Eric Flint
The Rats, the Bats amp; the Ugly
Pre-trial Confinement, Officers subsection,
Military Police Headquarters.
A gray cell, 7' x 5' x 7' in its dimensions, complete with prison bed and chamberpot.
With striped blanket on the bed (item FW304, officer issue).
"The idea that is worrying me most is that the soft-cyber units inside rat and bat heads have an inbuilt bias. I'm pretty sure you're right about it, too," said Fitz. "Ariel just slides away from that point. She won't concede that the Korozhet might be double-crossing us. And believe me, Mike, she's not stupid."
"Well, Liepsich says that it's a cast-iron certainty. He's also sure that there are some key programming phrases that trigger this behavior. With these rats and bats from my other case for him to investigate, he seems to be getting somewhere. That case is keeping me busy enough."
The attorney sighed. "Either Cartup-Kreutzler's SJA is a clever idiot, or he's doing this deliberately. There are holes you can drive a bus through in both of your cases, but they're superficially sound. Anyway. I came to MP headquarters to check out a few things, and seeing as the detention facility was close I just stopped by to check on you. The media are having a frenzy out there. To top it all, they've lost several miles of Sector Delta 355. The war correspondents and the ground commanders have made things white hot for Military HQ. There are open calls for you to come and take control of the sector. The front-line troops are apparently in a ferment about it. It was your action that got the war correspondents right down to the front line, and that's causing Military HQ headaches by the bucket. Now, I've got to go to Connolly. His case is making waves among the Vats, in a way that probably has the Special Branch ready to murder both of us."
"Be careful, Mike," warned Fitzhugh. "Most Shareholders think of Special Branch as a bunch of swaggering clowns, because they don't have much contact with them. And there's plenty of truth to that. Sometimes, the incompetence of Special Branch is mindboggling, not to mention the level of alcoholism in their ranks. But you ask any Vat-I have-and you'll get a very different picture of Special Branch. They're a bunch of thugs, Mike-brutal as all hell, when they think they can get away with it. Those bastards do commit murder, literally. Hell, they tried to kill me."
"I know. I defended you, remember? But right now I am altering my route home because I don't want to run into Lynne Stark and her reporter-commandos. They're thick as pea soup out there."
He was unsuccessful at avoiding the pea soup. Lynne Stark was waiting in ambush, in person. "Most of what I would like to say is sub-judiciae," he said, holding up his hands.
"I know. But I actually want to talk to you, off the record," said the head of INB. "Corporal Connolly saved the life of one of my staff. I've checked you out. He couldn't do much better. We're trying to wage a media war for him, obviously. We're waging a legal war already with the HAR Times on his behalf. They were ready to back down most humbly and expensively, when this lot blew up. Now, despite the fact that he has not a hope in hell of winning, Laverty of the Times has decided to stick to his guns. The charges pressed by myself, Connolly and Maxine are going through the process. Several other diners have also pressed charges against the chef. Henri-Pierre Escargot will be lucky to stay out of jail. He's out on bail at the moment and his lawyers are desperately seeking a deal. Any kind of deal. Advise us: What's going to help Connolly most?"
Mike Capra paused. "I'll have to think about that, Ms. Stark. And take some advice. Maybe I need to talk to your lawyers about this. Who are they?"
"Fish and Johnstone."
Mike had to grin. "Only the stickiest, Ms. Stark. Treacle and wallpaper glue. You do know I used to work for the same partnership Jim was with before he went off on his own?"
"Who do you think told me you were over-clever and too honest for your own good? Now, the other matter is this Korozhet thing-especially this business of 'advisors.' We've been collating evidence for a massive expose. We've got a fair amount already. I can push this forward if you like. I'd prefer not to, but if it's going to help inform opinion so you don't have to fight uphill, well, say the word."
Mike looked suspiciously at her. "Have you been talking to Liepsich?"
The woman smiled impishly. "No. But I will be. Thanks for the steer, Lieutenant."
Eric Flint
The Rats, the Bats amp; the Ugly
Pre-trial Confinement, NCO section
Military Police Headquarters.
A grey cell, 7' x 5' x 7', complete with prison bed and chamberpot.
With gray unstriped blanket on the bed
(item G465, NCO issue).
"Well, the good news is that we're a couple of specifications down, including the knife you're alleged to have stolen from your chef. The JAG advised them to withdraw that one. And the charges of assault on your chef… heh. It appears that the prosecution decided that the picture of a large chocolate cake being shoved into a pump-action shotgun might not secure a conviction. But-"
Lieutenant Capra drew a deep breath. He wasn't looking forward to what he had to say next. His attitude toward this Vat NCO had changed a great deal in the last few days. Anyone who could do what he had done with that bunch of unmanageable and reprobate animals deserved respect. Mike knew full well that he couldn't have gotten them to tie shoelaces, much less wreak havoc on the Magh'.
"You were right, Lance Corporal. I've received a couriered letter from Shaw's solicitors about the subpoena I had issued. It included a medical report from Drs. Thom and Neubacher. They say Virginia Shaw is medically unfit to attend the trial, and that duly authenticated depositions have already been taken from her by the prosecution."
There was a lot more to the letter, basically telling Mike that he could whistle Dixie in front a high court judge before he'd get as much as an interview with her. But there was no point in telling the boy that. "I've demanded copies of the depositions."
He took another deep breath. "Look. If we can validate the fact that Ms. Shaw has an implant-and there were rumors about why she wasn't seen with her parents until about a year ago-we can get the court to disregard her evidence. The mental competency of a witness…"
"Forget it," said the soldier curtly. "You even mention the subject and I'll tell the judge to change my plea to guilty. And I mean it. I'll not have Virginia mocked as brain damaged. Have you got that?" The stocky man's hands were pulled into fists. And the forearm and neck muscles bulged. "I'd rather they hanged me. Virginia has had enough of that from her parents. No one is ever going to do that to her again."
"Forget I ever mentioned it." It was very plain how this Vat felt about the colony's leading Shareholder. Mike wasn't looking forward to the moment when Connolly discovered that his precious Virginia was going to get married. Well, maybe the boy accepted that. Shareholders and Vats didn't mix.
Connolly walked away, plainly getting control over himself. He picked up a paper from his bed, sat down and waved it at Mike. "One of the MPs brought me a paper this morning. Seen the front page of the HAR Times?"
So he knew already. Yet now his voice was calm. "Take a look at it, Lieutenant."
Capra got up and walked over. The picture of Virginia Shaw putting on a flashy diamond whilst Talbot Cartup watched avuncularly was quite a conversation stopper.
"She really looks sick, doesn't she?" said Chip sarcastically.
But Mike's eyes were immediately drawn to something else in the photo. Capra hadn't become a success in his profession without an eye for detail. "That's the wrong hand."
"It is?" Chip stared. "I guess it is, now that you mention it. Wrong finger, too. Most people wouldn't notice."
"Talbot Cartup didn't. But I bet you a fair number of women do."
"Have you told Bronstein?"
Mike Capra had the feeling he was wading deeper than he wanted to be, here.
"Uh. Yes. She said to tell you not to worry." He didn't say that that statement worried him. A great deal, in fact.
But it appeared to relieve Connolly's mind. He sat back and relaxed. He no longer even seemed particularly interested in the case, but Capra pressed on.
"Look. Because they are using depositions and not witnesses in person, they can't impose the death penalty. Not on that charge, anyway. And there is appeal. They can't deny you an appeal, and they can't pretend that she's sick forever."
Connolly shook his head. "You really don't understand, do you? Once she's married to this galoot, Virginia is going to die. Well before any appeal."
But he seemed relaxed about that also. Except…
There was just a hint of coiled spring in the way he moved. Almost as if he somehow knew that action was coming, and he was ready for it. And he seemed to regard the court-martial proceedings as irrelevant. Before his last case, the man had been a mass of nerves. Now, it was as if the possibility of being sent down for life in prison was just another minor slippery stepping stone on the way to crossing a much bigger river.
Capra thought it over and decided that, in the end, he was a lawyer. Connolly's lawyer.
See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. Nope, Your Honor, I didn't notice a single thing that might have led me to suspect that my client…
Mike decided to leave that thought unfinished. Some part of him almost shuddered, considering the possibilities. And another part of him finally realized just how utterly decrepit was the regime which the Shareholder system had wound up putting in power on Harmony and Reason. Only arrogant cretins would think that you could control a man like this just by putting him in a cell. Not if he linked up with his rats and bats, for sure. Together, they'd destroyed an entire Magh' scorpiary.
Eric Flint
The Rats, the Bats amp; the Ugly