by Daniel Gibbs
"So you think they overlooked the danger when Erhart ordered you to full? And this is covering up for his decision? Wouldn't Erhart be protecting himself as much as Kalling?"
"I suppose," Henry stated. He still struggled to comprehend it. "But if he did it on Faulkner's behalf, it would be protecting both."
Snow nodded quietly. "Well… I don't know what to say, Colonel. Erhart's a war hero and has a lot of friends in CDF Command, and Kalling produces so many vital systems for our ships... " She shrugged. "Can you imagine what would happen if this goes public?"
"I'm not into politics."
"You don't have to be to know that this would embarrass the government. It would embarrass the CDF. It would be a shot in the arm to the Peace Union, a confirmation of everything they say."
Henry's face remained blank. The Peace Union was every CDF officer's favorite target for complaining about politics, a coalition of parties that for one reason or another believed peace with the League should be sought, even if it required accepting the loss of planets still held by League troops. While he tried to ignore politics, one thing he was aware of was that the more radical wings of the Peace Union often accused the defense industry of being war profiteers more interested in orders than either victory or peace. Kalling Engineering's rushing the fusion drive to the point of causing a deadly catastrophe played right into that, regardless of its genuine war-winning potential.
"We can't win," Snow said. "They won't let us. The CDF will convict you to quash any further investigation."
"No, I don't believe that," insisted Henry. "We can bring Renner and Xu and Mueller to the trial. They can testify to what they heard. The tribunal will have to allow a review of the logs."
"You're not thinking straight," Snow said. "Colonel, they won't. All they'll do is punish your junior officers. They'll be charged with perjury for conflicting the log and other testimony."
"So what do you suggest, Major?" Henry asked. A sharp edge came to his voice. "Should I give up? Plead guilty to a crime I didn't commit so the people responsible can get away with it?"
Snow opened her mouth and stopped. "I, I don't know," she admitted. "Colonel, before I came into this room, I assumed this was just some directive from Lawrence City, to put you through a court-martial so they could have a full trial about what happened. But now, hearing that evidence, seeing your reaction… either you've suffered a major dissociative event, sir, or you're the best damn liar in the galaxy. Or I'm caught up in a conspiracy between a high-ranking general and one of the Coalition's key defense contractors to cover up their complicity in the deaths of twenty-seven people. And that is terrifying, Colonel." The look on her face sold how frightened it made her. "This whole thing is the biggest charlie foxtrot I've seen in my career."
Henry nodded. "I don't want to believe it either," he said. "But I'm not crazy, and I'm not lying."
Snow bit into her lip for a moment before sighing. "Okay. Your only hope at trial is to get an independent review of the logs—someone outside the CDF who can't be pushed or ordered into covering up alterations. If the log alterations are revealed, the case against you collapses. It's just, even if they make it a closed court, someone will leak, and it's going to hurt public confidence in the military. It's going to weaken us against the League. Are you sure you want to do this?"
Henry swallowed. He wanted to win the war as much as anyone. He'd seen what the League did to the people on worlds they conquered, Coalition or non-Coalition. He didn't want that to happen to anyone else. Much less his homeworld New Virginia. A nightmare of the League occupying Tylerville came back to mind briefly until he pushed it away.
But it didn't feel right. Captain Soto and the others on the Laffey, they deserved justice. Not having their deaths written off to protect the people responsible for them. And if Faulkner and his people were willing to cut corners before, what would stop them from doing it again? How much damage could they do to the war effort if they rushed the drive into production instead of fixing it? How many more had to die?
Even if it was just to a closed court, the truth had to be made clear to the CDF, the whole CDF. The lie couldn't be allowed to stand.
"We can't risk Kalling doing this again," he said softly. "I want my day in court."
Snow sighed and nodded. "Well, I'd better get to work, then." She tried to smile, but there was still evident fear in her eyes. "I'll keep in touch and let you know how it goes." After standing, she offered her hand. "However it goes, Colonel, from what I've seen, you're a good man, and you don't deserve what Erhart and Kalling are doing to you. I'll do my best to get you the justice you deserve."
He nodded and gave his thanks before they departed.
5
Hendricks Station
Phi Philomena System, Terran Coalition
10 May 2546
* * *
In the Hendricks Station cell, Henry was left with nothing to do but wait. He was the only long-term prisoner present, with most of the others being guilty of petty offenses, mostly involving intoxication. This did not lend itself to building a rapport with fellow prisoners.
After a few days, his contacts with Snow ceased. At first, he wasn't worried; she had other cases, and it would take time for his court-martial proceedings to be put together. It might not even be on Phi Philomena but elsewhere. Halsey Station was the most likely spot, being just four or five days away.
But then the days turned into a week, with no word. Then a second week passed. Nothing from Snow or the others from the Laffey came to Henry. Just letters and messages from family, Felix and his brother Jules, the younger Rothbard still in divinity college.
The letters from his family were the most painful. While the CDF was keeping the facts as classified secrets, it was known he was facing a court-martial and charged with murder. He wanted desperately to tell them the truth, but the military would never let such a message through. They were censoring his words so heavily that he completely rewrote his last letter to his mother to avoid it being mostly a sequence of blocked text.
The days in his cell also gave him time to think. The thinking was an endless loop of recrimination and frustration. He felt anger at Erhart for putting him in this situation. Anger at Faulkner and Larkin for being so reckless with their new drive.
Anger at himself for not defying his orders during the testing.
Oh, he'd have been relieved if he had continued to disobey, and someone else would’ve eventually had the same happen. But it wouldn't have been on his watch. Ultimately, whatever the responsibility of others for the problems with the drive or the orders he was given… he had failed his crew by following those orders. He did, indeed, have a measure of responsibility for what happened.
Such were the things on his mind when the end of the third week in his cell came and he finally was let out to meet with his advocate. The MPs brought him to the meeting room and waited at the door, letting him open it. He stepped in and looked to the table.
Major Snow wasn't there.
The only figure present was another man about Henry's age, tall and on the lean side, with copper-toned red hair and a mustache. The rank insignia of a lieutenant colonel showed, as did the branch insignia of JAG. The man looked up from a digital reader. "Ah, Colonel Henry." He spoke with an English accent. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Alfred Shaw. I am to be your advocate in the upcoming court-martial."
Henry blinked at him. "Where is Major Snow?"
There was a small grimace on Shaw's face before he recovered. "She is… currently on administrative leave."
Henry felt a twisting sensation in his chest. "What do you mean by 'administrative leave'?"
"I'm not at liberty to say," Shaw answered. "And we have far more important things to discuss, Colonel. You will be transferred to Halsey Station for your court-martial, and before we get there, I'd like to have a plea arranged. Honestly, your best hope is for a plea deal, and while Colonel Serrano has been quite hostile, I think I can convince the panel to…"
Shaw's blue eyes met Henry's. "Enough to know that you're not getting out of this, Colonel. The logs, the testimony of the Solzhenitsyn flag bridge officers, and General Erhart's staff; your guilt is firmly established right there."
"The logs were altered," Henry said. "And Erhart's engaging in a cover-up to protect Kalling Engineering."
Shaw drew in a sigh. "They warned me you might do this. Honestly, at this point, we might want to arrange a psychiatrist…"
"I'm not crazy!" Henry shouted at him. "It's the truth."
Shaw folded his hands on the desk, utterly unruffled. "I am not going to make a fool of myself before a court-martial bench by making such ludicrous claims," he announced. "Really, Colonel, this is ridiculous. You seriously expect people to believe that General Erhart is engaged in a cover-up?"
"It's the only explanation," Henry said. "He ordered me to put the drives to full. Now, suddenly, I'm charged with doing just that as if the orders were otherwise."
"The logs and the testimony of over half a dozen officers, including Erhart himself, say otherwise," Shaw said. "Colonel, be realistic. You're going to be convicted in any hearing. Now, if you plead guilty, I should be able to convince the panel to give you 25 years and not a day more. Your record shows you're a good officer, and they'll consider that, but only if you are honest and accept responsibility. With enough contrition, they may even consider a sentence to a normal military prison and not a hard labor stockade."
Henry clenched his jaw. "Have you talked to Snow at all? She interviewed my bridge crew. They all affirmed the truth."
"No, they opened themselves up to charges of perjury," Shaw said. "And conspiracy."
"Where is Snow? What's going on?"
"That's not relevant." Shaw sighed and tapped a finger on the table. "Colonel, I'm not sure what you think you're going to accomplish, but I won't be a party to shaming the service. I’m not going to present a defense claiming things like forged logs and false testimony for a cover-up. I can't make you plead guilty, but if you don't, I have no defense I can plausibly give for your actions."
"I was ordered to set the drive to full burn, Shaw!" When that got no response from the unflappable JAG officer, Henry leaned back in his chair and shook his head. "I'm guessing Snow asked the wrong questions?"
"Her mistake was humoring this scheme of yours, and that is all I'm saying," Shaw said. "Colonel, you're going to be dismissed from service. Nothing will stop it. I’ll be hard-pressed to keep you out of Lambert’s Lament. It's your choice of whether or not you're going to be there for the rest of your life or if you'll be out in time to be at your parents' deathbeds. If you want to be there for them, I suggest you plead guilty and accept the judgment of the court." Shaw folded his hands again. "Those are your choices."
Henry regarded his "advocate" with cold contempt. Shaw wasn't here for justice; he was here because someone ordered him to put the screws on when Snow wouldn't because someone at JAG wanted the case to go away.
"So you're not here to be my advocate," Henry said. "You're not here to defend me. You're here to make me shut up and give in."
"You can't be defended, Colonel."
"Not by you, no," Henry said, as he shook his head. "I reject your advocacy. I demand the JAG either restore Major Snow or assign me another officer. One willing to be my proper advocate."
Shaw shook his head. "I'm all you're getting, Colonel. The JAG won't waste his time humoring you."
"Then I'm going to get a civilian lawyer," Henry said.
Shaw grinned sarcastically at that. "Oh, cheeky. But even more foolish. This case involves classified information, Colonel. Any civilian attorney you hire will need to be vetted by CIB for security purposes. That's going to limit your options."
"I don't care," Henry answered. "That's my choice."
For the first time, Shaw seemed perturbed. "I don't understand what you think you'll accomplish," he said. "Your position is indefensible, Colonel. The logs and the testimony of the Solzhenitsyn officers will condemn you no matter what kind of attorney you have, and the conspiracy defense will only insult the court-martial."
"Maybe," Henry said. "But maybe the truth will at least get out. And maybe there will be justice for the officers and crew who died under my command."
For a moment, neither man spoke. Finally, Shaw stood. "I'm sending you back to your cell, Colonel, and I will report your rejection of my advocacy to JAG and your intention to secure civilian defense. I don't expect it will make you look too well. It will come off as a political gesture, I would say."
"Say what you want. I've got nothing further to say to you," Henry replied. Before Shaw could, he went to the door and knocked on it. When the MP opened up, he said, "I'm firing Colonel Shaw. Take me back to my cell, please."
CSV Clemenceau
Open Space, Terran Coalition
17 May 2546
Tense days followed that meeting with Shaw. With his life circling the drain, James Henry considered his future, the decades of hard labor in zero-G or micro-G conditions in the asteroid mines. That was, he recalled, the frequent use of military stockade prisoners sentenced to hard labor.
It wasn’t a bright prospect. He reasoned he’d be insane to welcome it. But where he'd once hoped that Snow might help him exonerate himself, now Henry found nothing but a fatalist conviction. He would go down, but he would go down fighting, like all of his comrades who fell in battle with the League. It was the least he could do for Captain Soto and her memory, to make up for failing her and the other dead from the Laffey.
So he spent his time writing letters, to Felix, to Jules, to his parents, surviving grandparents and his uncle, to the JAG, even to Colonel Goldstein. He informed them all of his intention to seek a civilian defense because JAG was refusing to defend him adequately. The censors blocked out references, but they left the heart of the letters intact.
Five days after his meeting with Shaw, Henry received notification he was being transferred to Halsey Station to begin his proceedings. The cruiser Clemenceau was to be his ride. He spent the rest of the day getting everything together and had his best remaining uniform on when the four MPs came to escort him to the airlock.
Once aboard, he was transferred to a set of unoccupied guest quarters. This was some surprise, as he expected to be placed in the brig. The ship's sergeant-at-arms, a Turkish woman, informed him she was under orders to keep Henry confined, but that he would be allowed to pick his meals from the officer's mess and accorded proper military respect for the voyage.
Two days out of a four-day trip to Halsey passed without event. After lunch on the third day, Henry was writing a letter home when there was a knock at the hatch. With curiosity, he turned toward it and said, "Come in," wondering just who would be coming by.
The door opened, and Henry felt his jaw clench.
General Erhart stepped inside, a pair of digital pads in his hand. "Colonel Henry," he said.
"General," Henry replied woodenly. "I wasn't expecting to see you before the court-martial convened."
"I figured so," Erhart replied. "May I sit down? You and I have some matters to discuss."
Henry felt a spark of fury come up from inside of him. He repressed it, mostly, keeping some of it in his voice when he replied, "What makes you think I have any interest in what you have to say to me? After what you've done? After you've dishonored your uniform and everything you're supposed to stand for?... sir." The last was spoken with acidic emphasis.
Erhart considered Henry silently for a moment. "That was disrespectful, Colonel," he began. "But I'll let it slide for the moment. Out of understanding for your situation. Which is what I'm here to discuss. Now, may I please sit? A man my age doesn't have the energy to stand around all day."
Henry forced the rest of the anger down. He nodded once and held a hand to one of the two chairs in the room. Once Erhart was seated in one,
he took the other, his brown eyes radiating anger as they remained locked on Erhart.
"You blame me for the Laffey," Erhart said. His tone was as firm and business-like as ever. "Fair enough. Speak your mind, Colonel."
"I have spent the last few weeks wondering if the world's gone mad, General," Henry answered. "Wondering how a man of your reputation and accomplishments could be so dishonest. You are slandering your honor and that of the service to protect Faulkner and his company. Hell, they're the reason you ordered me to use full burn in the first place, weren't they? They didn't care if their machine was ready, if their work was good enough. All they could see was success and money."
"Close enough," said Erhart. "Although I wanted to see how the drive would hold up under stress conditions. If it was going to fail, it was best to do so in a test, not in the field. Faulkner is only worried about maximizing his profit margins. I have other concerns." He set the digital pads down on the table and let them be for the moment. "Do you remember the Carlton Campaign, Colonel?"
Henry nodded. "Twelve years ago, the last of the League's big pushes in the first years of the war. You beat the League at Tsukara Station. If it and the Carlton Cluster had fallen to the League, they'd have been in position to sustain a campaign into the inner worlds."
"Correct," Erhart said. "Some call it my greatest accomplishment. And they always talk about Tsukara and never Tau Baker."
"Tau Baker." The star name took Henry a moment before he could place the reference. "Right. You were engaged with a secondary League force trying to take Tau Baker system when the scouting squadrons reported the League approaching Tsukara. You withdrew from the system instead of finishing the fight." He let his memory finish bringing the details back. "But you had to leave ships behind."
"A blocking force, many of them our most damaged ships," Erhart said. "Not enough to stop the League ships, but enough to buy me time to defeat the main fleet. Thirty of our ships, with some of our best crews, and they stayed behind to make my victory possible." The older man's voice took on something of a strain to it, as if he was wrestling with emotion. "By the time I got back, they were gone. Overwhelmed. The League took the survivors prisoner, and we've only gotten a few back since."
