Chapter 15: Hoods

When the alarm woke me I was surprised I had found sleep in the first place. Visiting the prisoners facing certain death had affected me more than I thought. I remembered images of a fading dream about Tyr and Egill accusing me of judging and killing without remorse. Dawn had assured me yesterday that it was she who would throw the switch. Still, I had to be there. She told me it was the assistant’s task to put the blindfolding hoods over the delinquents’ faces and it would be me who would see their faces last.

I had a long cold shower and then put on the executioners uniform, and girded the chain sword instead of the blaster. I simply didn’t want to wear a weapon I had never used before. I stepped out of the small hotel room close to the Police station. The corridor was guarded by two police officers who acknowledged me with a nod. Their faces clearly showed fear and disgust as they looked silently at me. Dawn appeared moments later from her room and said, “We still have time for breakfast; we’re a little early.”

“I don’t think I can eat right now.”

Her voice became softer, “Doing what we have to do is easier on a stomach that has something to digest, trust me.”

We went together to her temporary office where breakfast was already served on a small table. Here, behind closed doors, she removed her hood and poured me a mug of coffee. “I can’t express how thankful I am that you’re here. Even after all this time I haven’t really gotten used to it and the main reason for the Assistant is really moral support. So I’m not totally alone when I have to do my work.”

I had no real response to that admission. I felt friendship and sympathy for Dawn, but not enough to make me feel less guilty. So I took the cup, watched her eating with purpose and eagerness in her moves and said, “What will I have to do afterwards?”

“We both will take a break of two hours and then you can talk to psych support if you like. Some executioners do. I fill out the final documents and we’re done.”

“So it means I still can get to the Academy in time?”

“It’s not up to me but to the Chief Justice and I guess your admiral, but I can’t see any reason to keep you any longer, unless you change your mind and want to pursue a career in the Justice or Correction Department.”

“Sorry Dawn, but that’s not me. I’d rather go back to Nilfeheim and scrub nubhir skins.” She finished her breakfast.

Before she put her hood back on she said, “It’s not uncommon that you might feel the need to throw up. If possible, don’t lift the hood while doing it.”

I made a sour face and put on the hood. “I’ll keep that in mind, even though the hood is the perfect shape to catch it.”

She actually found that funny and laughed while we left the room and went to the waiting flier.

Corri-City - Lox Marshall, Indoor Landscaping Inc.

Sechz Sibenvoreinz had lived undetected for almost twenty years on Corri-Door. Intelligence work was quite difficult; the Union was successful protecting its most important secrets. No spy had ever managed to find out what exactly was found on Arsenal III that caused the Union to occupy a seemingly unimportant and unoccupied star system deep in Galactic Council space. It was an important focus of treaties and the Union had transformed it into the most well-defended system of the galaxy.

Corri-Door was strategically as or perhaps even more important than Arsenal. The Border Control and Defense Headquarters were here and everything moving across the borders was registered and analyzed here and at the central data processing system on the system’s smallest planet, Corrosive.

Union BCaD processed immigration requests and checked and tracked visitors, especially those of unfriendly or enemy civilizations. They worked closely with the Union Intelligence and Counter Intelligence agencies and the data and scanning results of millions of buoys, sensor arrays, deep space forts and patrol ships were analyzed and processed here. It was said that the BCaD had a record of every piece of space dust that floated between the borders. He knew that wasn’t far from the truth.

He had come here twenty years ago, entering the Union via Checkpoint 96, disguised as pilgrim Lox Marshall who had left Union Space a month before to visit the Whispering Uni ruins on Netlor. The real Lox Marshall never returned from Netlor.

Lox was a loner and had no real family, which was the reason Lox had been targeted in the first place. Kermac Intelligence kept close tabs on all members of the sect of the Church of the Golden Whispering Spirit of the Universe, as it was a wonderful way to get hold of Union citizens and either turn them or replace them. It had to be done carefully and sporadically, so as not to ruin a good thing and possibly expose about two hundred agents.

Sechz had almost forgotten his real name; he had been surgically altered to represent the bald headed short shop keeper from Corri-Dorr. He carried the original Lox Marshall’s CITI in his arm, inside a bio patch sack, and actual Marshall tissue and DNA, so casual CITI scans matched the DNA to the CIT and he was verified. His mental wave pattern couldn’t be altered to match that of Marshall, but the Kermac were psi tech experts, second only to the Saresii, and he carried an implant that masked his mental waves and simulated Marshall’s patterns.

Marshall owned a small indoor landscaping business in Corri-City, Tunnel 8. His eighteen employees had no idea they actually worked for a Kermac spy. Marshall kept a low profile and only travelled once a month to the sect temple on Palomino. He kept regular GalNet contact with his handler via his avatar in Dream World. The relationship was disguised as a harmless romance, and they used an extensive sign language to convey information. He was sure there were sniffer programs searching for key words, even code words, and the cursed Union had very advanced computronic decrypters, but they wouldn’t be able to monitor visual gestures of avatars. He had no idea who his online lover really was other than his handler.

He had just finished delivering white roses and lilies to one of the sales stands near the execution site and saw his GalNet terminal blinking. His online lover wanted to have a chat with him. It had to be something urgent otherwise he wouldn’t be contacted out of schedule. He closed his office door, told his office assistant he didn’t want to be disturbed and lay down on the low-grav Dream Couch. The real world disappeared and moments later he stood in an almost sickeningly happy place with green meadows, trees and oversized flowers and butterflies. This was the lobby environment of Dream Maker. He went to his private flower and opened the middle of the air door to his private dream world.

To his surprise he saw not only Micara, his avatar lover, but another avatar, a Standard Base Line model. Whoever it was hadn’t spent more than five minutes in creating it. It had a blank look and was a sexless approximation of a Human being. Micara said aloud, “I missed you, lover.” And her hands wiggled as she signaled, “This is my supervisor. He has an urgent assignment for you.”

The other avatar looked to the side and, obviously talking to someone in the real world, said, “Not now Vorneun. I don’t care what the avatar looks like. I’m very well able to...”

The sexless avatar suddenly changed and sprouted a long beard and four arms. Micara hissed angrily, “No names. Use the avatar name I gave you.”

The four armed avatar suddenly grew to six meters and lost two of its arms and its skin turned bright white. The avatar moved as if slapping or hitting someone and cursed, “Leave the avatar controls alone. It doesn’t matter how it looks.”

Sechz was a little confused. The new avatar acted like a being directed by two noob operators who never used a Dream Maker before. Yet he was certain he heard the name Nachacht and that could only be the Grand Wizard of the Military. Since the one directing the avatar had no problem hissing at the other it was quite logical to assume it was another High Wizard.

Micara then spoke about love and used dirty words while her fingers said, “You’re aware of the execution taking place tomorrow?”

He complimented her looks and was distracted as the other avatar shrunk to look like a 20-centimeter gnome, complete with white beard and red hat, and said with an angry tone, again to someone not in the simulation, “So this is what you think I should look like?” It again made a slapping motion of its hands, as if to chase someone away from the input controls.

He signaled back to Micara, unable to take his eyes away from the Grand Wizard-controlled avatar, “Yes, I just delivered flowers to my booth at the site.”

“You must sabotage the event. We don’t care how or what you do, but it must be disturbed so it is postponed or does not take place at all.”

Sechz didn’t like that at all. He was a spy and didn’t mind collecting information, but to actively commit sabotage, murder or an act of terror on a planet swarming with Marines and Union Police security was basically suicide.

He signaled, “I’m biologically Kermac; if I get caught they will know Kermac was behind it and that will cause political problems. Besides, it’s too late to plan anything. The execution will take place in less than 12 hours.”

The gnome avatar grew but kept his shape. “It’s not your place to worry about political problems. It’s your place to obey and serve. Refuse and you’ll wish you were dead.”

Again Micara hissed, “Don’t use words like that. Don’t speak. I’ll get the message across.”

Micara’s hands spoke. “This is a Prime Order of the highest authority. You are welcome to terminate yourself after completing the task. But you will do as ordered.”

“I shall obey.”

Rex Schwartz stood next to his massive desk in the top floor of SII-Sky Needle IV. The tallest planet-bound structure on Omni planet. The desk was made of a solid piece of obsidian, a black volcanic glass material he liked as it somehow reflected and represented his character. The desk weighed several tonnes and its simple, clear design was a symbol of power. Dark gray slate covered the floor, the seams between the slate tiles pure gold. There was little else in the way of furniture, other than a wide black leather chair hovering behind the desk. Three of the walls were floor to ceiling view ports. The technology hidden away was arguably the finest and most advanced created by any known civilization that currently existed. Rex excluded the Narth. Whatever they had incorporated into Project Fish was beyond anything his engineers had ever seen.

But not even the Narth knew something he did. He was aware of the true purpose of the Guardian and he knew who had put this artificial entity underneath what today was the Himalayas on Terra, 255 million years ago.

A cold smile played around his lips as he thought about Richard Stahl, who personally had a team of gifted and quite talented individuals working to solve these questions. Good old Stahl. Honest to the bone. Stahl meant steel in an old Terran language and Stahl was every bit like that metal. If they needed a picture to illustrate the definition of righteousness, Stahl’s portrait would be perfect. He was the only one Rex would fear in an open conflict. That old soldier was very resourceful. Rex knew that Stahl had been on Narth Prime, so far the only Human ever. Stahl had returned with that huge ship of his, during the height of the last Y’All invasion, and to this day no one knew where he got it from.

Rex knew about the ultra-secret Celtest depot underneath the deserts of Arsenal III, but the stuff there was all mothballed by the Celtest, inactive and it was very dangerous to play and experiment with a technology level higher than your own and the Celtest were at least TL 11 when they disappeared. The Devastator, however, was fully functional and Stahl came back with the full knowledge how Translocator cannon worked and how they could be manufactured. The mighty Devastator could cloak itself so effectively nothing known detected her. Where did he get the ship from? Not that he planned to go against Stahl or betray the Union, at least not in the near future.

McElligott, the grand old man of the Fleet however, held little respect in the Rex’s eyes. True, after 3000 years he knew the other Immortals and there was a level of understanding that went beyond friendship, but the richest man alive thought of McElligott as past his prime and usefulness. He was picked by the Guardian to take care of the logistics and the politics needed to build the huge organization that the Fleet had become, something the warrior, Stahl, had no patience for.

Cherubim on the other hand was a great unknown. In all this time, he didn’t know her true purpose other than to be the eyes and ears of humanity. She created the Psi Corps and the Terran Space Intelligence Corps. He knew she somehow infiltrated the Sojonit Order and there was in his opinion no better intelligence network in the galaxy. He was almost sure she had her fingers in other organizations.

He was interrupted by Yvonne, the most advanced android in the galaxy and maybe the most capable battle robot. Yvonne carried the imprint of Clara, his first daughter, and looked exactly like she would have looked as a grown woman. She was created as a daily reminder that he had not yet avenged her death. True, the perpetrators who had abducted and killed her, had been found and their end was as gruesome as his intellect and resources allowed him to be, but the Kermac, the ones that sent the kidnappers, still existed and he wouldn’t rest until he had wiped them off the face of the universe.

The android handed him a printout in a black folder. The words: For RS only and the SII logo were imprinted on it. Anyone but him opening it would cause the complete molecular decay of the folder and what it contained. It was his daily report, including all the activities of what he called his Black Business. He liked the numbers he saw associated with the SII Entertainment Division. The profits had soared, mostly due to Dream World. DW release 5.6 was hugely popular and Dream Maker the equipment and shell program users needed. They were always on back order no matter how many units SII Entertainment built, despite its steep price of 1000 Credits. Naturally SII-Ent Division could have produced enough units to flood the market but creating this artificial shortage made it even more desirable to the customers across the galaxy.

A secret division of Schwartz Industries did some of the things Richard Stahl feared SII might do. They listened in to every conversation in Dream Maker, no matter how private or secure the user thought they were and in subtle ways influenced users to prefer SII products and services. Rex Schwartz was very well aware of this as this division reported to SII-Black Ops Command, which in turn delivered daily reports to their boss. If he had political ambitions he could use Dream Maker and other channels to influence over 60 percent of the Union population and have himself elected king or emperor.

Yvonne said, “Master, you should look at document 9403.32. It’s associated with the Kermac spy on Corri-Door.”

Schwartz security had known about the Kermac using the Sect of the Whispering Spirit to infiltrate the Union for quite a while, ever since the Kermac replaced a SII employee sixty-five years ago. SII Security kept tabs on all of them. The employee for example was allowed to send selected information home. It was much better to control a known spy than to expose him and then try to find who or whatever replaced him.

The Kermac spy on Corri-Door was more or less a sleeper, doing very little intelligence work and basically sending the same information to the Kermac that they could have gained by an extensive GalNet investigation.

This time however, his handler, a Human woman on Pluribus, had contacted him while the Kermac delegation was there and with specific instructions to sabotage an execution that was about to take place. Rex knew about the implications and the political reasons why this particular execution had to take place without any complications. It was quite bold of the Kermac to order such a subversive attack on a Union planet. If the sabotage was successful and the Union identified who ordered it, things could easily escalate to war again.

Rex wouldn’t mind if war against the Kermac finally broke out again. He had no doubt the Union would succeed and he’d commit his fleet and secret military might into the fray, virtually guaranteeing victory, but the Nul would most likely not stay idle. The Free Space civilizations, and especially the Kartanian and the Togar, would also fight to maintain their interests. Still, he was certain the Union would be victorious but at a serious cost.

He knew about the call the Kermac made or were about to make and the Union would then need all its strength. Rex knew who it was who would answer the call.

He found it was better to chip away Kermac power, thrall by thrall. He’d deal with the Shiss first and make sure they were no longer a factor. Then, maybe in 30-50 years, he’d wipe those white-skinned meddlers out in one decisive hit and unite the galaxy under one rule. Then it would be time for the Master to return and Rex would become the Emperor of the Union. Only then would he face the Kermac.

He didn’t want to reveal his source of information. “Do we have someone who can make it to Corri-Door on time and deal with Lox Marshall before he can do something?”

Yvonne, who was permanently connected not only to GalNet and GalCom but to SII’s secret comm channels, immediately answered, “I’ve contacted a reliable asset, but there’s a 56 percent chance he won’t make it in time.”

“Monitor the situation and if the chance rises to over 75 percent, leak the report to Union Intel but make sure it’s done so SII isn’t implicated.”

“Yes, Master.”

Lox Marshall had visited the Prison and only needed a little supportive psionic suggestion to convince one of the administration assistants working there that the indoor plants needed checking again.

He couldn’t visit the actual prison tract, but that wasn’t needed. The prison guards were psionic shielded, especially as there was a psi talent in the cells at the moment.

He watered the indoor trees in the attached offices and glanced at the field screens monitoring the prisoners, as all he needed was visual contact. The woman was his target and he planted a new wish in her mind. She wanted to hold flowers when she was executed. It was a harmless suggestion for her to ask for Saran Lulus, which would guarantee they called him.

Adam Smith actually burned out the drive of his small but very fast Cobra race ship, the damage to the very expensive high performance racer he just had purchased eight hours ago was considerable, but he had made it to Corri-Door with three hours to spare before the execution was to take place.

He had virtually unlimited funds to complete his mission and all available data on Lox Marshall in his data brain. His left eyeball was actually a precision laser emitter and with it he could drill a fine and deadly hole in his mark without anyone noticing him doing it, but he had to find his mark first. His papers identified him as John Adams of Luna, Sol system, arriving from Palomino. His CITI was the real thing, Easily obtainable for a SII Black Ops enforcer. While the citizen CIT implantation machines were made by the government, they used parts manufactured by SII-Biotronics Division. Thus the corresponding bio data was genuine as well.

He found tunnel ten and the business easily enough. He tortured the pretty office assistant with a neuro-pain-stimulating polyscanner that was a crude but very effective technological alternative to a natural telepath; almost as good, just not very gentle. But he found out that she only knew her boss had left. She didn’t know where to. John shrugged, for the kind of bonus he had been offered he’d gladly kill his own mother, bless her heart. He had sprayed the body with a quick bio-dissolver. While he was on his way down town, the flower shop assistant’s body had already dissolved, bones and all. In about ten minutes all evidence would be gone. However finding Lox wasn’t as easy. Even this early in the morning there was a lot of foot traffic. The local transport systems were overwhelmed and there was the possibility Lox had disguised himself. He used his PDD to send a short burst message. The chances against finding Lox in time had just climbed well past the 75 percent level.

Lox Marshall lingered by the flower and souvenir stand near the city park and within eyesight of the scaffold. The man running it was an actually a friend of his even though they were officially competitors. Ei Dum Kau of Terran Human descent was a florist and had ordered extra stock from Lox to give him a share of the expected business. Ei, a small Asian man, came out of his store holding a PDD and asked, “Do you have any Pink Lulus left?”

Lox feigned surprise. “Yes, as a matter of fact I do have some.”

“One of the delinquents, a woman from Corri-Gas, wants to hold a bouquet while she gets hanged and they granted her this wish. I don’t have any pink ones left and no one answers the PDD in your shop.”

He was lucky and got a cab right away. He wondered why Liona wasn’t answering calls, she was usually so dependable. If she went to the hanging without asking permission he’d fire her.

He found the door to the shop unlocked and a strange sickeningly sweet smell hung in the air, but he had little time to be curious about smells. Only at the edge of his conscious did he notice the almost perfectly Human-shaped wet puddle of dirty water on the floor behind the counter. The Kermac spy was too agitated to really notice. He took a big bunch of Lulus out of the stasis storage cooler. On a hunch he took a second weapon out of a hidden compartment in his desk, checked the charge of his accelerator and rushed back downtown.

It was almost hopeless trying to find Lox in all this. He was probably sitting somewhere aiming a long range beamer at the scaffold. John Adams would love to complete the mission. The bonus was astronomic; still all the money couldn’t help him find Lox faster.

Lox approached the barrier. One of the beefy police officers in full armor turned out to be a neighbor of his who lived in a house just three tunnel recesses down from his own. He had often talked to that police officer since the officer took great pride in his little front lawn and not only was a regular customer but also always asked Lox for plant and flower advice. The cop’s name was Trevor Burke. Lox was certain he wouldn’t even need psionic suggestions here, not that he’d want to try. While the officer’s suit wasn’t a new model it most likely had psi shielding.

Burke looked impressive in the shiny blue battle armor, holding a shock baton in his right hand. He had his helmet visor open and the baton was deactivated. Despite the crowds the police seemed relaxed and it was clear they didn’t expect any trouble. There actually were eight protesters with signs and they were heckled by the crowd and posed no security problem. Trevor raised the huge hand of the battle armor. “Oh, good morning Mr. Marshall. Say, what pretty pink flowers. What are those?”

“Good morning Mr. Burke. These are Pink Lulus from Sares. I’m supposed to deliver these to the female delinquent.”

Burke looked at his helmet read out and said, “Yes, that’s confirmed. Burke opened the gate and said, “My wife loves all things pink. Would they grow under tunnel light?”

Lox couldn’t believe he had made it inside the barrier with weapons in his possession. The spy in him laughed at the lax security and the stupid policeman, but his Lox Marshall identity had become way more than just a disguise and a cover. He begun to think like a Union citizen and he felt sorry for betraying the policeman, who was a good neighbor and had invited him to BBQ’s more than once. He could even have become friends with the officer. Marshall was, after all, well respected and had a solid clientele. He answered with a guilty consciousness, “I don’t think they would, they’re expensive for a reason and grow only on Sares planets as far as I know.”

Burke tried to shrug inside the armor and pointed with his chin towards a black limo landing on the other side of the scaffold. “There they come, the slaughterers. It won’t be long now till the circus starts.”

Our flier landed in front of the scaffold in the crowded park and Dawn said, “You know everything you have to do, right?”

“Yes, I think I’ve got it. After the guards have placed the prisoners on the scaffold I go down the line and place the hoods over their heads. You go after me and set the noose. Then I proceed back to the other end and you go down to the panel and press the button after the Chief Justice has made his final speech. I then throw up, preferably inside the dress. You wait till they’re dead, release their bodies and we can go.”

She nodded, “Yes, that’s it. Are you ready?”

“I don’t think I have a choice, so yes I am.”

We left the flier and I followed her through a gate in the barrier, held open by a policeman, and up the stairs of the scaffold. From up there I could see that the park and the surrounding buildings were full of people, both Human and not. I had never seen so many people in one place and they all stared at me, at least so it appeared to me. I wondered why so many would get up so early to see someone die. Especially disturbing were the media crowd. Between two buildings in the distance a big field screen flickered into existence and showed a close up of the scaffold and us.

Lox watched the dark-red-robed executioners getting out of the limo. He exclaimed to Burke, “Those are women!”

The policeman tried to nod. “Looks like it, they must have ice in their veins. To be honest Lox I couldn’t do it. I don’t think I could kill anyone in cold blood like this.”

Both executioners walked close by and the Kermac spy could only see their eyes for a moment before they mounted the stairs. He shivered involuntarily and, for the first time in his life, prayed and hoped there really was a Whispering Spirit. Then he said, “You’re a policeman. You carry a gun.”

“I never raised my blaster against anyone in anger. I’m a policeman, not a soldier. I don’t mind using my fists, the shock baton or restraining fields, and that’s all we ever have to do here on Corri-Door. That poisoning murderess is the first capital crime we’ve had in years throughout the entire system and she didn’t resist arrest. Oh, I’m all for capital punishment, don’t get me wrong. There are over seven million permanent residents living in this system and lots of traffic coming through and we have few capital crimes, so the idea behind it seems to work fine. I think that criminal Saresii mind bender sure earned his sentence and I have no patience for Califerm dealers but I’m not so sure the Dai deserve it.”

He holstered his shock baton and whispered, “I just think they should do it in a little chamber away from this entire county fair atmosphere. I know they voted it in and even my lovely peaceful wife has voted for it and she had herself a spot reserved right over there on River’s roof. I bet she and her friends are sitting up there right now waiting for the hanging.”

Now a dark blue police van, with hover bike escort and a platoon of Marines in Destroyer suits behind it, landed. It held the prisoners. Policemen and robots dragged twenty shackled individuals up the steps.

The Califerm thief struggled against a policeman’s grip, the woman’s feet collapsed as she went up the stairs. The crowd had hollered obscenities at the Dai but now a hushed silence has taken hold. Except for the murmured comments of the newscasters it was eerily quiet.

I noticed a civilian holding a big bunch of flowers right next to a police officer in crowd control gear talking to each other and Dawn said, “That’s a local flower dealer. The woman requested flowers at the last minute and I allowed it.”

Chief Justice V’Thensnhk like almost everyone else in the Justice General Building on Pluribus was glued in front of the big field screen watching the events unfolding on Corri-Door. He was Klack but, despite the great biological differences to Humans, he had a similar range of feelings. He regretted the fact that he had had to deputize and draft the young Human. He knew it was actually quite unfair. He always wanted to be a real judge, unbiased and uninfluenced by anything but the law. He didn’t like to be pressured by the Department of State, but it was done. It seemed the young Human worked together well with their best Chief Executioner who always wanted everything done perfectly.

His PDD glared red and he immediately answered this priority one call. It came from the State Department and it was the representative of the Ult who currently held the chair of this ministry. “We have just received credible intelligence that Kermac agents will try to sabotage the execution. Can you delay the execution and get everyone to safety? We’re trying to get assets to Corri-Door within two to three hours to deal with this.”

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