Inwards Bound (The RIM CONFEDERACY Book 13)

by Jim Rudnick

  He tilted his head as he looked at her, and a half smile came over his face.

  This one is very much a skilled Issian, she thought.

  “Master, yes, I do get your point—but I am not the duke, just a lowly naval officer, nor for that matter, as you know, would I ever look to forward anyone else’s future at the expense of his,” he said.

  She nodded to him and put down her own cup. “But you are in the very unique position—as I’ve mentioned to you before—of being right at the true nexus of the future of the RIM Confederacy. Your friendship with your mentor, the duke, is a given, but your Issian skills lend to you the ability to help sway and in fact guide at times decisions that will affect us all. All, Bram. All of us here on the RIM are going to be going through changes that make our new farms seem trivial.”

  She crossed a leg under her robe and leaned toward him. “Plus what I can see in your own future, perhaps you have as yet to focus on. You will be a captain in the duke’s navy within a fortnight. You will take a new venture on behalf of the RIM—or the real powers back here—inwards bound, and from what we, the inner circle can see, you will succeed. Oh, there will be repercussions and, yes, regrets, but that is as it will be,” she said.

  He had a shocked look on his face. “Captain—I’m a captain soon?”

  She nodded and replied, “Yes, Bram, I too know that there has never been a navy captain who is an Adept Officer as well. The why of that I do not know—but you will be the first,” she said.

  He still looked a bit surprised, so she decided that now was the time.

  “As well, we also see that you will be an important link between the Praix and the RIM, but that will not unfold for a while, Bram. And I also need to ask—might you, even in your ‘resigned’ state, consider being involved in our inner circle mind links—at your own convenience?”

  He looked away for a moment out the windows, to where the horizon lay to the east and the now not so bright sunshine. It looked like he was considering that, and then as she saw him make his decision, she acted surprised moments later.

  “Yes, I will take part in mind links with the inner circle—if nothing else, I can ask for counsel myself,” he said.

  She nodded. “Yes, yes, indeed and offer the circle the opportunity to learn more from the captain right on the scene, so to speak,” she said.

  Niceties were made over the next half hour as they talked about the RIM and some of the issues facing it. He did agree to coming to the next RIM Confederacy Council meeting, if the duke would allow it, to consider the Praix. The only thing, she noted, he did not want to talk about at all was Gia Scott—and that did not surprise her very much.

  #####

  The Court Martial trial room was just about empty, with the few guests in the visitors area beyond the bar standing quietly as the trial began. The three military judges, Admiral Vennamo and two captains who had long service, were ushered in, and all stood as they took their seats. As the admiral smacked the judge’s desk with her gavel, all were asked to sit. The room was a simple meeting room in the Barony Navy landing port administration building, as there was no permanent court martial trial room. The fact was, there had been so very few court martials that this was almost unprecedented.

  On one side of the room sat the jury—six officers in the Barony Navy. The four captains and two lieutenant commanders had the job today to weigh the evidence and find the defendant guilty or innocent. Captain Magnusson faced the group of his peers from the table across the room. Beside him sat his defense counsel—a captain in the Barony Navy. He was not a ship’s captain, but he was a lawyer with the Judge Advocate General’s Corps. At another table, facing the judges, sat the prosecutor—again a captain. ”Not one used to being on a ship. Another lawyer,” Magnusson said to himself.

  “Our world is populated with lawyers who’ve probably never even been on a ship—and yet these are the people who are in charge of my future.” He shook his head and leaned back to listen to the trial clerk who was about to read off the charges.

  “Your Honor, on the day in question, off the planet Ghayth, in low orbit, the defendant did commit certain acts, and he is hereby charged with the offense of attempted murder of a Praix alien on board their ship, the Wisp. It was an action carried out only by the defendant, and charges are hereby leveled at him according to the Barony Navy Code, section 15-T,” the clerk said and sat.

  The words attempted murder lay out there for all to think about for a few seconds.

  The admiral said, “Thank you, Clerk.” He looked at the defense counsel captain and said, “Do we have a plea?”

  Magnusson and his lawyer rose. “Yes, Your Honor, the defendant has a plea,” his lawyer said.

  “Not guilty, Your Honor,” Magnusson said loudly and forcefully. He really wasn’t guilty. He knew that.

  The judge looked over at the clerk and said, “Record that plea, please, Clerk,” and he nodded to the prosecution desk.

  The head prosecutor rose to make his opening speech. “It was one part of the whole ‘gestalt’ of that encounter on the landing deck of the Wisp. The first contact with the Praix was at a standstill—no violence had been threatened or had occurred. And for no reason at all, Captain Magnusson had taken it upon himself to fire on one of the Praix aliens, wounding him badly. But the alien had lived. The action by the captain had been seen by all present—it had been vid taped and that evidence will be presented later.

  “But, there was no threat to any RIM Confederacy citizen when the captain had shot the Praix alien. I repeat, Your Honors, no threat to any RIM Confederacy citizen. None at all; therefore, this was not naval action but, in fact, attempted murder.” He sat then and said to the judges, “The prosecution is ready to present evidence to prove this crime, Your Honors.”

  But before the prosecution presented its evidence, the defense would get to present its opening statement, and just a day ago, Magnusson and his lawyer had argued about that. But Magnusson had been adamant—the truth was what he wanted to present and that was all.

  The defense lawyer rose and spoke slowly and succinctly. “May it please the court, we hereby waive any disagreements with all of the items just mentioned in the prosecutor’s opening statement, and we stipulate it as true and correct. That is not the issue that we will predicate our defense upon. Instead, as we will show, the defendant was not of his right mind when the actions occurred. We will present the captain himself to offer up what happened in what might be called ‘extenuating circumstances’ and, in doing so, show that the defendant is innocent.” He sat.

  The room was silent for a moment, and then the admiral spoke.

  “Then let’s get to it, shall we? Clerk, please record in the trial logs that evidence that the prosecution will tender to you forthwith—videotapes as well,” he said. The prosecution tendered the documents to the clerk up at her desk, and the paper evidence was properly logged in.

  Then, under instruction of the clerk, the video tape was played.

  It showed the simple record of what happened on the Wisp, starting with the group of the five Praix, who were standing in front of Major Stal. One stepped forward a few steps and then fell as he was shot by Captain Magnusson who had run into the camera frame, shouting “Got him, Stal.” And then all hell broke loose.

  The admiral waved at the clerk and the tape stopped and then faded to black on the big screen that sat on the wall opposite the jury bench.

  “Stipulated as factual, defense?” Admiral Vennamo asked.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” replied Magnusson’s lawyer.

  “Then the prosecution rests, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said, and he sat down at his desk.

  “The defense calls Captain Mel Magnusson to the stand,” his lawyer said.

  Magnusson got up to take the short walk to the witness box to the left of the judge’s bench. He sat and noted the chair was a hard metal one with no padding on the seat. Probably, he thought, to make a witness uncomfortable. Just like me.


  “Captain Magnusson, we have just seen the video evidence—evidence that you insisted on stipulating as true and correct, and in it, you are seen shooting the Praix alien. Can you give us new evidence—not on the act—but on why this event happened?”

  Magnusson looked down at his interlaced hands that were perched on the wooden edge of the witness box in front of him. He looked up and then over to the jury—the group of peers who would have his future in their hands—and began to speak.

  “I am a good captain—been the best that I can be for my crew and as the most recent captain of the Barony frigate the BN Exeter for over a year. I was, however, seconded by the Baroness herself to take on the new task of being captain of the BN Defiant—the large shuttle that was recently refitted with the Xithricite red metal plates. That made the ship pretty much invulnerable to all space weapons, and that is why she was fitted thusly, and we were sent to Ghayth to take part in the final mission with the Praix.”

  He undid his interlaced fingers since they were almost bloodless, as he’d been squeezing them so tightly. He rubbed them along his thighs behind the wooden front of the witness box and smiled at the jury. The jury stared at him with blank faces.

  Magnusson took a deep breath and continued. “This final mission was simply to make first contact. That is what I believe, and that is what I was told. The fact that the Defiant carried two fully armed squads of marines under Major Stal is a part of the explanation—as it let me know, too, that should there be any kind of violence, that we—the Barony Navy—could respond. Add to that, that the marines were all wearing these new power belts—ones that made the wearer almost invulnerable to any kind of attack under certain conditions—made that knowledge that we were ready for anything that much more heightened in my mind. In all minds, I’d think, on that landing deck.”

  His lawyer nodded and said, “Then why did you fire that shot, Captain—when each of the marines were so much better prepared, better armed, and wearing those power belts?”

  Magnusson nodded and held out his hands, palms up in supplication. “And that’s what I mean too. Why would I ever have done such a thing? The simple truth is—that I did not do this. Someone or something or some greater power made me do that act—one that I had no intention of ever doing,” he said as he concentrated on looking into every single set of eyes on the jury.

  The prosecutor shook his head and sighed.

  One of the judges had a look of disbelief on his face.

  A couple of the jurors shook their heads.

  “And I mean that. I am a trained professional captain with more than a decade and a half of service here in the Barony Navy. I know what I know—and I know that this was an action—yes, carried out by me but not of my doing in this case. Someone made me do this. Someone who wanted the Praix to react in a certain way—someone, I would think, who could know what the outcome would be of this kind of act …” he said, and then he was quiet.

  No one present for the court martial being held in this room could have drawn any other conclusion but one as to whom Magnusson was blaming for this action. The Issians. Magnusson believed Issian intervention was the only explanation for his actions.

  It was now common knowledge that the Praix had come to the RIM to reclaim the Issians, who had been subservient to them in the past. The Praix had also intended to conquer this galaxy and had known the Issians would be required to help—and the Praix had wanted to start with the RIM.

  No one witnessing the court martial proceedings had any doubts about what the Praix had intended to do or that the Issians often intervened, but could that have been the case here was the question.

  Magnusson’s lawyer had only one more question. “What about that event—specifically at the time you pulled that trigger—was the most troubling for you in retrospect?”

  “That the weapon that I used to shoot the Praix was a Colt revolver, firing projectile bullets. But I do not own such a weapon—have always used a needler as my sidearm—and there is more than a decade of that history to check upon. In fact, as I’ve learned since the event, that Colt has also ‘gone missing.’ That is, it is not in the prosecution’s list of evidence either,” he said.

  After that statement, the prosecution scurried through some of the documents on their desk, and eventually the chief prosecutor looked up at Admiral Vennamo and shook his head … there was no such weapon in the evidence kit.

  The lawyer smiled at Magnusson, said, “Your witness,” and then sat down.

  Suddenly, the rear doors to the court martial trial room opened, and in a rush, the Master Adept appeared along with a couple of aides. They walked right up to stand at the bar before the three judges.

  “We ask that we be granted standing here, Your Honors, and will present evidence of our own at the proper time, if it please the court?” she said.

  The three judges conferred, and Admiral Vennamo spoke to the court. “We will allow the Master Adept to add evidence—but only should it be needed in our minds. We will reserve judgment of that until the proper time as well,” she said. Vennamo was calm, but everyone could see this unusual interruption had rattled the three judges.

  The Master Adept sat in the front row, just a few feet behind the bar, and as they got settled, the admiral nodded to the head prosecutor to begin.

  It’s grilling time, Magnusson thought, and he braced himself for the worst.

  The prosecution missed not a single chance to bear down on the “excuse,” as he called it, that the defendant was using to try to evade a guilty verdict. He went back to the meeting with the Baroness, and while he skirted the subject of the questions the leader of the Barony had actually asked Magnusson and her desires, he did try to show that Magnusson was more than pleased with the change from the Exeter to the Defiant.

  The prosecutor stated Magnusson was thrilled he was now going to be right at the helm of the action on the Praix. He insinuated Magnusson had seen this as an opportunity to further his career, but then he learned Major Stal, with the marines under him, was in charge.

  Realizing he would not be in charge, he’d been more than upset, the prosecutor claimed and explained to the jury that Magnusson had taken it upon himself to attack that Praix alien in the hopes that the action would show the value he would bring to the mission.

  The prosecutor used examples from Magnusson’s past in an attempt to prove he wasn’t a good captain. He pounded away on the defendant’s earlier foray in un-asked-for Barony Drive testing via his unauthorized trip to Branton. That test drive was not only unauthorized but dangerous too.

  “This is the kind of captain he was—unwilling to wait until proper channels okayed his actions. In fact, that’s exactly what kind of a captain you still are, is it not, Captain Magnusson? One who steams off in his own direction with no regards as to outcome. Just like the attempted murder of the Praix on board their own ship ...”

  Before Magnusson could even answer, the Master Adept rose to interrupt.

  Admiral Vennamo once again raised her gavel to find the interruption out of order, but it remained raised at her shoulder height—and did not move down. The look on her face was one of both horror and wonder as the whole courtroom could see her trying to bang the gavel down onto the desk in front of her.

  She took her eyes off the suspended gavel and then looked down at the Master Adept who stood once again at the bar, staring at her. “This is your doing, yes?” Vennamo said, her voice tremulous.

  The Master Adept nodded and then made a second tiny nod with her head, and the gavel now slammed down onto the desk with a crack that was loud and noisy.

  “I wanted you—and everyone attending this court martial—to see that Issians can, yes, to a small degree, control some actions by some citizens. I wanted to do that—but I ask for forgiveness from the court in that I used one of the three judges to show what we can do if needed. But in this case—the case of attempted murder by Captain Magnusson—we, yes, were the ones.

  “I was the one who sent th
e captain off to fire that one shot. I ensured that it would not be a fatal shot, but at the same time, I needed to provoke the Praix into reacting as they always do. With violence. With no respect for life. With the single thought that they are the race that will always be at the top of the food chain, as the youngsters put it,” she said nicely, looking at both the jury and then the judges too.

  The Master Adept continued before anyone could speak. “Which brings me to the point—Captain Magnusson was, yes, controlled by us to do that action, resulting in the Praix showing themselves for what they are. He is innocent of these charges. And before any lay blame at his feet for any of this—remember the gavel? We could have chosen anyone, and it was simply easier to use him. He was on the Defiant and he is a terrible shot with a projectile weapon. So we used him,” she said, and then she sat down once more.

  The courtroom was abuzz—jury members talked among themselves, the prosecution team had their heads together and whispered to each other, and the judges looked to be in an intense conversation. Only Magnusson sat silently, and he stared at the Master Adept over his shoulder.

  After almost a full five minutes, Admiral Vennamo banged the gavel once more. “Order, please … order. We have made a decision concerning this court martial matter. We find the defendant, Captain Magnusson, not guilty, and we hereby enter a finding of a res judicata judgment. There will be no further action and we hereby bar any continued or further litigation of this case,” she said, smacking the gavel yet again.

  Admiral Vennamo turned to address the jury. “Jury members, we thank you for your efforts here today, and you are excused.” The gavel struck the desk again.

  Looking at the defendant, Admiral Vennamo said, “Captain Magnusson, having been found not guilty, you are hereby discharged and will return to full rank and privileges of a Barony Navy captain as of today. Case dismissed.” Her gavel banged one more time.