Devika Confronts the Biggest Human Rights Trafficker in the Galaxy
She focused her thoughts on the man she was after.
The lead scientist of the Zachary Empire.
Tavin Miloschenko.
A man who was responsible for the deaths and disappearances of over a hundred thousand men, women and children.
A man without, from what she could tell, remorse.
She remembered his leathery face, the day-old stubble, the way his graying hair fell on his shoulders. He wore golden sunglasses and a drab gray suit with a gold chain around his neck. She’d met him at the annual Zachary Galaxy Ball. She’d crashed the party, flashing her GALPOL badge to security. They couldn’t deny her. Everyone stared at her, dressed up in gowns and suits and masquerade masks. She’d found Miloschenko in the corner of the Grand Ballroom, a room with brocaded walls and windows as tall as three-story houses.
He was drinking a scotch, cradling a highball glass in the base of his palm. He raised an eyebrow when she approached.
“Devika Sharma, GALPOL,” she said, not wasting any time.
“So?” he asked.
“You mind talking to me in private, or do you want to do this the hard way and talk here in public?”
“A man of my talents,” Miloschenko said, “always does things the hard way.”
“Fine,” she said.
By then a crowd had stopped to watch.
“All I ask is that you keep your voice down,” Miloschenko said. He sat at a white table and motioned her to join him.
She grabbed a chair and straddled it backwards. The move, deliberate on her part, threw Miloschenko off, and he eyed her suspiciously.
“I know what you’ve been up to,” Devika said.
“Do you mean my successes in weapons technology?” he asked. “Please do tell me about my incredible accomplishments.”
“You’re trafficking slaves,” she said.
Miloschenko laughed. “Why would I do a silly thing like that?”
“I haven’t figured it out yet,” she said. “But I’m here today to warn you to stop.”
“Or what?”
Silence.
A new song played, and people began to dance across the dance floor.
“You’re overstaying your GALPOL welcome,” Miloschenko said. “You think that because you’re galactic police, you can traipse anywhere in the galaxy. But it doesn’t mean that you are immune from physical danger, Miss Sharma.”
Devika studied his face. His threat was serious.
“Threatening a GALPOL agent is a galactic offense,” she said. “Are you sure you want to continue that line of thought?”
“Threatening a leader of the Zachary Empire is foolish,” Miloschenko said. “Especially with no proof. The Emperor would be displeased to hear about this.” He leaned forward. “But then again, you don’t have any evidence to make an arrest, do you?”
She kept her face blank.
He’d called her bluff.
He was smarter than she thought.
“I’m here to give you your one and only warning,” Devika said. “We know what you’re up to. If you want to do the right thing, release all the people you currently have in your possession around the galaxy. We estimate the current number at about ten thousand. If you do that, maybe we’ll drop the investigation. If the human rights violations continue, however, I will personally ensure that you go to jail for the rest of your life and then some.”
Miloschenko sipped his scotch.
“Tell me, Miss Sharma,” he said. “Of all the things that GALPOL investigates—spacetime crimes, drug smuggling, Argosian aggression—why do you choose to waste your time on the Zachary Empire? We have been your staunchest allies.”
“And violators.”
“If you mean the terrible attacks we performed on Traverse II, please know that we were simply asserting our right to defend ourselves.”
“By killing innocent people?”
Miloschenko laughed.
“I believe you haven’t answered my question,” he said.
“GALPOL does not observe special relationships,” Devika said. “We observe special crimes, though.”
She stood.
“If you see me again, Mr. Miloschenko, it means you’re going to jail. And do consider that a threat.”
Miloschenko stood, flushed.
“And if you see me again… stay on your toes, Miss Sharma,” he said.
***
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