"That is correct," Zhang said.
"Good." Margret Reece signaled the magistrate, who walked forward and offered a desktop pearl to the governor. Its pane scrolled a long legal script.
"Thank you," Zhang said. He glanced at the script. "This trial date is in three weeks' time."
"Yes," the magistrate said.
"What is the possible maximum penalty if Grabowski is found guilty?"
"I'm sure you already know," Margret Reece said. "But it happens to be lifetime imprisonment."
"Of course. There is an alternative."
"No, there isn't!" Myles snapped. "I knew it, I fucking knew they'd try and slime their way out of this."
"Myles, please," Margret said. "What alternative?"
"We court-martial him ourselves," Zhang said. "It will be quick, and the proceedings will be fair."
"Are you suggesting ours aren't?"
"Not at all. But neither you nor I want his lawyer to appeal on the grounds that he was given a biased jury. Which given the current state of affairs in this town will be a valid point."
"In other words, you want him judged by your officers?"
"Yes."
"No fucking way!" Myles shouted. "You authorize that custody order. Do it."
"Your police lawyer will be able to join our prosecution team," Zhang said. "That way, you can be assured the case will be made correctly."
"I don't understand," Margret Reece said. "Why a different court? It will look like you're trying to load the judgment in his favor. Or..." She paused thoughtfully. "Are you considering a prison sentence that will be served on Earth? Is that it? If you find him guilty you take him home with you rather than hand him over to our prison service?"
"That isn't actually what will happen."
Myles sat up at that. Despite his turmoil, he was still politician enough to see a deal being offered. "What's the penalty under your court-martial laws if he's found guilty?"
Zhang looked right at him. "Capital."
Myles had never thought of that. The death penalty was expressly excluded from all court action by Thallspring's constitution. How strange that he, the custodian of the founding fathers' liberalism, should now be given the opportunity to go against their original creed. He should of course refuse: it violated everything his culture stood for. "In that case," Myles said, "we agree."
* * *
Nearly a third of the children were missing from school that morning, which saddened Denise. It was another beautiful day, with a hot sun already high in a clear, deep blue sky. A breeze from the sea was just enough to cool Memu Bay's baking streets for people to walk down without being too uncomfortable. So it wasn't the weather keeping them away.
Today was the day Halford Grabowski's court-martial began. The population of Memu Bay was holding its collective breath. After all the unrest and the huge emotional outpouring of anger that accompanied it, people had actually taken a step back. Perhaps they were shocked by the prospect of capital punishment—not that any protested against it. Whatever the reason, the trams were running normally, and most of the shops seemed to be open. There was no sign of any Skin patrol walking the streets. Quite a few people were down on the beach, enjoying the sand and the water. And Denise knew that the hurriedly formed workers committees at the major asset factories were meeting today to discuss going back to work.
Even so, some parents were obviously reluctant to let their little loved ones out of their sight again so soon after days when the whole town seemed ready to explode. Ironically enough, Melanie Hazeldine had been one of those who appeared. Francine had brought her, the two of them riding in the back of a big limousine with darkened windows.
Denise watched from the kitchen as the two sisters kissed good-bye, and Melanie raced on into the school to greet her friends with excited shrieks. She hadn't been in school for a week.
"How are you?" Denise asked quietly when the two of them were alone together.
"Okay." Francine managed a small, brave smile. "I'm really worried what this has done to Daddy. I didn't know he'd take it so hard."
"You can tell him afterward, if you'd like, after the bastards have left."
"Do you think I should?"
"I'm not sure," Denise said honestly. "You'll be shocking him again, that his sweet daughter got involved with a resistance group, and did what she did to help the cause."
"Has it helped? I don't know. I just wanted to hurt them for what they did to William. He was my brother, you know. I never really knew him—I was young the last time round."
Denise put her hands on the younger girl's shoulders, squeezing softly, wanting the contact to emphasize the gratitude she felt. "Oh yes, you helped. Take a look around at what you've accomplished. They can't walk the streets anymore. Do you know what that means to people, not having to bow down and get out of the way because a bunch of arrogant bullies are swaggering down the pavement? Their precious pillaging has taken a financial knock it'll never recover from. They won't make money out of us. You made all that possible."
"Yes." Francine straightened her back and smiled properly. "I did. Poor Daddy."
"Tell him if you think it will help. Let him blame me; he might find that easier. We shouldn't come out of this as the victims, because we're not. They are, now."
"Thank you, Denise." Francine leaned in close and kissed her. "You're so strong. We need you to defeat them. I don't want my children to fear the stars like I've always done since William."
Denise hugged her friend. "They never will. I promise."
After all of the children had arrived, Denise called them together and dished out the media pads. That was always a popular activity. She played them some sing-along tunes as they created a host of wondrous shapes in a rainbow of colors. Each one was held up for her inspection as she walked along. She offered a few suggestions and spoke thousands of words of praise and encouragement.
The children took a break for juice and cookies. Denise sat with them, drinking her own tea.
"Finish the story, miss," one of them asked. There was a chorus of "Please!"
With a small show of reluctance, Denise put down her tea. "Not everyone's here, I'll have to tell it again later." That earned her a round of cheers.
"Okay then," she said with a pantomime sigh. "I suppose I will." After all, she considered, I don't know how much longer I'll be here. The thought dampened her eagerness; even with a future of astounding possibilities opening to her, she would miss these smiling, mischievous faces. Trust and admiration were given so easily at their age. She felt like a fraud for receiving it, which troubled her.
"Mozark took seventeen years to complete his voyage around the Ring Empire. Weeks before he arrived, the kingdom had heard he was returning. There were celebrations on every planet, and when Endoliyn was told the news she burst into tears, she was so thankful that her prince was coming home. No word of the ship and its quest had been heard for over ten years. Which is a long time for even the stoutest mind to hang on to trust "But now the day had come, and millions of the kingdom's subjects gathered around the giant landing field. They waited for hours, staring up into the sky where the galactic core stretched from horizon to horizon, blazing with silver light. Finally they were rewarded with the sight of a tiny black speck high in the air. It grew and grew until its shape became clear, and the mightiest roar of greeting arose from the crowd. The starship settled on the very pad it had left from, which had stood empty these seventeen years waiting for its return.
"Mozark emerged first to be greeted by his father, the king, who wept openly at the return of his son. The rest of the crew were then welcomed with great honor, for although they were not as renowned as their prince, they had played no less a part in the voyage.
"And then, when all the public celebrations were done, Mozark traveled to the palace where Endoliyn lived, and asked for her forgiveness."
"Why?" Jedzella asked in wonder. "What had he done wrong?"
"Which was almost Endoliyn's reply
," Denise said, grinning at the youngster. "She also wanted to know what he had done. To which Mozark said he had spent seventeen years away from her, which was unpardonable. They had been in love when he left, and such a separation was not something that should ever be inflicted on a loved one. She laughed, and told him he was silly, and that she loved him even more for embarking on his quest. What other person would sacrifice so much for the ideal he believed in? Then she asked the question that had been on her lips for seventeen years: what did you find?
"Mozark was so shamed by his beloved's question that he bowed his head. Nothing, he confessed, I have found nothing out there that we cannot build or think of for ourselves. In that I have failed you completely. All of this supposedly noble journey was for nothing. I almost wasted those seventeen years.
"Endoliyn was heartened by this small glimmer of hope. And asked him what he meant by 'almost.' He replied that there was indeed one thing that he found. A small, trivial, selfish thing, he said, which is mine and mine alone. And what is that, my love? she asked. He gazed upon her and said, I have come to realize that life is the most precious thing. It matters not where you are, or who you are. All that matters is how that life is lived; and lived it should be, to the full. And I know that my life can only be lived in such a fashion when I am with you. That is the only knowledge that I have returned with. I care not whether my kingdom rises into glory or falls into the abyss, all that I ask is that I share that prospect with you.
"Endoliyn laughed for joy, and said that of course she would live her life with him. And Mozark was overwhelmed with gladness. In due course they were married and Mozark became king, with Endoliyn at his side as his queen. They ruled the kingdom for many a long year. Few could remember a monarch so wise and kind. So, of course, the kingdom did not fall into the abyss, but prospered and continued to provide comfort and protection for all its peoples with serenity and grace."
The children waited for a moment, until it was obvious that Denise had finished. Not a few sullen glances flew among them. No outright resentment, but she knew they felt cheated.
"Is that it?" Melanie asked.
"I'm afraid so," Denise said kindly. "So what have you learned from Mozark's voyage?'
"Nothing!" one of the boys yelled. The others giggled.
"That's not quite true," Denise said. "I've learned a lot, and I think you have as well. The moral of the story is a simple one: This technology we have, and I'm the first to admit that it is a fabulous technology, should not be allowed to blind us to ourselves. Science is not an answer to our problems. By itself it cannot provide happiness, it can only ever help to light the way. We must find that happiness in our own way in the short time we've been given to walk this universe. When you grow up, you should concentrate on what's important to you as a person. In Mozark's case it was his love for Endoliyn, and it took him a voyage around the galaxy before he realized that. Only when he searched for a solution amid the science and minds of his peers did he see how empty such a quest was. The universe is centered on you, for that's the only perception of it you'll ever have. You are the most important thing in it, every one of you."
Mollified, but only just, they sprang to their feet and raced off to the games in the garden.
"Very good, my dear."
Denise turned to see Mrs. Potchansky in the doorway to the school's small kitchen. "Thank you."
"I've been interested to hear how it was all going to end," the old lady said.
"You approve, then?"
"Oh, yes. I still don't think it can quite be rated up there with the classics, I'm afraid. It would need some polishing and sharpening for that. But I'm glad you told it to them."
Denise looked out at the children as they caused their usual mayhem in the garden. "Perhaps I should have given them an ending with a little more oomph."
"If that's the true ending, then that's the way it must be told. Never sell yourself short, my dear."
Denise smiled and stood up briskly. "I never have."
"I know."
There was an edge to the old lady's voice that made Denise pause uncertainly.
"I'm proud of you, Denise," Mrs. Potchansky said. "You've done a wonderful job these last few weeks. Circumstances have not been easy. It gives me some hope for the future."
"We'll prevail, don't you worry."
"Of course you will. Thallspring will." Mrs. Potchansky went back into the kitchen.
Denise listened to mugs and plates being loaded into the dishwasher and wondered exactly what they'd just been talking about.
* * *
Michelle Rake had done well in getting the lab assigned to Josep and Raymond. It was in the botanical sciences block, one of the older university buildings away on the edge of the institution's parklike campus. An avenue of ehretia trees connected it to the central cluster of faculty buildings, their long dark green leaves casting a dense shade over the path underneath. The other students all said that when the panicles of white flowers bloomed they put out a delectable scent, but that wouldn't be for a few months yet. The tall trees and still air gave this section of the campus a secluded air, as if the important work had moved onward and outward, leaving just a few aging academics to tend their plants among the gently decaying facilities.
It was a perfect location for Josep and Raymond to run i-simulations—isolated, yet in the heart of Durrell. The botanical sciences block itself had a network several generations out of date, yet perfectly adequate for their needs. And even now, when life in the capital had settled down to more or less normal, over 30 percent of students were still taking an extended leave of absence. That left few people questioning their presence in the building; botany was never an oversubscribed discipline to begin with.
Cold climate chambers ran along one wall of the lab, shedding a pale violet light through misted-up glass. Their refrigeration cabinet rattled and buzzed in the corner. The two wooden benches that ran down the center of the lab were supporting a fair amount of glassware, resembling a sophisticated high-school chemistry set. Tables under the long windows were covered in clay pots filled with dozens of ugly, bearded cacti growing in bone-dry soil. The ubiquitous black cube of a datapool node was hidden under one of the tables, with three tiny orange LEDs on its front glowing amid the shadows. A Prime program had fortressed it from the rest of the network without alerting the management AS. Inside the cube, its array of neural pearls were generating an image of the Koribu as seen from an approaching Xianti. Josep and Raymond perceived the simulation through their d-written cell clusters, eliminating the need for stim-suits. Sensations slipped directly into their brains as they sat side by side in a pair of old leather armchairs, even managing to give them a modest impression of freefall. With their eyes closed they weren't aware of the botany lab. To anyone observing them, it would have looked as if they were in a deep REM sleep.
Inside the shared environment, Josep was in the Xianti's pilot seat while Raymond and a simulated Denise had begun suiting up behind him. The Koribu was visible through the windshield, a broad conglomeration of machinery, three hundred meters ahead of the spaceplane's nose. Two more Xiantis were also approaching the giant starship, their cargo bay doors folded open. Small one-man engineering shuttles were gliding out to meet them, ready to retrieve their valuable cargo.
"No physical contact with the big mother," Josep said wistfully. "So at three hundred meters' distance we produce the malfunction alert."
Amber graphics appeared on the console panes as well as the windshield, reporting a hydraulic failure in the Xianti's payload bay door actuators. The Koribu's flight controller queried them. Josep kept his conversation within the guidelines they'd gleaned from the spaceport mission data logs.
After the starship's AS had received and confirmed the spaceplane systems data, they were cleared to dock in the starship's maintenance bay. For most minor equipment malfunctions, the spaceplane would be sent back down to the ground for inspection and repair. Maintenance in freefall was a diffic
ult and expensive business: there were few situations that justified it Having an inaccessible cargo was one of them. It was a relatively simple procedure to provide auxiliary hydraulic power to the spaceplane, allowing the payload bay doors to open and the cargo to be removed. After that the doors could be closed and locked against atmospheric entry. The spaceplane would be dispatched back to Durrell for a thorough maintenance overhaul. This scenario also had the added advantage that no one on the starship would actually see what was in the Xianti's cargo bay.
While Josep flew them around the Koribu's cargo section, Raymond finished putting on his suit. It had been specifically tailored for him out of a silver-gray fabric no thicker than paper. In its inert condition the fabric was slightly elastic, allowing him to push his limbs into the sleeves with relative ease. The suit's hood was thicker, almost like a protective sports mask. He slipped it on, and small tubules melded with his nostrils, supplying him with air. His lips were engulfed by what felt like soft dry sponge, absorbing every exhalation. The suit sealed up along the front, then contracted. For a moment his skin felt as if it was being pinched everywhere. Then the shapemorph finished, and he couldn't even feel it anymore. Its surface changed color as its thermal conductivity altered, shedding excess heat from his skin, keeping his body at the temperature he was most comfortable with. His d-written neural cluster received sensory information from sensors on the outside of the hood, complementing his vision.
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