They looked at Wynny.
“I never thought to ask. The accused has to be there for a trial.”
The trio went back into the main hall. Wynny called court to order. When Richardson and Sian were in their seats, she said, “Commander Weiss has a question for the accused.”
Weiss said, “Spacer Richardson, why aren’t you on your ship?”
“I don’t rightly know, sir.”
“Could you be more specific?”
“Sir, the Chesapeake is docked to Depot Station Four. A friend asked me to meet him on the station when I was off shift.”
Two teenagers carried Niko and a curved pillow to the judge’s chair. The baby made an eager coo when he saw her. Wynny was already unbuttoning her jacket and adjusting her blouse when they reached her.
Richardson continued, “I found my friend in the maintenance access tunnels. And then I, then I . . .”
He trailed off, watching Wynny and Niko.
“Is there a problem with your testimony?” she asked.
“No, ma’am, it’s just—is this an appropriate place for that?”
She replied, “If you live to see your mother again, ask her what the most inconvenient place she ever had to feed you was. Keep talking.”
“Um, yes, ma’am. I don’t have much more to say. Someone pulled a bag over my head. Then they put me in a box. When they opened the box, I was here. That box.”
He pointed at a crate on the far side of the hall.
Weiss said, “Does anyone have more details?”
A man in the back stood up. Wynny waved him forward. Unlike Clan Gething’s dapper office wear, this man was in spacer coveralls. A heavy dufflebag rode at his hip.
“I’m Jeuan Laith. Clan Laith performs space station maintenance. We’ve been trading with the Fieran spacers since the cease-fire.”
“Black market trading?”
“If by that you mean keeping it a secret, yes, sir. We heard from Clan Gething that they wanted a letter delivered. We included it in the next trade. When they told us they needed him for a trial we agreed to fetch him. I sent Richardson a message offering a good price on some memory units if he’d hand deliver them. When he showed up we bagged and boxed him like he said. Took him down on the next shuttle. Clan Gething paid us. We’re just here to see how it comes out. Oh, yes, we did inflict those bruises. If he’s found innocent, we’ll pay the bloodprice.”
Efa Gething said, “We would reimburse you for that.”
Weiss pointed at the dufflebag. “Are those the parts Richardson brought you?”
Jeuan put a protective hand on the dufflebag. “Yes, sir.”
“Did you pay him for them?”
“No, sir.”
“Then they’re still Concord Navy property.”
Jeuan’s mouth twisted. “I’d happily pay you the price I promised him.”
Weiss thrust out his hand. Jeuan sighed and passed over the dufflebag. Weiss barely managed to keep it from hitting the floor.
He said, “Your—Judge Wynny, I request a recess to investigate other crimes by the accused.”
“Granted.” Niko was asleep on the cushion. Wynny reordered her outfit and tucked him into the sling.
People started moving about again. Clan Gething liked the thought of their deceiver being in even more trouble.
Before Wynny could follow Marcus and Weiss into the conference room, the young man watching the door to the clanhome intercepted her.
“Judge Wynny, some people want to witness the trial. It’s Ceri Harri and her camera crew.”
Wynny said, “Oh, Harold.” Of course, the news would show up. Better that the verdict be recorded than a thousand different rumors describe it, yes, but she did not deserve all this in her first trial!
“Send them in.”
The reporter came at her with hand outstretched. “Judge Wynny, thank you so much for granting us access to your trial.”
“You’re welcome. I can’t talk right now. I’m assisting an investigation into related crimes. You’re free to interview the defendant and accusers.”
When she entered the room there was a call to PKS Chesapeake in progress on the room screen.
“Transferring you now, sir,” said a signals rating.
A hard-faced man with grey stubble on his scalp appeared. “Chief Zimmers, Electronics Maintenance. What’s this?”
“Chief, I’m Lieutenant Commander Weiss of the Judge Advocate General’s office. I’m calling about Spacer Richardson.”
“Damn, excuse me, wow, sir. I only reported him AWOL an hour ago. That’s fast work.”
“Don’t worry about your language, Chief. This is a separate issue. He’s in trouble with the locals.”
A cynical smile twisted the hard face. “Always knew the son of a bitch would talk himself into something he couldn’t talk himself out of.”
Weiss grimaced. “He may also be black marketeering parts. Does this look familiar?”
He held up one of the gadgets from the dufflebag.
“It does, sir. Hold that barcode up to the screen, please. Yes, that should be in our spare part inventory. Have any more of them? Another one from inventory. Good God, that one’s listed as installed. We need to check if we have a hole in that console.”
Weiss put the parts back on the table. “Chief, I need your opinion of Richardson. We need to make an example of someone. Do you think it could be him or is he worth saving?”
“Sir, Richardson is sharp. Knows his shit. But unless we’re under fire, he’s too busy looking for angles to do the work he’s supposed to. So example away, sir.”
“Thank you, Chief. Weiss out.”
Marcus asked, “What can we charge him with?”
“You can charge him with AWOL, theft, misappropriation of Navy property, and sabotage.” Weiss paused for thought. “I don’t think a general court would convict on sabotage. Capital crimes are hard to get unanimity on.”
Wynny sat upright. Niko uttered a soft complaint. “You could execute him? What else could you do to him?”
“A general court can assess any penalty allowed. Prison. Reduction in rank to Spacer Basic. Bad conduct discharge. Fines.”
She smiled. “We might have a solution. Let me take Sian aside.”
***
The reporter had worked her way down to interviewing Jeuan Laith when Wynny called the trial back to order. Ceri and her crew scurried to seats in the front row.
Wynny declared, “As the accused was in a relationship with the Concord Navy before he encountered Clan Gething, his crimes against the Navy must be resolved first. I yield this chair to Lieutenant Marcus Landry of the Concord Navy.”
She walked to the side of the hall, passing Marcus as he went to take her place. He’d made peace with the role. At first he’d protested, until Weiss said, “I can’t do it. JAGs advise. Line officers make decisions.”
Once seated, Marcus said, “On my authority, I convene this summary court martial. Spacer First Class Thomas Richardson, front and center!”
Richard strode five steps to stand before the judge’s chair, pivoted to face Marcus, and saluted.
“Spacer Richardson, you face charges of theft, misappropriation of Navy property for personal use, and sabotage of a naval vessel while enemy activity is likely. Do you accept the authority of this court?”
Richardson’s face went blank.
Weiss stepped forward. “Spacer, you have the right to request trial by a general court martial. That would be nine officers, with the authority to execute you, order life imprisonment, order a bad conduct discharge, and so on. This summary court only has limited authority. It may reduce your rank by one grade, confine you for thirty days, or other limited punishments.”
The accused looked around the room. Saw Wynny watching expectantly. The ‘everything will work out for me’ smile crept back on his face. “Sir, I accept the authority of this court.”
Marcus said, “How do you plead?”
Richardson looked t
o Weiss for a cue.
The lawyer said, “You may plead innocent, then we’ll have a trial. Chief Zimmers is standing by to testify. You may stand mute, same. Or you may plead guilty and throw yourself on the mercy of the court.”
The spacer came to full attention. “Sir, I throw myself on the mercy of the court.”
“Very well.” Marcus glanced at his notes. A bad conduct discharge was not within his powers, so he went with the harshest discharge he was allowed. “This court finds you guilty of all charges. You are hereby sentenced to be discharged without prejudice, effective immediately. This concludes the proceedings of this court.”
Marcus stood, stepped off the platform to the floor, and walked to where Wynny had watched from.
“Wait . . .” said Richardson. His smile was gone again. “You’re discharging me on Fiera, right?”
“Oh, no. You’re a civilian where you stand,” said Weiss. He walked away as Wynny took the judge’s chair again.
“The defendant and accuser will take their seats.”
When they were in place Wynny eyed the ex-spacer. “Mister Richardson. Do you have any further evidence or testimony to offer in your defense?”
He swallowed. “No, ma’am.”
“Do you dispute the bloodprice of Sian Gething?”
Richardson looked at Sian, then back at Wynny. “I’m not sure what you’re asking, ma’am.”
Wynny kept her tone patient. “Do you think Sian is worth as much money as the clan says she is? Do you have evidence she’s worth less?”
“Oh, no. I’m sure she’s worth more. I just, um.” He gave Sian an apologetic glance, then looked down.
“This court finds Thomas Richardson, by means of lies both overt and negligent, committed rape against Sian Gething. He must pay one quarter of her bloodprice today. Mister Richardson, will you make the payment?”
“I don’t have that much money.”
“Is there anyone who would lend or give you the money?”
He shook his head. “May I send a message to people on Fiera?”
“No. You must pay today.”
“I can’t.”
Wynny glanced at the news crew recording her actions, then at the accused. “Thomas Richardson, your body is forfeit to Clan Gething. The business of this court is finished.”
She stepped down and walked over to her husband.
The men in the front row of seats stood and advanced on Richardson. He popped to his feet and looked around for an escape.
While Wynny pronounced the verdict a dozen Gething men had moved behind the chairs, blocking the exit of the clanhome and a few rooms he might hide in.
Richardson grabbed his chair and swung it at a young man closing on him. Two more advanced, grasping the chair.
He let go of it before they could pull him in, backing into the open space.
Now the condemned man was surrounded. The clansmen closed in on him until they were shoulder to shoulder. He stood in the center of the circle, panting, turning about to watch them all at once.
Twenty-some men were too many for a beating. Some would have to go first. Angry young men and grim middle-aged ones traded glances, judging who wanted to lay hands on him the most.
“Stop!”
Sian shoved two brothers aside to force her way into the circle.
“Thomas! I love you, still, even if I’m a fool for it. I asked you to inmarry before. You couldn’t then. You can now. Will you inmarry me?”
Across the hall Marcus leaned over to whisper in Wynny’s ear. “If he thinks about it for three seconds he deserves to die.”
As he said that, Thomas slid across the floor on his knees. He fetched up at her feet. Took her hand. Kissed it. “Yes. I’m a fool. I love you. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
The circle dispersed. Most of the men looked relieved. None looked disappointed.
The crowd around the embracing couple parted as Efa Gething came through.
The matriarch leaned on her cane. “Very romantic. And dramatic. But Thomas does not yet have the elders’ permission to marry into this clan.”
The man in question let go of his intended, still holding her right hand in his left. He struck the pose he’d had before the court martial.
“Ma’am, I ask your permission to marry Sian. To marry into Clan Gething.”
“Ah, you’re learning. But you’re not just going to be a husband if you join us. You need to work.”
Efa glanced over at the two Concord Navy officers. “We’ve had testimony of your skill at selling electronics. This is an ability we need. But can you make sales for the benefit of the clan, not just for yourself?”
Thomas said, “I worked in sales before I was drafted into the Navy. The Navy didn’t care about me. Sian does. I will work hard for the benefit of the clan.”
The matriarch looked over the surrounding crowd, picking out the other clan elders and receiving their nods. “Then you have our permission.”
Thomas swept Sian into a kiss.
The clanfolk cheered.
The trial became a wedding party. Their previous marriage was undone. The different set of vows for marrying into the clan instead of out of it were recited. The judges, lawyer, kidnappers, and news crew were all invited to dinner and dancing.
Marcus twirled Wynny. “We did this dance at our first party.”
“I remember,” she said. “It’s different with Niko.”
It was Marcus’ turn to wear the baby sling. The infant looked up at his parents, fascinated by their faces and the strange sensations as they moved.
***
Marcus looked down at the medal hanging from his neck. He still didn’t fully believe what he’d received. After Col. Palmer told him of the upcoming award, he’d looked it up. It wasn’t the Concord’s highest award, but it was given posthumously more often than not.
Beside him at the banquet table, Wynny wore another medal one step lower in the hierarchy. He would have been fine with that one. She didn’t understand what it meant, other than the Marines appreciating her efforts in the battle.
Wynny certainly realized how seriously the Fierans took it. She was at her most polite and respectful.
The Marines finished presenting the posthumous medals. Now it was time to drink. Waiters moved about, pouring wine.
A Marine dining-out was an elaborate ritual. Toasts began with one to the Concord, then to the honored dead. Marcus and Wynny sat still for the toast to the awardees, along with the rest of the recipients.
Their seat near the head table let Marcus catch the master of ceremonies’ eye when the required toasts were done.
“The Chair recognizes Lieutenant Landry.”
Marcus stood. “Mr. Vice, I bring freshly declassified information. It will be in next week’s NavInt summary. Interrogation of captured enemy officers revealed the former governor of Corwynt led the fleet that attacked Fiera. He personally gave the order to destroy our cities.”
Marcus lifted his glass.
“A toast: To Hell with Bridge Yeager!”
The Marines echoed the toast in a roar.
Wynny shivered at the bloodthirst in their voices.
***
Azure Tarn’s cargo hatch swung down as soon as the ship was firmly on the pavement of Bundoran’s spaceport. The waiting friends and relatives rushed aboard.
Welly Smat stepped back. The surge of emotion in the hold was strong enough to make her uncomfortable. The captain and first mate had kept saying they were sure the Marines wouldn’t let Marcus be in danger. They’d looked calm and confident. But the way they’d grabbed hold of him the second he came through the hatch, hugging and crying, said they’d been worried.
Not that Welly could blame them. She’d worried about Marcus and he was just a co-worker to her.
The word was he hadn’t taken any hurt in the battle. Hard to believe given the casualty counts the Marines racked up. She guessed he must have been kept safely in the rear after all.
More people were
coming on board, the Landrys’ new in-laws. There was Wynny with her baby. Her parents. Cousins. Was all of Clan Goch boarding the Azure Tarn?
“Hello, Welly.”
She turned to see Dilwyn Goch standing to the side, his arms spread a bit to suggest—but not demand—a hug.
“Dilwyn!” Welly stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
“Ow!”
She released him as he flinched back.
“I’m sorry,” said Dilwyn. “I thought I was healed up enough for that.”
“What happened?”
He shrugged. “I was stupid. We were searching for Censy holdouts and I rushed around a corner. Fortunately for me the guy was out of ammo, but he had a knife on his rifle and cut my ribs.”
Welly’s eyes went wide. “My God, you could have been killed.”
“Oh, it’s minor compared to what happened to some others in my squad. I’m glad he was too dumb to aim for my belly though.”
“Me, too. You were part of Marcus’ militia?”
“Yes. Though we call it Vychan’s militia.”
“How bad is the wound?” Welly reached tentatively for Dilwyn’s shirt. When he nodded, she undid a few buttons, exposing an angry red line passing under his nipple toward the armpit. “Damn. That must have hurt.”
“Only when I’m being hugged.”
She laughed and gave him a hug against his unwounded side.
“How rough was it for you?” he asked.
“Eh. Scary. Worst moment was when we took a hit on the bridge. Took Soon’s foot clean off and we lost air. Better than, well, you probably heard about the cities.”
He nodded, grim faced.
She glanced over at the family reunion. The Landrys were done admiring baby Niko for the moment. Argel Goch was on baby duty, introducing Niko to the other crew. Even more Gochs had come in, and some more Corwyntis she didn’t recognize who seemed to be Vychan’s secret society cronies.
Dilwyn leaned toward her. “It’s getting loud here. Want to come back to the clanhome? There’d be plenty of room, and there’s some fish caught today I could cook up for you.”
Seize What's Held Dear Page 12