Category Archives: Rise of the Judge

Jirel’s Farewell, Part Thirteen

Continued from Part Twelve

The Friends of the Earth, assembled in the small auditorium, screamed for blood. Botox Erickson swallowed—for his blood.

Master Henry Falcon stepped out of the wings, shrouded in the black robe of authority. “Do you persist in denying the doctrine of forced extinction?”

It’d all seemed so simple, such a great way to escape the rat race. Get a vasectomy, join a commune. Save the earth by living a minimal impact life and reduce the surplus population by not reproducing. Extinction had never made sense, but wasn’t a real threat. At least not before this new teaching.

Botox spat. “You’re mad. All of you are mad!”

Master Falcon slapped him. The crowd chanted at full blast. “Save the earth! Kill the man! Kill the man! Kill the man!”

Master Falcon pulled a sword from under his robe. “Your sacrifice will erase your carbon footprint and save the lives of untold innocent creatures.”

Botox closed his eyes and pictured his brother’s concerned face. Hyundai was right. This is crazy. “Jesus, please help me like Hyundai said you would.”

Falcon thrust the sword into Botox’s chest. The crowd roared in elation.

A light shined. A voice came from the light, “Come.”

Falcon shouted, “One down, only eight billion more to go!”

Continued next week…

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Jirel’s Farewell, Part Twelve

Continued from Part Eleven

Snyder dashed into the parking garage, panting heavily. Talking with Mama and thinking things over during the interstate Skyrail trip had given him a smarter plan than shooting Greywolf. Catch her getting revenge on Boulet, hit his newly acquired panic button, and hold her for the cops.

He looked at his watch: 14:50. He’d made it. He found the parking space with the sign, “Reserved for Base Psychologist” in front. Snyder dived underneath a car parked across from Dr. Boulet’s red Firebird hybrid, only two years old.

Snyder stared at the car much the way the Light Bird ogled his net babes. I’d like to get a closer look at that.

How could they have stopped making those, even for a few decades? The paint job was perfect, and the sleek design resembled a race car. Snyder mentally added the car to his wish list.

Footsteps echoed through the garage. Greywolf. She approached Dr. Boulet’s car and fetched a lock pick from her pants pocket. She got the door open, pulled the hood release, and strolled to the car’s hood.

Snyder tensed as he waited. He’d give her time to do her deed, otherwise it’d look like breaking and entering.

The hood slammed.

Snyder rolled out and to his feet, grab-bing his Colt and aiming. “Freeze! Take one step and you’re dead.”

She raised her hands.

She put them down and laughed. “Oh, it’s you, Snyder.”

“Get those hands up!”

Greywolf walked towards him. “You won’t shoot me, Snyder.”

Snyder fired above her head. “I said hands up!”

She raised her hands. “This is point-less. No one will believe you. You sabo-taged Dr. Boulet’s car. I confronted you, and you pulled a gun and tried to blame this on me. Who will they believe? A captain, or some hood from Boise with a hate crime rap hanging over his head?”

Good thing I forgot to hit the panic button.

“You figure I’ll get hung? How I fig-ure it, if I’m going, you’re going with me.” He aimed his Colt at her heart.

Greywolf howled. “You don’t have the guts.”

You’re about to learn otherwise.

The door safeguarding the pressurized airlift’s shaft hissed up, and Sergeant Cutler sprang out. “Snyder! Don’t do it.”

“Sarge, it’s her word against mine as to who sabotaged Boulet’s car.”

“Not quite, Snyder.”

Sarge walked over past Boulet’s car. Tiptoeing, he reached into the corner at the ceiling and detached a camera from the wall.

Greywolf stared. “There are no cam-eras down here.”

Cutler smiled. “I suspected you’d try this, so I installed one. We have you on video attempting to murder Dr. Boulet by fraying the break cable in her car. That video, along with a mile long file I have on you, has been sent to the Judge Advocate General’s office. We now have enough evidence to hang you.”

Just an expression. She’d languish on death row until she won an appeal. “She’ll find a way out. Her kind always does.”

“Snyder, put the gun down. You have to believe me that this will work out. Don’t waste your life on her. She’s not worth it.”

Snyder lowered his gun.

The shaft door flew up. Four MPs dashed over, wrestled Greywolf to the ground, and slapped handcuffs on her. She cursed. “I’ll have all your badges for this! I have rights!”

The lead MP laughed. “Guess again. You’ve been charged with terrorism.”

Greywolf showed her first sign of fear. “Terrorism?”

Sarge smiled. “Except Snyder, all your lovers have been Native American. And you chose Snyder on the basis that his biological father was part Native American.”

“It’s not terrorism to only date my own kind.”

“It is when you kill all your lovers. Using a racial criteria to select your victims is a hate crime, Captain, and hate crimes are charged as terrorism. You will be hanged from the neck until dead within forty-eight hours of your court martial.”

All right, Sarge! Hang her in the same noose she had planned for me.

Sarge turned to the MPs. “Take her away.”

The MPs hauled Greywolf up by the arm, hauled her to the shaft, and shoved her in feet first. The door shut behind them.

Snyder gulped. “Sarge, think Dread will make a disciplinary issue out of this?”

Cutler shook his head. “Dr. Boulet’s gratitude and the evidence would make any effort by Dread unsuccessful.”

“Gratitude, huh? You think she might let me drive her car?”

“After it gets repaired, perhaps.” Cutler paused. “Snyder, today’s my last day. I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

Cutler grimaced. “That’s classified, I’m afraid.”

“You’ll stay in touch, though?”

Cutler’s eyes drifted upwards in that strange habit of his, but with more sadness than ever before. “Yes, sir.” He lowered his head. “Snyder, I can’t. I wish I could. The Most High sent me to you for this season. Now, I must go back to Him.”

“Sarge, what are you saying?”

Sarge said quietly, “I am Jirel. I min-ister before the throne Old Harry lusts for.”

This is crazy. “Come on, Sarge. You’re leaving and can’t keep in touch because you’re an Angel of the Lord and they don’t have e-mail in Heaven.”

Cutler laughed. “What we have is far superior, but a closed system, except in special circumstances.”

“Of course,”  Snyder sneered.

“I do, however, promise that you’ll never be alone.”

“That’s a cop out. I’m an outsider. You’re the only one I know around here.”

A brilliant light flashed.

When Snyder’s vision cleared, Cutler was gone. “Sarge? Where’d you go?”

Snyder stared at his feet. There lay a book, wrapped in plastic. He picked it up. A Douay-Rheims, with a yellow sticky note protruding from its pages.

He removed the plastic and opened to the sticky note’s page. The note read, “Keep the Faith, friend, and we will meet again. —Jirel.”

Snyder removed the note and read the verse it had been stuck to. “Let your man-ners be without covetousness, contented with such things as you have; for he hath said: I will not leave thee, neither will I for-sake thee.”

Continued…Next Thursday

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Jirel’s Farewell, Part Eleven

Jirel entered the base psychology of-fice and saluted Dr. Boulet as his higher-ranking officer.

She returned salute. “Sergeant, what can I do for you?”

“Has Captain Greywolf been by?”

“No. She passed me in the hall, but said nothing. At work, most abusers main-tain a façade of professionalism.”

Greywolf wasn’t most abusers. If she hadn’t said something, then she’d do some-thing. “Thank you for your time, Doctor.”

Jirel ducked out into the hall, pulled out his cell, and dialed underworld boss Nick Verducci.

“Hey, Sarge. How’s it been?”

The miracles of caller ID. “Quick question on a problem on my hands. Tell me, how would you kill someone if you wanted to make it look like an accident?”

Continued…Next Thursday

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Jirel’s Farwell, Part Ten

Continued from Part Nine

Four days later, Dr Watkins led Snyder down the halls of the battered men’s shelter.

Snyder shifted his backpack higher on his shoulder and asked the old man curious-ly, “What’s going on?”

“I already told you, it’s a special surprise. You’ll see.”

Probably a trick designed to get him to spill his guts in group therapy.

They stopped at a door that revealed no secrets. Dr. Watkins waved. “Right in there. Close the door before turning on the light. I’ll be on desk duty in the lobby if you need anything from me.”

“What is this?”

“You’ll see. Go on, he’s waiting for you.”

Snyder entered and closed the door. In pitch darkness, he fumbled for the light.

The lights illuminated a cozy living room like in group therapy. Snyder barely saw it. His backpack sloughed off and hit the floor as he absorbed faded cargo jeans, white t-shirt, between 250-275 pounds of muscle stretched over a 6’8” frame, a familiar “I’ll wear my hair however I well please” raven ponytail, and green-gold eyes with a light far more typical of the faithful than the empty charm of other politicians.

Reeling, Snyder snapped to attention and saluted. His Commander in Chief, all of twenty two years old, saluted back. “At ease, Solider.”

“This cannot be happening,” Snyder croaked. Literally. He hacked Donovan’s daybook on his PocketPC this morning. The Steward was introducing a bill in the Senate in an hour. But Donovan had holo-cast an orientation in Basic. “Is this a holotheatre?”

Donovan smiled. “Indeed.”

“But pre-recorded. You’re too busy to take time out for a nobody like me.”

“Everyone is somebody. And domestic violence happens to be an important issue to me. So yes, I took time out of my schedule for this. If someone had been there for me, Ivan might still be alive.”

So this was recorded before it was proven Ivan Dimitrov had deserved his exe-cution. “You can’t help me, Sir. You can’t understand what I’ve been through.”

“Try me, Snyder.”

“How did you—?”

“Retina scan. It’s a new feature we’re trying out. It enables me to meet with all of you individually as I wish I could IRL.”

“But don’t actually know about this.”

“That means you can speak freely, with no need to worry about what anyone thinks of you, Snyder.”

Robo-Donovan was as smooth as the real thing. The AI driving this holo-movie was simply incredible.

“You wouldn’t understand. And we might be recorded.”

“You can save our conversation to any location you wish, but no other record will be kept.”

My brain is record enough, thanks

“How did you build the AI driving this thing?”

“Cerebral probe. The AI facilitating our meeting knows everything I knew at the time of the probe and thinks the way I do. So I well recognize your ploy to distract me, as I’m quite good at that tactic myself.”

“Guy has to try.”

“Yes, but now it’s time to get back on track.” Donovan strolled over to the couch and sat down. “Sit with me, Snyder.”

Snyder sat beside Donovan. Wow. This is surreal. The holotheatres would make a killing off me if they had this.

Donovan said softly, “Snyder, I know exactly how you’re feeling right now. I know the shame. I know the guilt. I know the fear. I know the desperation. What you’ve been through has turned me into a murderer.”

What I’d do for a less heavy con-versation with you. “This is different.”

“How?”

“It just is.”

“Because, according to your dossier, you were in a sexually abusive relation-ship with a female commanding officer who has tried to kill you?”

“That’s cheating!”

“If I could come in person, I would still read your dossier first, Snyder. If you want cheating, this is cheating. IRL, I would never tell you this, but I not only know what to fear for my life feels like, I too was sex-ually abused by a female authority figure. Like you, I thought I was the only guy this has ever happened to. Indeed, IRL, I am still as terrified as you are of anyone finding out.”

Snyder gaped. “Nuh-uh.”

“If you don’t believe me, call the news. Be sure to pay careful attention to my body language as I viciously deny the charges.”

Remind me to never submit to a cerebral probe. “So what did you do?”

“Pardon?”

“I don’t need psychobabble. I need solutions.”

“Snyder, I already told you what I did. I became a murderer. My first act in office was to order my Captain Greywolf flogged to death. I don’t recommend you try my sol-ution unless you find yourself in such a high office, you have the power of life and death over people and no qualms about using it for revenge.”

“So maybe you can help, but I—”

Don’t trust an AI that’s willing to spill Donovan’s darkest, most shameful secret not to call the cops.

Snyder yawned. “—am too beat to continue right now. Let me go take a walk, get some air, collect my thoughts. Then we can continue, okay?”

“Sure, Snyder. That sounds like an excellent idea.”

Snyder picked up his backpack, and with it all he’d brought with him to Texas, before exiting the room. He headed down the hall and out into the lobby.

Dr. Watkins looked up from his mag-azine. “Where are you going?”

“Out for a walk.”

Snyder walked out the door.

A walk down to a cyber cafe to call Mama Borden, and then to the nearest Skyrail Trans-Metro station.

Ducking into an alley, he opened his backpack and checked to make sure his good friend Colt was loaded.

Continued…Next Thursday

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Jirel’s Farewell, Part Nine

Continued from Part Eight

Jirel sat at his desk as he went over the Quality Assurance results.

Captain Greywolf stormed through the door. Jirel stood at attention and saluted her. “Captain.”

“Oh, give me a break. Where is he?”

“Who?”

“Don’t get cute. I saw you there when the police arrested me. You need to mind your own business, Sergeant. Unfortunate things can happen when you meddle in the affairs of others.”

Jirel chuckled. It was so funny when creatures he could kill in a heartbeat, if authorized, tried to threaten him.

“What’s so funny?”

Only that you assume what scares you will scare me, when the fear of death is one human experience that I cannot relate to so long as I can remember Home.

“You wouldn’t understand, Captain. As for Snyder, he’s on mental health leave.”

“By whose order?”

“Dr. Boulet’s.”

She cursed. “How dare that circuit-riding headshrink interfere.”

“You can issue your complaint in per-son on Friday.”

“Where’s Snyder?”

“Not in Nevada.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“That’s the only answer you need. You can’t even leave the state with this attempt-ed murder charge hanging over your head.”

Captain Greywolf fumed. “This is not over, Jirel Cutler!”

Greywolf stormed out of the office.

Jirel sighed. “I fear it’s not.”

Continued…Next Thursday

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Jirel’s Farewell, Part Eight

Continued from Part Seven

Jirel sat at the table in Dr. Boulet’s suite, while he waited for her to finish her examination of Snyder in the bedroom.

She came out, still in a strapless black evening gown, and sat with him. “You were right, he won’t talk to me. But I’m satisfied that he has been abused. I don’t know what we can do for him, particularly if Captain Greywolf is as dangerous as you say.”

“Well, isn’t there a shelter he could go to for a few days?”

“Not in Nevada.”

“But I’ve seen signs for domestic violence shelters.”

“They don’t take men. Usually, men are assumed to be at fault, and they often are. The academics will say differently, but in the field, you have to go with how the world actually is. The only saving grace for your young Private is his age and her rank. Otherwise, her actions would be in self-defense.”

“It’s self defense to hold someone down and strangle them?”

Boulet cleared her throat. “Sergeant, Truth is whatever the courts say it is. You may not like it, but this is the world we live in. I’ll be happy to give him a mental health leave for five days, but I have nowhere to send him.”

Truth spoke Creation into existence. He is not in the court’s jurisdiction.

Jirel bit his lip. He was not assigned to open the blind guide’s eyes. “So you’ll let him go for five days and hope wandering around or going to see his mother will help everything work out?”

“I’m doing what I can.” 

“Are you sure there’s nowhere you can send him?”

Boulet sighed. She picked up the HV remote and turned on a medical professional search engine. She pressed a few buttons. The window flashed, “No results.”

She mumbled. “Nada. Let me change the parameters.” She pressed a few buttons.

The screen flashed. “No results.”

She cursed. “One more time.”

The search screen flashed. “Three results found.”

“All right, looks like the closest shelter is in Houston.”

“Texas. there’s no shelter in between here and Houston?”

“The world we live in, not the one we want. Put Private Snyder on military flight X-24. He can fly with the infantrymen.”

Continued…Next Thursday

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Jirel’s Farewell, Part Seven

Continued from Part Six

Jirel watched with Michael as the hu-man cops put Greywolf and Zorba in the back of Montez’s squad car. Zorba turned and glared at him. Jirel smiled.

Michael said, “Zorba will disappear in lock-up. On Greywolf, Montez thinks he’s got a good shot of getting the DA to press the case, but unless Snyder testifies, they won’t get a conviction.”

“What do we do?”

“Go see the base psychologist, Sarah Bouliet. She’s staying at Harrah’s. Once she sees Snyder, she should grant him a mental health leave.”

“Why does he need a mental health leave?”

“Because Greywolf’s going to be back on Monday. She’ll make bail, and Snyder’s not ready to deal with her.”

“Dr. Bouliet can’t cure him.”

“No, but she can give us time.”

Jirel glanced towards his Humvee, where Snyder was waiting. “Sir, a question. What have I been doing here, trapped in this tent?”

“Learning the human experience. It’s preparation.”

Jirel nodded. Michael wouldn’t be privy to what he was being prepared for, either. “How much longer?”

“It’ll be over soon.”

“This tent perceives time so oddly. It’s only here that I’d remember that more than 2000 years ago, it was said that Christ’s return was soon.”

Michael laughed. “Think days, not years. But we have to be going.”

“Right.” Jirel returned to the humvee and got in. “Humvee 1241, proceed to destination Harrah’s Luxury Suites.”

The humvee answered in a woman’s voice, “Command recognized. Proceeding.”

Beside him, Snyder swallowed. “You know, it really wasn’t—I mean, do we really have to press charges?”

Jirel sighed. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Snyder leaned back. “Sarge, I’m still on probation.”

Jirel leaned into a left turn. “And you’re afraid an attempt on your life will end up being a violation of your probation.”

“Nobody’s going to believe me.”

“Do you want them to?”

Snyder quivered. “I’d rather die.”

“You had the chance back there, if you really preferred it.”

Snyder hung his head.

“Look, it’s okay—”

“It’s not okay! I’m scared! I’m a sol-dier, a highly trained soldier. I’m not sup-posed to be scared!”

At least he didn’t say anything about being a street tough.

“Snyder, you can’t deny what’s going on. We’ll talk to Dr. Boulet and get you the help you need.”

“No, let’s go to the police station and drop the charges.”

“You can’t. She’s a serial killer.”

Snyder’s face fell. “What?”

Jirel pulled the folder that McGraw had given him from his coat. 

Snyder read through it in silence until the Humvee said, “Destination, Harrah’s Luxury Suites, reached. Valet service is unavailable. Please park carefully.”

Jirel took the wheel. “What do you say?”

“I guess we need to go inside and see Dr. Boulet.”

Continued…Next Thursday

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Jirel’s Farewell, Part Six

 Continued from Part Five

The door sprung open. Sergeant Jirel Cutler and three Las Vegas police officers burst into the room. Snyder sucked in air quickly. Breathing had never felt so good.

The officer with “Montez” on his shirt screamed, “Get up!”

Amanda said, “We were just playing.”

“I bet,” said the officer in charge. “Up on your feet, stand against the wall. Montez, search her.”

“I’m a Captain with the Imperial Army Intelligence.”

The cop in charge laughed. “My boss couldn’t care less.”

Amanda stood up. The cop walked be-hind the couch and bent down. A woman cried, “What are you doing?”

The cop pulled a slutty woman up from behind the couch. “You like men so much? I hope you also like the back of a squad car.”

“You can’t do this to me! I don’t want to be seen.”

Man, how did that whacko get in here?

“Then you’re going to hate county lock-up,” said Montez. “What happened?”

“It was nothing.” Amanda shrugged. “A lamp fell over. Probably that thief trying to scare us. As for him and I, there’s no law against lovers.”

There’s a few against strangulation.

The cop in charge said, “It’s a lie. You tried to hit him with the lamp. When he jumped out of the way, you began to strangle him.”

How did he know what had happened?

Amanda laughed. “Prove it. The thief did it, not me.”

“You weren’t wearing gloves,” said the cop in charge. “Your fingerprints are all over that lamp. And the marks on his neck match your hands.”

Montez said, “Kid, what do you say happened?”

Amanda stared at Snyder. “Come on, tell him. It was the thief.”

Montez asked him, “Is she telling the truth?”

If I tell them what she wants, I’ll be left here with her. And I can’t tell them the truth. Snyder shook his head.

Amanda screamed, “Tell them!”

Montez said to her, “We’re booking you on suspicion of attempted murder.”

Continued…Next Thursday

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Jirel’s Farewell, Part Five

Continued from Part Four

Jirel ran after Michael as they dashed through the casino. Two uniformed Las Vegas police officers stood by a craps table.

Michael said, “Montez, North. You’re needed upstairs.”

“Yes, sir.”

The two officers ran ahead towards the pressurized airlift shafts.

“Are these real policemen?” asked Jirel as they followed.

“Yes,” said Michael.

“Do they think you’re a policeman?”

“No, they’re faithful Catholics. I’m the patron saint of policemen.”

“But you’re not a saint, Sir.”

“Don’t I know it.”

They entered an up shaft and zoomed to the fifth floor, where they found the police men waiting.

Michael said, “They’re in room 522.”

The men dashed down the hall to 522. Montez knocked. No answer.

“Kick it in,” said Michael.

Continued…Next Thursday

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Farewell Jirel, Part Four

Continued from Part Three

Snyder cursed. “I can’t believe I miss-ed this. The whole thing shorted out.”

Amanda grabbed the device from Snyder’s hand and threw it across the luxury hotel room. “Thanks to your crap, we lost $200 million.”

“But we wouldn’t have gotten to even $6 million without it.”

Amanda shrieked, “Are you saying this is my fault?”

“I did suggest we stop at $3 million. That’s more then enough for anybody.”

She grabbed him by the shirt collar and tossed him off the bed onto the floor. “You think small, Snyder! A big house. A new luxury car. It all could have been ours if you hadn’t screwed it up.”

She grabbed the lamp off the end table and smacked it in her hands like a billy club.

“What are you doing? Amanda!”

 Snyder tried to force himself to his feet. Amanda moved closer with the lamp.

Move, Snyder, move.

“Hold still, Snyder. This won’t hurt—for long.”

Amanda hurled the lamp at Snyder’s skull. He threw himself out of the way.

The lamp shattered not two inches from his left ear.

He breathed heavily. Shards of broken ceramic lay all around him.

Amanda threw herself on top of him. She ripped off her scarf, wrapped it around his neck, and began to pull.

Snyder gasped for air.

Continued…Next Thursday

Subscribe to Laser & Sword by Email to get the next part and all the rest of our free offerings delivered to you. To find out what happens sooner, visit theLaser and Sword Online store and download Issue 1 for free or purchase the Annual Editioncontaining 11 action packed stories