Hour of Judgement

by Susan R. Matthews

  The Record was under Andrej Koscuisko’s Writ, and had been removed from Secured Medical on the Ragnarok and ferried here by the custodial officer himself under careful escort. Now it stood on the table, nothing more than a flat square frame only as large as a printed text in quarto with a holographic projector in its base. Square, but shallow. Koscuisko had carried it on his person, in his over-blouse.

  The murdered officers had been assigned to the Ragnarok. It was appropriate that the Writ under Andrej Koscuisko record and report their findings. And although a Record was a Record, the one from the Ragnarok had more transmit authority than the one the Bench had left here in Port Burkhayden, the one that she and Vogel would remove as the final step in ceding the port to the Danzilar prince.

  Once the Record was removed the Bench would have no further claim on Port Burkhayden absent a request for intervention from the Danzilar prince. Or absent Fleet intervention at the Bench’s direction if collection of fees began to lag or collusion with Free Government agencies was suspected.

  “I’ve never seen one,” Paval I’shenko was confiding to Koscuisko, who sat at the Danzilar prince’s left. “Andrej Ulexeievitch. This is the Record of which we speak?”

  Seeing the two of them so close together was instructive. The secondary sub-racial characteristics of the Dolgorukij contributed to a substantial degree of likeness between them; but more than that, they were related to one another, if a little distantly. The resemblance was unmistakable.

  Nurail subspecies ethnicity could be invoked to explain why Robert St. Clare and the woman from the service house that Wyrlann had abused looked like they were related, as well. In a pinch.

  “This is the piece of the Record that belongs to Ragnarok, Paval I’shenko. Yes.” Like many things that could be abstract and concrete at once a person had to know context before understanding what was meant by the word “record.” “To this Record I make my case and through this Record I record my findings. Secure encodes and access to the validation matrices at Camberlin Judiciary, and so forth, but this Record need only know me, it saves in transmit time.”

  The Record at Port Burkhayden was a more restricted instrument, that had to transmit for verification and then return with evidence. It had taken two days for the Record at Port Burkhayden to return acceptance validation for Koscuisko’s clearing the gardener of the murder. Koscuisko’s own Record would transmit direct to Bench offices once Koscuisko declared the Record complete. Quicker. More efficient. And they could all go home.

  “Gentles, shall we begin,” Jils suggested. Garol was getting impatient, sitting beside her, worrying at the cuticle of his thumb. He had something on his mind, and Jils thought she knew what it was. “Your Excellency. If you would, sir.”

  There were three Excellencies here, Koscuisko, the Danzilar prince, the First Officer; but only one of them could open the Record. Koscuisko nodded, rising to his feet. “Very well. For the Record. Andrej Ulexeievitch Koscuisko, Jurisdiction Fleet Ship Ragnarok, the following parties also present. Please state your names — ”

  And the crimes of which you have been accused. It was formula. Koscuisko stopped himself just in time, and grinned a little sheepishly at the near-misstep. One by one the people at the table named themselves, starting with the Danzilar prince, and going around the table. Ralph Mendez, the Ragnarok’s First Officer, as the representative of his Command. Garol Vogel and Jils Ivers, Bench intelligence specialists, investigating office.

  Andrej Ulexeievitch Koscuisko held the Writ, and attended in his capacity as a Bench officer. Once the circuit of identification was complete he spoke once more. “And no others are here present. Presentation and discussion of findings follows for adjudication and decision by parties here present. Suspend Record until further notice.”

  No recording of discussion, because there was no sense in taking up valuable storage space on recapitulation or controversy. Once they decided what the evidence meant their decision would go on Record. Once that happened it was final.

  “Specialist Ivers, Specialist Vogel. Your meeting, gentles.”

  Koscuisko sat down. Jils rose to her feet. “Thank you, your Excellency. Prince Danzilar. We have two issues here before us.”

  Two murders. The Danzilar prince had a report already of the actual findings, transcripts of interviews, all of the evidence that she and Garol had taken over the course of the last ten days. Well, not all of it. But all of it that belonged on Record. It saved time. She could get right to the point.

  “As to the first, the assassination of Fleet First Lieutenant G’herm Wyrlann. If it wasn’t the gardener, who was it? Several considerations, here. The Captain identified Skelern Hanner as guilty, so detail search for physical evidence in the garden itself was delayed until much later that evening.”

  Because there was no call to search for physical evidence with an accused in custody. With an accused in custody the presumption was that any physical evidence would stay put until whenever, as long as the garden was quarantined — as it had been. To have initiated a search at that point could have been taken as accusing Captain Lowden of bearing false witness, by implication.

  “By which time there was none to be found,” the Danzilar prince agreed. “Whoever did the murder had a chance to get away. And remove any evidence with him, or her.”

  Or else third parties, sympathetic to the murderer’s cause for whatever reason, had tidied up the garden well before then. No use in suggesting that, though they all knew the possibility existed. The Danzilar prince’s house staff was full of Nurail, The Nurail community of Port Burkhayden — by far the majority of the people here — had been quite reasonably outraged at the abuse the bondswoman had suffered at the hands of the Fleet Lieutenant. It was only natural that they might endorse any measures taken in retaliation by shielding the murderer. By destroying evidence.

  Jils continued. “There’s no weapon, and the accused has been cleared. We have two choices. One is an anonymous Free Government assassin. The other has to do with the fact that the woman is the sister of the bond-involuntary, Robert St. Clare.”

  Nobody was surprised. That didn’t surprise her. It was only reasonable for Koscuisko to have told his First Officer, since Koscuisko knew quite well that St. Clare was protected from accusation by the evidence he’d given.

  And as for the Danzilar prince, well, the Danzilar prince knew a great deal more about what was happening at his port than he shared with them. He had good people. Jils suspected some of them were Malcontents, under cover, and the slaves of Saint Andrej Malcontent were intelligence agents that even — or especially — a Bench intelligence specialist had to respect.

  “Your report’s got the talk you two had with St. Clare. Here,” the Ragnarok’s First Officer pointed out, tapping the document in front of him. “Speak-serum trial, proved for truthful utterance at the Execution levels. Did you have anything to do with the murder, you asked. St. Clare said he had no knowledge of it. He couldn’t have lied. He’s clear.”

  Actually Garol had asked, but Mendez was right. Koscuisko had used the most powerful such drug on the Controlled List, one usually reserved for confirming confession to a capital crime. Absolutely sure of himself, absolutely sure that St. Clare remembered nothing, one way or the other.

  “The issue is one of memory, First Officer.” Koscuisko’s polite qualification rather startled Jils. It was clear to her now — if it had not been before — that Koscuisko was willing to go to great lengths to protect his troops. She hadn’t anticipated his participation in this, but she had to admit that it was more convincing coming from the medical professional than from her. “He can state absolutely that he does not remember, because it is true. He cannot say that he had no hand in it, because he doesn’t remember.”

  “So — ” Mendez’s voice was thoughtful. “If he starts to remember, some year, and turns out to have had something to do with it . . . ”

  Such as committing the crime, to avenge his sister. Koscuisko looked unruffled,
serene. Confident. “He will be under governor, and will have to report the recovered information or suffer the consequences. There will be confession at that time. But without evidence, and with a legally supported claim to have no knowledge, he cannot be pressed further.”

  And he had been under governor in the first place, technically incapable of the act as far as the Bench knew. No sense in belaboring that point any further.

  “All we’re left with is that Hanner heard something behind him on the veranda. There’s no evidence.” She was only saying what they all knew. And they needed a way to close the case and move on. “The rule of Law is not well served by unsolved murders. If it was a Free Government agent the explanation satisfies our responsibility to uphold the rule of Law, even though the criminal goes undetected and unpunished.”

  Free Government agents could be anybody, but the point was that no one would be put at risk. Everybody knew about Free Government political terrorism. A Free Government assassin could be safely supposed to be far away from Burkhayden, and nothing to do with anyone who lived here. If it was a Free Government assassin the Bench had no brief to continue to search for a murderer amongst the Danzilar prince’s people, Dolgorukij and Nurail alike.

  “A Free Government assassin.” The Danzilar prince sounded a little dubious. “If you say so. It could well be.”

  “We so recommend.” Garol spoke up for the first time. He’d been abstracted lately. No, he’d been abstracted since the beginning of this whole enterprise, from the moment they’d started to Meghilder space with the Danzilar prince’s fleet. He just kept getting moodier by the day, was all. “There’s absolutely nothing to be gained by leaving it open.”

  Once Jils had realized that Garol was carrying a Bench warrant, of course, she’d understood. Garol was opposed to Bench warrants on principle. The system should be able to take care of its problems through normal channels, Garol said, and when the Bench had to resort to secret execution it was a failure in the system. But he did his job. He always did his job. And he was good at it.

  “Do you know, my Security felt that we were being stalked, when I first to Burkhayden came,” Koscuisko said suddenly. “Someone came into quarters when they were unoccupied, and rearranged the doses in a drugs-pouch. Nothing more than that. And yet Pyotr insisted on shifting to more secure quarters, and I had not thought of it to mention this, before.”

  No reason for Koscuisko to have made it up to convince his cousin Danzilar. Jils was glad he’d said it. The Danzilar prince looked much more comfortable than he had before, and said as much.

  “So there has been activity. Very well. We do not cover up for the crime, we merely select the most likely of several un-provable possibilities. I am content. Let us go on.”

  Not as if it rested with the Danzilar prince, but as the planetary governor he did have a great deal to say about the disposition of the case. It was under his jurisdiction, not that of the Bench — or very nearly so. Jils picked up the thread.

  “All right. Next. Captain Lowden. Positive identification of the body.” Lying across the table, what was left of one. The floor had held but everything within the room had burned. The fact that Lowden’s body lay amid the ashes of the table and traces of napery told them less than nothing, except that he hadn’t been in bed.

  From all the evidence showed he might have just collapsed over his meal, and died of heart failure — except of course that there was no trace of a meal, which hadn’t been sent up yet by report, and that the body lay face up and not face down. Captain Lowden had been murdered. Jils was sure of it.

  “The floor-manager’s given evidence that Specialist Vogel came to see the Captain shortly before the fire. This evidence is on record, but may plausibly be discounted.”

  Koscuisko raised an eyebrow at that. Garol hadn’t told Koscuisko, then. Odd. She would have expected Garol to level with the Judicial officer. On the other hand she and Garol were a species of judicial officer, themselves.

  Garol made a face that Jils recognized, lips pursed together and rolled toward his teeth, raised eyebrows drawn together in the middle of his forehead. Embarrassment. Disclosure of some mildly shocking secret.

  “Go ahead, Jils, blow my cover. Prince Danzilar. This is very awkward. I’d owe you an apology, if it wasn’t Bench business.”

  The Danzilar prince looked confused, so Garol had to continue. Had Koscuisko guessed, Jils wondered? Something about the phrase “Bench business” seemed to mean something to him.

  “It feels like a violation of your hospitality. Which has been very gracious. Here’s what we mean. Someone’s given evidence that I went up to see Captain Lowden. Now, this is a Bench warrant.”

  Drawing the document out of the inside pocket of his over-blouse, Garol gazed at it thoughtfully for a long moment. Giving the implications of the statement a chance to sink in. Giving them time to consider what it meant.

  “A Bench warrant, or, specifically, a termination order. It’ s not very good guest behavior to murder VIPs during Port accession celebrations, your Excellency. But it is my job. At least from time to time.”

  Garol’s Bench warrant meant that though there was evidence connecting him with the murder on record, there would be no challenge from the Bench to a finding of Free Government assassination. Why he’d set fire to the service house to cover the job she didn’t understand, but maybe he hadn’t. Maybe that had been an accident. Or unrelated. There was no reason to cover up the crime, after all. All he was expected to do was to make it look good enough that the Free Government could be blamed.

  “And personally. I’ll say this in light of what we all know. Lowden deserved to die. I believe he gave false witness. I was there. I don’t think he believed the gardener did it. The gardener was just a convenient victim.”

  Koscuisko turned his face down and away from her; the Danzilar prince – half-rising — put his hand out to Koscuisko’s shoulder, his concern clearly evident.

  “You could not know, Drusha,” Danzilar said. “Please. You must forgive yourself. You had orders.”

  The Ragnarok’s First Officer, Ralph Mendez, had been quiet for the duration, obviously content to sit and absorb. Now Mendez turned his attention to his hands, clasped before him on the table’s surface. It was awkward to be witness to this. Jils could sympathize.

  “Orders can never justify.” Koscuisko’s voice sounded choked. “Oh, Shiki. There is always someone who must do the thing, and that man has a choice, Shiki, truly. I am ashamed.”

  That it took him so long to realized that Hanner hadn’t done it, could not have done it. Garol had told her about Koscuisko’s conflict. She honored it; but Koscuisko was wrong. Lawful orders upheld the rule of Law. Obedience to lawful orders was the duty of every responsible citizen under Jurisdiction. Only unlawful orders brought shame on the head of the one who executed them. And as soon as Koscuisko had realized that the gardener was innocent Koscuisko had taken appropriate measures.

  “One way or the other,” Garol said, in a voice that struck Jils as being curiously soft. “Captain Lowden’s death was required by the Bench under warrant. That’s all there is to it. We recommend a finding of Free Government activity, targeting officers of the Jurisdiction Fleet Ship Ragnarok. Unless there are any questions.”

  Koscuisko covered his face with his hands. But after a moment Koscuisko straightened up. The Danzilar prince, still watching Koscuisko with concern clearly written on his face, shook his head.

  “No. I am content. As long as the Bench will have no expectation of launching a hunt for any such assassins here. I will not have a Fleet interrogations group at Port Burkhayden.”

  Quite right of him, too. Fleet interrogations groups were very efficient at identifying and locating Free Government operatives. The problem was that a Fleet interrogations group was perfectly capable of finding such activity where there wasn’t any. It made no difference to a Fleet interrogations group. Someone could always be brought to confess to the crime, and from there things e
scalated.

  “We’ll sign up to that, sir, and go so far as to promise that no further action will be taken.” Jils could make that claim honestly, with confidence. Garol would declare his Bench warrant. That would be that. “I think we can go on Record, your Excellency.”

  Koscuisko stood up, and looked around the table at each of them. Mendez nodded. “Go for it, Andrej.”

  Koscuisko decided.

  “Terminate suspension of Record, conclusion of discussion of evidence and findings. Let the Record show that the death of Fleet First Lieutenant G’herm Wyrlann was accomplished by a person or persons unknown, but presumed to be associated with Free Government terrorists. Let the Record further show a similar finding in the matter of the death of Fleet Captain Griers Verigson Lowden, presumed murdered in the absence of evidence. Let all here now state their concurrence with these findings.”

  Koscuisko recited the legal formula without inflection, dispassionately. It took a moment for the Danzilar prince to take his cue. Once he did, however, the Danzilar prince spoke his piece clearly and calmly as well.

  “Paval I’shenko Danzilar, Bench-proxy governor of Burkhayden in Meghilder space. In the matter of the death of Fleet First Lieutenant G’herm Wyrlann by an assassin of unknown identity, I concur. In the matter of the death of Fleet Captain Lowden by an assassin of unknown identity, I also concur.”

  Formula. But they all had to say it. Mendez made his statement, and when it came to Garol — next, going around the table — he put the crucial piece of information on Record.

  “In the matter of the death of Fleet Captain Lowden by an assassin of unknown identity, I concur. I report the cancellation of an outstanding Bench warrant received.”

  Because he had exercised it. Port Burkhayden was safe from Fleet interrogations groups. Nobody who reviewed the Record could entertain any doubt about what had really happened. That was one of the reasons that access to the Record was so strictly controlled. Not even Koscuisko — who held the Writ — could invoke the Record to recall information; he could only supply it.