by John Bowers
“Right. But it was an acci—”
“That’s okay!” She held up a hand. “You’re not on trial. Let’s just keep moving forward, shall we?”
“Okay.”
“Irrespective of whether it was murder or an accident, who did Marshal Walker think you had murdered?”
“It was…” Ferguson’s face twisted again and he had to catch his breath. “Her—her name was Misery Allen.”
“Misery Allen? Defense attorney? A friend of Marshal Walker?”
“Leading the witness, your Honor.”
“Just trying to expedite the testimony, your Honor. I could drag it out of him one word at a time or we can just get it into the record. We already know the lady’s name.”
“Proceed.”
“Yeah. Misery Allen.”
“And what happened to Misery Allen? Did she die?”
“Yes. But I swear, I didn’t mean to—”
“We know that, Mr. Ferguson. Let’s just get through this, okay?”
Ferguson wiped his eyes. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Where did Misery Allen die?”
“In Marshal Walker’s hotel room.”
“In what part of the room? Was she in bed?”
“No. She was in the shower.”
“What happened in the shower?”
“It— She— I mean—”
“Okay, wait.” Victoria turned to the bench. “Permission to lead the witness, your Honor? Just to get the facts into the record?”
“Just don’t lead him to water. Proceed.”
Victoria picked up a court document and read verbatim.
“According to the information presented in United Federation Court Ceres District, the charge was as follows: ‘The defendant’—in this case you, Mr. Ferguson—‘installed an unauthorized device, hereinafter referred to as a “booby trap”, in the shower stall in Marshal Walker’s hotel room. Once activated, said device was designed and intended to override and negate normal temperature settings, thereby delivering a fatal volume of near-boiling water into the shower stall. Said device was also designed to jam the shower exit door, thereby trapping the intended victim inside and thereby preclude escape.’”
Victoria looked at Ferguson, who sat sobbing on the stand.
“Is that what happened, Mr. Ferguson? You installed that device in Marshal Walker’s shower?”
Unable to stop sobbing, Ferguson, head down, just nodded.
“I need a yes or no, Mr. Ferguson. Is that what happened?”
“Yes. YES!”
“Is that the same murder you were convicted of being accessory to?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. I’m finished leading the witness, your Honor.”
“Very well.”
Victoria dropped the court record on her table and returned to the witness. She took a deep breath and released it.
“Okay. We’re done with that part, thank God. Are you ready to proceed?”
Fred nodded, wiping his eyes again. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Good, me too. When Marshal Walker arrested you, was Misery Allen already dead?”
“Yeah.”
“And he thought you killed her?”
“Yeah.”
“Was Marshal Walker pretty fond of Miss Allen?”
“Objection, speculation.”
“Sustained.”
“Rephrase, your Honor. Did Marshal Walker appear to be pretty upset that Miss Allen was dead?”
“Yes. He was furious.”
“He was furious.”
Victoria walked back to the defense table and stood beside it. She faced Ferguson again.
“Let’s review, Mr. Ferguson. You set a booby trap in Marshal Walker’s shower; even though Misery Allen was not your intended target, she did, in fact, die in that shower; Misery Allen was a friend of Marshal Walker, and when he learned of her death—and her manner of death—he was furious. Does that sound pretty accurate to you?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Mr. Ferguson, based on the facts I just elucidated, and your agreement with them, do you suppose that might explain why Marshal Walker was so furious that he shot you through the ear?”
“Objection!”
“Withdrawn. No more questions.”
Chapter 16
Pearl’s Café, The River Walk — Lucaston, Alpha Centauri 2
“What the hell was that all about?”
“What was what all about?”
Victoria Cross sipped an iced tea and dug a fork into her salad. Nick was working on a cup of coffee and a ham sandwich. Court had recessed for lunch and they sat at a sidewalk café fifteen yards from the river that flowed through the downtown area. Both suns were up but the weather was mild and beautiful.
“Flirting with the witness? Is that what you were doing?”
She avoided his eyes as she sucked tea through a straw, amusement curling her lips.
“Keeping Brian off balance. He has this tremendous ego, thinks he is God’s gift to litigation, but he has so many buttons it’s hard to shake hands with him without setting them off.”
She met his eyes.
“Could you hear what the judge was saying when we approached?”
“No. I heard him yell at Godney, but that was about it.”
“Brian got so angry he swore at the judge. Well, at me, actually, but it’s all the same. You don’t do that in a courtroom.” She took a bite of salad and smiled. “He told Judge Moore that I quit his team because I’m after his job.”
“Are you?”
“Of course not! The job I quit paid more than his, and since I was there longer, I was technically senior to him. Anyway, how could I take his job by quitting mine? I’m no longer employed by the U.F. Attorney.”
“That’s what the flirting was all about?”
“Part of it. I just couldn’t resist pulling his chain.
“The other part was that Fred Ferguson is his witness, and I was there last night when he warned Fred what to expect from the defense. So I became Fred’s best friend. Not only does it make Brian look bad, but Ferguson actually liked me more than Brian.”
“What does that mean for my defense? Did we gain anything?”
“We got clear testimony from Fred that will help explain your actions when you shot him in the ear. It doesn’t excuse it, but it does explain it. It also put Brian on notice that he’s going to have to work a lot harder than he thought he would if he wants this hearing to go anywhere. He walked in there this morning thinking he had victory in his pocket, but tonight he probably won’t sleep very well.”
“Any advantage in a gunfight, huh?”
“You got it.” She smiled. “Remember Star Marine infantry training? Infiltrate, separate, dominate? The same thing applies in law.”
Nick was surprised. “How did you know that? You didn’t take infantry training.”
“No, but I got a copy of the manual and read it. I figured if I didn’t make it in law school, I would probably end up as a rifleman, so I wanted to get ahead of the game.”
Eleven Years Earlier
Monday, February 6, 0434 (CC)
Camp Pendleton, SoCal – North America, Terra
The last two weeks of boot camp had been just as hectic as ever, but things were winding down. Absent a massive screw-up, no one was washing out at this point; the only concerns of import dealt with graduation and whatever training schools followed it. They still had duty, of course. Tests to take, medical exams, uniform fittings, graduation holos…in a few days they would no longer be boots, but Star Marines.
Nick and Vic played a dangerous game. With two weeks to go, they skirted the rules, risked their careers, risked their futures—risked everything—for a few minutes alone each day. Somehow, against all reasonable odds, they got away with it. If anyone suspected, they looked the other way.
Graduation was joyous. They had a parade, they had a band, they had an audience. Friends and families traveled from all over North America
to attend. When the final congratulation was given, their hats sailed into the air and the new Star Marines hugged each other (never dreaming that, in less than three years, half of them would be dead). As the only girl in the platoon, Victoria got hugged and squeezed and twirled and kissed; every man was proud of her, every man wanted her to meet his family.
Private Nick Walker held back, giving her time with her friends. His own family was there, but he waited until Vic got a free moment to catch her breath, then gave her his own congratulations. Right in front of God and Everybody (“Everybody” being the greater authority at Pendleton), Nick pulled her into his arms and kissed her hungrily. When their lips parted she gazed into his brown eyes with her spectacular blue ones.
“Thank you, Nick. I would never have made it without you.”
“Bullshit. Of course you would. You’re better than any of the rest of us.” He took a deep breath and swallowed to fight back the lump in his throat. “Vic…I know I may never see you again, but I have to say this.”
Her smile faded and she looked surprised.
“Say what?”
“I love you. I know it’s crazy, but—”
“I love you too. Nick, I love you, too!”
He almost fainted. His heart surged into his throat and he could barely breathe. He grabbed her and kissed her again, and was about to let loose a whoop of joy when her hand on his arm restrained him.
“Not here. It might be a little hard to explain.”
“Okay. Okay, you’re right. Okay.” He cast about, breathless, for something to say. “Okay, then, what about this—when I get back from Luna—”
“We’ll keep in touch. Call me when you get dirtside and I’ll give you my address. We’ll hook up.”
“Okay. Okay, I can do that. Yeah, that’ll work.”
Victoria laughed, grabbed his shoulders, and kissed him one last time.
“I gotta go, Nick. Everybody is waiting.”
“Yeah. Me, too. Okay. I’ll call you!”
***
That had been almost ten months ago. Advanced Infantry at Luna 1 had taken nine months, some of the most brutal training he ever had or ever would experience. They learned low-gravity combat, zero-gravity combat, pressure suit combat, boarding a hostile starship, repelling boarders from a hostile starship, hyperspace orientation, planetoid assault—just about everything he could have imagined, and quite a bit he had never dreamed of. He had been posted to a new training platoon of forty men—training accidents killed nine of them.
He came home tougher and grimmer and, hopefully, wiser than when he left. But he was ready for whatever assignment was handed to him. His training was complete and he had almost three years to serve. He was assigned to Echo Company of the 33rd Star Marines, a new outfit that had never seen combat. He would become a charter member, with the opportunity to forge a new tradition of military excellence. The only question was, where did they go next?
Everyone believed they would be deployed to Alpha Centauri—the rebellion had been heating up during their time on Luna—and as it turned out, they were right.
But first, Nick had thirty days’ leave, and there was only one person he wanted to spend it with.
***
U.F. Pepperdine had once been a private Christian school with a law campus. After the Federation was formed it was incorporated into the University Federation system as a secular institution, still with a law school. Located on a hillside overlooking Malibu, it boasted a magnificent view of the Pacific Ocean with a stunning campus that would inspire students of any discipline. Pepperdine had a reputation as one of the top law schools in North America, and due to its proximity to Camp Pendleton in SoCal, students studying under Star Marine authority were welcomed.
Nick had communicated with Victoria several times during Advanced Infantry at Luna 1, but the final weeks of training had taken more and more of his time, so they communicated less. He hadn’t heard from her in about six weeks. The minute he hit dirt at Pendleton and could get out the front gate, he grabbed an air taxi and headed north. He had promised to call her as soon as he returned, but decided to surprise her instead.
The sun had already set as the hover-taxi traveled north, but Pepperdine was barely an hour away at that speed and he arrived shortly after dark. The crash of distant surf punctuated his senses as he strode across campus in his Class A uniform, flowers in hand. As much as he loved it, one of the downsides of space travel was the lack of real weather. The sights and sounds and smells of Terra were hypnotic, and even though it was winter, he found the chill ocean air refreshing.
It put him in the mood for romance.
He found Victoria’s dormitory and climbed the starcrete steps to the second floor. Her door faced the ocean and for just a moment before he knocked, he turned to gaze out at the panorama of dark water and distant lights from fishing boats. Vic must love it here, he thought, and he couldn’t wait to take her in his arms again. Feeling a tingle on his skin and a tripping of his heart, he pushed the doorbell. If the dim light behind her drapes meant anything, she was still awake. Probably studying. He gripped the flowers and tried to control his anticipation as he waited ten seconds for her to open the door.
The door slid open and Nick came face to face with a young man a couple of years older than himself. Tall, broad in the shoulder, blond hair, a square jaw. Maybe an athlete, or a fireman, or even another Star Marine. Nick checked the number on the door to make sure he had the right apartment, then looked again at the man staring back at him.
He was stark naked except for a towel around the waist.
“Can I help you?” he asked in a pleasant voice.
“I, uh…maybe—maybe I have the wrong apartment.”
“What apartment are you looking for?”
Nick glanced at the number again. “This one. But I thought…”
His skin turned suddenly cold and his stomach began to churn.
“You thought what? Are you okay, Private?”
“Do you live here?” Nick asked, trying to keep his voice from croaking.
“Yeah, I do. Who were you looking for?”
Nick’s heart was thundering now, and redness edged his vision. His lips were turning numb. He was afraid to answer the question.
“Victoria Cross,” he said. “I thought this was her apartment.”
The half-naked guy only stared at him, then took a step back.
Over his shoulder: “Vic! Someone to see you.”
“Just a minute. Tell ‘em to wait.”
Nick took a step back, panting hard. His vision blurred. He thought he might throw up. He took another step back, then another. He bumped the iron railing at the edge of the balcony and stood there, his chest heaving. The nearly-naked guy frowned with concern.
“Easy, man, take it easy! Are you okay? You look like shit warmed over!”
He stepped outside and reached for Nick’s arm, perhaps to keep him from toppling over the rail. Nick shoved his hand away.
Victoria Cross appeared in the doorway wearing a terry-cloth robe; her hair was tousled, her cheeks flushed—a hickey was visible on her throat. Her eyes widened in shock and her mouth fell open. They locked eyes for six or seven seconds; she had turned as pale as a ghost.
“Nick!” was all she said.
Nick stared at her another few seconds, then pulled himself up straight. He was a Star Marine, dammit! He was acting like a pussy. He glanced at the half-naked guy again, then took a step forward and thrust the flowers into Victoria’s hands.
“Flower delivery, Miss Cross. From your ex-boyfriend.”
He turned and trotted down the steps to the ground floor without looking back. Victoria ran to the railing and leaned over.
“Nick! Nick, I can explain! You were supposed to call first!”
Nick kept walking, heading for the parking lot where the hover taxi had let him out.
“Nick! Come back! Nick, I’m sorry!” Her voice turned ragged with sobs. “Nick, please! COME BACK!!”
But Nick never went back.
January 3, 0435 (CC)
San Diego, SoCal – North America, Terra
She found him a year later, in a San Diego bar just weeks before the 33rd Star Marines deployed to Alpha Centauri. She was back at Pendleton for a month during Christmas break from Pepperdine and saw the deployment schedules for Alpha Centauri; even so, it took her a week to track him down, but first she interviewed five or six men in his platoon, after first swearing them to silence with veiled threats about their own futures.
He wasn’t the same man he had been in boot camp, or who returned from Luna 1, his comrades told her. He was twenty years old going on sixty, still the nicest guy you ever wanted to meet, but harder, tougher, sadder. He worked harder than any two men in his platoon, took the most risks, and seemed the most indestructible. But he didn’t seem to enjoy it any more. He did his job because it was his job, and did it better than anybody else. He qualified on more weapons than anyone else, shot higher scores than anyone else, and seemed to face the prospect of combat with a grim fatalism that, frankly, scared some of them.
“He doesn’t think he’s gonna survive it,” one of them told her.
“If I ever get in trouble,” another one said, “Walker is the man I want coming for me. Trouble is, the way he’s going, he may get smoked in his first engagement.”
“Man, when he fixates on something,” said a third man, “you don’t want to get in front of him. I pity the poor Freaks when he gets to Alpha 2. He may end the fucking war all by himself.”
“If he lives long enough,” agreed a fourth.
After the interviews, Victoria Cross found herself a quiet corner and wept until the stress had bled away, then dried her eyes and went looking for him. His friends had told her the most likely place he might be when not in camp, and she found him sitting at a dark, corner table, drinking alone. It was a quiet, conservative lounge without the thundering music that marred the experience of many such places and she was grateful for that. The music was soft, muted, and pleasant, allowing for conversation.
He saw her approach but didn’t speak. She stopped at his table and gazed down at him, feeling slightly breathless.
