“She was angry?” Ames wondered, while Carter and Peterson exchanged private, knowing glances.
“No. I mean the drugs pushed her over the edge. She went from rational, sane human to losing her mind – as in, no longer sane – in a split-second. The lights were on, but she wasn’t home anymore.” Ashton paused, shaking his head at the memory. “I’ve never seen anybody… die… before they died, until that. But that’s the best way I know how to describe what I saw in her eyes, when it happened. Then they executed her body by lethal injection.”
“But… but that’s… not legal,” Ames protested, horrified.
“It is, for the Throne,” Carter said quietly, and Peterson nodded. “In the lower courts, no. But when treason has been committed, it can be tried in the highest court in the Empire – which is why the Empress was there. In effect, she was the court. The perp was given a chance to cooperate, right, Nick?”
“Every chance, Lee. But instead of cooperating, that bitch – remember, Cal, the one that fought me an’ Johnny, and raked his face with her fingernails so bad he needed stitches? – that bitch spouted some of the foulest language I’ve ever heard, right at Empress Ilithyia II. Hell, she was using some words I’ve never even heard of.” He shook his head. “And after she lost her mind from the psychotropic drugs they had to use on her, she shit herself and pissed herself all at once… and then barfed all over herself to finish it off.” He met his wife’s eyes, his gaze somber. “They had to clean up and sterilize the room after. The body was dripping shit – literal shit, like diarrhea, plus urine and vomit – everywhere.”
“Sounds like her bowels released,” Carter said, reserved but matter-of-fact. “Bladder, too. That happens, sometimes. Especially in brain injuries, whether induced or not. She might have been about to go without even needing the final, lethal injection. That last injection might have just been a mercy; otherwise, it could have been a slow, gruesome death as her brain failed and the rest of her organs gradually figured it out and followed suit.”
“Ohhh…” Ames whispered, wide-eyed with shock.
“Not pretty,” Peterson agreed in a quiet voice. “Stefan told me about it.”
“Did he tell you what my reaction was?” Ashton asked, flushing slightly in embarrassment.
“No. If he was the only witness, that’s between you and him, hon,” Maia said gently. “I can imagine, though, because I know what mine would have been.”
“Me too,” Cally said, subdued.
“Make it three,” Lee added softly, then deliberately changed the subject to allow Nick to escape the memory. “But no, Nick, I don’t think we need anything quite that elaborate. Just a good, solid background check on all personnel should do it. And you’ve been arranging for that as we went. Oh, and we do have several official volunteers from the Imperial City department’s investigations division to help you out, in the ongoing efforts on same.” He glanced at Maia and Cally.
“They call themselves, ‘The Team,’” Maia added. “I think you know ‘em all.”
“Good,” Nick said in some relief. “Because I had no idea how I was gonna do it all myself.”
“Not a problem, honey,” Cally said, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “I already told you, The Team has your back. We worked with you for how many years, there? ICPD Investigations isn’t gonna let you down. We’re part of one of the sections, and glad to have an honest IPD to work with – because we know you and Lee are gonna keep it straight.”
“No shit,” Maia averred. “To alla that, right there. Frankly, Stefan, Gene, and myself are proud as hell of where you are now, Nick, because we feel like we trained you to be able to do the job.”
“You did,” Nick confirmed. “Nobody in Investigations over at IPD did anything but tell me, basically, to siddown and shuddup.”
“Or get your lights punched out,” Lee added.
“No shit. And tried to make it a permanent lights-out,” Nick finished.
They were all quiet for a moment.
“Oh,” Carter said, sitting up straight. “Before I forget, Nick, this is yours.”
He reached into a pocket and withdrew an IPD ‘pocket’ badge.
“Here,” he said. “New little gadget.”
“Gadget? It’s a pocket badge,” Ashton said, accepting the object. He studied it; it looked very much like the circular pin that went on his dress uniform – a laurel wreath with a throne in the middle of it, representative of the Throne of Sintar.
Unlike the pin and like the standard pocket badges the ICPD investigators carried, it was all silver, with the throne and laurel depicted in bas relief. Beneath it, along the border of the circle, was a scroll with his surname and IPD designator. The latter was a short series of letters and numbers… but when Emperor Trajan had effectively hit reset on the IPD, Carter had decided to start over with the designators. So Ashton, being one of the first of the new IPD, had a designator that read AB0004I1. This code meant that he had been part of the original IPD – represented by A – but was now an integral part of the revamped department – represented by B. The first numeric sequence denoted the fourth police officer in the revamped system, and the I1 denoted the first member in the investigative division.
“No. It’s a little bit more than a badge,” Carter explained. “It’s your bona fides as a legitimate IPD officer. Remember how the old IPD had their enforcers running around, who claimed to be actual officers, sometimes even detectives? People like Gorecki’s goons? And the powers that be gave ‘em badges, even after the jerks were officially thrown off the force?”
“Yeah?”
