Kaplan managed a couple more coherent answers, then started to babble random nonsense. Within seconds, she was making animal-like grunts, growls, and moans, and all semblance of lucid speech departed…as did the expression in her eyes, which were now dilated so much that the irises could barely be seen.
Moments later she vomited down the front of her coverall, and her body slumped completely, head lolling, eyes empty of even her anger, her mouth still moving, though nothing came out.
“That’s all you’re going to get, Captain. She’s gone,” Dr. Galway said.
“All right, Doctor. Carry out the execution.”
The doctor administered one more medication to Kaplan, and ten seconds later her body sat limp and white as her vacant, staring eyes glazed over. Galway felt for a pulse, then turned to Mercer.
“She’s dead.”
The Empress rose and left the observation room, accompanied by her brother, Major Dunham. Neither of them spoke a word.
Mere moments later, Ashton’s stomach lurched.
He leaped to his feet and ran out the door, down to the nearest men’s room. He ducked inside, slammed open the door of an empty stall, and threw up into the toilet.
Less than a minute later, Gorski entered the restroom. He stood nearby and waited as Ashton purged his belly.
“Better?” he asked, when Ashton’s retching had ceased.
“N-not really,” Ashton murmured. “I…there are times, I guess, when having the vivid imagination required to do this job is a curse, not an aid.”
“There are, indeed,” Gorski agreed. “Imagined yourself inside that head, did you?”
“Yeah. A little too well, I kind of suspect. I saw this look in her eyes, once she was forced into answering the questions, and…” He shook his head. “I don’t identify with her, please understand, Stefan. I just…”
“No, I get it,” Gorski murmured, producing a small bottle of water from somewhere and handing it to him. “Here. Rinse your mouth and spit, then sip. No, I’ve been where you are, too, son. When Kaplan reacted like she did to the Empress herself, I knew it was going to be…bad. And I was worried about you, about the Empress, about…well.” The older man sighed. “Some people just don’t seem to understand that the laws apply to them, too. And they almost always end up like… that.”
“Get used to it, huh?”
“No. I don’t think you ever get used to it. You just try to realize that they were given a choice, and they made the wrong choice. Every step along their life’s path, they had a choice. And chose wrong. Every. Damn. Time.”
Ashton could only nod.
The next morning it was time to interrogate Beckham.
All the same people were involved, and they followed the same procedure. Gorski and Ashton showed up at the Imperial Park West Palace entrance, Major Dunham was summoned and led them to the same observation room adjacent to the same interrogation room – which had been thoroughly cleaned overnight. Ashton would have hated to have that job. Though, he admitted, somebody has to do it. I wonder if Kaplan had any family.
Lieutenant Cox and Doctor Galway were there, as well, and everyone greeted one another in a subdued but friendly fashion.
“We’re gonna give this one a chance to play nice,” Cox told them. “He’s gonna get to watch the recording of the interrogation in immersive VR, then we’re gonna give him the opportunity to cooperate.”
“That will hopefully help,” Gorski decided.
“Yeah,” Ashton agreed. “When we busted the three perps, Beckham and Bronsky were relatively quiet, but Kaplan fought like a she-demon.”
“Is that so?” Cox said, perking up. “Were you one of the arresting officers?”
“I was, yes.”
“Nick, here, led the arrest team,” Gorski explained. “For all three perps.”
“That’s promising,” Dr. Galway finally interjected. He had been listening with some interest, and now chose to speak up. “I’m one of the Palace staff physicians, and occasionally I have to do something like this, but I can’t say I ever like it. I swore to protect life, not take it. That said, when someone has done something as heinous as these three, I tend to view it as protecting other life against the toxicity of these lives.” He shrugged. “It’s still hard. But at least I can go home at night and tell myself I upheld my oath in some measure.”
Moments later, Beckham was led into the interrogation room and shackled in the “lie detector” chair. Captain Mercer of the Imperial Guard entered.
“We have opened up one VR channel to you. There is a recording there you may wish to view before your interview.”
Then he turned and left the room.
Beckham’s face went blank in the classic non-expression of one in full immersive VR, as he watched the recording.
When he emerged from VR, he was pale and patently shocked. Beckham stared at the arms of the chair to which he was cuffed in something like dread.
That was when another Guardsman entered with a padded chair, closely followed by the Empress. She sat and gazed at Derek Beckham for long moments in silence. Seeming taken aback and frightened, he stared back with blanched face and frozen body.
“Mr. Beckham,” she finally broke the silence.
“Your Majesty,” Beckham said politely, bowing his head.
“Mr. Beckham, someone ordered the assassination of one of my employees last Monday as a way of derailing a project of mine. That was an act of treason. Withholding information that could lead to the capture of that person is aiding and abetting treason. Both are capital crimes. You stand accused
