“Are you saying that I need to go to Morinvaille in the Corrhen Cluster and confront the Partnership directly?”
“That should be your last step, but don’t go there without backup. I have already sent a request to Nathan Lowell for Direct Action Branch support. You won’t go there alone. A trillion-credit racket will have no qualms about killing a Magistrate and her crew and sending the bodies into the nearest star.”
“We don’t want to lose Jay’s mural,” Rivka replied, “so that won’t do. Thanks for setting up the Bad Company for us. I will continue through the planets on my list, but change my focus to the point of impact, where the enterprise known as the Mandolin Partnership starts to interfere.”
“Look for subordinate companies. You may not find anyone who has heard of Mandolin.”
“I’ll put Chaz to work on showing who owns who.”
“Good luck to Chaz. Some of it will be convoluted, and the rest will be dead ends.”
“I have high hopes for what Chaz can do. And that suggests that I work my way up through the subs...” Rivka’s voice trailed off as she revised her plan of engagement. She wouldn’t have to go back to Best Sports Booking or visit Better Sports Betting. The warehouse that K’Leptus mentioned was where she needed to go—the import/export chokepoint for S’Korr. “I know what I need to do next to find evidence that matters without making more enemies.”
“Not making enemies is a good thing, Magistrate, but sometimes one has to break a few eggs.”
“Eggs?” Rivka wondered.
“I guess you have never partaken of the delicacy known as ‘fresh eggs.’”
“Sounds disgusting, High Chancellor. I’ll let Red eat them first. Then again, he’ll eat anything.”
“Stay on course, Magistrate. Do you have any questions for me before I sign off?”
“As a matter of fact I do, High Chancellor. Don’t feel that you have to answer since I’m new to all of this, but Grainger and the others were evasive when I asked to know more about the one who saved my life and gave me purpose. Can you tell me a little about yourself? There are a lot of rumors, and none of them make any sense. I’m not a fan of gossip or rumors.”
“Let me tell you a story about a young lawyer in space,” the High Chancellor started. He settled into his chair and began to narrate. “I was born in space, the son of a couple of settlers who were taken by aliens. Yes, that stuff happened, and that’s why there were so many humans out here before humanity made it this far. I could read and remember anything, especially boring stuff like books of laws. The Yollins needed a human patsy to stand up in court on behalf of aliens, which was how my law career began. There were no law schools way back then, so I had to teach myself. That was good enough for the Yollins. Much to their surprise, I started to win cases. It all changed when a Yollin hired me as his advocate. It was hard, but tell me anything worth having that isn’t? I had a long and successful career, and was ready to retire. I was getting old when the Queen arrived. She took a liking to the lone human, the champion of all aliens. She introduced me to a little device called the Pod-doc, and she set my enhancements personally.
“I’m a human, but the nanocytes in my blood give me abilities well beyond anything remotely human. I don’t know if I’ll ever die. I don’t age. I was this old when I entered the Pod-doc. Maybe that was BA’s joke. They tell me that if BA had given me some of her blood, I would have returned to my youth. She didn’t. I’ll live forever as a fit old man.”
“There are worse things,” Rivka said.
“I shouldn’t complain. At Lance Reynolds’ request, I moved into the High Chancellor position to oversee the law of the new Federation. I still love seeing it and reading it. Alien interpretations always keep me on my toes, and the job interesting. I hope I didn’t bore you, Rivka, while answering your question.”
“What do you expect from your Magistrates, High Chancellor?” Rivka asked.
“Sound legal reasoning and action that will resolve the case. Kicking something down the trail doesn’t help anyone. If the Magistrate has reached a firm legal conclusion and made a determination, then he or she should deliver it with confidence. We can’t have perps walking the streets because sentencing got delayed or there is a mind-numbing appeal on a technicality.
“We don’t want any of that. I want the law applied, and perps punished to the point where they will be criminals no more. We can only hope we get there.”
“You didn’t go to law school?” Rivka blurted.
The High Chancellor laughed heartily in his deep baritone. “What made you think of that? There were no law schools for aliens on Yoll, so no, I’ve never gone to school for the law. I’m a self-made man. What I learned is what we find in Federation Law—that it is a reflection of life. Sometimes you have to learn as you go, and make sure you don’t make the same mistake twice. That’s all I have time for, Magistrate. Next time, you’ll tell me your story.”
“I look forward to it, High Chancellor.”
The case law reappeared before her. “I’m done researching for the day, Chaz. Thank you.” The words disappeared, and the screen went blank.
Various lights blinked throughout the bridge. Many of the systems functioned whether the ship was flying through space or not. Rivka stood, stretched, and left the bridge. Jay was listening to music and painting the bulkhead. The neverending mural.
She removed her earbuds when she caught sight of Rivka.
“It’s coming along nicely,” Rivka declared, kneeling next to Jay.
“I think so. I’m about to quit for dinner. Join me?”
Rivka smiled. “Thank you for the invitation. I would be happy to join you. Do you know what’s on the menu?”
“I do know what’s on the menu. Its greatest redeeming feature is that it’s free.”
“What if we can order out and have something delivered?”
“Even bad delivery is better than here, especially if it’s also free.”
“We’re on a case, so this one is on the Federation. Do you know if they want anything?” Rivka pointed toward the short passageway where the cabins were located.
“I’m not going back there to find out,” Jay shot back.
“Me either. We’ll assume that Lindy will want something that isn’t what we can find in the galley. Chaz, find a pizza delivery joint and order four large with a variety of toppings. They do have pizza here, don’t they?”
“It’s a universal constant, or so I’ve been told. Just like Swedish meatballs, although the meat is rarely meat and the cheese is made from something you don’t want to know about.”
“What is wrong with you?” Rivka demanded of the EI. “Did Grainger mess with your programming to spoil my appetite?”
“Is it possible to spoil your appetite?” Chaz asked.
“That sounds like something Grainger would say. Or Red. Is Red a programmer, and we’re using him in the wrong role?”
“Everywhere I look, I see no programmers,” Chaz replied. “Four large pizzas have been ordered. They will be here in twenty minutes.”
“We could use a hacker,” Rivka said.
“One who could cook would be a nice addition to the crew,” Jay suggested.
“Chaz, link me through to Grainger, please.”
“Connecting now,”
“You called, Zombie?” Grainger’s voice sounded through the speakers.
“I need a hacker if I’m going to investigate this case. I was talking about you with the High Chancellor, and that was what he suggested,” Rivka remarked.
“Bullshit.”
“Okay, we weren’t talking about you, but we were talking about this case. I need some serious digital power if we’re going to get to the bottom of anything. Who can we bring onto the team? You have to know somebody.”
“I know a lot of people, but that doesn’t have anything to do with anything. You want me to find someone to join your team on no notice, deploying for however long it takes you to adjudicate the case. Wil
l you cut them loose at the end, or are you going to hijack their life?”
“If I could crawl through the Etheric to kick you right in your junk, I would. I need a technical specialist—well, genius, actually—and I’m not up for hijacking anyone, so this will be a temp gig. You know someone. You’re stalling to make your big reveal that much more dramatic.”
“Check with your old client, Terry Henry Walton. He’ll have who you’re looking for.”
“How do you know who my old clients are?”
“Did you hear your own question? Who are your current clients?”
“I’m a Magistrate. I don’t have clients anymore,” Rivka said with her chin in the air.
“We all answer to someone, and what the hell is with you, Zombie, always calling in the middle of the night?” The line disconnected before Rivka could retort.
Actually, she didn’t have a retort. Grainger was right. Nathan Lowell had requested this investigation, and Terry Henry Walton worked for Nathan Lowell. It took her exactly one millisecond to figure it out. She was sorry that she asked Grainger to explain it.
“Chaz, connect me with Colonel Terry Henry Walton, please.”
“Would you like to get your pizzas first?” the EI asked.
“Pizza!” Jay cheered.
Rivka took out her credit chip and headed for the hatch. Before she opened it, she realized that she was barefoot and dressed lightly. What if this was a setup? She hung her head. “Chaz, patch me to Red’s room.”
“Vered is not in his room.”
“Then make it ship-wide. Red, we have a visitor at the hatch, and I don’t want to open it without you.”
Something crashed, followed by the sound of running feet. “I don’t want you to open it either!” Red appeared with a crimson face and zipping his combat vest over a bare chest. He was in his shorts and barefoot.
“Doesn’t anyone wear shoes around here? Or clothes?” Rivka wondered as she stepped aside. Red pulled one of his many weapons and held it in his hand as he activated the hatch. He showed a minimal profile, standing to the side. An alien stood on the other side with four square boxes.
“That’ll be seventy-four credits. Your chip, please,” the alien said without looking up.
“Open the boxes, one by one,” Red ordered. The alien finally lifted his head to find himself staring at Red’s weapon. “Can’t be too careful.”
“Here’s the credit chip,” Rivka called from behind Red, snaking a hand past his waist to hold the chip out. The alien slowly put the boxes down, opening a lid and then rotating them until the next box was on top. He did that four times, until all had been opened. He took the chip and scanned it before handing it back, then left the pizzas on the steps and hurried away. Red held the Magistrate off and picked up the boxes himself. He backed inside and elbowed the switch to close the hatch.
Rivka took the pizzas from him. “Thanks, Red. I hope we didn’t interrupt anything important.”
“Chess. I was about to win, so you saved Lindy the embarrassment of losing to a lunkhead like me.”
“Maybe I was letting you win!” Lindy challenged, leaning against the bulkhead. She was still in her underwear.
“You two are playing chess in your undies?”
“It’s hot back there, and we have a cerebral relationship, so yes. I didn’t notice until you mentioned it,” Red replied smoothly. Rivka leaned close to see if she could determine if he was being sarcastic. She reached toward his bare arm.
He pulled back. “Don’t you do that shit to me,” he growled in a low voice.
Rivka flushed. “I’m sorry, Red,” she stammered.
“Nah, I’m giving you a hard time.” He shoulder-bumped her. The images that jumped into her mind were not of chess.
“Ack!” She recoiled. “How is that even humanly possible? And don’t ever touch me again.”
“You have to work up to it, Magistrate.” Red winked and took the pizzas from Rivka before she dropped them. He spread the boxes along the counter on the galley side of the recreation room. Red removed four plates from the auto-washer and handed them out, serving Jay and Lindy first.
“What are the toppings?” Jay asked.
“Chaz recommended that we don’t ask,” Rivka replied.
Jay conceded. “Smells good enough to eat, so I will.”
“Do what I do and just say no to Turbid Pie,” Red stated happily. Lindy smiled at him and took a slice from two different boxes.
Red shouldered his way in front of the Magistrate. “I’d say ladies first, but I’ve seen you eat more than what’s left in one sitting. You probably should have ordered extra.”
“Hey!” Rivka jammed her fists on her hips as Red continued to jockey back and forth, preventing her from getting to the counter. He double-piled slices on his plate before retreating. “For the record, I ordered extra for you because I figured you’d be hungry after,” she made air quotes with her fingers, “playing chess, and it wouldn’t be fair to make Lindy eat what you eat.”
“I appreciate that,” Lindy said. “Chess builds an appetite.”
Rivka winced. She couldn’t look at her new teammate. Rivka took one slice from each box and settled into her chair. “Anything good to watch?”
“There’s always something, Magistrate,” Chaz replied. Everyone else had full mouths and couldn’t answer or didn’t have a recommendation. “How about if I play your favorite movie?”
“Serenity it is!” Rivka declared. She took a big bite and then mumbled through a full mouth, “I love these old shows.”
Chapter Eight
“Connect me with Terry Henry Walton, Chaz,” Rivka requested.
Once the link was established, Terry’s face appeared on the main screen.
“Barrister! You’re not calling to tell me my contract for the All Guns Blazing franchise is void are you?”
“There’s nothing wrong with the contract, TH. I need a favor.”
“How tantalizing. Titillating, even. Doing a favor for a lawyer could lead me down a very dark path. Next thing you know, I’ll be cavorting with dentists.”
Rivka laughed and shook her head. “The only dentist I know is completely normal. Next to the dictionary entry for normal is his picture.”
“The last one I went to was a total freak! Huffing nitrous in the back room. I think he was a serial killer, but then again, that was about a hundred and fifty years ago, so I guess things could change. Sorry to cut you short, but we have some stuff going on here. There’s a renegade destroyer making hit-and-runs on Keeg Station. We’re having a hard time pinning it down so we can kill it.”
“I need a techno whiz. A hacker, as they’re called. I need to access certain systems under warrant, but against the wishes of their owners. Grainger said you might know someone.”
“Grainger? Oh, that guy. We sparred once. He’s good, but too bad he got his ass kicked and face pounded.” Terry laughed.
“I would pay to see that.”
“No video, sorry. Tell him I called him a candy-ass, and that he needs to hit the gym to be ready for round two. Back to your question…I think I know someone, but I definitely know a guy who knows someone. I guarantee we’ll get the right person for you. Will they get to work from here?”
“There’s the rub. It’ll be a short-term contract to work for me, from my ship.”
“I still think we have somebody who will want to join you. Keeg Station isn’t that big and people are getting bored, especially since commercial traffic is at a standstill until we can resolve the issue with the enemy destroyer.”
“Please transfer the coordinates to my EI, and we’ll be on our way shortly. I look forward to seeing you and Charumati again, but we won’t be able to stay for long.”
“Didn’t you hear me? Are you coming in something that can take on a destroyer? If not, then you don’t want to be here.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to be there in my little corvette, but to adjudicate this case, I need that hacker. It’s w
orth the risk. Give Chaz the full coordinates, and we will Gate as close as possible to the station. We won’t be visible for long before we can secure the ship.”
“I’ll send the coordinates to the War Axe, my ship. Your corvette can fit in the hangar bay. We’ll scoop you up the second you arrive. See you soon, Barrister.”
“Until then, TH.”
Captain Micky San Marino scowled darkly at the War Axe’s main screen. His warship had been originally built as a destroyer, but had been upgraded and was comparable in size and firepower to a battleship. All that and Micky still couldn’t catch the ghost—the enemy ship making hit-and-run attacks on Keeg Station and the Spires Harbor, which was on its way to becoming the largest shipyard in the Federation.
“We have over a hundred ships out here, and we still can’t pin this guy down. What the hell does he know that we don’t?”
“It’s not what he knows, it’s the technology. He appears, fires, and is gone before we know it,” Colonel Terry Henry Walton lamented. Head of the Bad Company’s Direct Action Branch, the War Axe was the flagship from which he ran his operations as part of a private conflict-solution enterprise. “He’s out there right now, drinking tea, eating crumpets, and picking his next target.”
Micky gritted his teeth in frustration. “Systems? K’Thrall, you have to give us a few seconds. We need to know where he’s going to appear next.”
The speakers projected a voice speaking Yollin. The translation chips in the crew’s heads instantly translated the language into something each could understand. Terry heard English.
“Ted is continuing to analyze the appearances to determine a pattern, but he’s been unable to find anything so far. The ship is hiding in this dimension using something other than Etheric energy for power.”
“We’re dead in the water,” Micky suggested.
“I hate playing defense,” Terry started. “Can Ted create an unpredictable array of our ships? Put them in constant motion to provide an ever-changing field of fire? Sitting still and trying to be ready to pull the trigger isn’t working. Let’s see if luck will favor us.”
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