Commandant (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 8)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  “What, for commandant?” Ryck asked.

  “You think too small, Ryck.”

  Ryck didn’t know what to make of that, so he said nothing.

  “There you go again, keeping your cards close to the table. I know you want to know what I meant, but you won’t ask. But I’ll tell you anyway. Yes, you getting the commandant’s position was inevitable, but it was only to be a stepping stone. We had bigger things in mind for you.”

  “The Council? Marines don’t serve on the Council,” Ryck said.

  “Only one has, but there’s no reason why another one couldn’t. And who better than the hero Ryck Lysander? Not even the Navy could object. And from a seat on the Council, who knows?”

  Things suddenly clicked into place. The first minister was in charge of the military, but he’d never served. And the Navy had most of the Council positions and the chairmanship locked up. They were the real power, which might rub the civilians the wrong way.

  “You want to diminish the hold of the Navy!”

  Ryck glanced up at the security cameras. The privacy sphere might block sound, but the cams were still recording, and lips could be read.

  “Don’t worry about the cams,” the first minister said after seeing Ryck look up. “We control them for now.”

  “And who is ‘we?’”

  “Oh, you’ll never find out now. Just suffice it to say that with the Navy’s increasing influence and power, there are those of us who’d like to see it sent back down to a manageable level. You were to be the first step, a wedge in the door, and one with which the Navy couldn’t complain.”

  Ryck thought about it for a moment. “And I was going to be indebted to you?”

  The first minister nodded.

  “And appoint more of you, whoever ‘you’ are, to positions of authority?”

  Another slight smile from the first minister.

  “But business as usual. As on Ellison.”

  The flippant look on the first minister’s face clouded over for a moment. “No, not like that. That was the chairman’s idea, and that’s exactly why we needed to make a change. The Federation is sliding into a shit-hole, and we need to stop that trip to eventual destruction.”

  “Then why fight me?”

  “Because you were too brash, too moralistic for your own good. You always were, Ryck. It was too soon.”

  “Too soon for the 12 billion on Ellison?” Ryck asked scornfully.

  “Taking the long view, yes. They would have been a sacrifice for a better future, when we could prevail. But for now, you couldn’t win, and we’d be exposing our hand.”

  “But we are winning.”

  The flippant look came back as the first minister said, “Well, there is that. If we’d known Chandanasiri would flip, maybe we would have made our move and avoided all of this. But we didn’t, and now it’s too late.”

  “It’s never too late. If you’re serious about a better Federation, you can still effect that change,” Ryck said, the tiniest glimmer of hope creeping into his voice.

  “No, Ryck. We played our hand. Can’t take it back now.”

  “And if we win?”

  “You won’t. But if somehow you did, I’d actually welcome that, my own personal goals be damned,” the first minister said.

  Something in his voice convinced Ryck that the man was telling the truth.

  “And I like you, Ryck. Oh, I’m madder than hell that you forced this on us. And I wasn’t shitting you when I told you I might be following you to the Cube next. You’re brash and too moralistic, and that’s a deadly combination for politics. But I respect you and your service. Part of me wants to pull the lever myself on the gallows for putting me, for putting us in this position, but part of me will mourn you. You could have been such a great tool for the Federation.”

  Right then, the inner door opened and the court clerk looked in.

  The first minster quickly turned off the sphere in time for them to hear “. . .eral Lysander, you are ordered to appear before the court.

  “Time to face your judgment, General,” the first minister said, his flippant side back on display.

  Ryck stood up, and with the two guards behind him, shuffled the best he could into the courtroom. It was a closed court, Ryck saw, with just the judge, the bailiff standing at his side, and the clerk making it up. The first minister took a seat in the back of the court, and the two guards stood at the door. The holocam team had already set up their recording gear.

  Ryck took the position indicated by the clerk. He was tempted to just plop on the chair in silent defiance, but he was aware of the camcrew, and he didn’t want to give the loyalist propaganda teams any more ammunition than possible. He stood silently, waiting for the clerk to scan his retina and swear him in. The retina scan was quick and confirmed for the record that Ryck was Ryck.

  “Do you, Ryck Lysander, solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” the clerk asked.

  “I do.”

  That formality finished, the judge sat up straighter and looked across the six or seven meters to where Ryck stood.

  “Major General Ryck Lysander, FP8785678, you have been brought before me under a series of charges. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You have been charged with twenty-three counts of crimes against the Federation, four counts of crimes against humanity, and one count of violating a Universal Assembly of Man treaty.”

  What? OK, the humanity is going to be the First Step massacre. But treaty? Maybe Corporal Hailstone?

  “To ensure each of these is addressed correctly, I will read each charge, and you will plead to that charge and that charge alone. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes.”

  The judge waited for a moment as if expecting Ryck to say something else.

  When Ryck was silent, the judge cleared his throat and said, “General Lysander, you are charged with Penal Code 1001, Treason against the state. How do you plead?”

  “I don’t plead.”

  The judge looked up from his court PA. “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t plead.”

  “It’s pretty easy, General. You are either guilty or not. How do you plead?”

  “I don’t plead. I do not recognize your authority over me, so I cannot plead to any of your charges.”

  The judge rolled his eyes, then said, “OK, General, let me play your game for a moment. You are a major general in the United Federation Marine Corps, right?”

  “I am a general in the United Federation Marines Corps, true.”

  “A major general, but even so, as a superior court judge in the Federation, you feel I don’t have jurisdiction over you?”

  “The group you represent has been legally deposed for crimes against the charter and against humanity. So no, you have no legal basis to decide on any charges leveled against me. Additionally, as the co-chairman of the legal United Federation, I am a head of state. Therefore, as a citizen, and only as a general citizen, you may file charges against me for any perceived crime, but they must be heard by the Universal Court.”

  Ryck was completely under the loyalists’ control, and he didn’t have any real expectations of getting out of his situation. And he knew the judge would reject his claim that the loyalist government was the illegal one. But his internet sleuthing had uncovered the rules concerning heads of state. It could be enough to give them pause. Doubtful, but possible.

  The judge just stared at him for a moment before saying, “I’m going to enter a plea of not guilty for you.”

  “And I object. Bring me up to the Universal Court, and I will cooperate. But I do not accept your plea for me.”

  “As to Penal Code 1009, Inciting an Armed Rebellion—”

  “And once again, I object!” Ryck shouted out, cutting off the judge. “You cannot enter a plea for a defendant until there has been a full psychological exam. That’s paragraph 4.34.56 of the penal code,” he said, hoping he’d memori
zed it correctly.

  The judge was getting angry now, and he positively glowered at Ryck. This was supposed to be a cut-and-dry proceeding justifying Ryck’s execution. And Ryck was not cooperating, surprise, surprise.

  A slight smile suddenly came over the judge’s face as he said, “Are you familiar with paragraph 3.44.21, General?”

  “No, I’m not,” Ryck said, his heart sinking.

  “Well, to put it in terms you might understand, it gives any superior court judge, of which I am one, the authority to reach a judgment in a Class 1 Felony case whether the defendant is there to plead or not.”

  Ryck didn’t know the paragraph, of course, but he did know that the law gave the right so that defendants could be tried in absentia or after they were dead.

  “But I am here!” he shouted out.

  “Oh, so you are here, in front of a court that has jurisdiction over you?”

  “No! I mean, I am here, but you have no right to judge me.”

  “You can’t have it both ways, General. You are either here under my jurisdiction, and I can enter a plea—after we take a short recess for your psychological evaluation, of course—or you are not here submitting to my judgment.”

  Ryck’s mind was churning. There was something wrong with what the judge was saying, but he couldn’t quite unravel it. Not that it made any difference. There was no doubt in Ryck’s mind that the execution had already been ordered. Now it was just a matter of crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s. He’d hoped to throw a wrench into things and leave the loyalist PR guys with less to work with, but he wasn’t gaining much traction there.

  “I refuse to plead as you have no jurisdiction over me,” he simply said.

  “So noted. In that case, I am able to render judgment without a plea. I have read the reports and examined the evidence. I have enough to render judgment without calling in witnesses.”

  Witnesses who could say things the chairman doesn’t want said.

  “For violation of Penal Code, 1001, Treason: I find the defendant guilty.

  “For violation of Penal Code 1009, Inciting an Armed Rebellion Against the State: I find the defendant guilty.”

  And so the judge went down the list, one after the other. Ryck was found guilty of each charge, no surprise.

  Ryck looked up as the judge read off 26 guilties before reaching the treaty violation. As expected, it had to do with bringing Corporal Hailstone to the meeting. Ryck wanted to protest the finding of guilty for that one, too, as that should have been a matter for the Universal Court, and it was the loyalists who actually killed the Marine, but he held his tongue.

  “Major General Lysander, in lieu of the seriousness of the crimes you have committed, I sentence you to a reduction to the rank of private, full forfeiture of all pay and allowances, and to be given a dishonorable discharge from the Marine Corps. I also order you transferred to the Thielsen Federal Correction Facility where you will be put to death before 24:00, GMT, tomorrow, June 19, 368. Bailiff, escort the prisoner to the holding cell where he will await judicial review and transport.”

  Ryck was numb as the bailiff took him by the arm and led him to the door. The first minister raised one eyebrow as Ryck passed but said nothing. With the two guards in tow, the four men marched out of the courtroom and down to the line of holding cells.

  Ryck had expected the outcome, but to hear is was somehow different. He quietly sat down on the hard bench, refusing the bailiff’s offer of water.

  The judge’s finding would be forwarded where the third minister would rubber stamp it. Sometime within the next dozen hours, he’d be taken from the cell and loaded into a ship for transport to the cube. Then as early as 0001 tomorrow, and as late as 2359 GMT, he’d be hung. It was a simple as that.

  Chapter 32

  “So, it is true. That’s your final meal?” the first minister said through the front intercom.

  Ryck looked up from his bacon with raspberry sauce. Ever efficient, whoever was in charge of the prisoners had decided to give him his final meal on Earth rather than delay things upon his arrival at the Cube.

  How considerate of him, Ryck had thought at the time.

  He could have chosen anything, he knew. A fabricator was a fabricator, and duck a l’orange was as easy to program as a cup of tea, but somehow, bacon with raspberry sauce seemed more appropriate. He’d dawdled over it, trying to sense every taste bud as the salty bacon and the tart raspberry sauce hit them. This would be the last time he’d experience taste, and he wanted to savor it.

  “You coming to witness it?” Ryck asked, picking up another piece of bacon.

  “Me? Hell no. I plan on staying as far away as possible from that place. No, you’ll have another witness. I just wanted to come by to, well, to say goodbye, I guess. And to say I’m sorry it all worked out this way.”

  The first minister seemed sincere for the first time since Ryck had surrendered himself.

  “You messed up and let your sense of simplistic morality derail you, but you’re a good man.”

  “I’m sure you’re crying about it.”

  “I’m angry that you gummed up the works, and I’m angry that you put me personally in danger, but, yes, I regret this. You could really have gone far, you know.”

  “So you told me,” Ryck said, licking his finger clean of sauce.

  “Well, I just wanted to say that. Your execution order is signed, and they’ll be coming for you pretty soon, so you might want to prepare yourself.”

  “Thanks for your concern. I’m touched,” Ryck said with mock sincerity.

  The first minister was peering at Ryck through the small window, and as Ryck looked up to catch his eye, he thought the first minister would say something else. But the man suddenly turned away and stepped out of sight.

  Ryck quickly ate the rest of his meal, not willing to leave anything on the plate. Which pissed Ryck off because it was more than 45 minutes later that the jailer looked in, told Ryck to stand at the back of the cell, and opened the door.

  The second man to enter caught Ryck by surprise. Brigadier General Sandy Peltier-Aswad stood in the doorway.

  “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you were dead,” Ryck said.

  “Almost, but I’m harder to kill than most people think,” Sandy said.

  “So you are the witness. You’re going to watch me hang?”

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  “Sir? Come on, Sandy. Didn’t you hear? I’m supposedly a private now,” Ryck said bitterly.

  Ryck had expected the death sentence, but not the reduction and dishonorable discharge. For some reason, that really bothered him.

  Sandy merely shrugged as the jailer came forward with the shackles.

  “Is this really necessary?” Ryck asked.

  Sandy looked back where four guards waited.

  “Are you going to go along quietly?” he asked.

  “What you expect me to take out all of your guards, make my way to a spaceport, and escape? I’m good, Sandy, but not that good.”

  Sandy shrugged, then told the jailer, “Leave them off.”

  “But regulations!” the jailer protested.

  “Duly noted. I will take responsibility,” he said before turning back to Ryck. “If you would, General?”

  Ryck preceded Sandy out of the cell where four guards, FCDC guards this time, surrounded him. The hallways were empty as the little group made its way to the elevators and up to the back transfer station. An armored ground car was waiting for them there, and Ryck was loaded inside.

  For five minutes, they rode in silence, Sandy sitting across from him, their knees almost touching.

  Finally, Sandy broke the silence with “Why, sir? Why did you do it?”

  “To save the lives of 12 billion people.”

  “But after that? Why start a revolution?”

  “Why does anyone start a revolution? To make things better, I suppose.”

  “But you broke your oath. I thought you had honor.”
>
  Ryck knew he’d done the right thing, but the accusation of being an oathbreaker hit him hard. But he was an oathbreaker, even for the best of reasons. And Ryck was raised to believe a man was only as good as his word.

  “And now are you serving this corrupt, murderous regime?”

  Two of the guards were listening in, but they said nothing.

  “Because I swore an oath. And I believe I can do more good for change from the inside than from out.”

  “Careful there, Sandy. Those words could be taken against you, should any of our guards here choose to repeat them.”

  Sandy said nothing more, and they rode to the spaceport in silence.

  Ryck almost fell asleep when the car came to a lurching halt, and the back door was opened. Four armed jimmylegs

  [16] were waiting for them. Due to the convoluted agreements the Federation, Greater France, and the scattered independent nations of Earth had signed, at the insistence of the UAM, capital punishment could not be carried out on Earth soil, and some legal analysts felt that meant no prisoner could be transported on government shipping to be executed. Others disagreed, but both the Federation and Fiji, the only two governments located on Earth that still carried the death penalty, simply hired a civilian security firm, Sunray Global, a subsidiary of Razor Security, to take their prisoners to the Cube. Razor Security Holdings administered the Cube under contract to six different governments, but each of the governments ran their own prison wing, and both the Federation and Fiji had their own execution chamber. The Federation used the ancient method of hanging while Fiji used a neuro-scrambler.

  Ryck didn’t have a choice, but if he did, he’d preferred to get scrambled than dangled. The Federation conducted a large number of executions throughout Federation space at any given time, but those at the Cube were for federal and for a few local Earth-jurisdiction cases.

  The head jimmylegs asked for the transfer documents, which one of the guards gave him. Ryck was escorted out of the truck for the retinal scan. Both his FCDC guards and the jimmylegs seemed to tense up, which almost made Ryck laugh.