The Manifest Destiny Network Chronicles, Book 2: Rise of the Regional Station

By Maniel

Daniel has discovered who killed his parents. Although grateful, Daniel's grandmother wants no revenge and expects Daniel to seek clemency for her daughter's killers, thrusting Daniel into the awkward role of witness for the defense. At the same time, Daniel is anxious to show that his parents were not responsible for Luke Fisher's death which triggered the revenge killings.
Mark Freeman, CEO of Freeman Engineering the MaDNet prime contractor, also wants to know who killed Luke, a member of the "Freeman Family." However, instead of building on Daniel's recent success and momentum, Mark Freeman hires a professional detective and then asks for Daniel's cooperation in the investigation. Pulled in several directions at once, Daniel must rely on his instincts to address the trial, another cold case, and some dangerous adversaries. Seemingly way overmatched, Daniel receives help from an unexpected quarter under surprising circumstances.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maniel
• Release date: Sep 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301128068

Maniel

By training and profession, I am an engineer; my years of engineering experience have taught me that “good intentions” do not determine results. Success in engineering is objective: your bridge will stand, your machine will function, and your computer program will run correctly, only if designed and built in strict adherence to physical laws and principles; emotions generally have little to do with engineering outcomes. Since the discipline of engineering, meeting goals through actions based on proven principles, is lacking in our daily lives, it is no surprise that it is missing from our public policy.Having said all that, I am reminded of a personal ad posted in our school newspaper by a coed who described herself as "dynamic and attractive" and who wanted to meet a "passionate, active young man." The final words in the ad were, "no engineers." We are all well served by humility and a sense of humor.

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The Manifest Destiny Network Chronicles

MaDNet Book 2: Rise of the Regional Station

by Maniel

Smashwords Edition

The Manifest Destiny Network Chronicles, Book 2: Rise of the Regional Station

Copyright © 2012 by Maniel

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The characters and events are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Special thanks to Maxine, Kerry, and Thomas for their contributions to this work.

* * * * *

Chapter 1: Trial and Redemption

Monday, 6 May 2052, San Francisco, California

At MaDNet Regional Station, San Diego, my car joined a MaDNet frame. I had chosen full-service for access to both food and relief during the two-hour trip. The message from my grandmother had been clear: Daniel, I’m proud of you. Let’s talk about what comes next. The frame moved onto the Regional Line and then, just beyond Del Mar, climbed to the newly-added top level of the northbound Inter-City Line. At 09:30, we connected through MRS San Francisco to the Bay Area Regional Line. I left my car at the Chinatown Local Station and walked the three blocks to my grandmother’s condo. She looked frail, but her eyes were clear and her voice was strong.

"I’m at peace now, Daniel. I believe that Sarah and Abe are too. What happens next?

Next, Leia Fisher, or Leia Lewis as she’s now known, and Rickey Tran, her accomplice, will be sentenced. They’ve already confessed, so they’ll go to prison.

Will there be a trial?

Probably. The charge is first-degree murder. I don’t think they’ll admit to that, so that charge might be reduced.

Why will they go to prison?

They’re murderers; murderers go to prison.

They killed your parents, my daughter and my son-in-law.

I know that, Grandma. What’s your point?

They’re gone, Daniel. They’ve been gone for fifteen years.

Are you saying that putting their killers in prison won’t bring them back?

Yes.

But there was no justification.

I believe that what Leia did was wrong…

And now she’s going to pay the price.

How will she pay the price from prison?

She committed the crime—prison is the price.

Being in prison is not something good that people do to make up for something bad.

You mean, it’s not redemption?

That’s exactly what I mean.

Redemption can come later, after they pay the price.

You keep saying, ‘pay the price,’ Daniel, but who pays and who receives?

Leia and Rickey pay, and then later, they can redeem themselves.

How about her parents? Do they pay?

You mean, do Leia’s parents suffer?

Do they?

Why is that important? Their daughter is a murderer.

They lost their son; isn’t that true?

Yes, that’s true.

I lost my daughter. It hurt so much; it still hurts.

I know, Grandma. She was my mother.

But don’t you see, they lost their son and now they may lose their daughter.

Don’t all murderers have parents?

Yes, of course, but I want to have a say here. It was my daughter who was murdered. One thing I don’t understand: It wasn’t a robbery or a lover’s quarrel. Why did they do it?

Leia thought Mom and Dad were responsible for her brother’s death.

Were they?

No.

Why did she think they were?

Some things happened before the accident that made her believe that.

Were those things serious? Were they true?

Mom and Dad played a role in forcing Leia’s father out of the Navy.

Was it justified?

Maybe so and maybe not. That’s a judgment.

What happened?

Mom and Dad were on the same team at the Pentagon. Leia’s father was a candidate for a spot on the team. He made advances toward Mom and…

They got rid of him?

Mom reported him to the commanding officer.

I see. And there was something else?

Yeah. Mom and her friend, Denise Benson, deceived Leia’s father.

Was that intentional?

I’m afraid so.

And Leia found out about all that?

Rickey Tran found out and told her.

She thought Sarah was persecuting her father?

Yes, Grandma, that’s what she thought, but that doesn’t justify murder.

No it doesn’t, but if for that reason she thought Sarah and Abe killed her brother…

That’s what she thought.

Is she a criminal? Has she committed other crimes?

Not that I know of.

I don’t want revenge. I want this to end. There’s been enough pain and heartache.

There’s not much I can do now.

I rarely make requests of you.

That’s true.

But I have a request now. I want you to prevent Leia from going to prison. Redemption, yes; prison, no.

I’ll see what…

No, Daniel, I’m not asking you to see. Let me be very clear: No prison.

*****

I was on the west side of the frame as we sped along the MaDNet Pacific Inter-City Line. No pneumatics here—this was the scenic route. The PIC Rail, as the locals call it, runs along the rugged Pacific coast, without the hairpin turns of old California Highway 1. The sun, a large red ball through the mist setting over the great ocean, once home to a wide variety of marine life, was still very picturesque. I witnessed the green flash as the sun sank below the horizon.

*****

Tuesday, 7 May 2052, San Diego, California

Judge Patrick Fortin was a busy man, but we sometimes walked to MRS San Diego together to make our respective ways home. I think I understand your situation, he said, after hearing my story. You want a third-degree murder plea to result in a NATTS sentence.

What kind of sentence?

NATTS stands for ‘not a threat to society.’ It’s appropriate for this case, since they only committed one crime and since I expect, from your story, that they will plead self-defense.

The other thing my grandmother wanted…

You can’t just act on her behalf; you have to believe that this is right.

Why is that important?

Three reasons: One legal—they were your immediate family. One spiritual—you must show the jury a united front. And one personal—you’ll effectively be a witness for the defense.

*****

Wednesday, 8 May 2052, Crystal City, Virginia

A cross-country journey by MaDNet at night is like traveling in a medieval sleeping car. My reclined driver’s seat was my bed. Images of a courtroom and of Leia Fisher and Rickey Tran at the defendants’ table ran through my dreams. They showed no emotion as they listened to testimony from the witness box. I was trying to get their attention, but they didn’t notice me. My MaDNet frame was speeding across the heartland of the country at well over 350 miles per hour.

The sun was just breaking through the early morning clouds when my car was unloaded from our frame at MaDNet Regional Station, Crystal City, at 9:00. Since I was early for my 13:00 appointment with the district attorney at the Arlington County Courthouse, I dialed in Glebe Road, near where I had once lived. The car brought me to an open parking place where I got out. I began to walk through the crisp morning air to the house that I had only seen in my dreams for the last fifteen years and then, a few weeks ago, in the videos of the murder of my parents. The outer gate, the walkway leading to the house, and the house itself, now a bright yellow, were much as I remembered them. I decided not to bother the people living there now or the ghosts from my past. That’s the house, said a man behind me on the sidewalk.

What’s the house? I asked.

The house where the Southerns lived and where they were murdered.

You knew them?

No, I saw it on a news report. A FLAIR has been reporting it the last few days. I came to see the house.

Who’s the FLAIR?

Maryam Free. Evidently the Southerns’ son—he was ten when they were murdered—well, their son found the real killers.

Why do you say ‘the real killers’?

Because everyone believed it was someone called Denise Brennan or Bronson—anyway, a friend of Mrs. Southern.

But it wasn’t her?

No, it was some white lady and her Asian boyfriend.

Why’d they do it?

Revenge, I think. The killer’s brother died in some kind of industrial accident that those people caused, he said, motioning toward the house.

When did all this happen?

Ten or fifteen years ago.

*****

The courthouse—a new, modern brick, glass, and steel building—looked like it had been sent to Arlington by the same factory that manufactures MaDNet stations. Inside, it was bright and clean but undistinguished. When I touched Office of the District Attorney on the directory, lighted arrows on the walls pointed the way. After waiting outside about five minutes, I was invited into the office by an electronic sign and a synthetic voice. The district attorney rose to shake my hand. He had a full head of dark brown hair. He wore a tie knotted loosely over a white shirt with an open collar. I’m Michael Sheridan. How can I help you, Mr. Southern?

Thanks for seeing me, sir.

My pleasure. Props for solvin’ the murders of your parents. I assure you those two killers will be punished for their crimes.

Sir, I’m here to ask for clemency. In my opinion, they are NATTS.

I welcome your opinion, son. The deceased were your parents. But, there’s laws against murder in this county and there ain’t no statute of limitations. This here ain’t California.

I favor redemption, sir.

Pardon my sayin’ so, but I’m surprised you feel like ‘at about the people that murdered your parents in cold blood. May I ask why you, your parents’ only son, would plead for mercy for a couple of cold-blooded killers, and why you’d say they ain’t a threat to society?

Three reasons, sir. First, they turned themselves in voluntarily. Second, Leia Lewis was experiencing extreme emotional pain prior to the crime and—wrongly—blamed my parents. The third reason is that they are not criminals by nature. This was their only crime.

Do you think they would ever have turned themselves in if you hadn’t found ‘em?

No, sir, I don’t.

Michael Sheridan rose and went to a small, white machine in the corner. Coffee?

No thank you, but I would appreciate a cup of tea.

This little machine can make just about anything wet. What kinda tea?

English Breakfast or something along those lines.

I never expected your parents’ murder to be solved in the way you did.

How did you expect it to be solved?

I thought it was already solved—that Denise what’s-‘er-name…

Benson.

Milk and sugar?

Just milk, please.

I thought that Miss Bronson did it. If you hadn’t come along, this never woulda happened.

Thank you, sir, I appreciate your saying so.

I’m willin’ to listen. You don’t seem bitter. These people killed your parents in cold blood. It was a double, first-degree murder.

Leia Fisher was grieving.

Careful; that’s hot, he said, handing me a cup.

Thanks.

And then there’s the little matter of kidnappin’ and framin’ Miss Bronson. These’re major crimes. I’m sorry, but I don’t see a NATTS decision comin’ outa all this.

Leia Fisher was in pain from her brother’s death, I said, taking a cautious sip of hot tea. She put Rickey Tran in the position of helping her or betraying her.

I can see you’re sympathetic, but those ain’t excuses for two murders.

I suffered from the murders. I still can’t bring myself to go inside our old house.

So why not punish the guilty?

Dr. Isaac Fisher lost his only son. His daughter was sure that my parents caused the accident.

Was she right?

No. But my point is that Dr. Fisher is about to lose his daughter for defending him.

She took the law into her own hands. She’s a killer, twice over.

I want redemption, something positive. Prison is so negative, so hopeless.

I ain’t persuaded yet, son, he said, looking at me sideways over his glasses, but you do have some political capital in this one.

They did turn themselves in finally.

"Finally is the operative term."

Thanks for the tea.

*****

Monday, 13 May 2052, San Diego, California

The yellow-green ball rose into the blue sky above the morning sun. Stay sideways, keep pointing, nice and smooth; Marcia Dunlop’s voice was calm and reassuring. Using a relaxed service stroke and the mandatory flick of the wrist, I hit the ball into the right corner of the ad court. Nice shot. That’s it for today. The better your overhead, the less you need to worry about lobs, said Marcia, walking to the bench at the side of the court.

I’m going to miss on Friday, I said.

Going away?

Yes. Another type of court appearance.

The Leia Fisher trial?

I’m going to argue for a NATTS sentence for her and for Rickey Tran.

Marcia did not respond. She pushed a couple of buttons and pulled a red energy drink out, rattling the courtside dispenser.

You don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?

She popped the top, exposing the straw, took a long drink, and put the bottle next to her bag. I really don’t know, she said, but they killed your parents. You tracked them down and they confessed. Now you’re saying they’re not a threat to society. They’re murderers!

It wasn’t the only crime committed in those early MaDNet days. They…

As far as we know, it was the only murder. But not just any murder. The victims were your parents. This was the nightmare of your childhood. She reached into her tennis bag, dug around for a noisy moment, and extracted a small tube of lip balm.

It was Luke Fisher’s death that pushed his sister over the edge…

What has that got to do with two killers not serving their time? she asked, with a grimace that exposed her lips to the white gel on the little finger of her left hand. She closed the tube and shoved it into her bag.

My grandmother doesn’t want...

I’m just surprised, Daniel. I …

The gate clanged. Sounds like your next lesson. Marcia, I would like your support, but…

We’ll talk later, she said. Have a safe trip.

A mother and her two school-age boys, dressed in matching light-blue shirts and white shorts, were staring at us.

Thanks for the lesson, I said. See you on Tuesday. I smiled at the woman. Although I had seen her and the boys after almost every lesson since February, I didn’t know her name.

*****

I activated my PORT as soon as I got home. Wearing a dark blue shirt that set off his white tie, Mark Freeman was larger than life on my wall screen. Hello, Mr. Southern, he said. I have hired Frank Sloan on the sabotage case. He should be contacting you soon. I hit received.

MaDNet Control was warning of heavy loading that night. Travel from San Diego to Arlington, Virginia, was expected to take two hours longer than normal.

Monday, 13 May 2052, between San Diego, California, and Arlington, Virginia

Sitting