by Kate Elliott
Stanford still wore his shoulder harness, but the only instrument she saw attached to it was his thin com-slate. Stanford shook her hand with some reserve, but Fred pumped it enthusiastically.
“Don’t get a chance to do this much,” he growled. “Nice place, huh? Where do we get to sit?”
Lily grinned, waving toward Yevgeny. “You’d better ask our host. I think the main chairs are filling up. If you’ll excuse me.” She waited for the last arrivals. “Deucalion. And—” Paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was many degrees cooler. “Min Leung. I’m so pleased to see you here.”
Maria simply walked past her as if she did not exist, or were of too little importance to acknowledge. It seemed a poor and unconvincing imitation of La Belle.
“At least she’s being made to appear,” Lily said to Deucalion.
He looked grim. “I’ll see that she’s brought to account for her actions. I’m only sorry that Mother wouldn’t witness—or even let Adam—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
“Haven’t you tried to reach them again? Perhaps a recorded message?”
“They’ve already left the system. She only came to tell you about Father.” A different look sparked in his eyes a moment. “At least we learned that he’s not dead.”
She had to ask, now that he had mentioned the subject. “Do you know where Cymru is?”
“Of course.” But he did not elaborate, moving instead to the chairs. She followed him and, seating herself, found that the circle was full except for an empty chair that Windsor had forsaken, seeing that there was not room enough for the Ardakians to sit in as well. A rank of chairs behind held them, and Yehoshua, and Pinto in his elevated chair. Deucalion sat beside Jenny, Maria next to Yevgeny. There was a silence in which Maria arranged her dress and Isfa’han surveyed the new arrivals with an expression of dry amusement on her half-dappled face. “While you settle yourselves in and sort yourselves out,” she said, with a touch of irony, “I’ll bring up the rest of the file.”
While the Ridani woman scrolled up more notes, Lily leaned to speak softly to Dr. Farhad. “How did you get here? I thought you would have been on the Hope by now.”
Dr. Farhad looked at her, reproving. Her lips thinned. “Once I arrived, the young woman called Paisley apprised me of developments. I then had the skiff that brought me turn around and bring me back here. Just in time, I see.” Her disapproval fairly radiated around the circle.
“Now.” Isfa’han folded her hands in her lap. “Since all the principals are here, perhaps we can continue. Without interruption. This list of charges is quite extensive. Most of them seem adequately substantiated. Intent, of course, we can only deduce from this hearing now, and it seems clear to me that we’re dealing with a person whose customary, socialized behavior is rather different from our own.”
“If this story about”—Chao checked her console—“Reft space is true.”
“Have you reason to doubt it?” asked Isfa’han.
“I have logs to prove it,” said Lily without heat. “I have never been aware that logs could be faked.”
“That’s true,” conceded Chao. She frowned and glanced past Lily. “But if that’s a still functional, and bonded, composer, there’s no telling what you might have accomplished.”
Patroness, Bach sang, are they questioning my honesty?
No, Bach, she whistled. They are praising your abilities. Bach finished off Lily’s phrase with a gorgeous, and expressively brief, coda. Lily turned back to face Isfa’han. “I am accused of aiding and abetting a fugitive. Two fugitives. I won’t deny that I—as you phrase it—aided and abetted them—”
“You see,” interrupted Maria vehemently. “She does not deny it.”
“Let her finish, Maria,” said Yevgeny curtly.
Lily waited a moment, but Maria did not continue. “But in so far as I was a citizen of Reft space, was not even aware of the existence of the League except as the place my ancestors came from, I don’t understand how you can charge me under your laws for traveling with people whose fugitive status I could not have been cognizant of and whose government had no jurisdiction over me in the first place.”
“Ignorance is always the excuse of the deviant.”
“Maria,” warned Yevgeny.
Deucalion stood up. “If ignorance is the captain’s excuse, min Leung, then I would like to know what yours is. If the honorables here are not aware of it, I would like to state for the record what occurred on Discord.”
“Deucalion,” said Yevgeny softly. “Please sit down.”
“I refuse to let her prejudice the tribunal!”
“How can I prejudice them?” Maria asked with false sweetness. “The facts prejudice themselves and lead to only one conclusion—that these people are unfit to function in society.”
“You’re unfit—”
“Deucalion!” Yevgeny silenced him.
“If you will excuse me again,” broke in Isfa’han placidly. “I believe that this hearing was convened to focus specifically on the charges laid out here against min Ransome. A separate hearing must be convoked to deal with these other charges.”
“Unsubstantiated charges,” said Maria.
“Only because I couldn’t get outside witnesses to—”
“Please, min Belsonn,” interrupted Isfa’han more forcefully. “We will proceed with the matter at hand.”
Deucalion sat down, mouth turned down, both fists clenched and placed on his thighs.
“Thank you,” said Lily drily, and she exchanged what could only be called a complicitous smile with Isfa’han. Yevgeny Basham could be heard to sigh as he looked at the two other representatives of Intelligence, who had subsided but only to glare at each other in silence.
“So you admit to the charges,” said Chapman. “I would think that makes intent pretty clear. I did read the dossier on this case before I came. My recommendation would be for the maximum penalty.”
“I concur,” said Chao, and Maphuna nodded as well.
“Perhaps you would enlighten me as to what the penalty is,” cut in Lily.
Jenny leaned forward. “You’re not going to just take this, are you?” she demanded. “They’ve already made up their minds before they got here.” Lily lifted her hand and Jenny sat back, crossing her arms over her chest and glowering as only a dangerous mercenary can do.
“Min Basham?”
Yevgeny sighed and brought up information on his console. “A prison term, to be commuted with public works or some service to the public as agreed on by the tribunal.”
“If you imprison me, you have my crew and my ship on your hands. I’m responsible for them. For that matter, they came here because of me. I hope you’re taking that into account.”
“There is some legal question,” said Isfa’han, “about the status of the Forlorn Hope. There is some sentiment that your claim on it as salvage is legal, but again, it is government property, no matter how old, and that claim may not hold.”
“That ship is all we have. How else are we expected to live?”
“How do you expect to make a living with an outmoded vessel?” asked Isfa’han.
“I expect,” said Maria scornfully, “that as soon as they’re free they’ll abscond with it to The Pale and make a living as a privateer.”
“We can’t allow an historic vessel like that to be used in such a manner,” added Chao, looking worried. “I recommend it be removed to government bond and the crew be given the same standard educational and living vouchers as any citizen, to start fresh.”
“No!” Lily stood up. “I refuse to give up the Hope. I’ll fight you every step of the way if you try to take it from me. Legally, for as long as I can. Physically, if I have to. And I refuse to be a criminal just because it’s more convenient for you to treat me as one. We came a long way to get here. We’ve brought Reft space into contact with the League. You ought to thank me, if only because you can send missionaries there now—not that they’ll necessarily thank you for it. And I apprecia
te that you conduct yourselves in a civilized manner. In the Reft they probably would have shot me—and my crew, to be safe—out of hand. I see that shocks some of you. Maybe you ought to find a way for us to utilize what skills we have, one that will minimize the—all—bad habits we’ve brought from where we grew up, in some employment that will be of service to you.”
“We can’t make exceptions on sentencing,” said Isfa’han. “Once guilt is found. It is one of the first principles of our government—that all shall be sentenced equally.”
“But imprisonment can be traded for public service,” put in Yevgeny. “It has always been accepted that good works are a better rehabilitator than a cell.”
Beside Lily, Dr. Farhad stirred. “By the tone of your voice, I take it you have something in mind. I would warn you again, I am here to look out for the interests of my patient, and it is my firm belief that he will only recover if he is released into the custody of min Ransome, with proper overseeing, of course.”
“I hear you, Dr. Farhad,” said Yevgeny. He glanced around the circle, seeing that he had everyone’s attention. Lily looked around as well, and once she felt assured that the atmosphere was at least not uniformly hostile to her cause, she sat down. “It had occurred to me before,” continued Yevgeny, “that your skills might well be utilized by Intelligence.”
“By Intelligence?” exclaimed Deucalion.
Lily exchanged a glance with Jenny. Jenny shrugged, pulling a wry face as if to say, “I told you so.” “In what fashion?” Lily asked, feeling suspicious.
It did not alleviate her suspicions when Yevgeny hesitated, glancing once again around the circle, as if gauging their response, before he went on. “It has not escaped our notice, here in Intelligence, that The Pale is rather outside our provenance.”
“As it is meant to be,” said Isfa’han. “Rather like a safety valve.”
“For the worst element,” interposed Maria smugly. “Those who can’t function in normal society.”
“Nevertheless,” continued Yevgeny, cutting her off, “we are at a disadvantage for lack of good intelligence. Partly we lack good information on Kapellan movements. Partly we lack information on the movements of the various organizations and groups who inhabit and govern—”
“If you call that government,” said Maria.
“—of those people who live there,” finished Yevgeny, with a tone that might have been exasperation. “You have broken League law, Captain, and if you want to live here, you have to accept the consequences, as a citizen of League space. But it doesn’t serve anyone’s purpose to simply imprison you. And the Forlorn Hope, with a little refitting, will continue to be an excellent and spaceworthy vessel.”
He paused, and in the silence everyone heard Fred say, in what was doubtless meant to be a whisper, “How come they always take so long to get to the point when what they’re going to say you’re not going to like?”
“It’s diplomacy, Fred,” said Windsor, not bothering to whisper.
But Yevgeny had himself well in hand, and if he was annoyed by this interplay, he did not show it. “Intelligence will second your claim to the Forlorn Hope, Captain, and we will recommend that one Hawk, currently under the custody of both Intelligence and Medical for psychiatric reasons, be released into your custody. If you agree to work for us. We need a ship, working in The Pale under the guise of a privateer, to bring us intelligence of the movements of the Kapellans and of the privateers currently active there.”
Beyond the circle, Windsor coughed into his hand.
“You want me to be a spy,” said Lily, meeting Yevgeny’s eyes, “as ransom for Hawk, and for the ship, and for freedom for myself and my crew.”
“I think that is exaggerating the situation. You can serve us well there. We have not previously found anyone else who met enough of the correct specifications for the job who could.”
Windsor coughed again.
“Or, I suppose,” replied Lily, “who would. I’m curious to know what the rest of the tribunal thinks of this.”
“I would agree,” said Chao. Maphuna and Qaetana nodded.
“I disagree,” said Chapman. “I think it’s just throwing fuel on the fire. I think it’s a bad idea.”
“Prison is the only safe place for these people.” Maria turned her head to stare at Lily, but after a moment, when Lily did not flinch from her hard gaze, she looked away. “It would only encourage them.”
Dr. Farhad lifted a hand to her hair. “I was not aware that you were a member of the tribunal, min Leung, but as you are offering unsolicited and unofficial opinions, I will add mine as well, in, of course, a purely professional capacity. My patient needs continuity and peace and a stable environment to recover effectively. Such a course of action would not benefit him. But then, min Basham, I suspect that this solution derives more from your needs than theirs.”
“Be that as it may,” said Yevgeny, “it is the solution being offered. Min Isfa’han?”
“I don’t like it, but I will not, at this time, recommend against it. In any case, by four votes to one, we have a majority accepting. Captain?”
Lily looked around the circle: at the six members of the tribunal, who were, she supposed, being as objective as any person could, with a thousand prejudices and ignorances leavened by hope and some confidence in human goodness tempering each one; at Maria Leung, whose hostility was not masked at all, whose hatred aligned her more surely with those throwbacks she despised than any actions they had ever done; at Deucalion, who looked furious but was restraining himself with unusual discipline; at Jenny, whose skepticism showed as clearly as the way she unconsciously held her right hand at the belt pouch that should have held a gun; at Dr. Farhad, who simply waited with faint disdain, secure in her position as a respected scientist. Kyosti sat with alien stillness at her feet, uncannily patient, as if such human ways of doing things had nothing to do with him. Behind her, Bach sang, too quietly for her to make out words. Beyond the circle, Fred was grooming himself with a heavy hand, and Stanford was, as usual, calculating on his slate. Windsor had his head lolled back on the seat back, eyes shut, as if he was asleep. Yehoshua sat forward, elbows on his knees, listening intently, and he met her eyes and shrugged. Pinto, beside him, sighed and looked bored. Lily smiled, wondering what Paisley would make of this great domed chamber, and looked back at Isfa’han.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
“You don’t think they’ll really just let us go,” hissed Jenny, but Lily laid a hand on her sleeve and she frowned and stopped speaking.
“You’ll think about it?” echoed Yevgeny, looking surprised.
Isfa’han chuckled. “Are you negotiating with us? I’m not sure you’re in a position to.”
“Maybe I’d prefer prison,” said Lily. “I know some of those privateers. I’m not sure I want to spy on them. It might be dangerous.”
Dr. Farhad chuckled.
“And I have one piece of unfinished business I’d like to complete first. I’d like to go to Terra.”
“On holiday?” said Maria with a sneer.
“I’d like to visit my father, whom I thought was dead,” said Lily coolly. “Which reminds me, min Isfa’han. How do I file charges for attempted murder and aggravated assault—or whatever you call it here—against Maria Rashmi Leung? I’d like to do that as well, before I go. If, of course, you let me go.”
“Impossible,” exclaimed Maria. “She’s not even a citizen of the League.”
“Maria,” warned Yevgeny.
“Everyone has access to the courts,” said Isfa’han. “You ought to know that.”
“Even those who willfully abuse the systems we have so carefully set up to keep peace and harmony—”
“Min Leung.” Without raising her voice, Isfa’han cut off Maria’s tirade as effectively as if she had shouted. “I have been more than generous in letting you air your position, but you have abused the privilege once too often. I don’t want to have to ask you to leave. Now. If mi
n Ransome chooses to file charges, then they will be resolved in a separate tribunal.”
“I’ll file charges of my own,” said Deucalion. He smiled suddenly, looking sly and very like his father. “Also, I would like to point out that min Ransome has not been allowed an advocate at this tribunal. That’s grounds for a rehearing, I believe. I’m surprised you overlooked it.”
The silence that followed this remark was eloquent. All six members of the tribunal looked at each other, as if expecting someone else to take responsibility for this oversight.
Yevgeny shook his head finally. “I should have refused to mentor you, Deucalion. You’ve gotten slippery.”
Isfa’han shook her head. “Min Ransome is, indeed, due a rehearing. I did not confirm that an advocate would be present. Under the circumstances, I don’t think it unreasonable for her to be allowed a specified and finite amount of time to think over this offer before a new hearing is convened. A parole to Terra, however. …”
“How can we be assured you’ll come back?” demanded Chapman.
“I’ll go with her,” said Deucalion. “I’ll act as her parole officer, post myself as her bail.”
“Do you trust him?” Maria demanded.
“I trust him,” said Yevgeny. “And anyone here is welcome to reference min Belsonn’s record and see that it is exemplary. In addition, I can add an escort of several other Intelligence officers as insurance.”
“I’d like to take a few of my people with me,” said Lily. “But perhaps you can add additional officers to cover them as well. I would leave the Forlorn Hope and the rest of my crew as—”
“Hostages,” muttered Jenny.
“As good faith.”
“As Intelligence, I see no reason not to honor min Ransome’s request. It will give her time to consider our offer and to consult with a qualified advocate, who will, I am sure, apprise her of the advisability of accepting it.” Yevgeny folded his hands in his lap, and Lily realized that he was feeling smug, secure that she had no choice but to do as he wished.
“I don’t like it,” said Chapman, but the other three all looked at Isfa’han for guidance, and Isfa’han merely nodded. “Four weeks,” said Isfa’han. “Twelve days run either way on a fast yacht, and four to conduct your business. And, min Ransome, if you break this parole, and attempt to escape, your vessel and crew will be impounded and you will face a mandatory and minimum thirty-year prison sentence once we catch you again. Without your own ship, we will catch you before you can reach The Pale.”
