A Tangled Road to Justice

by Olan Thorensen

  “I haven’t got all day to fart around here, just—”

  “Put it in your computer. Now,” Millen interrupted, his mild tone gone and replaced by overtones of authority and menace. “Now,” was a command.

  The clerk seemed to withdraw, then took the sliver and inserted it into another slot. I couldn’t see the screen, but from the reflection of light off his face, the screen must have blacked out and then flashed open again. Whatever he read caused him to shrink. Honest to God, I’d swear he lost 10 percent of his body mass right in front of me.

  “Ah . . . Mister Millen . . . yes, I see that there is a sudden opening in the schedule. Your items will be ready by first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Mild Millen replied, “That’s fine. I’m glad you could accommodate us. Please have the items delivered in sealed boxes to the train station.”

  “Of course. We’re happy to oblige. Will there be anything else?”

  “No, and thank you for your help. We’ll be leaving now.”

  Millen stood silent, staring at the clerk, who began sweating.

  “Something else I can do for you?”

  “My slivers. I believe you still have them.”

  Was I imagining it, or could I hear the clerk’s Adam’s apple bounce up and down as he swallowed?

  “Oh . . . yes. Sorry. Let me copy the specification for your items.” Trembling fingers played over the keyboard, then pulled out the two data slivers and handed them to Millen.

  “Thank you, Mr. . . . ,” Millen’s eyes glanced at the clerk’s ID badge, “. . . Ackman. I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’ve never seen us and know nothing about the items on our list?”

  “No, no, of course not,” stuttered the man.

  As we walked away, I glanced back. The clerk had one hand over his mouth and used the other to wipe a handkerchief across his forehead. We were outside the building and approaching the security gate before I spoke.

  “You mind telling me just what happened in there? And while I’m thinking about it, this running around without me knowing what the hell’s going on has worn pretty thin.”

  Millen smiled. “I can see how you’d feel that way. I’d probably feel the same. There’ll be less of it in the future now that I’m satisfied to take you on, but you’ll just have to accept that there’ll be things you don’t understand. Maybe eventually but not yet. For now, let’s get back to the hotel. Tomorrow morning we leave by rail.”

  “There you go again. Leave? To where?”

  “We’ll find out tonight over dinner. We’ll be eating with a Mr. White.”

  “Mr. White? You’ve got to be shittin’ me. Another Mr. White? Can’t you people, whoever you are, come up with some original names?”

  “Mr. White suits our purposes. Would it make any difference if he was named Mr. Dombrowski?”

  I sighed. “No, I guess not since any name would be phony. Okay, so we’re having dinner with Mr. White.”

  I was fully prepared to meet a dumpy-looking man wearing a white suit. I was wrong. Millen and I had just been seated in the hotel’s dining room when a man pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. He must have been a good two meters tall, wore a black suit, and was so lean he appeared anorexic. He made a motion as if setting something on the floor, then caught himself and straightened up. I imagined him being used to carrying around a briefcase he hadn’t brought along for this meeting.

  “Mr. Millen,” said the beanpole.

  “Mr. White,” Millen responded, as the two men stared at each other.

  “Don’t mind me,” I grumped. “I just walked in and thought this was an available seat.”

  “Ah, Mr. Cole. Nice to meet you.” He never looked at me or offered a hand. I didn’t like this Mr. White any more than the first one.

  “And have you arranged everything you need, Mr. Millen?”

  “Yes, no problem, Mr. White. Mr. Cole and I are ready to proceed tomorrow. All we need are the specifics.”

  Thanks for including me, Millen, and now maybe I’ll get some clue to what’s going on.

  “Your initial target is Justice, a town of about twelve hundred. It’s twenty-six hundred kilometers east-northeast of here and will take three days to get there, first by rail to Trondheim, then by dirigible to Justice.”

  “Dirigible?” I interrupted. “Like, a dirigible? A gas balloon?”

  “Yes, Mr. Cole,” said White. “There are no significant roads or rail lines after the six secondary cities, and roads are only gradually reaching the more distant communities. Eventually they will, of course, but for now much of the cargo and passenger traffic is by dirigible to the outlying towns and settlements. It’s actually a quite efficient mode of transportation. The helium bladders provide enough buoyancy for heavier payloads to compete effectively even with rail lines. Most of the dirigibles are large and built mainly for cargo and a few passengers, although there are smaller versions for passengers only. These latter ones also serve for emergencies not far from Oslo. A few are privately owned but be aware that availability drops off significantly the farther you get from the major cities.

  “As I was saying, you’ll be going to Justice. The community has unfortunately come under the control of a man named Cherkoff who is impelling the area in a direction contrary to what’s best for the citizens and Astrild’s development. Your mission is to assess the situation and produce an outcome portending a better future.

  “The local economy is a mix of mining operations, ranches and farms supplying the cities, and two research stations. It’s the latter that will be your initial focus. The smaller of the research sites supports itself by shipping biologicals—cell cultures and extracts—that show promise for various applications. Astrild provides numerous interesting ecosystems, as is my understanding.

  “This particular station has had the misfortune of being the target of robberies when they attempt to bring shipments from their site to Justice. The robbers stop their wagon before reaching the town and relieve them of their samples. This happens randomly about a third of the time—the robbers apparently judge how often they can pilfer the researchers’ shipments without driving them to leave.

  “One of the researchers is your initial contact in the area. A Dr. Johnson was responsible for bringing the Justice situation to our attention. He will give you some background but will not be further involved since he wishes to remain anonymous and visits the town only occasionally. He evidently served as a conduit for others who did not have his contacts in Oslo.

  “To comply with Dr. Johnson’s request, your initial cover will be to ensure the next shipment gets through successfully and to put an end to future robberies.”

  “Sounds straightforward,” Millen said.

  “It may sound straightforward to you two,” I said, “but it doesn’t to me. If I understand it, we’ll be guards for some shipment of cell lines? That’s what we came out here all this way to do? And wagon? I’m almost afraid of sounding silly, but a wagon like pulled by horses?”

  White’s left eyebrow rose, as he faced Millen. White still hadn’t looked at me.

  “Mr. White, my colleague here is new to all this,” said Millen. “In fact, he’s just been given final confirmation, so he’s a little confused about exactly what we’re doing.”

  “Ah. I was beginning to wonder. No matter.” White turned to me for the first time. “I’m sure Mr. Millen will give you more details, but I can summarize. Astrild is developing fast, but I’m afraid economic, societal, and political developments do not always coincide. It is projected that Astrild could become a candidate for Federation membership in about forty to fifty years. This assumes Astrild manages to develop along lines acceptable to the Federation. At the same time, the Federation does not want Astrild to swerve into less desirable directions. The people here are just beginning to develop a sense of polity. It’s most deeply felt in Oslo and the six secondary cities. That attitude is found less in the dispersed towns and settlements—often due to the people�
��s focus on more immediate concerns.

  “As is not uncommon in developing planets, companies, internally coherent social groups, and self-serving interests can flourish without a solid political core. A danger is that divisive individuals or organizations can take firm root and be difficult or impossible to dislodge.”

  White stopped talking and looked at me, waiting for my appreciation of his incomprehensible summary.

  Millen bridged the gap. “Companies you know about. Internally coherent social groups could be racial enclaves, religious sects, gangs, local warlords, or any one person or group that won’t play well with everyone else.”

  White sniffed. “Well, yes, as I said.”

  Right, I thought. This guy’s been in offices too long without talking to real people.

  “All right. So the goal is for everyone on Astrild to form one happy family. What are Millen and me doing here?”

  White moved his hands as if shifting papers.

  I bet this guy is or was some kind of clerk or professor.

  “Your job is to discourage such disruptive elements and help consolidate local denizens to pursue more proactive avenues. This is especially vexing where legal support is problematical.”

  Millen translated. “Places with no real law. Our job is to get rid of bad guys and stick a poker up the asses of the locals to take care of themselves.”

  “Crudely put.” White sniffed again. “But essentially accurate. Naturally, in many circumstances you can expect limited support from formal authorities, although in some cases that will prove advantageous.”

  I needed to get away from White. I thought I understood what he’d just said. “So, we’re some kind of vigilantes or lone wolf protectors of the weak. Like in some vids where the law doesn’t work, and the hero comes to the town or neighborhood to right wrongs.”

  Millen literally beamed. “See, my report about Mr. Cole was spot on. He grasps the essence of our mission.”

  White grinned, or what passed for a grin in his otherwise funereal demeanor. “Yes, indeed. Encouraging that Mr. Cole is so sagacious. However, let me qualify your understanding, Mr. Cole. Do not assume you and Mr. Millen will have access to established legal systems or be welcomed by the same.”

  “We’re on our own,” Millen interpreted again, “once we’re out of the main cities. And even then, our methods may not always be looked kindly upon. That’s why we’ll have to move along once we’ve stabilized a local situation. When that happens, it’ll be easier for Oslo and the other main cities to assume more responsibility and control. They won’t want us around at that point.”

  I didn’t know whether I should be excited or scared. “And what exactly are our limits? What can we do and not do?”

  White shuffled his imaginary papers again, put them in a mental briefcase, and figuratively washed his hands. “Those are details of no relevance to myself. I am only an agent to point you in the proper direction. From there on, it’s your responsibility to carry out the mission as expeditiously and efficiently as possible.”

  It's that common theme in holovids, I thought. “Should you be caught, the government will disavow any knowledge of you.”

  White rose, picked up his imaginary briefcase, told us good luck, and disappeared out the restaurant’s main door.

  “Okay, Millen. I’ve heard all the bullshit from the latest version of Mr. White. I think I understand, but it’s time for you to lay it all out in plain language.”

  “Of course. It’s really quite simple. We will go to locations where the law is minimal, nonexistent, or serves the purposes of a person or group against all the other people. We will help the locals set up fairer legal systems and root out anyone who opposes us.”

  “And how do we root them out?”

  “We may encourage and help locals to reform their community. We may also encourage specific individuals or groups to leave the area or quit whatever actions we deem unproductive to Astrild’s future. If all that fails, then we shoot them.”

  Now, don’t misunderstand me when I say I was more than a little taken aback by Millen’s assertion. I’ve known plenty of disreputable individuals, a few higher military officers, sleazy politicians, criminals, and sundry lowlifes, and I thought society would be markedly improved by someone shooting them. But fantasizing and acting were two different animals.

  “And you don’t have any problem with being police, prosecutor, judge, and executioner?”

  “Naturally, I do, as would any rational person. I know you’re bothered by the idea as much as I am or more. But we’re dealing with situations that don’t always allow for rational solutions. Think of it as another one of those ‘thought experiments,’ where a scenario is created, and you follow a logical train of reasoning to a solution.

  “You’re in a remote settlement of a hundred people—men, women, and children. All the weapons are possessed by four dangerous men who take what they want. They’ve already killed three people, and there’s no reason to expect they won’t continue. There’s no official law enforcement system within reach. Of the men in the community, all are either too scared to act, are afraid to act because of consequences for their wives and children, or are acquiescing to the four men because it brings them some tangible benefit. Now imagine that you find a loaded gun no one knew existed. What do you do with the gun?”

  Millen looked at me with that blank expression he was fond of. I stopped before complaining it was a phony setup. But so what? That’s the point of a thought experiment—to clarify by using improbable parameters. Or were these so improbable? If what Mr. White said was true, and I’d have to see it for myself, then what would or, more important, what should someone do when there was no protection by the law and every prospect of future danger?

  “If the facts were as you laid out, and if there were no other recourse, then I’d use the gun to take the four men into custody—take away their guns, lock them up, and transport them to where a justice system was in place.”

  Millen nodded. “A rational response but still based on assumptions. What if there was no legal system available to take custody, and anyone you handed the men over to promptly turned them loose? And by no such system, that’s what I mean—there would be no other place to take the men.”

  I knew Millen was going to lead me to an eventual conclusion of his own choosing, but I played along. “Then the only choice is to take them back to the settlement and have the people there decide.”

  “Are you sure they would do anything? Remember, some were already intimidated. Another faction was benefiting by the four men being in charge, even if they didn’t actively participate in those men’s actions. Some of them might, on their own, release the men or work on the rest of the community to free them. What if there were more than those four men? Maybe those were only the four known to have murdered people, but they had compatriots in or outside the settlement? I could keep this up, but the bottom line is what if you had no way of knowing whether the four men could be permanently put out of action?”

  I was tired of Millen’s game. “So what? You want me to say I should just shoot the four of them and be done with it? I assume that’s where we’re going, and you’ll just keep adding conditions. Well, maybe under some extraordinary conditions that might have to be done, but I’d have to see it for myself and be damned convinced. I’d also have to believe the people being oppressed deserve helping. They may have gotten themselves into the situation, so why should I take risks for them that they won’t take for themselves?”

  “That’s all I should say for now,” said Millen. “Not that I’m asking you to commit to any specific action, but just leave it as a possibility under your extraordinary circumstances. This first case is straightforward. We’re to make contact with Dr. Johnson to get a local view of the situation at the same time we’re riding shotgun for samples the research station wants to send out. If it happens that road agents try to intercept the shipment, it’ll be a fortuitous opportunity to introduce ourselves to the
locals.”

  “Ride shotgun? Road agents?” I asked, not aware I was being further introduced to Millen’s obsession with the Western mythology of the old United States.

  Millen frowned. “Don’t tell me you’ve never watched any holovids of Westerns?”

  “West of what?”

  The frown morphed into disgust. “Not ‘west.’ Westerns. Stories from a period of the United States’ history. You had to have seen the holo-renderings of the classic Western movies.”

  “No, I’ve never been much for the crude holo-conversions of old movies, and I never cared for historical vids.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe the modern productions look better, but there’s nothing like the classic Westerns. The hero rides into town and cleans out the outlaws, or maybe he’s the law and prevails in the big shootout. Good versus evil. None of this relativism that holovids are obsessed with.”

  “I take it you identify with these Westerns. Is that what you see yourself as—the hero who vanquishes the bad guys?”

  “There you go, Pard. Once again, you confirm my decision to take you on. And don’t worry, I forgive your incredibly deficient knowledge of the mythology of your home country. I’ll make it my mission to educate you. But for now, we need to hit the hay. We’ve got a train ride tomorrow, then when we’re in Justice is where we’ll have to strap on our hoglegs and ride shotgun. The Clanton Gang will likely highjack us on the way back, but on the way to the research station we need to be alert and eyeball the countryside for ambush sites.”

  I still didn’t know what “riding shogun” meant, and I resisted inquiring about “Pard,” “hitting the hay,” “hoglegs,” and who the hell was the “Clanton Gang”? I had a feeling it would be part of my coming education. I also didn’t know if I should be worried about Millen’s odd affection for obsolete entertainment or encouraged that a hobby meant he might be more normal than I’d thought.

  CHAPTER 5

  The next morning, we got to the rail station an hour before our train left. I’d ridden a variety of trains on Earth, everything from sleek bullet trains that only needed wings to take off to a dilapidated train in India that looked like something out of a time warp. My first view of Astrild trains suggested the lower end of my Earth experiences. The single train currently waiting to leave was in sore need of refurbishing if the weathered exterior and several cracked windows were any indication. I conveyed my opinion to Millen.