“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, trying to mollify her, while simultaneously answering the bailiff.
Several days later, Bill and Meri, along with hundreds of others, were back in the courthouse, waiting to hear the sentence.
Both Bill and Meri, having been victims of the GLF’s attack, had been in discussion with the Victims Advocate, a person who worked in the prosecutor’s office to help the court determine sentences for those convicted of crimes. Bill had been all for hanging, shooting, burning, and drawing and quartering, preferably by bison or mastodon, but Meri, more knowledgeable in Hayek’s court system, had verbally beaten on him until he came around to a sentence that didn’t involve directly killing the convicted.
The convicted were led back into the courtroom, chained in such a manner as to prevent a similar incident as had happened at the trial’s end. Each suspect was not only handcuffed, but the handcuffs were attached to a belt around their waists, and their feet were further hobbled by manacles. They were also chained to each other, eliminating the possibility that any one of them could flee.
Two armed bailiffs were escorting them, and they lined the convicts up before the judge.
The judge looked at the convicts, then down at her desk, then back at the convicts. The look on her face was not one Bill would have wanted to see if he was the one facing sentencing.
“In accordance with the laws of Hayek, the victims have spoken,” she said. “The sentence chosen by the victims, and the families of the deceased victims is as such: You are to be banished to Cretaceon for life.”
If Bill had thought the commotion caused by the jury’s decision was loud, he was overwhelmed at the uproar that developed upon the judge’s announcement. A slight, rather evil smile grew on his face, and he saw the same develop on his wife’s. Cretaceon was one of the few worlds discovered by the Corps that still harbored dinosaurs. It wasn’t a world that one went to lightly, or even at all. And to think, he thought, it was Meri’s suggestion. She had gotten the idea from her old friend Brad, the pilot of the aircraft that first found them on Planet 42. Apparently, Brad had been there in his youth.
At the announcement of their sentence, several of the convicts started sobbing, one even dropping to her knees, drawing the two beside her down. Brenda Lightfoot, though, stood tall, shoulders back and head up.
Gotta hand it to her, Bill thought. She may be beaten, but she sure ain’t giving up.
The judge continued in her contralto voice, “You have the right to appeal, so talk to your attorney. Appeal must be submitted within forty-eight hours, or the sentence stands. Do you have any questions?” she asked the convicts.
All the convicts shook their heads, and several turned toward the defense attorney, obviously pleading with their eyes.
The defense attorney approached the bench, “We’ll be filing an appeal later today.”
The judge nodded, turned to the bailiffs, and said, “Return the prisoners to the jail.”
As the bailiffs did, the judge hammered her gavel on the bench, announcing, “This court is now out of session.”
Meri turned to Bill, “Ain’t no way, no how, that lawyer’s gonna get them off.”
Meri was right, just as Bill expected. Four days after the sentencing, they stood, with hundreds of others, at an improvised gate on Bowman Field, waiting for the convicts to be escorted off of Hayek. A cage was set up on the field, which Bill guessed was designed to hold the prisoners until crossover.
A small bus with screens over the passenger windows slowly made its way up the field, passing through the reluctantly parting crowd. It stopped within meters of the cage.
First out was a Hayek Public Safety officer. He turned and faced the bus door. As the first of the chained convicts exited the bus, he took him by the elbow and led him toward the cage. Other convicts emerged, all attached to each other as they had been in their final court appearance. Lightfoot was last, followed by another guard, this one armed with a PDW. Bill assumed it was the PDW-3, a small personal defense weapon designed to shoot three-round bursts.
Unlike the other convicts, whose heads were bowed, Lightfoot held hers up proudly.
She’s game, Bill thought. Gotta give it to her. Even facing certain death, she still ain’t giving up.
Soon all the convicts were in the cage. The front swung down and, with an audible click, locked.
The first guard said something to the convicts, and one of them reached her manacled hands through the bars. He went to her, and with a key, unlocked her handcuffs. He then handed her the key.
Within minutes, all the convicts had divested themselves of their handcuffs, leg cuffs, and chained waist belts. Lightfoot picked hers up and threw it through the cage’s bars at the guard, spitting at him while doing so. He managed to avoid both and stepped further from the cage.
The judge appeared from the crowd and walked up to the caged convicts. Bill could hear her clear voice, despite the murmurings of the crowd.
“Any last words before the sentence is carried out?”
“Yeah, fuck you, bitch!” Lightfoot screamed.
The judge looked at her in silence, then turned to the gate operator.
“Carry out the sentence.”
A portal opened, just big enough to fit the cage. The cage began moving through the portal, and it took Bill a second to realize it was on small wheels. The first guard was controlling it with a remote, much like one used to open and close big loading dock bay doors.
The cage stopped, and then the front began swinging up. The back of the cage also started moving toward the front.
Ah, so that’s how they’re gonna get them out, Bill thought.
As the rear wall of the cage moved forward, the convicts had no choice but to step forward to avoid being pushed by it. Soon, the rear gate was at the front and all the convicts were outside of it, standing on the ground of Cretaceon, looking wildly about. The front of the cage swung down, and the guard pulled the cage back slowly.
The last view Bill had of the convicts before the gate shut down was Lightfoot standing defiantly, arms held straight up, middle fingers raised to those on Hayek.
55
Vacation and trial over, Bill and Meri returned to work. Meri, toting Jack, headed off to meet with the staff of the Survival Training group while Bill reported to Corps Headquarters.
When he arrived, he found former roommates, and now best buds, Matt Green and Jordan Washington. Matt was originally from Memphis, Tennessee, and had a deep Southern drawl. Bill always wondered how it was possible that he was able to communicate with his Kiwi fiancée, Nicole. Jordan, from Los Angeles, had been instrumental in rescuing Bill and the others after their nine-month trek across Planet 42. He was also one of the few black Explorers Bill knew. The three men had then recovered the crew’s bodies from the sabotaged Flight 42/1, along with evidence that helped convict Lightfoot and her fellow terrorists.
Also present in the waiting area was another Explorer, a relatively tall, wiry Asian with a nasty scar on his right forearm. The scar and Asian heritage reminded Bill of his former Militia instructor, Pierre Bedard. Bedard was of mixed French and Vietnamese parentage who had a similar scar on his right forearm. The scar was a “present” for his having served in a mercenary battalion of “resigned” Hayek Defense Force soldiers who fought in Iran during the Iran War. Bill didn’t recall having ever seen the man before, but in an organization as large as the Corps of Discovery, that wasn’t unusual. After greeting his friends, Bill introduced himself to the unknown Explorer.
“Lane West,” the other man said, as he took Bill’s outstretched hand, “Cultural Survey Specialist.”
The eyebrows of the other three went up.
“Can’t say that I’ve ever heard of a Cultural Survey Specialist before,” Bill said, more as a question than a statement.
Lane let go of Bill’s hand and gave a slight smile. “No doubt. There are some things the Corps doesn’t advertise, me being one of them.
�
��Obviously a lot we don’t know,” Jordan muttered.
“Undoubtedly,” said Lane with a bland look on his face.
The Commandant’s assistant approached them., “The Commandant’s ready to see you now.”
Turning, she led the four men to the inner office, opening the door for them. After they entered, she closed the door, leaving them facing Jack Lewis, sitting at his desk.
“Have a seat, boys,” he said, standing and gesturing to a number of seats arrayed around a small coffee table.
Once they were all seated, Jack said, “As I mentioned last time we all met, the Corps actually does some research on other Class I planets, of which there are many. As you probably just already figured out, we have an entire section dedicated to that.” Jack nodded in Lane’s direction. “And, no, it’s not something we advertise. If you recall from your training when you first got here, it also wasn’t identified on any organizational table you might have seen. That’s deliberate. We don’t want others knowing what we know or where we go. That section, part of the Ground Branch, is the Cultural Survey Section, comprised mainly of geographers, anthropologists, sociologists, and engineers. Not just any old engineer, though. Most are mechanical, chemical, or bio-engineers. We’ve also got a smattering of other types of specialists in it, such as economists.
The Corps recognizes three types of planets. A Class I planet was one similar to Earth or Hayek in terms of development by a sentient species, usually a human one. There were sub-classifications ranging from just entering the agricultural revolution to those civilizations whose technology surpassed Earth’s. A Class II planet had humans or hominids but hadn’t reached beyond the nomadic, tribal, hunter-gatherer stage. Both classes were off limits to exploitation and settlement. Only Class III planets, those without any sentient beings, were open for discovery.
“The key things we’re looking for are new technologies. I’m not talking spy-like tech, but common technology stuff, like just about anything that might benefit the Corps, Parallel, and Hayek. In this case, some of our Cultural Survey Specialists have determined that this planet has some form of anti-gravity, which, as you can imagine, would prove invaluable for the Corps and Hayek.” The Parallel that Lewis referred to was Parallel, Inc., the parent company of the Corps of Discovery.
At that, Bill raised one eyebrow. In his peripheral vision, he saw a similar reaction among the other three. The thought of being able to perform both high- and low-altitude reconnaissance, along with air resupply, without needed airbases or refueling stations meant that the Corps would save a boat-load of money.
“The planet we’re sending you into has some rather interesting developments, and based on your education, training, and experience, I believe you’ll do well there. First and foremost is that the United States doesn’t exist like it does in your timeline. Rather, it’s been fractured, with the U.S. and the Confederate States of America occupying most of the east coast of North America. Naturally, they don’t really care for each other.”
Looking at the four men, he asked, “Other than living on Hayek, what things do you think you all have in common?”
Bill thought about it for a minute, as did the others. Then he said, “Well, we’re all males, in our twenties, and at least three of us have college degrees.”
Lane said, “Make that four. I’ve also got a master’s degree in anthropology.”
The three Explorers looked at him, impressed.
“It’s not only that,” the Commandant continued, “but all of you have extensive field experience, have experienced multiple cultures by now, and, just as importantly, you all speak at least some German.”
That was a surprise to Bill. He knew the Corps had his college transcripts, but his minor in German wasn’t something he ever talked about. Nor did he know the others spoke German.
“Yep, every one of you minored in German, which makes you a pretty select group in the Corps. Most people, if they study a language in the U.S., usually take Spanish. Most non-U.S. students study English. So, the fact that every one of you knows German to some degree might be extremely useful on this exploration.
“Now, here’s the plan. For the next several months you’ll be studying about the planet you’ll be exploring, along with brushing up on your German and learning some new skills. One of which will be close-quarters combat. Seems like some parts of this planet are a bit rough and tumble, and we’ve invested far too much money in you to lose you to some drunken hillbilly who likes to fight.”
Thinking back to Basic Militia Training, Bill remembered how easily his now-dead former roommate, Thep Daeng, had managed to best him in hand-to-hand combat, despite the Thai being much smaller and lighter.
Jack said, “The HDF will be sending over one of their experienced instructors to train you on that. I also want all of you fully trained in the use of firearms and other local weapons that we’ve managed to obtain”
The HDF was Hayek’s version of the military, the Hayek Defense Force. Eyeing each Explorer, Jack went on. “You will not be taking any weapons from Hayek through the gate. As a matter of fact, you’ll be going in pretty much sterile. Nothing should be identifiable from here, including your clothing. But, you know how that is,” he finished, referring to the task Bill, Matt, and Jordan had completed in recovering planes, bodies, and evidence from Planet 42. Everything that could be removed from the planet had been, once located. This was done mainly because Planet 42 had been designated a Class II planet, occupied by hominids that were likely Neanderthals.
“We’ve made some pretty large endowments to a few of the local colleges, so your cover will be as grad students taking a semester off to study abroad. You each have a bachelor’s, or in one case, a master’s already, so use that as your field of study. You’ll actually be enrolled in one of the schools, so you’ll have real school ID. Make up your own personal cover story. It’ll be easier for you to remember than if we gave you one. Also, you’ll be using your own names.
“As to personal history, we’re going to have to change that a bit. Lane, you’re a foreign student from the Kingdom of Hawaii, which is a protectorate of the British Empire. Your great-grandparents migrated there in the early nineteen hundreds after the First World War, although, it’s not called that there.
“Jordan, your family history is probably a bit more personal. Your grandparents were escaped slaves, but since your parents were born in California, you’re a free man.” Seeing the stern look upon Jordan’s face, he continued, “Apparently, blacks in the Confederacy don’t have the right of departure. That means they can’t legally leave. You, being California born, don’t have that same restriction. I told you it wouldn’t be easy, but your participation in this exploration is important, else I wouldn’t have asked you. The great thing about being black in this South is that you’ll be practically invisible. Blacks aren’t really recognized by whites as intelligent or knowledgeable, so they ignore them for the most part. You’ll be able to pick up and hear things that might not be said in front of the others, so you really do serve a valuable purpose here. You might hear something important that other blacks have seen but won’t say in front of whites.
“Bill, like Jordan, you’re from California, but the Washington State portion of it.” Bill frowned.
“Washington State portion of California?”
“Yeah. You’ll get a full briefing on it after this meeting, so just hang on to that thought.
“Matt, you present a special problem. Your accent has Southern good ole boy all over it, but it’s not something that goes over well throughout most of North America. If you can modify it slightly, with some training, we might get people to believe you’re from Texas. At least, that’s what your ID will say. It’ll get you more accepted on all sides of the borders.”
“Glenda will send you a training schedule, so check your emails later today.”
Standing up, Jack said, “Well, that’s about it for now. Let’s get you in with the specialists and get cracking. Lots to d
o and learn.”
He walked over to the office door and held it open while the four men walked out, each buried in his own thoughts.
“Oh, one last thing. No haircuts from now on. Let your hair grow out so you don’t look like military or paramilitary when you cross over.”
Bill had to smile at that. He hadn’t had a real haircut in more than a year, since before his final flight on Planet 42. One way to tell a Trekker from an Explorer who had never been on a Trek was the amount of hair they had. Explorers were required to maintain short hair and no beards. Explorers back from a Trek were given dispensation to keep the hair and whatever facial fur they felt like keeping. Since he returned, he had only had his hair trimmed and shaved off his beard, which was scraggly to begin with. He kept the mustache, mainly because Meri said she liked it and that it tickled her.
After exiting the Commandant’s office, the four explorers were ushered into a conference room, where they were met by a man and women, both dressed in the Corps’ drab, brown uniform.
“Good morning,” the woman said, gesturing them toward the chairs surrounding the oval conference table. “Please, take a seat.”
At one end of the table, on the wall, was a screen with the Corps logo on it. Bill chose a seat near the front, facing the screen. Matt sat next to him while Jordan and Lane sat on the opposite side.
Once seated, the woman said, “Gentlemen. Good to have you here. I’m Tiana Ross, and this is Mike Williams.” The man she nodded his head. He was an older Explorer, with gray hair and a bit of a pot belly developing. Not something one saw all too often, especially on the fit crowd that made up the Corps’ personnel.
“In case you haven’t been told, we’re sociologists and cultural anthropologists,” she went on. “As such, we’ll be trying to give you as much information about the culture of the planet you’ll be exploring.
“Now, I’m sure you’re full of questions, primary among them is ‘what the hell can they tell me that I don’t already know’.” Looking at each of the men individually, she simply stated, “More than you can imagine.
The Corps of Discovery Trilogy Box Set: Books 1-3: A multiverse series of alternate history Page 59