear blue eyes. “You call me if you start going off the rails. Beau is in touch with Chaz, so I should have a heads-up, but don’t lose it out there. Your crew is counting on you. I’m counting on you, which means the entire Federation legal system needs you to do the right thing from a sound foundation based in the law. If you could do that while taking out Mackestray and K’Twillis, then you can do that anywhere.”
“Those guys left a huge trail of breadcrumbs.”
“As will the slavers. Some are legitimate, as horrible as that sounds. Leave those alone, but the ones that aren’t? They need to be brought up to speed right damn now.”
“The illegitimate slavers will suffer mightily and will be the case law for future transgressors. I know Bethany Anne set the precedent with her anti-slaving stance, but Federation law isn’t cut and dried that it’s a capital crime. I want it to be punishable by death.”
Slave Trade Page 1
