Chapter 22: Interrogating the Innocent

Peter was an indentured servant. Once Peter Strange had been a successful lawyer, but he fell prey to gambling fever. Eventually, Peter recognized that his debt load was excessive and put himself on the auction block as an indentured servant to avoid being involuntarily reduced to the status of a chattel slave. A committee of his creditors accepted the terms of the voluntary indenture, which Peter drafted with the help of an underwriter. Provisions were that the proceeds of the auction go to the creditors, that the buyer allow Peter to work in his professional field and also the buyer would provide therapy to cure him of his compulsion to bet everything on a roll of the dice, a spin of the wheel, a pull on the one-armed bandit or a turn of the card. Peter was fortunate that his indenture was purchased by a law enforcement agency, the Capitallian Federal Marshal's Service (FMS).

Capitallia avoided the all-powerful Department of Homeland Security by going back to a simpler, more limited federal law enforcement structure consisting of the Marshal's Service, the Federal Investigation Agency and the Treasury Enforcement Agency (TEA). Each of these three federal law enforcement departments had very limited powers. In the old United States, even the school lunch program had paramilitary police commandos, the so-called Special Weapons And Tactics (SWAT) teams. Only the Federal Marshal's Service had heavy police tactical teams in Capitallia. When SWAT teams were needed to enforce federal laws, a warrant authorizing FMS SWAT to deploy with the other two agencies was required.

Sybil Treumon had been murdered while working undercover for the Capitallian Defense Organization. Sybil's brief was tracking Aztlan irregulars who had illegally gotten into Capitallia and were waging war on Capitallians from inside Capitallia. Sybil reported to the Office of Military Intelligence, but her murder was investigated by the Nevada Department of Public Safety because Sybil was a tax-paying Nevada citizen and the Federal Marshal's Service had been called in because Sybil might have been murdered in connection with official duties and because the FIA was not sufficiently staffed to do that investigation.

"Peter," Lieutenant Lester Boron spoke in a slurred voice, "I need you to accompany me to Silver Orb. You and I have read everything. I need your trained legal mind because most of the stuff we get from Silver Orb and from Pensacola is not usable in court. We are going to be questioning two little girls, their dead mother, a federal senator and her family."

"Dead mother?" Peter asked. "Sir, I am an indentured servant, not a law enforcement officer. And how are we going to interview a dead mother?"

"That wasn't in the briefing package," Lester said, "but somehow the people at Silver Orb have preserved Sybil Treumon's memories and personality. I read an extract of some experimental work by two doctors, a Jakefield and a Dalton, on the use of copied personalities to program fembots. Yes, I know, fembot testimony is not admissible evidence. A fembot can be programmed to say anything. I'm out of leads here. I need a new direction. You and I and Colonel Harris will be going to the Reno-Tahoe Regional Airport to pick up Director Oberone-Sydney. There is another issue--all four of us will be naked while in Silver Orb. It is a duty requirement. I need you there, so your nudity will be involuntary."

"Sir, did I hear correctly?" Peter asked. "Thomas Richard Harris and Josie Oberone-Sydney are going to be naked? Sir, I didn't know that a senator had that much power."

"It's not just a federal senator," Lester explained. "I do need to interview people but I cannot compel the interview. This case is stalled. The suspect just vanished. I don't have enough probable cause to request a warrant. I'm going to need you to keep me civil, Peter. I admit it. I'm frustrated. Now Colonel Harris and Director Oberone-Sydney are on the case, too, I'm on the hot seat. I feel so sure that interviewing those two girls will break open the case."

"Sir, if I may make an observation," Peter said, holding up thumb and forefinger just nine millimeters apart, "I always felt that I was this close to winning big time. My ship would come in if only I would play one more hand, or pull on the slot machine one more time. Just one more throw of the dice. One more horse race. I got myself in debt so far that I couldn't pull myself out without help. I'm being treated to cure my obsession--I didn't even have enough credit to buy an aspirin tablet. I was going to be a slave anyway because I couldn't let go. Sir, it is a little late for advice from your inferior, but I rode that pony into debt so deep that I had to submit to indenture before someone enslaved me."

"I won't be a slave," Lester muttered.

Peter felt an icy chill along his spine.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Colonel Harris entered in his business suit.

"I want Peter to drive us," Thomas Harris said. "We will have a two-car escort and four other marshals. If I had a bigger budget..."

"Are we taking your car or mine, sir?" Lester asked.

"Mine," Thomas replied. "It is going to be a tight squeeze. Oh, Lester, you and I will meet the Director in the VIP terminal over on the military side of the airport. We are going into the Nevada National Guard base entrance. I've taken care of all the required coordination. From there we go directly to Silver Orb."

Colonel Harris had a small four-seat, four door sedan as his official vehicle. It was unmarked, but there was communications equipment and a data station in the back seat. On the way to the airport, Thomas Harris and Lester Boron went over the key points of their dead-end case. It was only a 20 minute drive through moderate traffic to the VIP terminal, with a slight delay as Peter drove through the security checkpoint on the state militia base. Director Oberone- Sydney was waiting with four other people. The director's assistants boarded the escort cars and Josie Oberone-Sydney got in with Tom Harris and Lester Boron.

"So brief me on what you've learned," the director ordered. A few minutes into the presentation, Josie held up a hand. "I waded through all that material. I'm looking for your conclusions, not your background. Conclusions first. I'll ask questions later."

There was an embarrassed silence. Finally, Thomas spoke.

"Based on massive information provided by Director Tyson," Thomas shifted in his seat to look Josie in the eye, "this is a massive international conspiracy that has no one nation as its headquarters. We can catch all the low-level criminals we want and the so-called 'Conspiracy of Dreams' will just pull another ten criminals out of its magic bag of tricks."

Robin Tyson's analogy was retold by Thomas. Imagine Capitallia was a shopping mall with 38 stores. Imagine that there were rival shopping malls on adjacent blocks. Now imagine that the stores were going broke because of criminal activities in those stores.

"We feds are mall management," Thomas explained. "We enforce mall regulations, but not all of the store managers are on our side. Worse, we have mall management involved in crime. Then there is the public: shoplifters, rapists, murderers, armed robbery, and vandalism. These criminal activities are not limited to our mall, but it doesn't really matter. There is a conspiracy to bankrupt all of the shopping malls and buy them out, to put all the malls under one management company."

"Did Director Tyson provide names or is she just teasing us?" Josie said. "I saw no names in my information package."

"Lieutenant Boron, tell the director what you found out last night," Thomas ordered.

"Of course we can't act on this information," Lester said, "but I matched up the activities to people and came up with 100 names before I had to quit. At the top of the list were the mayor of San Francisco and the governor of California. Both have been obstructing Federal Marshal's Service operations--quite legally, of course. They are not alone. A cabal of Capitallian businessmen is involved. They haven't committed any provable crimes, so we cannot do anything about it right now."

"We jsut do what we always do, we gather evidence until we have enough to take to the judge for a warrant," Thomas grumped. "I had a side note by Doctor Dalton that the governor was not the kingpin. Arresting Governor Brandywine would be a blow to the conspiracy, but wouldn't stop it. We don't have enough probable cause to arrest the governor at the present time, we barely have enough to request an interview with the governor. Director Tyson's shopping mall analog was a horde of shoplifters. The shoplifters seldom work in concert but all are doing the same thing to mall stores--stealing them blind. Usually if a shoplifter encounters another shoplifter, they'll ignore each other. Sometimes one shoplifter will divert store security while another gets the merchandise out of the store. Occasionally, a person reporting shoplifting will rat out the other shoplifter and then slip out unnoticed while the other shoplifter is in custody. Shoplifter goals are putting the store out of business, thrill of thieving, getting even with other elements of society, and simple greed. Why pay for it when you can steal it?"

The discussion went on while the three-car convoy drove to Silver Orb. It was still going on when the three cars pulled to a stop at the end of the road in front of Silver Orb's gates. An awning had been erected outside the wall and picnic tables were under the shade. An old couple, a fat man and a slender woman, were standing naked beside a handcart.

"Welcome to Silver Orb," the man said. "I'm Charles and this is Jillian. We have a portable bathroom over there and the two of us will provide refreshments while your party is inside."

"I am supposed to make sure that you are naked before I let you inside," the woman said. Jill's ribs showed beneath the flaps of her deflated breasts. She had white pubic and underarm hair and the hair covering her scalp was thinning. Jill wore eyeglasses and an ID collar around her neck. "The people staying here are welcome to our hospitality. Put your money away, son, the drinks here are limited but on the house. We of Silver Orb don't turn away hungry people, but because you are law enforcement on official business, we are limiting your access to only a few people. It has to do with the old doctrine of the United States—that if you answered your door when the police knocked, you had 'given permission' and they could walk in with an army of investigators and tear your place down as if you had given them permission to conduct a search without the need for a warrant."

"Are you slaves?" Josie asked.

"Don't confuse them, dear," Charles said. "Jill and I are moon worshippers. We are also pacifists. We are legal resident non-citizens, but neither one of us will ever try for citizenship. I'd have to vote to dismantle Capitallia's war machine."

"Me, too!" Jill chimed in. "We don't vote, we don't support the war machine, we just tend to Hank Dalton's talking animals. Better hurry up. I don't like it when you make my lion wait."

"Lion?" Lester gasped.

"His name is Aslan," Charles chuckled, "and Lucy Albertson will be your human tour guide."

"Who is first?" Jill asked. "You are going to be out of place if you wear clothes inside."

"Charles and Jillian Weathercock," a deep booming voice announced, "it is I, Aslan, and Miss Lucy. We are coming out."

"Come, Aslan." Jill barely contained her smirk. She burst out laughing when a large African lion emerged from the gate, a bare brown-haired girl with deep tan riding bareback on the enormous lion. "Isn't he magnificent?"

It took the gaping crowd a few moments to compose themselves. Capitallia was much wilder in the early days of the republic, but had grown more puritanical. Nudity was not the norm. Naked children were unheard of. Little Lucy chattered with Jill as Peter, Thomas, Lester and Josie disrobed.

Peter wore only a pair of shoes and a set of light-blue coveralls--and his slave collar. The coveralls were short-sleeved and came to the knees. When naked, Peter's middle-aged body wasn't up to porn star standards, but a slave had no right to be fat and sloppy. Peter flushed slightly--no matter how many times nudity was forced on him he still felt embarrassment. That embarrassment was amplified when he was in the presence of nude free people--especially a little girl. Peter had only a thickening of his waist--his potbelly from too much food and too little exercise was a thing of the past. Because Peter was a slave, he bared his body long before the others. There just wasn't much to take off. Peter stood with his feet shoulder width apart, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes focused respectfully a meter in front of his toes.

Next nude was Colonel Thomas Richard Harris. Age hadn't ravaged the Capitallian federal marshal as severely as it had the former lawyer Peter because police had even less right to be out of shape than slaves. Though silver hairs were noticeable on Thomas's hairy body, he was still in good physical condition. Thomas was glancing from Charles to Jill and back again because he didn't want an embarrassing erection.

Josie remained in the sedan to undress and emerged nude. She was in her forties and her breasts drooped. Josie had short brown hair that reached just below her ears, brown eyes, and a thick triangular mat of brown pubic hair. Her breasts and lower body had stark white tan lines from a one-piece bathing suit and Josie had the fading remains of a tan on her fleshy body. Josie wasn't fat; she was fit for someone in her forties, and not unattractive. On the other hand, Josie wasn't a raving sex kitten, either.

Lester tossed his clothing in the trunk of Thomas's sedan. Lester was fit, well muscled, and the only hair on his body was a small, well-trimmed patch above his penis. When Lester saw Josie, Lester blushed deep red from his scalp to his shoulders and his penis jutted out almost straight.

"Follow us," Lucy said, and Aslan turned around with Lucy on his back.

As the lion led the four Marshal's Service representatives through the gate, it was Thomas's turn to be embarrassed. Thomas developed an erection when he saw the nude bodies of Peter and Lester. Fortunately, his penis only stiffened, lengthened and thickened, but still hung well short of horizontal. Thomas heard Jill tell the others that the floor show was concluded and what would the guests like for refreshments...

The stroll through Silver Orb was eye opening. The streets thronged with naked people going about the daily business of life. A variety of body shapes and sizes and ages from infants in mothers' arms to doddering old age was represented on the faux dusty streets.

"No sidewalks?" Josie asked as she gaped at the crowds.

"Motor vehicles stay in the motor park," Lucy said from Aslan's back. "Only a few guests and service vehicles drive on the street, and they drive real slow."

The walk was long enough that the three men had time for their erections to subside. Peter was first--though an indentured servant, he had been trained sexually. The training gave Peter more control over his sexual excitement than possessed by the average free man--unless that control was overrode by command from one of the people appointed to give Peter orders. That someone still had a wagging stiffy that jutted forward and Lester's blush had merely faded to a flush when they arrived at the Dalton home. Thomas managed to get his mind off of the other men and was almost flaccid.

Josie was still mildly excited when Kelly Dalton greeted the federal marshals at the door.

"Come in. We have a few minutes. Emma and Hank are introducing the twins to their new fembot mommy." Kelly's face was wet with tears. "Serena and Sarah are taking it well."

"Hank Dalton is here?" Josie asked.

"No, Hank has a robot edition of himself in there right now. The three humans are Ryder, Sarah and Serena." Kelly stroked Aslan's mane and Lucy's thigh as the lion strode past. "There are three cheetahs in the room, too. Did I miss anyone? Cheetahs, girls, robots--no that's everybody. Come on in. Would you like a drink or a snack?"

"What do you know about the Conspiracy of Dreams?" Thomas asked.

"Slave Nancy is my husband's personal assistant," Kelly said. "I know that it exists, but Nancy has all the details. It is very real, Colonel Harris."

"My name is Thomas, Mrs. Dalton."

"I'm Kelly."

"Call me Josie."

"Lester," to Lester Boron's horror, he found himself getting erect again at the sight of Kelly Dalton's smooth, slender body. Worse was when the lady of the manor pressed her small breasts and warm body against each guest in turn, hugging them.

"They're ready for you now," Nancy announced. "You have until lunch time. After that, the senator and her family will let you interview them in the conference room. This way, please."

"Don't worry about erections here," Kelly whispered into Lester's ear to his growing humiliation. "If you need relief, I can let you use a robot or a slave. Or just ignore it. Teenage boys don't seem to get soft around here."

Fembots were advanced sex toys, androids in the form of women. Crude puppets had been around for at least 3000 years, some quite realistic. It wasn't until the middle of the 21st Century that robot brains became sophisticated enough to operate independently of external supervision, but some late 20th Century drone designs were still flying, swimming and rolling on Planet Earth. Emma and Sybilbot were fembots. The 'Hank Dalton' in the room with three girls was a male edition of the fembot. Rather than imitate some video player, these three fembots looked like their counterparts. The Hankbot was holding the twins in a group hug, with little Ryder clutching Emma's leg.