America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 1: Feeling Lucky Read Online Free

“a sheriff’s detective is standing right next to me
looking into the matter.”
    “ Oh?” I asked. “I invoke
doctor/patient privacy and my constitutional right to remain
silent.”
    “ Why?” asked a different
voice. “Are you feeling guilty about something? I am Detective
Michael McCoy, and I just happened to be in the hotel investigating
another shooting when I got the call. You got any beefs with the
United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion?”
    “ None at all. The Legion is
a fine organization.”
    “ That’s quite a stuffed bear
you have in your room.”
    “ It’s a grizzly,” I replied.
“I never got to see it.”
    “ Your shooting seems to be
an open and shut case,” said Detective McCoy. “Bubba Jones served
you with a valid debt collection warrant, you resisted arrest, and
Mr. Jones exercised his right per the bond to shoot your deadbeat
ass on the spot. He took your gold chains as payment for said debt,
and left a receipt for your heirs should said debt collection later
be contested by your estate. All nice and legal.”
    “ Yes, except the debt
warrant, the resisting arrest clause, and the $25,000 bond was all
done on Old Earth,” I protested. “This is Mars. That warrant is not
valid in this jurisdiction.”
    “ While it is true we don’t
allow extradition to Old Earth from Mars for civil warrants,”
agreed the detective, “the court hasn’t been clear about whether
the warrant can still be served here on Mars. Courts in different
jurisdictions tend to honor each others’ judgments. I think your
grievance against Mr. Jones & Associates will have to be
pursued as a civil action. At this time it’s just not a police
matter.”
    “ What? Murder is just a
civil matter? When did the law change on that? Why am I even
talking to you? Idiot. You’re worthless! Doc! How about waking me up?”
    “ There is, however, the
matter of the unregistered nine-millimeter handgun with filed off
serial numbers we found under the pillow of your bed,” said
Detective McCoy. “It’s a nice old piece. Is it yours?”
    “ No, it’s not mine. Bubba
probably left it there just to make me look bad. I did not resist
arrest. If you check hotel computer archives and video you will
find that I had not even entered my room until the very moment I
was shot. That is proof that gun is not mine. Right?”
    “ We are checking the gun for
prints, DNA, skin, and fibers. I suggest you come clean on the
gun.”
    “ I suggest you get me a
lawyer,” I said, trying to be smooth. “I have already exercised my
right to remain silent. I have rights!”
    “ How about I cut off your
oxygen supply?” asked the detective, pinching a clear plastic tube
by my bed. I started twitching. I could feel the discomfort, even
though I was in a coma. I could sense an alarm beeper going
off.
    “ That sounds like coercion,”
I shot back. “What are you doing? Stop touching things! I have
constitutional rights.”
    “ Not on Mars you don’t.
Colonial law is much more practical. We have limited resources and
don’t tolerate dead weight. I’ll throw you out an airlock on a whim
if I feel like it,” threatened McCoy.
    “ Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean to be rude,” I said contritely. “I respect the difficult job
you police do. Did you find my prints on the gun?”
    “ No,” replied Detective
McCoy.
    “ Well there you go.” I
brightened. “I told you the gun was not mine.”
    “ We did find a partial
print, and we are following up on that lead. Alright, I have your
statement. Anything you wish to add? If you lied about anything,
your last lucent moments of life will be spent choking on Martian
dust after I throw you out an airlock for being an undesirable on
Mars. Some people are alive only because it’s illegal to kill them.
That’s not a problem here on Mars.”
    “ I love you, too, McCoy. Hey
Doc, how long before you can fix me up?” Hospitals are not healthy
places to stay, I thought. And cops, they