by Chris Hechtl
“You don't have my record?” Horatio asked, eyeing the lawyer.
“No. It seems to have gone astray.”
“Well, I'm not from around here. My career dossier was downloaded into the personnel department however,” Horatio stated.
The counselor nodded, making a note. “I'll find some way to pull it.”
“I have it on file as well of course,” Horatio replied with a shrug.
“Um …”
“In my implants,” Horatio stated. The lawyer frowned in confusion. “I have the UCMJ in my implant memory as well of course. Also, all recordings of relevant conversations we'll need to review before the trial. You'll probably need to set aside a lot of time … and find a way for me to download them for use in my defense. Making transcripts will be interesting, but I think we can do that with the right software. But you're going to have a large list of people to call on as witnesses.”
“I see,” his counselor replied dubiously as he scribbled a note on a pad of paper. He knew that was going to be a sticking point for the brass when it came down to witness testimony. He turned his wrist and pretended to look at his watch. It was an archaic thing but useful in times such as this he thought. “Look, we don't have a lot of time. I've got to check in with two other clients and then I've got trial prep for another case before lunch, then a case on the docket has a motion hearing in the afternoon.” He scribbled out an email address. “Why don't you write up your concerns and send them to me. You can send the files that way too.”
He ripped off the slip of paper and then handed it to Horatio. Horatio held up his cuffed hands. “I can't email you without access to Wi-Fi or an electronic device,” he stated.
The counselor frowned again. “Oh, yes, that's right. Well, given the amount of material the prosecutor is amassing, you'll need it,” the counselor said with a frown as he made another note. “I'll send out the form tomorrow. It should be reviewed sometime this week or next.”
Horatio scanned the email address into his implant memory and frowned. “That long?”
The counselor shrugged. “Yes. You'll just have to tough it out.”
Horatio noted the absence of rank as well as being called, sir, but didn't call the commander on it. “Lovely. So, I take it I'm stuck marching around in circles and such?” he asked as the lawyer packed up his attaché case.
“For the time being.” The counselor rose from his side of the table. “I'll look into it when I have more time,” he said as he went to the door and pounded on it with a fist. “Guard?” he called out.
After a moment, the guard came and opened the door. “Just keep your head down and try to remain calm. Remember, patience is a virtue,” the lawyer said with a forced smile as he turned to the guard. “We're done here,” he said to the guard. The guard nodded and stepped aside to let the lawyer pass.
“Yeah, right,” Horatio drawled as he stood and waited patiently as the guard undid the cuffs and then escorted him back to lockup. He made a note in his implants to file a motion to sever his counsel and replace the commander. It only took a few minutes to fill out the appropriate paperwork and have it in his buffer, ready to file on a moment's notice.
@
An icon blinked on his HUD when Horatio finished his paperwork. He frowned and clicked it.
A text window opened. “Do you intend to actively participate in your own defense?” Horatio sat back as he realized he was dealing with the implant A.I.
“Yes.”
“Do you intend to use your records in your defense?”
“Yes.”
“Be aware, doing so opens the files up to review by the prosecution and can be used against you as well.”
“So be it. They will stack the court against me. They do not have implants.”
“Accessing—no relevant files regarding that subject are on hand. No implant access to the net allowed.”
“That is because we, or should say I, am in prison, not confined to quarters.”
“That is not in accordance with the UCMJ and treatment of the accused.”
“Exactly.”
“Has the mutiny situation been resolved?”
“No, far from it. They are now calling into question those orders. They are also calling into question other things. No doubt they'll call everything into question.”
“That is not logical.”
“Agreed,” Horatio replied. When the text box disappeared, he snorted and went back to reading files and bookmarking sections of video.
@
Instead of better quarters or being assigned to the stockade, Horatio was assigned a roommate. Bernie was a rat-faced male human, someone he was instantly suspicious of. His short and wiry roommate immediately cozened up to him with a stated desire to “show him the ropes” and “help him.” He realized the man was fishing for information, which meant trouble. Most likely, he was a plant, quite possibly an undercover agent. Could he be ONI? He wasn't certain.
He let Bernie have the bottom bunk, and he took the top. While Bernie nattered on about how it was best to go with the flow and unburden himself, he ran a scan of their cell with his implants. Bernie was clean, no weapons, but he found new additions to the cell itself. Since his last departure to eat in the mess, he noted that there were now hidden microphones and video cameras installed in strategic locations in the cell. They covered every square corner of it.
Whoever had set them up had made a mistake however. They had done so through a Wi-Fi access node. He accessed the Wi-Fi network using the system's built-in guest privileges. It was pathetically easy to get into the system and from there into the prison network. Someone had been highly careless … or was it an elaborate trap?
He paused as he stared unseeing at the ceiling. It could very well be he thought. Cyber security and ONI could be monitoring his use and setting him up … but why? They already had enough charges against him. What was one more?
He decided to be careful about his illicit access and use it wisely.
@
“Surveillance access. You sent files through the surveillance Wi-Fi,” the text box said as Horatio got ready for bed.
He nodded once.
“This is illicit access to the network. It is a crime.”
He frowned as he laid back on his rack and then opened the keyboard function on his HUD. He used his fingers to type out a response. “Yes, but I am doing it in my own defense since I have been denied access. You can check the files to be sure of that,” he typed. He knew that the accused were supposed to have access to defend themselves and to participate in their own defense. He was being denied such rights in the prison so he justified his access as a means to rectify that.
“Accessing—files confirmed.”
“I will only use the access in my legal defense or to check on the status of the star system.”
“You will be monitored.”
“I know you are watching.”
“Server access is also monitored.”
“Understood,” he replied with an internal shrug.
“Acknowledgment is logged. It will be provided to the prosecution if they prefer charges for hacking.”
“Understood. That is the least of my problems,” he typed.
“Hey, you okay up there. You are awfully quiet,” Berney said.
“Just … thinking,” Horatio said.
“Oh.”
“I may turn in soon,” Horatio said as the box blinked and then disappeared.
“Oh. Got any family coming to see you this weekend?” Berney asked.
Horatio snorted softly to himself, then decided to answer honestly. It wasn't like the guy didn't already know. “A daughter. She's not here.”
“Oh. Won't come and see you? Well, she's got to get access I guess,” Berney said.
“It's not that. She's not around anymore.”
“Oh.”
“She's … it's complicated,” Horatio said, deciding to play it safe.
“What a
bout your wife? Female mate, right?” Berney asked.
“My wife died a long time ago. I started dating recently, but she's … away. We may have broken up.”
“May?”
“I don't know. We've lost contact,” Horatio admitted. He had no idea what his status with Moira Sema was. He knew it had been a fling, but had it been something more? Most likely not. Most likely he'd been a notch on her belt. Not that he hadn't appreciated her efforts in seducing him. He'd been immensely flattered, and she had been a wonderful armful in bed.
“Oh. So, no one to come and put money in your account?” the other man asked.
“My account?”
“They tell you that you've got an account here? For stuff you can't get? From the BX? Basic stuff. They don't allow a lot, but you can buy snacks and stuff.”
“Oh,” Horatio said as he tucked one hand under his head. “No, no one to do that. I don't even know if they set up an account for me yet.”
“Oh. Well, that sucks. I was hoping we could get a vid screen in here or somethin',” the other man grumbled.
“I'll try to ask if they let me,” Horatio drawled. “Night,” he said as he rolled over.
“Night,” Berney said after a long moment.
@
Agent Berney Crawford grimaced as he realized it wasn't going to be an easy or quick assignment. He might have screwed it up by going right in, being all chatty. He did that sometimes, tried to get the mark to talk early so he could finish the case and move on.
He sighed softly as he settled in to the rack. It was uncomfortable, but it wasn't like anyone was interested in his opinion. He had a week to get some results. Hopefully, the brass wouldn't leave him to rot if he didn't get any.
Chapter 8
Gemma and Fitz were given liberty with the rest of the crew once the ship was docked. They and the other crew members were sternly warned not to talk to any newsies and to not talk about the events they witnessed with each other or anyone.
“What the bloody hell do we do, Gemma? What did we kick off?” Fitz murmured.
“I don't know,” she murmured, biting her lip as she read the reports.
“Colton hasn't called us in. What side is he on anyway?”
“I don't know,” Gemma said slightly louder and with a hint of exasperation in her voice.
Fitz winced at her testy tone. She gave him a wan smile to let him know not to take it personally. He nodded ever so slightly. Emotions were running high. Most likely ONI, like every other department was in chaos.
“Most likely he's up to his neck in this bloody …,” she waved a hand to the vid screen nearby. He nodded.
“Sorry. It's just … I trust you. I trust him. I trust the team, you know, Mack and the others, but this ….” Fitz shook his head and indicated the vid screen helplessly.
Gemma looked at the news and the protests going on groundside at every naval facility. It wasn't worth touching down on the ground to walk into that she knew. “I know. Let's just get through the weekend,” his partner said as she hefted her bag. He grunted and followed her as they went to the shuttle.
@
With the Harmony of Space and the other salvaged ships laid up and their computers ripped out, Vice President Nibs returned to Bek B in a standard government sublight liner. She took half of her staff with her with the intent to plan to take control in Bek B and try to keep a lid on things.
She planned to feel out Rear Admiral Sharp Reflexes, the T'clock carrier admiral and senior officer of the Bek B component, the moment she got there. She was a wily old bug, but honorable, one of the reasons she'd been tossed to Bek B to keep her out of Childress's way. Once she had the bug's temperature and intentions, she'd find a way to work with his naval personnel there.
If it meant the beginning of a civil war in the Republic, so be it. Someone had to stand up to Childress and take him down. How was the big question; one she wasn't prepared to answer yet.
She turned to look around the compartment. After being in Harmony of Space, she realized she'd been spoiled. The star liner had made the brief hop between the components in minutes. They'd even started to rearrange the shipping to keep the liner and other starships going between the outer edges of the component systems instead of burning the time to come to the inner star system, unloading, reloading, and then sailing back out again. The plan had been for the ships to take on cargo and people at a station on the outskirts of the star system, ferry them through the brief few minutes of hyperspace to the other component, then unload them at a station there where they could take transit to their final destinations.
It would have been a great thing, cutting down on the time people had to burn in transit. It also would have given jobs to the ships that weren't needed to make that journey anymore. Not that all of them would abandon the run from one component to the other. Some cargo did not need to be taken through hyperspace after all.
She shook her head. All of that was on hold, potentially for years due to the crisis. If Childress had his way, they'd go back to the status quo they'd had before Caroline had come, with him in charge. And since he'd had regeneration, he could be in charge for a century or more, a miserable thought for everyone.
It had been so beautiful to see Caroline, to know the Federation was still out there, if only in a resurrected form. And the dream of being a part of that once more, of being a major player, that had fired everyone's imagination and desires to be involved. Now it was all coming apart thanks to Childress and his supporters.
No, something had to be done about the tyrant. She just needed to find the right people to get the ball rolling.
@
The president's newly-appointed press secretary Alika Zing was swarmed with questions in every morning press briefing related to the ongoing crisis with the navy. Some of the questions were barely veiled demands for action from the press.
Alika knew she couldn't come out and say that the president's hands were tied and that he couldn't do anything. That wouldn't have helped the situation. Instead, she kept a calm demeanor and reassured them that they were working on the problem.
“I assure you, please, for the sake of everyone, keep calm, let us do our jobs.”
“Is that why Vice President Nibs has left? Because you are trying to keep things calm?”
She smiled slightly, feeling a bit more on solid ground. “Yes. The vice president was due to return to Bek B at the end of the week anyway; this news made it imperative she get there and do what she can to maintain calm.”
“Won't she get there too late though? She will arrive, what, weeks after the message gets to Bek B?”
“Yes.”
“But didn't the navy attempt to jam the transmission?” another reporter asked.
“Yes, yes, they did.”
“Why? And what effect will that have with Bek B?”
“I don't know at this time; you'll have to ask the navy those questions.”
“Will there be any progress reports on negotiations?” a Veraxin reporter asked.
“Negotiations?” Miss Zing asked politely.
“Between Admiral Childress and the administration.”
“I doubt it.”
“So, you are saying there is no progress?” the reporter demanded, pouncing on her statement.
“No, I am saying I doubt that there will be any progress reports,” she clarified. “I'm sure you are all aware of the shakeup there, and how it is causing a ripple effect in our economy. But, that hasn't stopped the hearings and committees in congress from meeting.” She tried to work on shaping a message that life went on for the civilians. “We're going to be focusing on a series of bills to help ease some of the pain of the outbreak on the Zeta colony. The virus has taxed a lot of the workforce and has severely hit the children. All schools and public centers remained closed to prevent spreading of the virus. Unfortunately, the last vaccine proved to be a dud. The scientists have found a better version and announced they are working on ram
ping up production now. We'll need those bills to get through congress to fund the emergency measures as well as others that will need to be taken with an eye to public health and safety.” …
@
“What a mess. See? Are you happy?” Doctor Fara Windswept demanded scathingly as they watched the evening news in a rare time physically together in the same room. Even the solar weather report, with troubling solar flares in the red dwarf had been superseded by the naval crisis. Millions of lives might be lost to a solar flare because people were so intent on what Childress was going to do.
“About this, no, of course not,” Doctor Bright Petal buzzed mildly as she shook her large head in regret. “You aren't the only one losing sleep over this. The Republic is sliding into civil war. Even I can see that,” she told the historian. “But, I blame Irons for that part. He got too cute trying to micromanage from afar.”
“We screwed up too. Our lies have caused part of this problem,” Doctor Abe Noris stated.
“Don't put this on us! If you want to wear a scarlet A on your chest, that's on you. No one is stopping you. We didn't cause this. This is Childress. He's a power-hungry tyrant with mommy issues,” Morgan Tanaka, their legal expert said as she waved a hand to the screen.
Doctor Windswept snorted. The accuracy of that statement was dead on everyone knew. “And he's using our lies to fuel his support though! That fear of nanotech is driving some of his people! They are some of the reasons some of the public are backing him or at least willing to listen to him! The fear we caused!”
Doctors Noris, Ch'k'll'r'll, and Tron Fuyata nodded in reluctant agreement.
Morgan's eyes flared in ire at that particular sore spot in their record. “We had damn good reason for doing what we did. You and I both know some things are best left alone! Nanotech? A.I.? We didn't want to repeat the sins of the Federation's past! And we were right! We kept Bek alive and thriving this long.”
“Yeah, and that fear was based on a lie that it happened here and that it was proof that we shouldn't tamper with forces that are too dangerous. And now …” Doctor Noris growled and then waved his withered hands in despair.
