Judge, Jury, & Executioner Boxed Set

by Craig Martelle

  “All of you?” Rivka tried not to sound hurt.

  “Does it change who we are or what we do?” Grainger held a finger up to stop Rivka from replying. “Does it change anything besides your perception of us, that you didn’t know a secret from our pasts?”

  “You could have told me.”

  “When was the first time you killed someone?” Grainger asked.

  “What?” Rivka fired back.

  “The first time, and don’t lie to us.”

  “It’s what brought me to you.”

  “Now you’re lying to yourself.” Grainger shook his head. Rivka didn’t understand. “When you were a child. Remember the blood?”

  Rivka sagged like a deflating balloon. She covered her face with her hands as if trying to block the memories from intruding, but she couldn’t stop them.

  “It was the same thing,” she said, her voice suddenly shaking. Her hands remained in front of her, making it sound like she was mumbling. “Like the perp who was set free at trial. I blacked out, coming to with a bloody knife in my hands. I was six years old. A man had tried to take me away. The police found me and brought me home. No one said a word. We had bean-burgers that night, with chips. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I could feel that my parents were upset, but they put on brave faces. That was before they were lost. How did you know?”

  “Bethany Anne shared it with the High Chancellor, and he shared it with me when the time was right. For a moment it made me pity you, but we don’t thrive that way. I met the adult Rivka, and that’s all I need to know. I said you were the best of us because you have taken the law and made it foundational to our work. We have been using the law to keep the peace, but in a case like this one—clones? I don’t know what to do because I don’t care. I don’t see how it hurts the Federation, but you do. You know the ramifications and probably have an idea what to do about it, fully supported by precedent to help shape a future that makes sense.”

  Rivka continued to look at the floor.

  Jael raised her hand. Grainger nodded.

  “For the record, I haven’t changed into a werewolf in over a decade.”

  Buster started speaking. “My answer would be to put them away and be done with it. Remove the perp’s chance to use his knowledge for evil. If we put away two clones, so be it. I know that the law would rather guilty men be free than innocent ones be punished. I don’t see where we can take that risk. If an innocent gets caught in the dragnet, he’s sacrificing for the greater good. That makes sense to me. The military sacrifices. Police make sacrifices. Even people who work in the service industry makes sacrifices.”

  Rivka crossed her arms, not defensively, but in relaxation as the conversation became something she could sink her mental teeth into.

  “I’m with Buster. There are crimes here. I’d ask Philko to give me the language, and I’d shoehorn it in. Don’t you think they are guilty of something?” Chi wondered.

  “We can’t just blast them into nonexistence for being assholes,” Jael said. Grainger looked at her sideways. “Hey! A girl can change her mind.”

  “I’d put them on ice for a month or a year and then come back and see what they had to say,” Grainger suggested.

  “What does the DNA show?” Rivka asked.

  “That the five are identical,” Grainger replied.

  “Can we transmit the DNA data to Ankh? He and Erasmus will be able to dig deeper into it, and it won’t be one hundred percent identical. There’s a margin of error in every DNA sample. The five will be different in unique ways, but all within the standard for identification. I’m sure the five will come up as the same person, but they will be slightly different.”

  Grainger accessed his datapad. “Beau is sending it now.” He put the datapad away. “What else?”

  “We need to look at the bodies. What will the autopsy tell us? Were they murdered? If so, were they killed by the same person? We have multiple issues. Let’s break them down, looking at the most heinous first. We have at least two human clones, right here, right now, and they are creepy as hell. Gregar—the one we talked with, anyway—was right. Existence is not a crime. Being a drug addict is not a crime, but buying illegal drugs is. Being a clone is not a crime. A clone had no choice in the matter. He exists. Do we incarcerate them, or do we give them separate identities, like we would have for identical twins? But at least identical twins have different fingerprints and iris scans. Is that stuff identical for the members of Team Gregar?”

  Grainger brought out his datapad.

  “I’ll save you the time. They are,” Rivka said. “The locals didn’t do brain scans. After their creation, their minds would have started unique development. Even something as simple as looking at an event from different sides of the same room would create unique memories and change how the being thinks. That is my premise, but will it lead us to the real Gregar, if he is still alive?”

  “I’ll order scans for each of the three,” Grainger said.

  “Maybe we can question them during the scan and see what their response is to questions about the murder.”

  “We can’t put a clone away for being a clone, but we can lock up a murderer.” Rivka watched the others nod.

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” Grainger declared, raising his hands to get high-fived by the others.

  “You weren’t talking about that at all,” Rivka stammered.

  Grainger stood. “Who wants lunch?” he asked, opening the door.

  “I’m starving!” Chi replied instantly.

  “Nice work, Zombie. Chow sounds good. Count me in,” Jael added.

  “You da bomb, Zombie.” Buster nodded once and walked out. Red looked into the room to find Rivka still leaning against the wall.

  “Are you okay?”

  “They have the attention spans of twelve-year-olds!”

  “At least you’re not running,” Red suggested with a shrug. “Did I hear something about lunch? I’m pretty hungry, and I bet you are, too.”

  “I know I am,” Lindy called from the hallway.

  “I shall submit to the group’s physical needs, even though we have work to do.”

  “Who are you kidding?” Grainger asked from somewhere out of sight. “You hate working on an empty stomach more than we do.”

  “Fine!” she stated, almost shouting.

  “You’re in for it now,” Jael told Grainger.

  Chapter Five

  They couldn’t get the scans until the next day, so Grainger thanked the senior jurist, telling her that they would retire for continued collaboration until the equipment was set up.

  Red and Lindy recovered their gear, skeptical at first, but when everything was accounted for, the big man thanked the security personnel for their diligence and their efforts to keep the Magistrates safe from harm.

  Rivka kept a straight face throughout because she knew he didn’t mean any of it.

  “Your diplomatic skills are improving,” she told him once they were back on board Grainger’s frigate.

  “I was hoping no one would notice. I hate that fawning crap. You want safe? Give me my fucking railgun!” he bellowed.

  “Three weeks ago you had no railgun, and now it’s your baby. Does it have a name?” Rivka pressed.

  Lindy tried to stop her, but it was too late.

  He smiled. “I call her ‘Blazer.’” Lindy rolled her eyes. “What? You have a name for yours, too.”

  “Mabel,” Lindy said softly.

  “Mabel. And Blazer.” Rivka looked from one bodyguard to the other. “And my neutron pulse weapon?” She crooked a finger, and Red handed the weapon to her.

  “’Delimiter,’ or ‘Dealy’ for short.”

  “Not ‘Death on a Stick?’ Or maybe ‘the Fuckupenheimer?’”

  Red and Lindy shook their heads.

  “Dealy. I feel like I should be offended, but that’s for the weak of heart. What do you call your junk? No! Why the hell did I ask that? I still can’t get the image of your junk o
n my shoulder out of my mind. I have to take a shower.” Rivka hurried away.

  “Your junk was on the Magistrate’s shoulder?” Lindy asked.

  “Yes. I was dying of heat stroke, and she carried me back to the ship. I’ve told you about this. It was fucking hot. Not just a little bit. Not uncomfortable-hot, but kill-you-hot.”

  “You’ve told me, but I like how you get so defensive every time you talk about it. It’s sexy when men have a weakness.”

  “And women have to save me from it?”

  “It’s what we’ve been doing since the beginning of time, my invincible star warrior.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, encouraging him to smile.

  “I was raised to believe that men were the providers and could never show vulnerabilities. We have to be the pillar of strength, the bedrock on which the family is built,” he tried to explain.

  “But if you know that isn’t true, why do you persist?”

  “It’s not an easy habit to break,” he admitted. “I’m trying. Give me that much, and as long as you and Rivka keep reminding me, we’ll get to where it will be second nature. And then if we ever have kids, we’ll raise them differently. Mom and Dad, out there side by side blasting the ever-living shit out of bad guys.”

  Lindy chuckled. “Nice image.” She met Red’s eyes and looked deeply into them. “Weren’t you the one who said the men had the women outnumbered on Peacekeeper? You, Chaz, Hamlet, Ankh, and Erasmus. Something like that. Five to three. ‘We are manly men!’”

  Red liked the way Lindy’s eyes sparkled when she was giving him a hard time. She was making a valid point, though. He had said those very words. “Hamlet is the manliest of us all. That cat doesn’t give a shit.”

  “And what’s this bit about kids? I’m not even sure I’ll let you be my boyfriend.”

  He brushed the hair from beside her eye and tucked it behind her ear. With the tip of his finger, he slowly and lightly traced the outside of Lindy’s ear.

  The next day, the team retraced their steps. Red wanted to vary the routine, but it hadn’t become predictable yet. If there were a third day, he would insist they change the time, the bus, and the approach to the building.

  Red and Lindy handed over their weapons without being asked, even though it wasn’t easy. The senior jurist wasn’t waiting for them. They didn’t need an escort, so they headed up.

  They took the elevator in two groups. No one spoke as they contemplated what the day would bring. Red and Rivka were the first ones out, nearly running into Pasifa, who was rushing toward the elevator.

  “I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I was helping the medical team get set up and lost track of time.”

  “Of course you were helping them,” Rivka said with relief. “I thought we’d worn out our welcome, and that was the last thing we wanted. I brought you this—a pastry from my home planet. I hope the fabrication device on the ship has done it justice.” Rivka offered the small bag with the treat inside.

  Pass smiled and accepted the gift, graciously taking a small bite while her guests watched. She grinned and took a bigger bite. When she finished chewing, she lost her smile. “This is a nasty business. We don’t want to be known as the clone planet.”

  “Has anything like this happened before?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” she replied. Rivka touched her arm and smiled warmly. Images of another case flashed through her mind.

  Damn, there was! The images of a scientist being led away in shackles under the dark of night flashed through the senior jurist’s mind.

  Rivka would ask Beau to look into it as soon as she was free to send the request.

  The senior jurist led the way through the halls, past cells where prisoners reclined, watching every move the visitors made. Rivka thought it odd that the space selected for the brain scans was beyond the detention area. Red carried Dealy, the neutron pulse weapon, in his hand. Lindy had her hand in a pocket where a knife was secreted. Rivka wondered how good the young woman was with it.

  Grainger and Buster walked with their heads up, eyes darting around. Jael and Chi were also on edge.

  “Excuse me.” Rivka tapped Pasifa on the shoulder. “This is an interesting arrangement, with the cell block in the middle of the building. I’ve always seen them at the ends of corridors with only one way in or out.”

  “There is only one way out, and that’s back the way we came. Unfortunately, this building wasn’t originally meant for this purpose. As I said, we’re a peaceful people. Crime is such an ugly mark.”

  Once through the cell block, the area opened up with larger rooms, one of which had a reclining medical chair with a heavy device that could be arranged around one’s head. A team of two people in white scrubs was waiting. The computer interface was live.

  After the introductions, one of the technicians said they were ready.

  “Can you link this directly to our ship? Does it have an external capability?” Grainger asked, already tapping on his datapad.

  “Of course,” the technician replied. Grainger turned Beau loose, and within moments the uplink was established.

  “Thank you. We’ll parse the data separately. We’ll need a baseline reading for an average person from Opheramin, if you could send that sometime as well.”

  “Yes, no problem.” The technician was accommodating. While they waited for the first suspect, he accessed a baseline reading and transmitted it.

  They didn’t wait long before one of the Gregars arrived. They put him in the chair despite his protests.

  “I refuse to give my permission for this invasive procedure. You are torturing me!” he screamed.

  “We have different definitions of invasive, I think,” Grainger mumbled. He leaned close to the shrieking man. “If you want to be throat-punched, keep screaming.”

  The threat had no effect.

  “I don’t want to do this, but to build trust, one simply must do as one says he will.” In a flash, Grainger knife-handed the man in the throat. The noise instantly ceased. The suspect’s hands were strapped to the arms of the chair, so he couldn’t rub his injured neck. He started bobbing his head back and forth. “I told you to shut it, and now you need to hold your head still. I’m told they can get a reading even if you’re unconscious, so even if you make me hit you again, we’ll still get what we need. Maybe it will be easier that way.”

  Grainger made a fist and reared back. Gregar clenched his mouth shut and sat still. A technician tightened the piece around his head, and the scanning began. It took a total of five minutes from start to finish.

  After the scan, Gregar glowered at the Magistrates. Grainger ordered, “Get him out of here, and bring in the next suspect, please.”

  The next version of Gregar arrived, readily took the seat, sat back, and relaxed. He was in the room for a total of seven minutes and didn’t say a word the entire time. The Magistrates remained silent for the process as well.

  “Next,” Grainger declared when the second scan was finished.

  The third Gregar Deiston was identical to the other two, but he wasn’t. The look in his eyes was different. Rivka noticed and immediately moved forward, reaching out to touch him. Grainger stopped her. Jael, Chi, and Buster hovered as if each wanted some personal time with the suspect.

  “I never had the pleasure of chatting with you as my brothers did. I feel left out,” Gregar stated.

  “We should paint numbers on their heads,” Jael suggested.

  “I suspect you are trying to determine if there are clones among us.”

  “We’re trying to find the murderer of your so-called brothers,” Rivka replied, standing casually to give the man the least number of physical cues.

  “Then why are you talking to me?” he countered.

  “You’re the one doing the talking, but let’s hook you up and get the test out of the way first,” Grainger interrupted, nodding to the technician. Gregar shrugged and didn’t fight the procedure.

  Five minutes, and the final test was don
e. Grainger accessed his datapad and verified that Beau had the information. The EI immediately returned with a note that he’d received the analysis from Ankh and Erasmus.

  Grainger pointed at Rivka and pantomimed typing on the datapad. She removed hers and accessed the information Ankh had sent. She skimmed it, since it was more than thirty pages, and tapped out a quick note.

  In the middle of an interrogation. Please give me an executive summary.

  She put her datapad away and looked up to find Gregar’s gaze boring a hole in her. She smiled at him. “You’re the one who got the identification card.”

  “We all carry the same card. The local government is less than accommodating to those who aren’t able to present a birth certificate. We should all have our own so we don’t run afoul of the law, which is our current plight. We’ve been held for far longer than the law allows. I insist that you let us go—me and my brothers.”

  Grainger smiled at Rivka. A gentle hand pushed her from behind. She laced her fingers behind her back and started to stroll around the suspect.

  “Are you sure you understand the jurisdiction handling this case?” Rivka asked.

  “Opheramin,” Gregar replied with less confidence than his previous statement.

  Rivka shook her head. “Federation law applies, specifically Title 11, Section 10 regarding sentient experimentation. All suspects can be held during the active investigation period. Is there any doubt that we, the Federation Magistrates, are actively investigating this case?” Rivka waited, but Gregar didn’t answer.

  Rivka continued her lecture. “No need to say anything, because I am right. You can consider this to be part of your legal education before you engage a lawyer. You’ll be held for as long as we need to adjudicate this case, which we will do before we leave. Do you have any questions?”