The Interstellar Police Force, Book One: The Historic Mission by Raymond Klein (ebook reader 7 inch txt) 📕

scents. The hallway was twelve feet wide with two yellow stripes on the floor running the length of the hall. Two feet parallel from the cells. It was affectionately known to the guards as the Kill Zone. When a guard stepped into the Kill Zone, a prisoner could reach out through the bars and touch him. Guards always went down the center of the hall, two at a time and heavily armed.

Jeff Trent was already rapidly going through video files. In fast speed, the inmates were led to their cells by several guards. Shackles were removed, cell doors closed. Hours and days flew by in seconds as the guards went through their normal daily routines. That's when he heard Genghis.

“Over here! I found them.”

Jeff turned and looked toward his partner. The Doberman was standing at the end of the hall, looking into the last cell on the left. Trent stopped what he was doing and slowly got up. With the fear and apprehension of any law enforcement officer about to find the remains of fellow officers, Trent walked over and joined Genghis.

The guards of IPPT 964 were face down with their hands shackled behind their backs. Single bullet holes were clearly visible in the back of their heads.

“They were executed,” Trent said, not surprised.

“The other wounds sustained during the fight were not life threatening when they were brought down here,” Genghis added.

“Except for this one.” Trent knelt down beside one of the guards.

Decomposition was slow within their race and the evidence was apparent. “Look at the ligature marks around his neck.” Trent examined the body. “No bullet wounds or laser burns and no bruises from a fight. He was probably the first, overpowered, strangled, then his security card taken.”

“Maybe he got too close to the cell,” Genghis added. “Was he down here by himself? And if so, why? That’s against procedure.”

Trent stood, looking down at the body. “The inmate kills this guard, unlocks his cell, and commandeers the weapon. Then unlocks the other cells.” He started to look around the cramped holding cell. “If it was during a sleep period, only a couple of the guards would have been . . .” He stopped in mid sentence, getting Genghis’s attention. Genghis looked up and saw that Trent was looking at the cell across the hall. That’s when Genghis saw the other three bodies.

Chapter Twelve

The three inmates were lying on their backs as if they were laid to rest with great sympathy. One had a shotgun blast to the face. The skull had a large hole where the cheekbone should have been. The bottom jaw was also gone. Decomposition within this particular inmate's race was quick. He was just pale colored bones wearing his inmate uniform, which had several bullet holes in it.

“And now,” Trent quietly said, “there are five.”

“At least the guards were able to take some of them out,” Genghis replied.

They examined the other inmates, finding various bullet holes and laser burns, and one broken arm. The three were all of different races, so decomposition varied with each. Trent saw that the identification chips implanted into their wrists were crudely ripped out.

“I’ll go get the scanner,” Genghis said, and left the cell. Moments later he returned with the duffle bag, straps grasped between his jaws. He put the bag down, “Hands. Oh, how I’m going to miss hands!” Using his teeth he unzipped the bag, stuck his head in and came out with the D30 detection unit, the same one Trent had used to scan for life signs when they were topside. Genghis sat on his haunches, balanced himself and activated the unit while holding it with both paws. He started to scan the inmates' biometrics. He took his time scanning each inmate, one at a time.

“Well?” Trent said impatiently. “Is he here? Is he one of them? . . . .   Is it Moffit?”

“No!” Genghis looked at Trent. “No, he’s not here. Of all the inmates to survive, he would have found a way.” He motioned with his head to the first inmate. “This one here was inmate Skubic Beck, the serial child killer.” He glanced back at Trent, “Glad he’s dead.” Then, he motioned to the next. “The one missing half his head is inmate Gorram Reaver, the embezzler who murdered his two partners and the five stock holders for the computer empire. And this last one is inmate Astra Whey, the one who killed her entire family for the insurance money. Along with the nosy neighbors.” Genghis stood and put the D30 back in the bag. “Which leaves us with . . . Kasha Paine, Colus Valda, Chrispin Pac, Bollar and then of course . . . ”

Trent worked his hand through his hair. “ . . . Prodor Moffit. The Prodor Moffit, in human form, loose on this unsuspecting world.”

After taking whatever evidence they could find on the inmates and the identification cards from the guards, Genghis went down to the power plant to contain the plasma breach. Trent started to view the security recordings again. He could not find the recordings of the individual cells. The recording equipment had been tampered with. The only view he could find was that of  one of the cameras monitoring the hallway of the cells. It was located high on the wall and to the right. The view was showing the entire hall, but because of the angle, he could only see some of the cell doors on the left and none of the ones on the right.

He started through the recordings again and found that on the third day of the transfer mission, during a sleep period, one of the guards had done something very out of the ordinary. He entered the frame on Trent’s monitor and slowly walked down the hall. He was alone. He was not carrying a food tray or any medical supplies. He didn’t even have his weapon out of his holster.

There was a sound of a tool falling to