Haladras

by Michael M. Farnsworth

  Skylar breathed an internal sigh of relief. He had managed to say the right thing—or at least avoid the wrong thing.

  They were nearly to Skylar’s cave now. He didn’t want their walk to end.

  “Can I walk you to your home, or wherever you’re going?” he ventured.

  She smiled in a way that made his stomach knot up.

  “Maybe another day,” was all she said.

  With that she waved goodbye and dashed off, her fiery hair streaming behind her like a victory banner. Skylar watched her until she disappeared around the first bend, then he turned and entered his cave.

  Inside, Skylar peeked around in all the rooms. Satisfied his uncle wasn’t lurking about anywhere, he went to his bedchamber to study. He’d scarcely opened his geology book when he heard a call at the entryway. Annoyed at having to get up so soon, Skylar went to go see who it was.

  On the landing outside their cave, stood a man with a squat stature and rubicund face. He wore a Haladrian military uniform. He was not a ranked officer, Skylar could tell that much. The man stood erect, his arms straight at his sides.

  “Are you Skylar Lancewright?” the soldier asked.

  “Yes,” said Skylar tentatively.

  Mechanically, the officer reached into his lapel, drew out a yellow envelope and extended it toward Skylar.

  “I have been commissioned to deliver this summons to you.”

  Skylar took the envelope.

  “Summons for what?”

  But the officer had already turned his back to Skylar and showed no intention of saying or doing anything beyond his commissioned duty.

  Skylar returned to his room, where he tore open the envelope and quickly read the enclosed letter:

  The Incident Investigation Committee for the Bureau of Interplanetary Trade and Travel hereby issues this summons to Skylar Lancewright to appear in a court of investigation on the sixteenth day of the Orven moon, year fourteen of His Majesty King Tarus’ reign. He shall appear before the court at the Cloud Harbor space port, prepared to give testimony concerning the events of the eighth at a quarter after sunrise. Failure to appear will result in legal punitive action.

  The letter was signed and bore the bureau’s official seal: a ring of seven spheres superimposed on an image of a shuttle, all underscored by BITT.

  At first Skylar did not fully understand the letter. What had he done that he should need to appear before a court? He re-read the letter, paying closer attention to the details.

  “Concerning the events of the eighth...,” he repeated to himself.

  And then it hit him. That was the same day he had been injured at the docks, the same day as the incident. Not in all his dreams did he imagine anything so serious would come of that. Was he in more trouble than he realized?

  He cast the letter onto the floor. Whatever flicker of hope he had of returning to his apprenticeship at the harbor fizzled out in that moment.

  * * *

  The day of his court appearance arrived. Skylar slumped in the passenger seat of Kindor’s speeder as it blasted across the barren landscape toward Cloud Harbor. The morning sun hung low in the sky. Though already scorching hot, it seemed dimmer than usual, gloomy.

  Skylar had had three days to prepare himself for the court. Three miserable days. The more he had thought about the court, the gloomier he felt. Some awful doom awaited him—he knew it.

  Kindor had done little to assuage his worries. He too had received a summons to appear before the court. Kindor did his best to convince Skylar that he had nothing to worry about—being an apprentice, Skylar’s actions were not punishable by the Bureau. Still, this investigation would bring unwanted attention and scrutiny to the harbor. And there was nothing to prevent Rasbus from terminating Skylar’s apprenticeship because of it. Neither Kindor nor Skylar could stop him.

  And so the pair sped onward to see what fate held for them, a whirlwind of arid dust swirling in their wake.

  When Cloud Harbor finally became visible on the horizon, Skylar’s palms began to sweat and his pulse quickened.

  “I’m not excited to see it, today,” said Skylar.

  Kindor made no reply.

  As they came nearer and the docks began to take shape, Skylar’s mind flashed back to the day of the incident. He pictured himself lying like a dead body on the lower deck. A shutter ran through him.

  The harbor was unusually calm for that time of day. A few dockhands were scattered about, engaged in some mundane task. More than the lack of men at the docks, the quietness struck him. Rasbus was not standing at his post, barking out commands in one breathless stream. Skylar wondered if he would see Rasbus. He realized for the first time that he actually missed the iron-lunged harbor master.

  Kindor brought the speeder to a stop just outside the harbor’s main entrance. The two climbed out and entered the building. Inside, Kindor led them toward a mechanical lift, which they used to ascend to the top level. Exiting the lift, they walked down a lengthy hallway, their footsteps echoing loudly. A soldier stood guard just outside one of the portals. They halted in front of him.

  “Name?” demanded the guard.

  “Come on, Wes, you know my name?” said Kindor.

  “Name?” repeated Wes in the same serious tone.

  Kindor sighed. “Kindor Nightstar.” The guard checked his list, nodded, then rigidly moved aside for Kindor to pass.

  “Thank you” said Kindor and walked through. Skylar made to follow, but the guard extended an arm to bar the way.

  “Name?”

  “Skylar...Skylar Lancewright.”

  Wes lowered his gaze to check his list again. Skylar hoped that somehow his name would be absent from it. Of course, it was not absent, and the guard let Skylar pass.

  Inside, Skylar found a room of unimpressive size and appearance. A single aisle ran through the middle of numerous rows of benches, which filled most of the room. These were nearly brimming with persons in uniform. At the head of the room stood a platform and a wide desk. A row of six men sat behind the desk. They wore gray robes and gray caps. Several of the men had long gray beards. All six wore stern faces. On the wall behind these men, hung the banners of Ahlderon and Haladras.

  “Don’t worry,” whispered Kindor, as he ushered Skylar toward the front row, “they’re probably all asleep up there.”

  Skylar secretly hoped it was true; that those six were merely senile old men—harmless as children.

  Once seated, Skylar breathed a little easier. He took a moment to glance around at the others in the audience. Rasbus sat on the other side of the aisle from him and Kindor. Next to the harbor master sat Captain Arturo.

  Skylar moaned inaudibly. Of all the people he didn’t want to know about the incident, Captain Arturo was first on the list.

  The court proceedings commenced shortly thereafter. One of the six men stood and called for attendance. Each name called received a “Here, my lord,” in reply from the corresponding member of the quorum. When Skylar’s name was called he echoed the same phrase, but he was so nervous his voice cracked.

  Great start, he thought bitterly.

  Having confirmed the attendance of all requisite parties, the gray-robbed figure sat down and another stood. He had one of the long gray beards, the longest of the bunch, and sallow skin, which clung loosely to his angular face. He appeared to be the senior of the six inquisitors—the head inquisitor. With a voice weakened by age, he spoke:

  “This court of investigation is hereby in session. We are here to probe into the incidents of the eighth of the Orven moon. The claims are thus: that an unauthorized personal aviation device was used in a no-fly zone; that said device was used to perform an illegal release from the anchor point of Captain Arturo’s ship, the Supernova; that the aforesaid infractions were committed by one Skylar Lancewright, an apprentice dockhand; that said apprentice was ill-advisably assigned to operate a winch station; that the aforesaid conditions put many lives in jeopardy and ultimately caused severe injuries t
o said apprentice.

  “Captain Arturo, are these charges correct?”

  “Yes, my lord,” replied Arturo.

  Kindor leaned closer to Skylar and whispered, “Looks like Arturo’s the reason for this investigation.”

  This realization stunned Skylar. The captain apparently already knew more than Skylar had believed and obviously took the incident seriously.

  “Very good,” continued the long-bearded figure. “We shall proceed with the investigation. We will first hear the testimony of Harbor Master Rasbus.”

  At this bidding, Rasbus stood and walked forward, coming to halt a few feet in front of the platform of judges.

  “You are the harbor master of Cloud Harbor, are you not?” questioned the head inquisitor.

  “Aye.”

  “The boy apprentice, Skylar Lancewright, has been under your supervision?”

  “Aye.”

  “You were aware that he was among your dock crew on the day of the incident in question?”

  “Aye.”

  “You authorized it?”

  “Aye.”

  “Did you authorize the said apprentice to operate one of the winches?”

  “Nay, my lord. I had no intention of him doing so.”

  The old inquisitor raised his eyebrows. “Then how came he to be posted there? Do you deny that he operated the winch on that day?”

  “I do not deny it. I placed him under the command of one of my deck officers, Kindor Nightstar. He was responsible for assigning Skylar a task fitting his experience.”

  Hitherto, Rasbus had subdued his powerful voice. But it rose slightly, revealing a hint of suppressed anger, when he mentioned this last fact.

  “I see,” replied the inquisitor. “In which case, we have no further questions for you at this time. You may be seated.”

  Rasbus proudly turned and walked back to his seat.

  The head inquisitor called for Kindor next.

  “Wish me luck,” whispered Kindor out of the corner of his mouth.

  The old inquisitor asked Kindor a series of questions similar the ones they asked Rasbus. All of which only served to clarify the events prior to the incident. After the head inquisitor had finished, the figure next to him asked his own questions.

  “You claim that you knew this boy was an apprentice,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Why then, did you assign him to operate one of the winches? Were there no other experienced dockhands available?”

  “No, my lord, though we had no dockhands to spare that day, there were others who could have manned that winch station.”

  “Then why did you not assign one of them?”

  “Simply because I believed Skylar every bit as qualified as any other dockhand.”

  Here one of the beardless inquisitors chimed in.

  “And do you still hold this high opinion of the apprentice now that this mishap has occurred?”

  “I do.”

  A murmur of voices followed this affirmation, and several of the gray figures seemed to rouse, as if they were statues come to life, and began scribbling notes on parchment. The beardless figure merely smiled insidiously in reply.

  The head inquisitor dismissed Kindor.

  “They’ll call you next,” Kindor whispered as he sat down again. “Don’t let them intimidate you—stand your ground.”

  Though nervous, Skylar’s anger was already mounting. He had begun to sense that the inquisitors had already chosen Kindor as primary culprit in the matter. They would question Skylar, find him inadequate, and thus prove Kindor’s judgment lacking. He felt determined to prove them wrong.

  “Skylar Lancewright,” called the head inquisitor. Skylar inhaled sharply and rose to his feet. As he approached the interrogation spot, he found his legs wobbled as he walked. Just stay calm, he told himself. Closer up, the six inquisitors looked even more menacing. They stared at him with their cold eyes, their brows frozen in perpetual scowls.

  “You are the apprentice that has been mentioned today, are you not?” questioned the old inquisitor.

  “I am, my lord,” replied Skylar.

  “You concur with the events thus far presented?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now I want you to provide us with a detailed account of all that proceeded from the time the docking procedure commenced until the accident occurred.”

  Skylar swallowed, then began to recount the events, which lived so vividly within his memory that he had no difficulty whatever remembering even the minutest detail. The six inquisitors did not interrupt him as he spoke, but studied him with their stone faces, one or more of them occasionally jotting down a note. When he had finished his account, the head inquisitor nodded and opened his mouth to speak.

  “You claim, Skylar Lancewright,” he began, “that you did all that you could do to activate your winch’s emergency release, but the release failed. You also claim that a full-throttle reverse likewise failed. We have therefore only to substantiate or nullify these claims. Will the chief engineer please come forward?”

  Skylar heard the steady sound of heavy footsteps on the hard floor, then a figure appeared at Skylar’s side. He dared not turn to look for fear of breaking protocol.

  “Engineer,” continued the inquisitor, “after the incident in question occurred, did you inspect this young apprentice’s winch for defect? From the report, it appears that it was the winch station 47.”

  “Yes I did. Standard procedure,” replied the engineer as though he were offended by the question.

  “And did you find anything amiss?”

  “No.”

  “You tested the emergency release?”

  “Of course. It worked perfectly. The throttle functioned perfectly, as well.”

  “Very good. You may be seated.”

  The chief engineer turned and walked back to his seat. Skylar felt his face growing hotter with every step he heard. He knew the winch had malfunctioned. He had tried everything. But how could he prove it?

  The head investigator returned his gaze to Skylar, all the while stroking his gray beard.

  “It would appear,” he said after several moments, “that you did not know how to properly operate the winch. Otherwise, as your chief engineer has testified, it would have worked perfectly.”

  “It wasn’t working perfectly!” Skylar blurted out angrily. “I know how to operate that winch. It stopped working. There wasn’t anything else to be done but what I did.”

  The old inquisitor’s eyes narrowed.

  “You speak boldly—or perhaps foolishly—for a young apprentice. We shall forgive your insolence, for I see that you truly believe what you say. But see that you learn to tame your tongue. As regarding your claim that the winch malfunctioned, you can provide us no proof but your word alone. You mistakenly believed the winch malfunctioned.”

  “It did malfunction,” cried Skylar. “I know it did. If you would just listen—”

  “Silence!” shouted the old inquisitor, rising to his feet, his gravelly voice echoing through the room. “You will hold your tongue, unless we permit you to speak.”

  Skylar glared back at the old man, his chest heaving from emotion, his lips pressed firmly together. How he wanted to speak his mind. It wouldn’t do any good. He knew that. There was nothing he could do to convince them. It was over.

  With trembling limbs, the head inquisitor slowly sank back into his chair.

  “Now,” he continued, “as I was saying, without further evidence, we must conclude—”

  “My lord?” came a voice from the audience. The head inquisitor looked up sharply, visibly agitated that anyone would be so bold as to interrupt him. His anger, however, quickly vanished from his face when he saw who it was.

  “Ah, yes, Captain Arturo. You wish to make a comment?”

  “If it pleases the board, I propose that we test the veracity of the apprentice’s claim.”

  The old inquisitor raised a gray eyebrow. “A test you say?” he said, skepticism apparent in his vo
ice. “What sort of a test, Captain?”

  “I believe we can recreate the right conditions that the winch was under when it allegedly malfunctioned.”

  “Recreate the conditions, Captain?” the head inquisitor asked in astonishment. “I hardly think that it is worth our time or worth putting more lives in danger by attempting to recreate these events solely for the purpose of validating this very weak claim.”

  “My lord,” he replied, “I do not believe it a waste of this court’s time to come to a thorough verdict in this matter. A discrepancy exists between the claims of the chief engineer and this apprentice. I desire to know the reason. If the apprentice is mistaken, so be it. But I want to be certain that winch is in proper working order. Lives depend on it functioning correctly.”

  “It is functioning correctly, I tell you!” shouted a voice that Skylar recognized as the engineer’s. “It’s a waste of time. There’s nothing wrong with that winch.”

  “Calm yourself, Mr. Engineer,” said the head inquisitor. “No one doubts your competency. But the captain has the right to demand further investigation. I only wish to know how he intends to accomplish this test in a safe manner.”

  “Those details will only be important if they support the apprentice’s claim. Without further waste of the court’s time, I respectfully request the board grant me a few hours in which to execute my plan.”

  The old inquisitor paused, frowning in thought. Then he slowly turned and looked at the other gray figures beside him. In turn, each nodded slowly. The head inquisitor turned back to Arturo.

  “You have precisely two hours, Captain. I hope this test of yours is worthy of our time. Harbor Master Rasbus, see that the captain has whatever he needs to expedite his test. Until then, this court is adjourned.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” replied Arturo.

  Captain Arturo’s plan was ingenious in its simplicity. With Rasbus’ permission, he had enlisted the aid of both Skylar and Kindor, in addition to the chief engineer, who grudgingly complied, and two other dockhands. His plan was to attach the cable of the winch Skylar had been using to the cable of a winch on the opposite side of the deck. Gradually, two winch operators would reel in their cables. Once the lines were taut, the operator of Skylar’s winch would incrementally increase the tension on the cables from each end. When the tension gauge neared the level at which Skylar had attempted to activate the winch’s emergency release, the winch operator would try to do the same on Skylar’s winch. Should it fail again the winchman on the opposite side would merely activate his emergency release, and thus eliminate any danger.