by Chris Hechtl
“You …,” the chief justice paused in hanging up his jacket to turn and stare at the marine. He wasn't the only one; Admiral Silvestri looked shocked. “You know that's a career-ender. Just saying it out loud …,” he shook his head.
The Neodog waved a dismissive hand. “Then go ahead and file a report on me and end it. Flush my career. It's better than seeing a good man go down.”
“Damn it, Talia,” Admiral Thurgrad shook his head.
Admiral Silvestri cleared his throat, interrupting Admiral Thurgrad before the other man's temper got the better of him. “We'll see what the jury decides. I noted they didn't come back right off.”
The chief judge snorted. “They are just making it look good for the public.”
“Gods of space, I hope it's more than that,” the colonel murmured with a shake of his head. The other two Terrans snorted.
“I don't know about you two, but some of us take our duties and honor seriously. Duties to the Constitution and the Federation, not to an individual who just so happened to have scratched our back,” the colonel drawled.
“You really are riding for a fall, aren't you?” Admiral Silvestri asked.
“I'm not in his service. He can demand my head if he wants. He may or may not get it. If he does, what sort of message will that send? I doubt he cares, but for everyone he goes after, he tells others that the only way to stop this is to stand up to him. Pity no one except the rebels will. And they can't get to him.”
“So, what, you think they are okay?”
“No. But I understand where they are coming from. We all swore an oath to support and defend the constitution from all threats both foreign and domestic. The commander was correct there.”
“It won't matter. Logan is done.”
“Perhaps. If he goes down, he'll go down as a martyr. It won't be the example Childress is looking for, quite the opposite I bet.”
Admiral Thurgrad started to protest, but he caught the look on Admiral Silvestri's face. His mouth closed with a click. He stared at the other man for a long moment. Finally, he grunted.
“We'll see what the jury says.”
@
“That was well played. The way that commander gave the oath; it probably did some damage like the colonel just said,” a tech said, turning to Commander Onslo.
“Oh, shut up and keep recording,” the commander growled, making the tech flinch and then return to watching her screens.
The Neochimp grimaced as he looked at the screens as well. He could see the jury going at it, and it didn't bode well. But that damn commander's closing speech had hit him too. Back when he'd originally joined the navy, he'd been filled with that zeal, that eagerness. Puppyish he knew, those naive ideals had been burned away when he'd learned about the true movers in the service, but was there still a kernel of something there left? A cinder? He wasn't certain he wanted to find out.
@
In the jury room, the jury settled in for a talk before voting. Commodore Kenji Thapa had been selected as their jury foreman by his time in grade. He had at least a decade in grade over the other three rear admirals on the jury. However, it was clear that many of the officers wanted to air some problems before they got to the voting. A few were looking forward to getting home in the evening, but some of their number had their honor stung. “Boy, did they hand us a can of worms!”
“Yeah, tell me about it. Actually no, don't. I've heard enough.”
“You saw the video I take it? Childress and Logan? Logan got him good there. I know it's not right to score off of a superior officer, but damn,” a marine colonel said in wonder.
The jury foreman pursed his lips to protest but then squelched the impulse when other heads began to nod around the table. He knew the damn jarhead would be a problem.
“The question is, what do we do about it?” Admiral Ross asked carefully.
“Do? You know what the answer has to be. Our own careers, hell, our families hang in the balance,” a commodore stated.
The colonel scowled. He didn't like that threat, made open or behind closed doors. “You aren't saying he's threatened your family?” he asked carefully, turning from the Veraxin to the jury foreman.
“No, but I've got a wife and kid. I need this job. I need the pay. We've got another one on the way.”
“So, you are saying the money is more important than doing your duty? Honor, the truth, it doesn't play into it at all?” the marine colonel asked in disbelief.
“Oh, don't go climbing on any higher-than-thou horses here,” Commodore Fast Strike said sarcastically.
“Colonel Sanchez has a point. We are supposed to be here for the case, for Admiral Logan and to see justice is done,” Admiral Ross said.
“Commodore Logan if you please,” Commodore Fast Strike buzzed, looking at the rear admiral.
“Just because he wasn't promoted here, doesn't mean he wasn't promoted,” the rear admiral stated.
“Oh, lords of space, not that argument again,” another commodore muttered.
“Gentlemen, please,” the jury foreman said patiently. He had to let them go and debate, at least to show that they were doing their jobs. He had already been briefed on what was expected of him by the powers that be and had thought the others had as well.
But as the debate began to go on, he started to wonder if they had been briefed or if they were paying heed to those instructions. Didn't they know that they were playing with fire with their own careers?
Or, more importantly, his own? Or did they care?
“No, we need to talk about this. And we need to know, how many people here are biased one way or another,” the colonel said. “I for one think that we know what is right. The question is, how many around this table have the balls to admit that? And how many are willing to vote their conscience?”
“You are not going to hang this jury. If you do, I promise Childress will hang you,” the foreman said coldly, coming out into the open. The marine's eyes narrowed in an intense dark look. “If he won't, I promise you one of his supporters or hell, I will.” There, he'd said it he thought. He'd been saddled with the group and the unenviable task of delivering a verdict. One their boss was going to be happy about. But it didn't look like it was going to be an easy task he realized as a few of the other jury members stiffened.
“What's the matter? Don't like someone actually choosing the truth over that bullshit we've been spoon-fed?” the marine demanded. He saw the rear admiral scowl. He smiled broadly. “Go ahead. Put me up on charges. That will trigger a null jury and a mistrial again since we've run through all of the alternates. He's the last,” he indicated Admiral Ross. “If it does, we're done. Double Jeopardy applies. It should have the first two times this kangaroo court was called into session.”
That cut Admiral Thapia off. He sputtered incoherently before he recovered. No one dared talk to him, let alone an underling! The colonel picked up his cup of coffee and began to sip at it as the rest of the group fell to arguing.
“Setting aside any charges of insubordination here, I agree with the colonel. I will base my judgment on the facts of the case and will not bow to any pressure from outside,” Admiral Ross stated. “I admit, I haven't seen the prosecution's case first hand. From the transcripts I read, plus the evidence I've examined, I wasn't impressed then. Since this is a capital case, we all have to agree to convict.”
“Agreed. I am a marine. We know all about duty and honor. The only one acting with that was Admiral Logan,” the colonel stated with a nod of support to the rear admiral.
That kicked off an argument with the other jurors, some in favor of a quick verdict, others holding out.
Admiral Thapia realized with a sinking heart the done deal he'd promised was no such thing.
@
Admiral Childress looked at the time and then his yeoman. “Anything from the jury?” The yeoman shook his head silently. The admiral scowled “What the hell is taking them so long?”
“Appar
ently, it wasn't a sealed deal,” the yeoman said nervously.
The admiral's jaw worked. “Apparently not. Find out. Lean on them if you have to. I want this done and over with,” the admiral growled. “Today.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
@
Just before dinner Admiral Childress found out about the argument in the jury room and the holdouts. He called Admiral Shren, furious all over again. “Give me their names; I'll deal with them,” he finally demanded after he vented his anger.
“They've been sequestered. You can't contact them,” the elf replied tiredly. “The bailiffs aren't allowing any contact. The media is watching them like a hawk.” He'd been afraid that there would be holdouts. From what he'd heard, several of the officers had decided it was time to stick a knife in Omar's back, and they were the ones to do it.
“The hell you say. I'll make my message clear to them,” the admiral growled.
“No. No, you won't. You are going to stay out of it. Hands off,” Admiral Shren stated flatly. The human admiral blinked at the elf in surprise at his forceful position. Shren hadn't stood up to him often and not with that tone of voice. “I've gone along with you this far, Omar, but enough is enough. Let the process play out for good or for ill.”
“You damn well better hope it tips our way. It is your hide on the line as well,” Admiral Childress snarled.
“I know,” TJAG murmured. “But a lot more than my career is riding on this. It took that Commander to make me realize that,” he said with a shake of his head. Chedwiggen's closing argument had made one hell of an impression on him as had the recording of Omar and Logan. He realized he'd chosen the wrong side, and history would tear him apart for it.
Omar stared at him and then looked away. Finally, he cut the channel.
The elf sat back in his chair and closed his big eyes in pain.
@
In the evening, Horatio started to gain hope that things hadn't gone as Omar had planned. Horatio tried to remain serene through that hope though; he knew it was a false friend. At any moment, that hope could be dashed, crushed as it most likely would be. Childress and his supporters couldn't allow anything less.
He was surprised when Doctor Hsiao came by and ate with him outside his cell. She did so silently, taking a seat on the deck after his meal was delivered by cart. She leaned against the railing behind her and settled a napkin in her lap and dug in.
“Here for the last meal, Doc?” he joked, shooting her a wan smile.
She snorted as she picked at her plate. “Don't get cute. Besides, if it was, I wouldn't be eating a microwaved dinner. It'd be something fresh and expensive, not rubber chicken, mushy peas, and whatever this is,” she said, picking at a yellow vegetable substance.
Horatio snorted. “I can't fault you there.” He glanced beyond her to see Sergeant Cooper standing near a door. She caught his look, leveled her own to him and then looked away.
He sighed internally and then went back to eating his own meal. At least he could enjoy the company he thought.
Chapter 51
Admiral Toronto snarled the luck as his Command fortress went on high alert. He had been concerned about rebels in the area. His sensors were picking up ghosts in the outer dark, but they were too long range and too faint to nail down.
He couldn't send out a detachment to run them down; he couldn't trust his people to come back. He was doing all he could to keep everything together but just barely it seemed. The worse the news was from the inner system, the harder it became and the more he questioned why he even bothered.
Which was why when the unexpected arrival happened, it surprised them all. Ilmarinen was long overdue. Initially he thought she'd finally returned, but then the plot stabilized and his assessment changed in an instant.
“Sir, there is more than one ship detected. They jumped in two light minutes, call it eighteen million kilometers outside the outer shell,” his chief of staff reported as he arrived on the command deck.
@
“Standing down from hyperspace,” the helmsman reported.
“Keep a charge on that hypercapacitor bank, Chief,” Captain Astro XXXXIV ordered. “We may still need them.”
“Let's hope not. It will take at least a minute to charge,” Lieutenant Commander Brillow Platten said softly. Brillow was a Neodog like his captain, but he was a Neopitbull.
“We're broadcasting our IFF as instructed,” the comm rating said, a beat before the ship's A.I.
“Good,” the captain replied.
“We've established contact with the other ships. Network protocols have been established,” Lieutenant JG Butley stated.
“I bet we set a new record on that run, six weeks. That beat's Caroline's eleven-week record,” Commander Platten said smugly as the captain's channel opened up.
“I'm just glad it's over,” Captain Perth said through the vid link, eyeing the fortress shell and ships on his own plot. They had jumped well outside the fortress shell to be safe. It seemed the mobile forces of Second Fleet were reacting to their presence as expected. The fact that they were still clearing for action despite their transmission of their IFF was not a good sign.
He was glad he was in a heavy cruiser. He would miss Caroline, but she was too banged up for a mission like this. Not that he didn't wish to be anywhere else at the moment.
@
Admiral Toronto realized the intruders had jumped short on purpose. Their arrival, well outside his weapons range, had neatly spiked Omar's plan to “accidentally” destroy the ships. He shook his head as the sense of failure set in. So, if they couldn't do it the quiet way, that meant they had to do it the messy way. Well, since he'd done it before with Ilmarinen …
“Sir, two of the ships are battle cruisers, according to our adjusted war book they are Newmann Mark II class ships. The other is a heavy cruiser, Resolution Mark II class. Their defenses are online.”
“Damn it,” the Neogorilla muttered.
“They are continuing to broadcast their IFF on all channels, sir,” a comm rating said in a painfully neutral voice.
“New contact! Fresh bogies!” CIC interrupted.
The admiral's head whipped around to the plot as fresh red icons blinked well beyond the first three.
He was shocked when the fresh icons appeared in such numbers on the plot. “What the hell?” he demanded. There was no way that many ships could have come through the rapids. No way in hell.
“Sir, the bogies. They … sir, its Fourth Fleet,” his chief of staff said as he looked up from his own repeater screens.
“New contacts at bearing minus Y by 14 million kilometers,” CIC reported.
“Now what,” the admiral grumbled as things seemed to go from bad to worse. “Like a damn nightmare that won't end,” he muttered under his breath.
“Sir, additional bogies have lit off their drive. We're getting IFF from them. They are from Third Fleet,” the same CIC tech reported very carefully. “They are on course to rendezvous with the three starships.”
“What, is this a party all of a sudden! You are telling me these people sat under stealth and we never even saw them?” he demanded, eyes wide in shock and anger.
“Apparently not, sir.”
“Damn it!” the ape snarled, swinging his cybernetic arm around hard enough to make more than one officer duck and step hastily back in alarm.
@
“Bogies have just appeared out of hyperspace!” a CIC tech barked over the intercom. Odette lunged out of bed and then rushed into her skinsuit. She had split Fourth Fleet into two task forces and had detached her own to hide under stealth and monitor the jump point for just that situation. Her ships had been almost ready to give up the mission though; she was running short on fuel and supplies. Morale in the ships were reportedly mixed as well.
She raced onto her flag bridge and threw herself into her chair. “SITREP?” she demanded.
“Three ships just jumped in. Second Fleet and t
he fortress shell is going active. The bogies jumped in well short and are screaming their IFF. They are friendlies, the Admiral Butley, Stormkeeper, and Winterspell—two BCs and an HC respectively,” her chief of staff reported in a taunt voice.
“They jumped well short of the jump zone. About two light minutes outside the outer shell, ma'am,” her staff navigator reported. “Call it about a light minute and a half from us,” he said.
“Can we get to them in time to help?”
“It'll be a race, ma'am. They are just sitting there broadcasting. Second Fleet is clearing for action. Correction, they are now getting underway. Based on our readings, CIC is plotting them as on an intercept course for the three ships.”
“Are we really going to do this?” Toby asked. “They outnumber us two to one, ma'am. They've got plenty of fuel and supplies, plus the fortresses.”
“Yes,” Odette replied. “Yes, we are. Send the signal for all ships to go to battle stations. Comm, lay a laser on the three ships.”
“Ma'am, Second Fleet is now pinging the three ships with fire control. They will be in extreme weapons range in less than five minutes.”
“Then we better do something to dissuade them. Comm, open a channel,” the admiral replied as she settled herself and squared her shoulders.
“Comm open, ma'am.”
She nodded ever so slightly and then turned to address the camera as its green light came on. “This is Vice Admiral Champion, Commander of Fourth Fleet to Second Fleet and the fortresses. I'm ordering you to stand-down. If you fire on those ships, we will fire on you.”
“Second transmission from our negative Y axis, 7.5 million kilometers out!” a comm rating said.
Odette scowled at being interrupted, but the tech piped the signal through to her. Her mouth closed with a surprised clop.
