by Vance Huxley
Suits packed out the court itself this time. There were a lot of Supers, through Line Supervisors up to various levels of Managers, many of them military with a lot of braid and brass. Some weren’t showing ranks so maybe The Horseman or some of his people were here. One look at the Judge, Area Manager Svend Billings according to the nameplate on his desk, and Bobby feared the worse. The judge’s blood pressure had already reached dangerous levels and he aimed a definite scowl straight at the prisoner. The Duchess headed for a seat at the front and the Manager there moved away sharpish when one of Bobby’s mystery guards spoke to him. The guards chained Bobby in the dock while Manager Bryant sat down at his desk nearby and shuffled paper.
The judge brought the court to order, then spent the same four minutes running through the same preamble. He finished by looking straight at Manager Bryant. “Since you asked for the delay, do you have any objections to the case being tried this time? No sudden desire for another week or two?” He had no problem with being rude to a Manager this time, laying on the sarcasm thick enough to make several of the spectators wince in sympathy.
Though it seemed to bounce off Manager Bryant. “None at all, Judge Billings. We have only one new item in defence of the sergeant.”
“Alleged sergeant.”
“As you say. Belinda, Duchess of Ironhills and mother of Supervisor Lord Alaine Bertram Curen wishes to address the court.” The Manager indicated the Duchess which seemed a bit superfluous.
“I will listen to any statements with regard to the sentence once the evidence has been heard and a conclusion reached.” The judge turned to the prosecutor. “Perhaps we could have the first witness?”
A cleared throat stopped the prosecutor from answering. Manager Bryant held up a hand. “My apologies but the Duchess has brought additional evidence, in a case where much of said evidence seems to have been mislaid.” Bobby heard a definite edge in there, the sort that could bring blood. “Evidence which might shorten the case considerably and save you some time.” Bryant shrugged. “If you still wish to hear the witnesses afterwards than that option is still open.”
Bobby glanced over and the Duchess wore her little smile again, the one that meant shite for someone. Evidence? What the hell sort of evidence would a Duchess have? The Judge looked at her, and at the prosecutor. Billings really wanted to keep going, but curiosity had started eating at him and probably everyone else as well. His eyes went back to the Duchess. “Duchess? I would be obliged if you stepped up to be sworn in.”
“No need, Judge. I wish to place a portion of this information on record.” The Duchess pulled a data disc box from her handbag. “Since only one directory is relevant one of my men will supervise the copying.”
Judge Billings frowned, probably unhappy to even hint that the Duchess might be pulling a fast one. “The court will require some confirmation that this evidence is legal. Someone must swear to the information being correct.”
“Judge?” Manager Bryant waited a moment until he had the Judge’s attention. “I believe that the deathbed evidence of a man who knows he is dying is considered to be under oath?” Most of the eyes in the room went to the disc box. “This evidence was dictated by Lord Alaine Bertram Curen just before he died, and I am told it is clear from the evidence that Lord Curen knew he had been fatally wounded.”
“How long before he died?” The judge moderated his tone and attitude as if a magic wand had been waved.
The Duchess stood up and answered. “Minutes. This was dictated after the orders were given to Sergeant Bobby B, and after the Supervisor had concluded his communications with HQ. The information includes all his orders to everyone concerned.” She swept her eyes around the court. “My son asked the Sergeant to save as many as possible, and would be content with the result.”
At least three Supers and a Line Supervisor were already moving towards the door, a door that crashed open to reveal a Sergeant and a score of Troopers with weapons ready. “Secure the court, Sergeant. Nobody will leave until I have read this evidence.” Judge Billings brought his hand out from where he’d presumably pressed the panic button, and swept the court with his glare. “If anyone tries to leave or make a call, shoot them through the legs.” Armed Troopers moved out around the perimeter as the Sergeant saluted. “Duchess. Given the personal nature of this information, would you prefer to retire to my chambers while the disc is copied?”
“Certainly, though I must insist only the indicated directory is copied. The rest is family business, his last will and some private messages.” The Duchess rose, still wearing that little smile.
“Of course. The accused will seat himself with the defence until I return.” A guard unlocked him allowing Bobby to move out of the dock sit down. He really wanted to know what the hell was on that disc and Manager Bryant should know.
The judge made a muttered request to a clerk, and the man spoke to his wrist. The judge and Duchess had disappeared into judge’s chambers with one of the dangerous looking men by the time a tech arrived with the copying kit. The clerk took him through as well. Five minutes later the tech came out with his equipment and the Troopers allowed him to leave. Then everyone sat and waited.
* * *
Manager Bryant leaned over. “What will that disc say?”
“You’re asking me?” Bobby stared at the Manager. “I thought you knew.”
The Manager looked back, equally puzzled. “Only that it was the last thing he sent her and would help you. Not that it was the last will and after all the other recordings. Now what the hell will it say?”
Bobby had no idea, but knew what it should say. “What I told you. Unless the Super decided to pooch me anyway.”
Manager Bryant smirked. “Doubtful or mummy wouldn’t have been having social chats with you.”
Bobby smiled because that meant a lot of awkward questions for the dick who’d stitched him, at the very least. Then he thought he’d ask while he had the chance. “What is a Duchess anyway? How high up the tree of whatever?”
“Gods ask permission before getting in her way.” Manager Bryant smiled at Bobby’s expression. “If she decided to use Fourteen ST as a personal guard for a trip down the river or as waiters for a dinner party, everyone would salute and say yes ma’am. I suppose she’d have to square it afterwards with SSAB-Tata, or their Baron or whatever, unless she already owns enough shares.” The Manager leant back and fanned himself with the evidence file. Then he looked at it and smiled.
A very hungry smile, shark type hungry. “Comparing what that disc says happened with the evidence taken so far could be interesting. Perhaps those who decided to drag me out of my office will wish they hadn’t bothered? Nobody anticipated there being another record and some people’s memories were a little erratic.”
Though that prompted another question for Bobby. “How did she, the Duchess, get involved? You know, if Gods don’t usually bother her.” He couldn’t see someone tapping her on the shoulder with a casual query.
“A matter of courtesy. I sent a letter explaining that we were looking into the circumstances of his death and would get to the bottom of it.” The Manager frowned. “Though I sent that to the widow.” He looked at the door to the judge’s chambers. “I’d love to know how she got that disc.”
Bobby suddenly realised the only way anyone outside the army could have a record of the Super’s last few minutes. “I posted it.”
“What! When?” Several people looked over and the Manager lowered his voice. “When did you post it?”
“As soon as we got back though I didn’t know what it was. The Super asked me to, as a last request.” Bobby smiled. “Seemed a fair swap for a score of Troopers.”
“Well that answers questions of trust if the Super gave you his last will.” Manager Bryant shook his head and then glanced back and across at the seats full of spectators. “I’ll bet Line Supervisor Peter Varney wishes he hadn’t come to gloat. Though I don’t think he’d have time to cover his tracks even if he wasn’t l
ocked in here.”
Bobby repeated the name silently a few times to drive it into his head. That had to be the basted dick at HQ who’d pooched him, several times.
“Forget him. You’ll never get near him and anyway if you’ve been telling the truth and the disc confirms it he’ll eat a bullet. Or he will if he’s fast enough since otherwise upper management might have him skinned alive on vid as an object lesson to the rest. Though not a public lesson, the management will probably want to keep this quiet.” Bobby glanced across, startled. “How did I guess? You have a reputation. I think it might be fifty-fifty he tried to get out here to escape from you or the judge.” The Manager reconsidered. “Not fifty-fifty because you wouldn’t kill him here with witnesses.”
Bobby ignored the none too subtle hints about topping Supers. “But it’s still his word against a disc.”
“Fair enough if the rumours had been true, if Supervisor Curen stayed a Supervisor because he had fallen out with mummy and the family kept him there. From mummy’s reaction I’d say there’s been no rift, so anyone daring to suggest her little boy lied had better find a deep, dark hole then concrete a lid over it. Ah, good.”
The clerk had reappeared to beckon both Manager Bryant and the prosecution Super into the judge’s rooms. They went in, the clerk came out, and everyone settled down again. The next half hour must have been boring for most of those present. Bobby kept busy churning over what had happened in the last minutes in that train station, and wondering exactly what the Super had put on the disc.
After all, even if the Super’s last orders stood and cleared Bobby of running out, there’d still be all that collateral. They’d wrecked three accommodation blocks when the armour punched through but there’d been a fair bit here and there before that. That fire would have been a hell of a mess, and he’d left grenades behind six doors. Bobby also wondered what would happen to Ellis. Would his unknown benefactors throw the Corporal to the wolves over the attempted rape charge, or get him out to keep his trap shut? If they pulled off any surveillance and let the Basteds know, Bobby could sort out that little problem for them.
Even if Bobby got off and stayed a sergeant, life promised to be a bit difficult afterwards because Bobby and his squad were marked men now. There would be a new Super, who would look at that record and either see all the dead Supers the successful missions. Either way a lot of Supers out there had already made up their minds. Manager Bryant made that clear, when he said that no Super in the justice office would defend Bobby.
Bobby sighed in relief when the door opened and the five people came out. The Duchess had that serene look about her with just a tiny hint of her smile, so she still expected to dish out some shite. Both Manager Bryant and the prosecutor were keeping their faces absolutely blank, but judge Billings looked red-faced and bug-eyed furious. Everyone stood, and then sat after the Duchess and judge.
“Case dismissed.”
“What about the damage claims?” The assistant to the prosecutor spoke before his boss could answer and both quailed under a magnificent glare.
“Case. Dismissed. Clear?” Judge Billings looked at the sergeant guarding the door. “The Duchess and her party are free to leave, of course. So is Sergeant One Bobby B and Manager Bryant. Everyone else remains here until I have looked through all this evidence. I will expect adequate answers to all the discrepancies.” At least a half dozen objections died half-formed as they met the judge’s glare.
The Duchess stood, still with her half-smile. “I wish to place on record my thanks to Judge Billings for his patience and devotion to the cause of justice in waiting until all the evidence could be gathered, and to Manager Bryant for his diligence. It would seem that Sergeant One Bobby B has upheld the best traditions of the Troopers, and I will follow his career with interest.” Bobby stared as he saw the flinches and then glares from several Supers and Managers and realised that she had just made sure he was marked. He received another of those blinding smiles and the Duchess left. Bobby saluted the judge as required before marching out, followed by the Manager.
Outside the door the corridor had emptied. No witnesses or guards remained so Bobby collapsed into a chair. “She’s killed me.”
“How?”
“I’m already marked by my record. Now everyone in there knows who to blame for the shite they’re getting from the judge, and if I ever come up before him again.” Bobby shuddered.
The Manager laughed. “Judge Billings will be very happy once he’s worked off his temper on all those convenient victims. After all, he’s just got a commendation from one of the ultimate CEO’s handmaidens. So have I, and that will do no harm to my record or promotion prospects. On top of that you have just been given a steel umbrella, from a Duchess no less. Anyone shovelling anything your way will assess how interested the Duchess is in your career so unless they catch you with your hand in the creds or holding a smoking gun, you are clean.”
Bobby stared and reassessed. That lot daren’t pull anything? Not a chance, they’d just be a lot sneakier about it. Manager Bryant put a hand on his shoulder. “Though no Super will want you and your squads of Troopers in his unit. Definitely your squads because those stripes will be permanent as soon as the paperwork can be processed.”
“He said it. The Super said he’d get me. He knew I’d been dodging any chance of promotion. Basted.” Though Bobby couldn’t get any heat into it. “What happens now?”
“Go and see your squad, get drunk, visit the palaces and find a Diva? Sew those stripes on properly? No doubt some poor basted will arrive to take charge of you eventually.” The Manager turned to go. “Goodbye, Beebi. Forgive me if I hope to never see you again?”
“No problem.” Bobby sat there for a few minutes and then walked out of the building, past guards who never said a word, and headed for the barracks.
The squad got drunk together, though Hood took Magpie back before she had enough ale to make a mistake. They took a couple of bottles and both were fast asleep when the other three finally rolled in, but in their own beds which meant that Bells lost the bet. Apparently Hood had been sort of running the squad and definitely protecting Magpie, and Bells reckoned Hood had a thing for her. The big man reckoned he owed her because he wouldn’t have made it without her, and had expected to die as a rearguard.
Bigger Basteds
For nearly two more weeks nothing much happened. Rumours circulated of a taxi ride after Corporal Ellis disappeared from the unit roll along with his three sidekicks. One of the rescued men, Corporal Sidden, called Sudden of course, learned to walk with two steel feet and helped with discipline. Corporal Sandman kept his men under control and helped with the rest, but nobody wanted trouble. They were all waiting for the other sodin great steel toe-capped boot to drop.
Magpie opened up a bit, and learned to relax just a little. She relaxed most around Hood, still helping him with his metal leg now and then, but despite what Bells kept saying nothing actually happened between them. She dressed and undressed behind her screen, and as far as the rest knew only had Trooper clothes. She took the screen down in the day, in case of inspections, and the rest made sure she had a full set of kit if that happened. After the bledrin shambles the stores didn’t query requests for new boots and a helmet, so she ended up with gear that fitted.
Magpie padded her shirt and jacket to hide the curves, adding a bit more muscle to her appearance. Nobody wanted to know if she strapped her chest down or just wasn’t that big, because when Bells mentioned it Hood back-handed him onto his arse. Bells kept eyeing her up now and then but also pitched in to make her as good as possible with a knife and at hand-to-hand. He also managed to keep his hands to himself in hand-to-hand, because the rest swore they’d gang up and geld him if he didn’t. That or hold him down for Magpie to practice her knife work. Bells seemed torn, fascinated at having a woman in the squad but sort of proud as she learned to be a real Trooper.
Magpie worried about her first real action, about if she could shoot Plebs
because she’d been one just weeks ago. So did Bobby. “Are you sure you can do it? If some woman comes out of an alley with a knife or a bomb, you’ve got to shoot. If we sneak up on a target and someone pops up in front of you the knife has to go in quick and sure. Otherwise you’ll kill us all.”
“How do you do that? All of you, all the Troopers, don’t give a shite about who you kill. I’ve gone over it and over it, and I’m sure I can hit what I aim at, near enough, and stick a knife in the right place. I’m just not so sure about doing it to a live person.” Magpie kept her voice down because this talk had to be really quiet. Neither of them wanted the rest of the squad worried.
“We had a lot of trouble with the same thing, this squad did. We were too young.” Magpie looked puzzled so Bobby sighed and explained. “You might have noticed we’re a bit young for Troopers.”
“Yes, but the rest leave you alone, and they respect you.” A little smile flitted over her face. “Some are just scared.”
“The rest did ten years on the front lines, as Timers. They spent those years being sent on suicide attacks and being told every day their lives they were worth less than a broken window.” Magpie paled. “I mean it. The first Mob of Timers we relieved had lost seventy out of a hundred in two attacks. If we hadn’t had a sergeant who told us to run when the Super said attack we’d most likely be dead. They train Supers that way, because dead Timers are cheap.”
“But the news tells us you are our brave protectors, fighting to defend the borders.”
“Timers are untrained, barely armed, and mostly scared shiteless and the enemy ones are the same. I doubt one in ten survives to be a Trooper. By that time all that matters is staying alive.” Bobby knew he sounded bitter, but he’d never put it in words before. “Their friends are all dead, they’ve killed more strangers than they can count, and they’ve not seen home or a friendly face outside of a spam palace since leaving home.”
