“I set aside my work and began investigating the murder. When I downloaded the data from the device, it contained an image. The image had poor resolution in some places, but it still contained enough DNA to conduct a match. However, when I examined our database for a match, I found none. Such a result meant only one thing.”
“What did it mean?” the Gronoi said.
“That someone related to the malkaris performed the murder. The only DNA samples unavailable to Shereb scientists were those of the malkaris and her first- and second-degree kin. This also violates Doctrine.”
“What happened next?”
Eshel had gathered all of his father’s belongings, systematically searching through each and every item. And he found what he’d hoped to—Othniel’s logs. His father had kept detailed logs of all his dealings with the malkaris’s family, Elisan and his aides, and the other Shereb scientists. Eshel had found his father’s obsessive log-keeping a waste of time. But when Eshel searched the logs, he found what he sought.
Othniel had secretly collected DNA samples from the malkaris’s kin, using the very technology he’d created, and had hidden the files. Othniel never mentioned the samples to him; he must have collected them after they performed the sher mishtar, when Othniel revealed everything about his logs, his new scanning device, and his ideas for Eshel’s escape. Othniel kept the device with him at all times and would scan the DNA of any suspicious person who tried to isolate him from others.
“And this… analysis,” the Gronoi went on. “It gave you the result you sought?”
“No, Gronoi. The images of the ruling family were also poorly resolved in some areas, making full identification impossible. However, I narrowed the list of suspects to four: the murderer was one of the malkaris’s four sons. Unfortunately, that day I received an offer to leave Korvalis and could not pursue the case further.” He paused. “When Catherine freed me, I took the opportunity to scan the four suspects with a superior instrument and finish my investigation.”
“And how were you able to gain such information without detection?”
Eshel paused. “I cannot share such information, Gronoi.”
Gronoi Sansuai raised his chin. “That concludes my questions for now.”
The Gronoi sat down and gestured to Admiral Scott, who stood up and walked closer to where Eshel sat. He stood with his arms behind his back, his sharp eye and aged face looking around the room, and then at Eshel.
“You stated, Private Eshel, in your report of what happened on Korvalis, that you performed this rite after Lieutenant Finnegan found you.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“So she was an accomplice.”
Eshel felt a sting of regret. “She was not. She knew nothing of my intent to perform the rite, only that I needed to gather evidence.”
“And how did you kill this… prince?”
“I cannot share that information, Admiral.”
“This is no time to be secretive, Private,” Scott said.
“Doctrine states that others shall not witness the sher keltar or know the method of death.”
The Admiral paused, as if considering his next question. “You no longer live among the Korvali. Why did you choose to do this rite?”
“The sher keltar is my right as a Korvali. Judgment for such an act is not the domain of the Space Corps or the Alliance.”
“One could say you gave up such rights the day you sought asylum with us.”
“I disagree, Admiral. I am always Korvali, whether or not I choose to live among your people. And even if I had forsaken these rights, they were mine again when I was abducted and taken to Korvalis.”
Admiral Scott stepped closer to him. “We have a problem, Private. If you’re a Korvali citizen, you may perform such a rite. But as a Korvali citizen, you cannot leave Korvalis or live among us, and we cannot protect you or go to such lengths to retrieve you as we did.”
Eshel fell silent. He hadn’t considered such a perspective.
“Private, do you have evidence that this rite is legal?” Admiral Scott asked.
Eshel hesitated. “I do not.” He heard a small murmur in the room. “I attempted to obtain such information through review of the documents pertaining to Ashan’s escape from Korvalis. However, I found no evidence of the rite’s legality.”
“Maybe the law doesn’t exist in your Doctrine,” Admiral Scott suggested. “Maybe your father believed it because his primitive relatives taught him of it.”
Eshel felt his anger rise, and made considerable effort to refrain from insulting the Admiral. “My father would never teach hearsay, Admiral. He showed me the pertinent Doctrine.”
“I see.” He paused. “With all due respect, Private, this rite seems barbaric for a people who look down on militaries and hand-to-hand combat.”
“Murder is rare on Korvalis, Admiral. We have a lower birth rate and a smaller population. Life has great value there.” He paused. “Perhaps the sher keltar is barbaric. But no less so than the murders that occurred during your former wars with the Sunai.” Eshel knew, even before the Admiral gave him a surprised look, that such a comment was risky. But it was the truth, and if they were to still accept him, they must tolerate his beliefs, just as he must tolerate theirs.
Admiral Scott glanced at the other delegates. “No further questions.”
Toq stood up next. While older, his compact, muscular build and quick movements reminded Eshel of the CCFs, of the sudden aggression the Calyyt were capable of. He signed his questions, the interpreter translated them, and Eshel answered them. During this process, Eshel began to recognize the structure of the Calyyt language, which he could see was as complex as he’d been told. He hoped for the opportunity to learn further; but if discharged from the Space Corps, such opportunity was unlikely. The only other possibility was under the service of the Sunai, but he couldn’t allow himself to consider such a terrible prospect yet.
Toq’s questions, as well as those of the gentler Tallyn, were less probing and did not, in his opinion, do further damage to his case.
Sansuai spoke up. “Are there more questions for Private Eshel?”
The delegates said they had nothing more.
“Let us take a short recess,” the Gronoi said.
After the four delegates retreated to a separate room, Eshel remained seated. Catherine and Tom approached him and spoke in hopeful terms. However, he could tell by their expressions that they didn’t feel the optimism they spoke of. When they’d learned of what he’d done, they’d gotten angry, but not as angry as Ferguson had, especially after he explained that knowledge of the sher keltar shouldn’t extend beyond one’s family.
The door opened and the four delegates sat down at their table. Sansuai spoke. “After discussion among the delegates, we agree that Eshel, citizen of the planet Korvalis or not, may be entitled to perform such a rite and murder his father’s murderer. It is not for us to decide whether this act is acceptable. Until the Korvali join our Alliance, we shall have no say in how one Korvali treats another Korvali, on Korvali territory.”
Before Eshel allowed himself to entertain any notion of relief, he sat quite still, waiting for the rest of the Gronoi’s speech.
“Yet, there is the problem of documentation. We lack evidence that such a rite exists, that this rite is part of Korvali Doctrine, or that Eshel remained within the bounds of this Doctrine! If Eshel were not under this Alliance’s protection, such a concern would be no domain of ours! But as a member of our great Alliance, Eshel’s conduct toward even a fellow Korvali shall be scrutinized. My officers have made many attempts to receive confirmation from the Korvali about this sher keltar, through many persuasive means. The Korvali claim this rite is no longer practiced and no longer part of their Doctrine.”
The room seemed to quiet.
“At conclusion, this leads myself and the other delegates to choose whom to believe. Shall we believe the Korvali government, who failed to keep the covenant they agreed to on my own planet
, in my own meeting?” The Gronoi’s decorations jingled as he gestured emphatically. “Or shall we believe the words of one Korvali,” he motioned to Eshel, “who left his homeworld, and whose own leaders believe him dangerous?” He paused. “With no further evidence, we can only conclude that Eshel must receive punishment for his offense against this Prince of Korvalis. We shall deliver the details of such a punishment by the sun’s rise.”
Eshel sat alone in the cool, dark room. He’d requested to stay behind. Gronoi Sansuai had honored his request, requiring only that one guard stand near the closed door. He knew Catherine and Tom would want to talk to him. But he could not face them.
He’d considered the punishment he could incur, the basis of which he’d learned from examining prior cases where an individual from one Alliance planet had killed a citizen of another Alliance planet. However, no such case involving the Korvali, a non-Alliance people, existed. Viewed one way, the Alliance gained from his inclusion, as one Korvali served as the seed that would eventually bring more Korvali to the Alliance’s table. But viewed another way, his presence among them only antagonized his people, leading them to consider, as with his rescue, the benefits of such a thing relative to the costs.
Without evidence, it was his word against Elisan’s. It disgusted him that his word should have equal value to Elisan’s, particularly for an act such as the sher keltar, which, on Korvalis, would be supported by all but the malkaris and Elisan’s band of corrupt supporters. But he could hardly blame them for their unwillingness to believe him. To choose his word over Elisan’s would be to choose merely out of loyalty, or some other irrationality. He didn’t want punishment, but he could accept punishment under such circumstances.
And there was no punishment he couldn’t endure when he weighed against it the justice of having done his duty. The length of punishment would prove small when compared to the number of years he’d taken from Elan. An image of Elan standing with Alshar flashed before him. The visions had already grown fewer with each day since the sher keltar. He cursed Elan for his stupidity, for his duplicity, for his amorality.
Why, Elan? Why did you not let Ivar perform the murder? Now your mate has no mate, your child has no father, and you have put our people in further jeopardy by allowing Ivar to become malkaris someday. Even you, with your treachery, must understand the disservice you’ve done to Korvalis by creating opportunity for Ivar to gain more power.
But Eshel realized that, perhaps, he was the stupid one for refusing to see Elan’s true nature.
Eshel returned his thoughts to his punishment. That he would incur punishment was expected. But it was still unclear whether the Space Corps, who postponed any decision until after his trial, would allow him to continue serving in their organization. Leaving Korvalis for the first time, leaving those who mattered to him, had been difficult. Now, he feared he must face such difficulty again. The Sunai would use their powerful means of persuasion to implore him to live among them; but under no circumstances, other than having no other option, could he allow that. He would live among the humans on Earth, if they’d have him, and begin all over again.
Much later that day, the guard opened the door. People filled the seats until the four delegates and the interpreter emerged from the other room.
“Let us begin!” Gronoi Sansuai said loudly, as everyone quieted down. “Out of respect for the organization that Private Eshel belongs to, Admiral Scott will announce the verdict of this hearing.”
Admiral Scott stood, his arms behind his back once more, and addressed the room. “Only hours ago, Gronoi Sansuai received a transmission from Sunai officers in Jula. They found evidence for this… this sher keltar… among the sealed documents pertaining to Ashan’s escape.” He paused, and the room grew even quieter. “This source fully supports Private Eshel’s claim to commit this act of murder. It doesn’t specify whether the Doctrine applies to a citizen who has escaped and sought refuge elsewhere. However, the Korvali forced Private Eshel to live among them again, suggesting that they consider him their citizen. Therefore, Eshel acted within his rights, and furthermore will face no punishment and no loss of his asylum.”
Admiral Scott paused again, looking at Eshel. “However, from this day forward, if Private Eshel continues to live among us, and to remain enlisted with the Space Corps, he must formally revoke his Korvali citizenship and the doctrinal rights that come with it. He will no longer have rights to Korvalis or its customs, under any circumstances.” He turned to the other delegates. “These proceedings are adjourned.”
As the silence broke and people stood up from their chairs, Eshel saw only the smiling faces of Catherine and Tom as they approached him.
CHAPTER 28
“At ease, Lieutenant,” Yamamoto said. He motioned to a chair.
Catherine sat, looking at him in that hesitant way she always did whenever he requested an unplanned meeting with her.
“Catherine,” Yamamoto began. “We’ve reviewed your recent operation to retrieve Eshel from Korvalis. We’ve interviewed yourself, as well as Eshel and Tom. Your handling of the operation, which had many tactical challenges, was impressive. That is Eshel’s opinion, Tom’s opinion, and, from the standpoint of one who oversaw the operation, my opinion.”
Catherine’s expression turned to surprise, and she blinked a couple of times, as if searching for the correct response. As she started to speak, Yamamoto put his hand up briefly before he continued. “Everything we discuss from here forward is classified. I imagine you are used to that by now.” She smiled and offered her consent. “Would you be interested in providing a unique service to the Space Corps?”
“What kind of service?”
“You would complete special operations, assigned by myself, when your services are needed. The operations would typically involve information gathering and thus would, in most cases, prove somewhat less dangerous than the one involving Eshel’s retrieval.”
Catherine’s eyes widened, recognizing what he referred to. All those in the Space Corps, even the scientists, knew about Clandestine Operations Officers, or COOs. Most of what they knew was false, but they knew COOs existed and that their identities were kept secret. “Really?” she said.
“Really. You will undergo a trial period, to ensure you’re a good match for such a position. However, you have a cluster of traits that make you a good candidate. An obvious one is your superior self-defense skills. Another is your ability to work independently. You perform well under pressure, and you show a capacity for improvising in difficult circumstances. However, until recently, I had no knowledge of how you would perform in the field. As the Captain pointed out, you are a scientist, not a soldier, and thus an unconventional choice to serve in this capacity.” He paused. “Your position as a senior scientist offers more advantages, as we can place you in a variety of settings without raising the suspicions that a soldier would.”
“How… how much time will this involve? What about my post?”
“If you choose to take this role, you must maintain your role as a scientist. However, to release you from some of those duties, I will enroll you in the ETP under the Operations Department, reporting to me. In effect, you will be cross-training.”
“And I would work alone?”
“Alone, or with one other. This person will train you.”
“Who is this person?”
“You must commit to the position to find that out.”
“Who would know?” she asked.
“Other than myself… only the Captain.”
“And the Captain is okay with this?”
“She took quite a bit of convincing.”
He’d had to pull for Catherine. He needed one more COO—someone who could work with scientists, with people his soldiers couldn’t relate to. He’d had a few other candidates in mind, but Catherine had qualities they lacked. Her sign-making ploy showed an ability to innovate even when under stress. She hadn’t leaked Eshel’s secrets to her superiors, her father, or even to he
r closest friends; that showed she was above the need for social approval or the pressure to accede to authority, both of which were crucial in a COO. Her ability to convince someone like Tom Kingston to modify their rescue plan showed an ability to bend the rules and persuade when necessary. And, from his standpoint, her willingness to risk her career by standing up to Commander Steele’s insult, and to risk her neck by facing a Calyyt in the ring… those actions showed sheer, uncompromising guts. He shared none of this with Catherine. She needed to prove herself first.
“Are you interested?” he said.
“I am.”
He gave a nod. “There are two caveats, Catherine. If you make this commitment, you will receive training and access to information about our organization—and others’—that you cannot share with anyone, anytime, under any circumstances. You will swear an oath to protect this information—any breach of this oath will have severe consequences associated with it. To some extent, when you take on this role, you gain certain privileges, but forsake others.” He paused. “The other caveat is Eshel. I know you and he share a number of secrets and an important history, more than you admit to. And it’s clear to me that, on some level, you and Eshel still share something that is beyond friendship. Do you see where I am going with this?”
“I think so, Sir.”
“I’m not asking you to reveal that which Eshel has already shared with you. However, if you choose this role, you can no longer keep Eshel’s secrets. You must choose your allegiance to the Space Corps over your allegiance to Eshel.” He paused. “Is this something you can do?”
Catherine hesitated for a moment. Then she leaned forward in her chair. “Yes, Sir. I can.”
And with that, Yamamoto put out his hand. “Welcome aboard.”
The Refugee (The Korvali Chronicles Book 1) Page 31
