by John Bowers
"Oliver…"
"Shh. Just take it easy now.
"Oliver, where were you?"
"They wouldn't let me in. I was outside the whole time."
"I had to sh-shoot him!" she said.
He was surprised at that, but continued to hold her. Did she think she'd killed Mason?
"You don't have to talk about this now, Rosemary," he said. "Unless you want to."
"He raped me!"
Oliver closed his eyes, and for a moment his soul burned with rage. His earlier feelings of regret evaporated. Now he was glad he'd taken the shot.
He pulled back gently, pushed the strands of hair out of her face, and gazed earnestly into her eyes.
"Is he dead?"
She nodded shakily.
"Good." He kissed her on the cheek. "I love you, Rosemary. What he did to you doesn't change that."
She blinked in surprise, still shaking. "Do you mean it?"
"I mean it. I've been in love with you for years."
She stared at him for five seconds, then kissed him hard, as if drawing life itself from him.
"The ambulance is here." The female officer had returned, and reached for Rosemary's arm. "They're going to take you to the hospital for the night." She looked at Oliver grimly. "Captain Anderson is waiting for you upstairs."
Oliver nodded. He helped Rosemary out to the ambulance, promised to visit her as soon as he was finished here, and went up to see Anderson.
"Lincoln, where the hell have you been? We were looking for you."
"I had something to take care of," Oliver said, sensing suspicion in the other man. "What did you need me for?"
Anderson stepped through the doorway into Lincoln's office; forensics people were at work, holographing and collecting evidence. Jeremy Mason lay face-up on the floor, eyes open, a massive wound through his chest, a smaller one in the stomach.
"See this man?" Anderson demanded.
Oliver nodded, seeing Mason up close for the first time.
"None of my people ever took a shot," Anderson said. His eyes narrowed. "Exactly where were you the last couple of hours?"
Oliver met his gaze squarely. "On top of the control tower," he said, pointing toward the window. "To answer your next question: yes, I killed him."
Anderson stared at him as if he didn't believe it.
"Did you authorize a spacecraft to take off from the runway earlier?"
"Yes."
"Lincoln, I expressly shut down this facility for the duration of this emergency! What the hell were you thinking?"
"Probably the same thing you were. By the way, how's my dad?"
"He's gonna make it. Don't change the subject."
Oliver's temper ignited. "Look, Captain — if you're pissed at me, I can live with that. If you want to arrest me for something, then do it. But don't fucking lecture me about this! That son of a bitch shot my dad and raped my girlfriend. He also killed two of your men. You weren't having any success, so I did what I had to do. And if I had to, I'd do the same goddamn thing again!"
Anderson turned purple. "You endangered the lives of a whole lot of people, mister!"
"I did no such thing. That flyby was perfectly safe — the man flying that fighter is an expert. And I'm the best fucking rifle shot in the entire fucking Vegan Guard! I took that shot from five hundred yards, and I only needed one."
"I don't question your accuracy," Anderson said, "but you interfered with a police action, you disobeyed or caused others to disobey my direct orders, and you discharged a firearm in a volatile situation without police permission. As for the rest, maybe we'll just let the courts figure it out!"
"Maybe you'd rather let the Federation Senate figure it out," said a voice from the doorway.
Oliver turned in surprise as Henry Wells strode into the office. Anderson glared at him angrily.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Henry Wells, United Federation Senate. What's your name?"
Anderson blinked.
"Senator Wells, I didn't recognize you. What are you doing here?"
"Hopefully I'm here to bring a little sanity to a situation that appears to be getting out of control. I heard what happened here, so let me just say this — Ollie here has just been awarded the Sword of Sophia by the Government of Vega in Exile for meritorious service against the Sirians. He also won the Queen's Cross and the Purple Triangle, and he just saved your ass from an impossible standoff. I think you should show a little more appreciation."
"Senator —"
"Because if you arrest him, I assure you I will personally roast you in the Solar System media, and I will condemn the Denver Police Department as incompetent. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Anderson flushed. "Senator, with all due respect, as a lawmaker yourself I don't see how you can condone his actions."
"Goddammit, man, he's not a criminal! The only thing he's guilty of is embarrassing you because he solved the problem you couldn't solve for yourself! That's the bottom line, and we both know it!"
Anderson clenched his jaw and stood breathing deeply.
"If you do this," Henry said, "you're going to lose. Do you need that kind of PR?"
"Normally, in a situation like this …"
"Bullshit! Normally there are no situations like this! Give it up, Captain. Let your department take the credit it deserves for resolving the hostage situation. You'll be doing yourself a favor, and besides that, it's the right thing to do."
"Goddammit!"
"Captain?"
Anderson, red-faced, heaved a sigh. "Lincoln, go see your dad. I think we're finished here."
Chapter 50
Monday, 28 August, 0197 (PCC) — London, Europe, Terra
The Senate chamber wasn't as big as Oliver had anticipated. It was semi-circular in nature, designed to look like an arena or amphitheater. Elected officials sat at a high, circular bench and gazed down upon those who had business there. The walls were of dark mahogany, giving the room a gloomy appearance in spite of bright lights overhead. To Oliver's eyes, it was designed to intimidate.
As the most junior senator, Henry's seat was on the extreme right wing; Oliver was shown to a seat in the spectator gallery at the back of the room. He sat through preliminary business, rubbing his eyes wearily. He'd slept little over the weekend, the events of Friday night fresh in his memory. Rosemary and his dad were recovering, but it would take time.
Thirty minutes into the session, the floor was cleared for Henry Wells to make his final statement on the appropriations bill. Oliver's eyes narrowed and his heart beat a little faster.
After addressing the chair, Henry got right to the point.
"You may have noticed an amendment to this morning's agenda," he said. "By a stroke of good fortune, we have with us today a man who has recently returned from Vega 3. Before I make my closing statements, I would like the Senate to hear his story."
"This is most irregular!" Hinata Naveedh interrupted. "The agenda was set last week! This change has not been approved!"
Henry didn't blink.
"My apologies to the senator from Indiastan, but there was no opportunity on Friday to get the agenda change authorized. I therefore respectfully request that the Senate authorize it now. This witness can shed a great deal of light on the subject before us."
"That is quite impossible!" Naveedh was shaking her head.
"Excuse me, Senator…" Senator Kroeker leaned forward. "You aren't in charge of this body. Your chairmanship of the Defense Committee does not give you control of the entire Senate!"
"I will not be browbeaten by you!" Naveedh shouted.
A gavel banged. Federation Vice President Xing Pao, the Senate chairman, turned to Henry Wells. "How much time will this testimony require?"
"That's hard to say, Mister Chairman. At least an hour, possibly longer. I expect there will be questions after the testimony."
Xing nodded stoically. "Very well. The chair will entertain discussion pertaining to the change of ag
enda."
The next forty-five minutes were consumed by argument. As expected, those opposed to Henry's defense proposal fiercely opposed letting Oliver testify. His face had dominated global holonews for the last two days, both for his experience on Vega and his role in stopping Jeremy Mason. Everyone knew who he was and, potentially, what he might say. The doves wanted none of his testimony on the record.
For a while, it looked like a draw. Oliver began to think he wouldn't have to testify after all. Finally, Xing called for a vote.
"With the chairman's permission!" a clear voice rang out.
All eyes shifted to the front row of the gallery. Howard Nieters stood there like a sentinel, his white hair gleaming in the lights.
"You are out of order!" Naveedh squealed.
"Perhaps, Senator. Nevertheless, I beg the chairman's indulgence."
Xing nodded. "The chair recognizes retired Senator Howard Nieters. Make it brief, sir."
"Thank you." Nieters stepped through the wing gate and strode forward to a witness table. As he spoke, he remained standing.
"I confess to you that I have no idea what the proposed witness might have to say," he said, his voice statesmanlike. "But I spent a great many years as a member of this body and I was always under the impression that our primary purpose here was to determine what was best for the Federation. Perhaps I was wrong all those years, but if so, I remain wrong today, because I still believe that is the primary purpose of the Senate.
"In order to determine what is best for the Federation, I believe the secondary purpose of the Senate is to obtain as much information as possible. In other words — to arrive at the truth. In order to accomplish that, it seems self-defeating to ignore, or refuse to hear, anyone in possession of that information. It is my understanding that the proposed witness has just returned from Vega 3, where he not only witnessed events that occurred there, but actually participated in them. The Federation has suffered a news blackout since the invasion began two years ago; no one has seen or heard anything, and the Confederacy refuses to enlighten us. In view of that, how absurd is it to refuse to listen to the only witness available to us?"
Nieters swept the chamber with steely blue eyes.
"I personally can't wait to hear what the young man has to say. Which of you among us has no curiosity? Listen to his testimony! Then decide whether you believe him."
Nieters returned to his chair and sat down. The vote was taken, and the agenda change was approved by eighty-three percent of the vote.
Oliver spoke uninterrupted for almost fifty minutes. He briefly related the story of Victoria's death, and her revelation of an impending Sirian invasion of Vega, then his own concerns about Lincoln fighters being used in a war of aggression. He told of his trip to Vega, his contract with the Space Guard, and the fateful night of the actual attack. He spoke of his attempt to surrender to the Sirians in the hope of being evacuated as a neutral, then told of the atrocity done to Erika and Jacquje. He related highlights of his service in the Guard, stressing only Vegan courage and Sirian ferocity.
The meat of his testimony surrounded his observations after capture — the degrading tactic of forcing prisoners to rape their own women, the brutal killing of women who were refused, and the slave centers operated by the SE. Through it all, the Senate sat in virtual silence, until he had concluded his testimony.
Oliver took a drink of water and looked up. For another thirty seconds, the senators sat as if transfixed. Then the first light came on.
"The chair recognizes Senator Boxer of North America."
Boxer leaned forward and pinned Oliver with a hostile stare.
"Mr. Lincoln … Excuse me, would you prefer I refer to you as 'Sergeant'?"
Oliver shook his head. "Either one is fine."
"Mr. Lincoln, is it true that you shot a man to death last Friday night?"
Oliver was stunned. Was the man serious? He'd just related a tangled tale of invasion and wartime atrocities, and Boxer wanted to talk about Jeremy Mason?
"Yes," he said quietly. "That's true."
"Could you tell this body why you shot the man? Was he threatening your life?"
Oliver cleared his throat. "I believe the facts have been published around the planet over the last forty-eight hours," he said. "I didn't come here to talk about that."
"I'm asking you for your version, sir. Are you refusing to answer the question?"
"No, I'm not refusing. I just don't see the relevance …"
"Suppose you let me worry about the relevance! Why did you kill the man?"
Oliver felt his blood pressure rising. He tried to remember Henry's last words before they entered the chamber: "No matter what anyone says, don't lose your temper."
"The man in question had murdered three police officers, shot my father, raped my girlfriend, and was threatening her life. I believe the holonews has already reported all that."
"Were the police present when you killed the man?"
"Yes."
"Did the police request your assistance? Is that why you shot him?"
"No, they did not. I did it because they were unable to do the job."
"I see." Boxer scribbled something, then pinned Oliver with his stare again. "Tell me, Mr. Lincoln — did you enjoy killing that man?"
Oliver swallowed and took a deep breath. His heart thundered in his chest.
"The truth, Senator, is that after I pulled the trigger, I threw the gun aside and started to cry."
Boxer's lips twisted into a sneer. "You expect us to believe that?"
"I don't care what you believe. That's what happened."
"You stated that your first assignment in the Vegan Guard was as a sniper. Is that correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"A sniper is a person who hides and shoots unsuspecting people from ambush. Is that accurate?"
"Yes."
"Did you enjoy doing that?"
Oliver flushed with anger, but forced calm into his voice. If this was how it was going to go, he'd just have to endure it. But his voice trembled.
"I did not enjoy that."
"No? According to your testimony, you had just seen two lady friends raped and one of them murdered. You wanted revenge. These are your own words."
"I did want revenge. That's why I joined the Guard. By the time I got into action, several months had passed. At that point I was just scared."
"You killed from ambush because you were scared?"
"I killed from ambush because those were my orders. That assignment only lasted a few days. After that, every time I killed someone, I was under fire. And I was extremely scared."
"How many men did you kill from ambush?"
Oliver frowned, trying to remember. He shook his head.
"Maybe a dozen, fifteen."
"You must be quite good with a rifle."
"I'm expert with a rifle."
"Do you enjoy hunting? Killing animals?"
"Yes. That's how I learned to shoot."
"Murdering animals gives you pleasure?"
Oliver blinked. Murdering animals?
"Unless you're a vegetarian, Senator, I suspect you enjoy a good steak now and then. Personally, I prefer not to eat mine alive."
Boxer remained unfazed.
"The people you killed on Vega — were they like animals to you?"
"They were targets. I tried not to think of them as human beings."
"Was there no pleasure, no satisfaction from killing those 'targets', as you call them?"
"There was a certain gratification in staying alive."
Oliver leaned forward. "Senator, let me tell you something. When you use a sniper rifle, you have a very powerful telescopic sight. It brings the target right into your face. You can see the moles, the pimples, even the hair follicles on that face. And when the bullet hits, you see the head explode like a watermelon. You see the absolute surprise in the target's eyes. You can see the brains hit the ground ten feet behind him and splatter like a bag of vomit. There is
nothing pleasant about that, sir! There is nothing enjoyable. There is no glory. It's just a filthy, dirty job that somebody has to do.
"Shortly after I killed my first man from ambush, I threw up; and every one I killed after that, I had a rock in my stomach. I didn't sleep well during that time; I found it hard to eat. Even now, I have dreams about it. If I could go back in time and avoid doing all that, I would. I don't like having the memory in my head."
Breathing audibly, he took another drink of water. Boxer glared at him, but punched the button to turn off his light.
Another light came on.
"The chair recognizes Senator Weinstock of South America."
Dianne Weinstock, a heavy, middle-aged woman with unruly hair, began her questioning in a somewhat shrill voice. Oliver stared at her in wonder as it quickly became evident she didn't like him very much.
"Mr. Lincoln, have you ever raped a woman?"
"No, Ma'am."
Weinstock glared at him. "Excuse me, sir, but my name is not 'ma'am'! You will address me as 'Senator'!"
Oliver's eyebrows arched. Was she kidding?
He spread his hands. "Sorry. Senator."
She glared a few seconds longer, then continued.
"You say you never raped a woman?"
"That's correct."
"Never? Not once in your life?"
"Not once."
Her lip curled slightly. "Have you ever been responsible for a woman's death?"
Oliver winced in pain. He nodded slowly.
"Yes, Ma— Yes, Senator. I feel I was responsible for the death of Jacquje Norgaard. I told you that."
"You don't feel you are responsible for the deaths of any other women?"
He nodded once. "Two of the people I killed from ambush were women. Female SE officers."
"Don't try to change the subject, sir! You know where I'm going with this!"
"I'm sorry, I don't have a clue where you're going with this. I'm trying to answer your questions as you ask them."
Weinstock drew herself up haughtily. "Mr. Lincoln, if you insist on being impertinent, you can be held in contempt of Congress!"
"What!"
"Mr. Chairman!" Henry Wells was on his feet.
Weinstock spun to face him. "I am not finished with this witness, Senator!" she shrilled.
