First Contact

Chapter 170: (Dorknyss)

Third High Most Detective Lnosvumo'o checked the load on his neural pistol and looked at the three Lanaktallan LawSec personnel that he had personally selected for the arrest. The all nodded, their faces grim behind their tinted face-shields, armor covering them emblazoned with the white stencil of Capital LawSec, each of them holding a neural pistol with both their upper hands, their badge in their left lower hands, riot shield bracers waiting to be energized on their right lower hands.

The elevator came to stop with a faint jerk, the doors opening. The peeling plas of the low rent warehouse slash apartment building was revealed, with flickering lights on the ceiling and walls. One the wall to the left was Tuku'unga Custom Ceramics.

Lnosvumo'o made a shushing motion as he trotted down the hallway on silenced boots.

He had worked for years to reach this moment but it held no satisfaction beyond that the end of the road was finally in sight.

The group of LawSec moved up to the door, which had the sign for custom made ceramics, by appointment only, consignment only, right beside it. Lnosvumo'o hefted the portable door ram he brought with him from the LawSec APC.

"One, two, three," Lnosvumo'o said, and slammed the ram against the door.

It crashed open, slamming onto the floor, revealing the room beyond.

Ceramic works were stacked everywhere, a furnace against the far wall, paint and glazes all over the place.

That was put out Lnosvumo'o's mind at what was in the middle of the room.

A Lanaktallan was kneeling down over the dead body of a Shavashan, tearing free gobbets of flesh to cram into his mouth. The Lanaktallan looked up, his face and bare chest covered in blood, underneath his flanks soaked in gore. His legs and arms, hooves and hands, were coated in a thick layer of blood.

He opened his mouth, obviously intending on saying something, when Lnosvumo'o just shot him twice in the chest with the neural pistol. The Lanaktallan fell to the floor on his side, kicking a few times, then started to struggle to his feet.

Lnosvumo'o trotted forward, leveled his neural pistol at the bloody Lanaktallan's face.

"Second Most High Vru'umo'ot, you are under arrest for the murder of Tuku'unga and three hundred seventy other sentient beings," Lnosvumo'o intoned.

And pulled the trigger, the neural bolt slamming into the bloody Lanaktallan's snarling face.

---------------------

The Unified Justice Building was a drab and dreary place. Created in such a way as to encourage beings to avoid it, inside and out, it was a strange combination of hot from the massive server farms and chilly from the herculean effort it took to keep the supercomputer arrays cool. The beings who worked there seemed gray and washed out, moving silently on tasks they shared with nobeing.

Lnosvumo'o felt a sense of accomplishment as he trotted down the hallway to the Eighty-Third Court Room. He had filed all of his evidence, painstakingly put together over the last thirty years. Crime scene photos of hundreds of brutal murders, evidence from DNA to blood types to crime scene recreations, witness statements, the movement of the accused based on implant and datapad records, even trophies that the Lanaktallan had taken from each of the deceased, found in a secret room of his estate that had even contained crime scene photos and implant images the accused had managed to acquire from LawSec from some being willing to trade their honor for money.

That was without considering that he had caught the serial killer in the act.

Personally, he wished that he could have been in time to save the ceramics artist. A hard working Shevashan who created works of beauty. It had taken a strangely long time for the warrant to be issued, to the point that Lnosvumo'o had been forced to send a friendly prosecutor to gather the warrant and even then it had taken long hours for it to be granted and then recognized by the system.

When he entered the court room he noted that it was empty, not even judicial watch groups, reporters, or even other lawyers and court beings.

Just the accused, one Vru'umo'ot, his lawyer, the Council prosecuting attorney, and the judge.

Lnosvumo'o took his place, waiting to be called as a witness.

He looked at Vru'umo'ot who just sneered at him before turning his attention to the judge.

Order was called by the judge himself and Lnosvumo'o wondered where the bailiff was but hit it out of his mind.

"Your honor," the defense attorney suddenly said. The judge nodded. "We move for immediate judgement."

Lnosvumo'o shook his head. There was no way for the Lanaktallan to wiggle out of it. The judicial computer would, without a doubt, find him guilty.

"Very well," The judge said. He activated the computer terminal and the holo-display flickered on.

"The defendant, Vru'umo'ot, is found, by weight of the evidence, to be guilty," the hologram intoned, then went out.

Lnosvumo'o was surprised that it was almost instant. Usually a judicial computer judgement took an hour or longer.

The judge nodded, then shook his head after the hologram vanished.

"A case like this," the judge said, and Lnosvumo'o felt all three of his stomachs clench. "Is a reminder of why justice cannot be simply handled by computer."

He looked at the empty courtroom, avoiding Lnosvumo'o's gaze, and then at the defendant.

"The computer has obviously not taken into account the arresting officer's decades long obsession with the case and his obvious desperation to find somebeing, anybeing, to pin these crimes upon," the judge said. "I hereby vacate the charges and the verdict and pronounce the defendant not guilty."

Lnosvumo'o just stared in shock as the judge rang the bell, dismissing court.

--------------

Ever since the lone Terran had shown up at the capital, the streets had been foggy at night, the street lights dim and flickering, the sky overcast and it often stormed. The nights had gotten chilly and oppressive, despite the best efforts of the scientists working at the weather control.

Lnosvumo'o stood in front of the windows of his apartment, staring at the night. Since the case had been lost Lnosvumo'o had found himself shuffled off to the sidelines with more than a few of his superiors suggesting he take retirement. Vru'umo'ot was related to highly placed Most Highs, in politics and in business, and Lnosvumo'o knew the fix was in to destroy his career.

Feeling anger well up in in, Lnosvumo'o turned away from the window just as the lights flickered and went out.

A Tnvaru suddenly appeared in the middle of the room. Pale, ghostly, her body ravaged by a mad being with a a blade. She gave a low moan of anguish and vanished, to be replaced by a Telkan broodcarrier that had been slaughtered only three years before.

Angry, knowing it was somebeing just playing with holos, Lnosvumo'o trotted forward, sweeping his hand into the hologram, fully expecting the faint warmth they generated.

Instead the image of the Telkan was ice cold and his implant squealed with feedback, sending him staggering back. More and more of the serial killers victims all appeared, not speaking, just staring at him.

Denied justice... the thought slid into his mind. not through your fault. you ended your career in your attempt to blah bleh blah bring them justice.

The images vanished and the lights came back after flickering a few times.

The Night Terran stood there, making Lnosvumo'o stumble back, one hand going for the neural pistol he was no longer authorized to carry. It was wearing black formal looking clothing, a white ruffled shirt underneath the black coat, with a high collared black cloak that flowed and snapped as if there was a wind in Lnosvumo'o's room.

"You wish them to get justice?" the figure hissed. To Lnosvumo'o's ears it wasn't a question.

"Of course," Lnosvumo'o snarled. He swiped out at the figure as if to push it back. His implant squealed again with feedback and for a split second he touched something impossibly hard for a living creature, too cold for the living.

The Night Terran dissolved into mist in a puff, the smoke darting back, only to reform back into the Night Terran again.

"What, blah bleh blah, will you do if I bring justice upon him," the Night Terran asked. Lnosvumo'o flinched back from the figure as it advanced upon him.

"Justice outside the law is not justice," Lnosvumo'o stated, feeling a chill. He looked at his hand and saw his cuffs were rimmed with frost. "Justice was denied but cannot be regained."

The Night Terran laughed. A low rich sound full of something that Lnosvumo'o did not understand, as it slowly stalked around the desk to stand in front of Lnosvumo'o.

"Street justice," the Night Terran said, making a scoffing noise. He disappeared in a puff of black smoke then reformed next to Lnosvumo'o's window. "A man was caught, and brought before a judge," the Night Terran said in a singsong voice. "His lawyers screamed, you must set him free, and off he went, on a technicality."

The Night Terran opened the window.

"Since the law don't seem to care, blah bleh blah, don't you think it's fair?" The Night Terran hissed, his eyes glowing red. "Why should parents cry, how many have to die?"

"Abracapocus," the Night Terran said, suddenly turning in a black winged mammal with the Night Terran's head. It hissed at Lnosvumo'o, flapping its wings to hover in place.

"Call for street justice, when slime escapes the law," the Night Terran said, and swooped out the window.

Lnosvumo'o stood, shivering in the cold air, until he trotted over and shut the window.

He went to bed and tried to put the horrific apparition out of his mind.

----------------

Lnosvumo'o sat in the bull pen of the LawSec Office, watching the Tri-Vid. He had recieved an odd email message with no header, no footer, no address to or from, just simply: Watch the Tri-Vid. The message had deleted itself as Lnosvumo'o had watched.

The program, which was just talking about how the Terran had shot his way into the Council Chambers to inform the Council that a state of war existed between the Council and the Terran Confederacy, suddenly interrupted.

It was a press conference with the Itzmagani Corporation.

Just the sight of the corporate logo made Lnosvumo'o sick to see.

As he watched Vru'umo'ot trotted out to the podium and stopped in front of the microphone.

Lnosvumo'o frowned slightly. The Lanaktallan seemed slightly uncoordinated, as if he had been drinking or chewing narcocud.

"I am Vru'umo'ot," the Lanaktallan CEO said. He pressed his hand to the podium, showing every being watching that he was indeed who he said he was.

Lnosvumo'o noticed that his speech was slightly slurred.

Names appeared on the projection screen behind them.

Lnosvumo'o recognized every one of them.

"And I murdered, of my own free will, and for my own pleasure, every name behind me, then bribed the judge to let me go so that I could murder again," the wealthy Lanaktallan said. "I, Vru'umo'ot, do hereby confess to those blah bleh blah murders for my own pleasure."

Before anyone could do anything else, the wealthy businessbeing pulled free a plasma pistol from the ornate and expensive satchel at his waist, put it under his chin, aimed at the back of his head, and pulled the trigger.

The headless corpse, the cauterized stump of the neck smoking, collapsed in front of everyone.

Lnosvumo'o felt himself go cold. He had seen it. For a split second. Vru'umo'ot's eyes had flahsed red right when he pulled the trigger.

He knew that he had just witnessed a murder, but he had no way to prove it.

And, to be honest, he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

------------

The typewriter in the basement of the castle in Transylvania began to type.

SUBOURNMENT OF OFFICIALS UNDERWAY

ALL HAIL THE HEGEMONY OF EARTH

---------------

CONFED MILINT

Oh God.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

What? Oh, God, I don't know how many more shocks I can take.

A Jed? Really?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CONFED MILINT

Um, you know that thing, that kind of turned out to be real, that kind of got activated?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Oh, this is going to be good...

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

SIRIUS SAURIAN INTELLIGENCE

You mean that nanotech vampire running around with a chaos seed generator?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CONFED MILINT

Yeah.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CYBERNETIC ORGANISM COLLECTIVE

I thought the Jed would release the codes to shut him down?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CONFED MILINT

Um, he might not have had the right codes.

It's still active.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

Oh dear.

How bad is it?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CONFED MILINT

He miiiiiiiight have killed someone on Council Space wide Tri-Vid.

Maybe. Kind of.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

DIGITAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS

And we care why?

We're at war.

To the Nine Layers of Malware with them.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Gotta say, I'm with DASS on this.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

BIOLOGICAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS

Yeah. They're using biowarfare on planets, I'm not losing sleep over some five thousand year old black box project running rampant on the Lanks.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

RIGELLIAN COMPACT

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

And the Nosferatu Initiative is pretty stupid. I mean, no offense, but holy shit, the whole thing is just stupid as hell.

Effective though.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

You know, I still want an answer about the Nazgul Project and the bit about Overproject, what was it? Overproject Olympus.

>>>CONFED MILINT HAS LEFT THE CHAT (SORRY, GOING THROUGH A TUNNEL)

I hate it when he does that.