Throughout Jacob’s speech, Michael’s eyes widened and his face grew pale. Whether or not he was shaken enough to reconsider his intentions, Jacob couldn’t tell, but if the bulky man continued at least he would be well-informed about what he was getting into. Satisfied his questions had been answered and his message delivered, Jacob sat back and started to dig into the burrito with his fork. He’d lifted a bite to his mouth when he looked over and realized Michael was still watching him, his own food untouched. Jacob grinned. “Well Michael, eat up! After all, you’re going to have to catch up to Catherine and convince her not to disown me later, right?”
With a half-hearted chuckle, Michael took a shaky sip of his drink. Jacob stuck the bite of burrito in his mouth and chewed with gusto. His mood had taken a turn for the better. The next few minutes they ate in relative quiet, with Jacob enjoying the flavor of his meal, when he noticed another man in uniform had appeared in the restaurant.
Jacob frowned. Commander Kenning was the last person he would have expected to show up in a diner, especially the same one he happened to be eating in. His suspicions were confirmed a heartbeat later as the commander swept the room with his gaze and stopped when he saw Jacob. The man crossed the crowded restaurant towards their table, and Jacob felt a slight chill as Kenning smiled. Could he have heard news of a court martial, and had come to taunt him, or was his visit related to some other problem Jacob was about to face?
Kenning’s smile grew as he nodded to Jacob. “Captain Hull! What a coincidence that I should see you here.” He turned to Michael with a dismissive gesture. “Mr. Demarcos, is it? Would you mind if the captain and I could have a few moments to talk? It is a short matter, but one I would appreciate some privacy for.”
Jacob felt a rush of heat at the half-contemptuous tone Kenning used. Michael might have been an annoyance, but since when did Kenning have the right to order him about? Struggling to keep his voice calm, Jacob spoke before Michael could respond. “Michael is the one who invited me here, Commander Kenning. I trust him, and whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of him.”
The other officer’s eyes narrowed. “Your disregard for military security aside, Captain Hull, I would think even Mr. Demarcos would be able to understand the need for two officers to be alone occasionally when they discuss certain matters. From one officer to another?”
Jacob didn’t bother to reply. He glared at Kenning, imagining the sheer pleasure he would get from gunning him down until Michael stood abruptly. He shifted his gaze from one officer to the other, muttering to himself. Then he raised his voice to more audible levels.
“Look, I’m going to let you two settle this one out. Captain Hull, I’m going to go see how Catherine is doing. I’ll be back in a short while—whether you’re finished or not.” Michael ended the sentence with a look at Kenning that left little doubt where the words had been aimed. For a moment, as Michael turned to walk away, Jacob was forced to yet again remind himself he was supposed to hate the man. Then he turned back and saw Kenning sliding into Michael’s vacant seat.
Reluctant as he was, Jacob sat as well. At the very least Kenning was working with a deadline; he couldn’t just jabber away indefinitely. That meant the commander was going to get to the point, something that would hopefully allow Jacob to send him off that much more quickly.
Unfortunately, Kenning did not seem to feel the pressure of Michael’s ultimatum. He sat back in his chair and tapped the table with a finger for a moment. When he spoke, it was in the same elaborately casual fashion that so annoyed Jacob. “Captain Hull, may I first say I was very sorry to hear about the losses your squadron sustained at Wayward. It is a terrible thing to lose a ship, as we both know.”
Restraining his initial response, Jacob nodded. He had heard Kenning’s squadron had taken losses, but it hadn’t been by diving into the thick of things. Kenning had ordered them to skirt the edges of the battle in an attempt to attack the dreadnaught as it ran, without engaging the other ships. A pair of Crossbows had noticed the maneuver and bombarded the corvettes with enough missiles to destroy one of the three ships.
Kenning continued, his voice even and smooth. “The losses the fleet took at Wayward were severe, Captain Hull. There are many in the government who are looking for someone to blame, now, and I’m sure I have no need to tell you who their possible scapegoats could be.” His eyes glittered. “I understand the High Admiral has put you on extended leave?”
Jacob gritted his teeth and nodded again. It was all he could do to keep from leaving the table already. He knew he was being punished, but for Kenning to rub it in was intolerable. The commander didn’t seem to notice Jacob’s agitation and sighed deeply. “I had hoped I had heard wrong. It seems certain elements of the fleet are attempting to place the blame for the battle on you. The High Admiral must have been persuaded to act as he has by those elements, at the very least to save his own career.”
His outraged response was choked by surprise and confusion. “His career? What are you talking about?”
The other officer tilted his head to the side and smiled a little bitterly. “Haven’t you heard, Captain Hull? I suppose not; you have, after all, only been on the surface a short time, and I am sure your attention was on other things.” He shrugged. “The High Admiral has been called before the Great Chamber to account for the battle at Wayward. It appears he requested a standard court martial to give himself the chance to justify his actions, but the Council and the House have both agreed to turn it into a formal hearing. If they decide against him…” Kenning trailed off suggestively, and shrugged again.
Jacob sat back in his own chair, stunned. As High Admiral, very few people could choose to reprimand Alan Nivrosky’s actions, let alone remove him from his post. He had been appointed by the High Seat to hold his position, with all the authority and power that went along with it. Given the power of the High Seat throughout the Union, few would have ever dreamed of challenging one of his officers.
There was a catch, however. When the last Regal High Seat designed the structure of the Union, he had taken care to place each officer within it under the threat of removal if their actions went astray. Even the High Seat could be impeached and removed if the House of the People leveled a charge against him and a significant number of the Council’s Lower Seats agreed. The same possibility existed for the High Admiral as well, and it was obviously being called into play now. Unless High Seat Smithson would step in to defend the High Admiral personally, the leader of the Celostian Navy was in very real danger of losing his position—and if Nivrosky was successfully condemned, Smithson wasn’t likely to defend him.
Which meant in the next few days High Admiral Nivrosky would be fighting for his life’s work. Jacob’s eyes narrowed. “What does this have to do with me? It’s not like I can stop the fools.”
Kenning sat forward, resting his arms on the table. “That’s where you are wrong, Captain Hull. You see, the list of witnesses for the trial will be extensive, but both prosecution and defense will rely on a certain group of key players as they debate the future of the High Admiral. Since you are rather prominent along the frontier and played a large part in the battle, you are likely to be called to testify.”
The prospect of speaking in front of news cameras and Seating representatives nearly wrung a groan from Jacob, but he shook his head. “That doesn’t mean I can determine how it plays out, Commander Kenning. The Seats will make their own decision after I am called.”
“True, but how you testify can certainly influence their decision.” Kenning smiled. “You see, given your current status on mandatory leave, it would be very easy for the defense to hang the burden of the casualties on you. You led the rest of the flotilla in the charge, it was in the defense of your destroyers that the Gawain was destroyed. Your losses were heavier than most of the other squadrons as well.” Each sentence was a dagger in Jacob’s heart, and he looked down at the table. “If you aren’t ready for their questions, it can very likely r
esult in your sacrifice to save the High Admiral.”
Jacob looked up and met Kenning’s eyes. “And how am I going to change that?”
The commander’s grin faded. “You can deliver a testimony that places the blame for the attack squarely where it belongs: with the High Admiral. If your testimony lines up directly with the rest of the officers involved, then there will be no question who was responsible for all of it.” Kenning leaned back. “Otherwise, certain reports from Captain Upshaw on your performance might happen to reach the media. At that point, the High Admiral might be forced to condemn you in return—by public pressure of course. Just think of how unfortunate that would be.”
It was everything Jacob could do to keep from leaping at Kenning. There was only one way Kenning could have gotten his hands on those files. Isaac’s suspicions had been right; Kenning had been the hacker, and now he had access to every report on Jacob’s performance since he had been made a captain. Given Upshaw’s hatred for him, even one of them might be enough for the news anchors to decide who truly was at fault for Wayward’s disaster. Combined with the likely enthusiastic testimony of Jacob’s fellow officers, it wasn’t hard to imagine being thrown out of the Navy within the week.
Stunned, Jacob looked down again at his clenched hands. The thought of losing his commission in the Navy was too terrible to consider, but the odds were lining up too heavily against him for his comfort. It wasn’t hard to see where things were leading. Yet there was no chance he was going to hang Nivrosky out to dry in his place. Such an action was wrong in a way that made Jacob feel hollow inside, no matter what Nivrosky’s opinion of him was now. It was the High Admiral who had trusted him and stood by him in fight after fight. His son had served with him for years. No matter what happened, Jacob would stand by him to the end.
Besides, a quiet voice whispered within him, the crew of the Terrier would have wanted him out of the Navy anyway. If they were still alive.
He looked up and found Kenning studying him closely. Jacob started to speak, but Kenning gestured for him to stop. “No, Captain Hull. Please don’t give me your answer now. Think on it a while, and if you have second thoughts, contact me before the trial. Otherwise, just know there are those of us who are behind you.” Kenning glanced over Jacob’s shoulder and stood. “It has been a pleasure as always, Captain Hull.”
Jacob didn’t respond. He didn’t in fact look up from the table until he heard someone calling his name a few minutes later.
“Jacob?” He turned partway towards the voice before he realized it was Catherine. She was standing a few feet away, and her eyes were moving between him and the retreating form of Commander Kenning. “Jacob, what’s going on?”
His tongue finally seemed to function again, and he somehow managed to get the answer out. “It’s nothing, Catherine. I have to go.”
A shadow of fear passed across her face, and for the first time he realized that Catherine had been just as aware of the possibility of his court martial as he had been. She opened her mouth to ask the question he’d been asking himself until a few moments ago, but he shook his head. “No, not me. I’m not the defendant. I’m a witness.” Her mouth closed, and he grimaced. “I really have to go. I’m sorry. I’ll call you.”
Jacob stood and started for the door. He would hitch a ride in a cab to the closest hotel and then check in with headquarters. If Kenning had been telling the truth, there would likely be a court summons waiting for him. If not, Kenning would have quite a lot to answer for, and Jacob hoped that was the case. Otherwise, if Nivrosky was truly on trial, he would have to make a choice Jacob truly did not want to make. As he left the restaurant, he wondered to himself exactly when things were going to start making some damn sense again.
Chapter Twelve
The man waiting for Jacob on the steps of the Great Chamber wasn’t dressed in the typical Celostian Navy uniform. While he wore the same blue coat, tunic, and trousers, dark stripes ran down the sleeves and the sides of the trousers to set the officer apart. His rank insignia differed as well. Instead of the eagle and bars, the eagle had been placed over a background of a set of scales. A pair of medals marked his rank equivalent as a lieutenant commander.
The Judicial Corps was an uncommon sight on the border. Given the constant danger and stress of the combat conditions, the cold, deliberate processes of military justice were typically reserved for units that had been rotated out of the fire. It was especially convenient to restrict the Corps to the inner systems, because then adequate records could be preserved of the court proceedings. All too often the rulings of the Judicials along the border were lost with the destruction of ships until the Navy had made a practice of bringing the crews back home for whatever business the Corps had with them.
When Jacob drew close, the other officer spoke in a crisp, formal tone. “Captain Jacob Hull, Celostian Navy?”
Jacob came to his feet and returned the salute. “Yes, Lieutenant Commander. Are you my escort?”
“My name is Lieutenant Commander Osa Barnes. I’ve been ordered to bring you to the hearing and accompany you until your testimony has been given.” He paused. “The court extends its apologies for this interruption of your leave as well as for summoning you so soon after your recent deployment. Circumstances prevented us from reaching other accommodations, however.”
“I…understand, Lieutenant Commander.” Jacob doubted the representatives of the Celostian Union gave a damn about how rested he was, but he kept that to himself. He had enough to worry about without giving a lieutenant commander in the Judicials a reason to gossip about him.
The Great Chamber was a solid, permanent-looking building, befitting the style of the capital of the Union. While all the other structures surrounding it soared up in pillars of metal and glass, the architects of the Chamber had focused on settling it on sturdy foundations. Stone pillars supported the dome that sheltered most of the building, while a small mountain of stone steps marched up its front face. At the top of those steps lay the main entrance to the structure, and that was where Jacob and his escort were headed now.
As Jacob made his way up the steps, he paused to glance at the statues representing justice flanking the doorway. Regal and merciless, the two winged figures carried both sword and balance, and the way the blindfold had been drawn about their eyes only made them seem more sinister as he passed between them and entered the Chamber.
Lieutenant Commander Barnes scarcely paused before leading Jacob directly to the Hall of Judgment, where only the most important of their trials were held. The lieutenant commander paused at the great oaken doors, speaking with the guards who stood on either side of the portal. Then the great doors creaked open, and Jacob walked through into a room he never thought he would see.
It was as old as the Union and probably older than the Regency that had preceded it. The room had been furnished in the style that was formal nearly a hundred years ago, with the great stone dais at the back marking the focal point for the entire room. It was designed that way with good reason, for the dais held the desks of the two counsels, one for the defense and the other for the prosecution, as well as the seats for both witnesses and the accused. Around the raised dais sloped the observation galleries, where the populace, reporters and other onlookers could sit and see the work of the Council play out before their watching eyes.
At the very back, raised above the dais, was a small bulwark that separated eighteen throne-like seats from the rest of the room. On those seats sat the members of the Council of Elders, also known as the Lower Seats. The Council’s position in the government’s structure was between the House and the High Seat. They acted as a judicial power apart from the High Seat, guaranteeing his actions remained within the bounds the Acts of Union had given him, while they in turn were watched by the representatives their respective Seatings had sent to the House of the People.
Only the High Seat could appeal a decision of the Council, but none in recent memory had chosen to use that particular power.
If Smithson did intervene, it was likely the Council would choose to impeach him as well, since his pardon would be a deliberate flouting of their authority. That would create an even greater conflict throughout the Union, and it was a risk Smithson was unlikely to take unless he had a good reason. For all intents and purposes, the judgment rendered here would be final, no matter what the outside world would think of it, and that fact made Jacob shudder when he recognized High Admiral Nivrosky sitting in the place of the accused.
Lieutenant Commander Barnes led Jacob to the witness box just below the level of the dais. He looked around, noting there were others he recognized. Captain Upshaw sat, looking grim. Kenning was there as well, and Jacob felt a flash of hatred when the other man met his eyes and smiled. Other officers were present as well, and they all wore expressions ranging from outrage to defeat. None of them looked in the High Admiral’s direction. Jacob did, and he shuddered a second time when he saw the despair lingering in that iron hard stare. The High Admiral looked as close to uncertain as Jacob had ever seen him. Given the way the Lower Seats were staring at him, Jacob couldn’t blame him. Things did not look good.
As he settled into his seat, Lieutenant Commander Barnes saluted in farewell. “Good luck, sir.”
Jacob glanced at him and returned the salute. “Thanks.” He looked back toward the High Admiral and sighed. “I think we’re going to need it.”
Two hours later, Jacob staggered into his assigned waiting room. His head swam, and he felt as if he had been holding his breath for the past day or so. He gulped for air, fingering the collar of his uniform. The air in the room tasted too full for his comfort, a far cry from the sterile air of recycled oxygen, but it was still a relief. Anything would have been after his experience in the Hall.
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