The next day, they had their first set of visitors to the newly opened "Personal Service Bureau." They had decorated the office to make it look like it was a government office, even though neither America nor the Consortium had anything resembling a Personal Service Bureau. There was a small waiting room and a couple dozen offices for private interviews. The entire complex had a door at the back that led to the mid-level security office.
Fox had spent the last few months on the top-level office, but now he was spending more time on the lower-level office as bottom court became more active with visitors and new workers.
Now, as he sat in an almost identical but larger command office here on 1 below, he considered that it was time to move again. After all, there was a good reason the mid-level office was the largest of the three security offices and typically preferred by the heads of security on other stations; it was the most central location.
He watched the view screen into their bureau and wondered how long it would take when the first group arrived—two men and three women. The men were wearing blue jeans and greasy T-shirts. The women were in cocktail dresses and heels.
"Do women on your planet have some sort of grease fetish?" Shandra Mahika, one of his junior melee officers, asked with a high laugh.
He looked at her.
"The men aren't applying for licenses, the women are," Sarah said without looking away. "And I can already tell you those women aren't doing this of their own free will.
Fox nodded, turning his attention back to the screen. Sarah was right. Every instinct as a cop told him that these were bad men and the power dynamic between them and the women was anything but equal.
Kellii, in the role of bureau secretary, was playing dumb, however. "Now, if you want to offer services of an explicit nature, you'll have to submit to medical tests and an interview process."
"Not us, you idiot," one of the men barked. "The girls. All three of them."
The first group never made it out of the office again.
They listened to, rather than watched, the medical exam, out of privacy's sake.
"That's quite a bruise you got there," Sherle, their healer, commented casually.
"Didn't make quota," the woman said, her voice flat.
"Quota?"
The innocence of Sherle's questioning brought out more of the story, how the women had to bring home a certain amount of cash or she would be beaten. How she hoped the station would be better, the pay would be good, and she wouldn't be beaten so much. "But Jim will probably raise the quota," the woman ended with a resigned sigh.
"Your brain activity shows recent opioid consumption. Heroin?"
"They said we couldn't bring it on the station."
"So you took it before you came."
There was no answer, but she must have nodded.
"We can treat that addiction. I can begin the protocol if you like," Sherle said.
"I've tried. Several times."
"Our technology is better. Most of those who stay on the station have little trouble."
"Would I have to . . .?—"
"There are many things you could do. Many lives you could lead."
Next came Leela, who had been coached by their legal expert. By the time Leela concluded a short interview and ushered her back into security, she was ready for Sarah and Fox to double-team her.
"You don't want to keep doing this, do you?" Sarah asked. The woman began to cry.
"We can help," Fox said, putting a hand over hers.
She stared at the black glove and then up at him. "You're that security guy, aren't you?"
He nodded.
She looked resigned, defeated. "This is a sting. Am I going to jail?"
"No," Sarah told her. "You aren't the target. The men, however . . ."
The woman pulled away and treated them to a doubtful look. "Sure. Heard that before."
"Watch us do it," Fox said. "We've already got plenty of evidence. And a system that will prosecute. You don't even have to testify if don't want to."
It was true. Now that the second woman was being interviewed and the third going through the medical exam, Kellii had struck up a casual conversation with the men. They had all but hung themselves with talk of how it was getting harder to "keep bitches in line" and things "weren't like they used to be."
The first woman agreed to let Sarah help her settle on the station but she wanted no part of attempting to prosecute the men. The second had taken up with them only recently, mostly to escape a pimp who she described as worse. She had enough spirit left that she wanted to both witness the arrest and testify against them. The third expressed her desire to return to the surface. She thanked them for what they were doing and promised not to spill the beans on the street. She claimed she was going back home, but Fox suspected the lure of drugs would draw her back to the street soon enough. He let it go; you couldn't win them all.
The men were getting restless and started to demand where the women were. Fox gave Kellii the signal, and he ushered them toward the back, where he said the women were ready and waiting.
They stepped into the central command center and looked around, immediately suspicious. "It's a trap," one muttered to the other. They spun back toward the front office.
"You are under arrest," Fox said.
Kellii was blocking their path. He smiled, held his palms together in prayer pose, and bowed to the men. "Good sirs," he said and then cracked his knuckles. "Please resist. It would make my day complete."
One man's hand went toward his back pocket.
"We already know you have a knife," Shandra said.
He pulled it anyway, a small switchblade thing, and spun on her. He dropped halfway through as she hit him with a stun stick.
The other man looked around and then put his hands up. "What are you arresting me for? You ain't got nothing on me. I heard it on the news; it ain't illegal up here."
"And the girls aren't being arrested," Fox told him with a grim satisfaction. "But kidnapping, beating, torturing, and forcing them into prostitution, those are pretty serious crimes."
"Bullshit. Who told you that? They're lying."
"Fuck you, Jim," the one woman shouted from behind Fox. "You're going down. I'll testify to what you are, even if the others don't."
Jim was starting to look nervous now. "I'm an American citizen."
"State department has already given us jurisdiction," Fox snarled.
"You putting me in jail up here? What are you going to do?"
"Simple. You'll be taken next door. You'll find a defense attorney waiting."
"A defense attorney?"
"Yeah, the only good news you are likely to get today. Consortium agrees about the right to a quick and speedy trial. You'll be given time to see the evidence against you and to prepare your defense. Then we will hold your trial."
Both prosecutors and defense had been apprised of the sting and had been watching the interviews, to be ready to play their part. It took only a couple hours before they were ready for the trial to proceed. As always, Fox was amazed at the speed of their system of justice.
Lannister arrived in time for the trial. He gave Fox a nod as he found a seat at the back of the room.
The defense attorney's face was a mask, and Fox felt sure she was conflicted about the men she was supposed to be defending, but she played her part well. She argued that most of the evidence was for crimes that happened on the surface and, in some cases, before the Consortium was even here. This trial was relying on hearsay witness testimony with all its flaws. The men maintained the women were lying, and only one of the women was willing to make the accusation to their face.
"The defense's argument is flawed," the prosecutor said. "Nano-surveillance does exist on the surface. Has for nearly eight months. True, we don't have bio-idents or jurisdiction agreements. But we have data. Using the healer's estimation of the age of the bruise and the current identities involved, it's an easy thing to track the data backward."
He gestured to one side and holo-image appeared. An information officer faced the judge. "This emergency data request has been approved. The origin of the bruise." The officer disappeared. He was replaced by a shabby hotel room. The first woman stood, clad only in her underwear. Three men stood around her, the two in the courtroom and another unidentified man. One man held a length of electrical cord and struck the woman as the others watched. He berated her while beating her, calling her names, and telling her he would do worse next time she fell short.
"That's not fair; I have my rights," the man roared, leaping to his feet.
"To treat another person like this," the judge snarled, "I should think not."
"My client is willing to plead guilty to the simple assault," the defense lawyer said. "But the rest of the charges . . ."
"You want me to stop at assault? No. The pattern here is too clear. The evidence too strong. These are dangerous men. No temporary penal colony. They must be removed from society until such a time as psychological examination shows them safe. And they have a significant debt to pay these women in the meantime. Mars penal colony. With civil restrictions until such a time as their penal officer approves them for general society."
With that, the trial ended. It was one of the harshest sentences that Fox had seen since the early days, when the men who had attacked on his ship, the Cambridge, had been sentences. These men had been judged too dangerous to be part of society and would be held on a Martian penal colony, where they would have little contact with the outside world. Then again, if any deserved such treatment, they surely numbered among them.
"Quite a success, I'd say," Lannister commented as the men were led away.
"And we have at least two more interviews for tomorrow," Fox said. "I think this might catch a fair haul."
"Good," Lannister replied grimly. "I'm taking quite a bit of flack about this decision, I must say."
"Give us a couple weeks, at least," Fox said. "See how many we can get. Then we can announce the truth."
"There will still be a brothel on the collective's side of the station," Lannister replied. "And courtesans elsewhere."
"Yeah, but that will be old news. And besides, it will make it perfectly clear that honoring what they consider a legitimate profession doesn't mean putting up with the filth that it's been elsewhere."
Lannister nodded. "I suppose you're right."