by John Bowers
On a Sunday evening in early May, as they walked back to barracks from the mess hall, Victoria glanced over her shoulder as they passed a supply building that she knew to be unlocked—because she had unlocked it herself. With no one immediately in sight, she clutched Nick’s hand and pulled him into the darkness between two buildings. Nick followed, surprised and a little confused, but they were buddies and he trusted her. She led him to the unlocked door and pulled it open, then shoved him inside and locked the door behind them.
“We have thirty minutes,” she said, breathless.
“To do what?”
“What do you think?” She wrapped her arms around him and pulled his face down to hers, locking on with her lips. Nick didn’t question a gift, he just accepted it. He bent to the task and returned her attention with interest.
For five or six minutes they kissed and petted and groped. Their hearts beat faster and their blood pressure surged; they both knew the penalty if they got caught, but fourteen weeks of boot camp had taught them that danger was exciting, an adrenaline rush—that if something wasn’t dangerous, it wasn’t worth doing.
“You’d better not get pregnant!” he panted.
“I won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I scouted the terrain, identified the objectives, and laid down grazing fire.”
“What?”
“Birth control, stupid. Now shut up and drop your pants.”
Tuesday, May 16, 0445 (CC)
71st Floor, Federation Building – Lucaston, Alpha Centauri 2
After the recess, Judge Moore called the session to order. He peered over his reading glasses.
“Has the defense made a decision?”
Nick shifted in his chair but didn’t get up. Geraldine Gabbard was seated to his right, Victoria Cross to his left.
His attorney got to her feet.
“Yes, your Honor. Victoria Cross for the defense.”
“Objection, your Honor.”
Brian Godney looked agitated. He had come into the courtroom an hour earlier with all the confidence in the galaxy, but now his ‘verse had fallen apart. Judge Moore gazed at him with exaggerated tolerance.
“What’s the problem, counselor?”
“Your Honor, Miss Cross cannot be allowed to represent the defendant in this case!”
“And why is that?”
“It’s a clear conflict of interest. She knows my case inside and out, she helped put it together. Letting her work for the defense would be equivalent to a military planner switching sides in the middle of a war.”
Moore glanced at Victoria.
“Miss Cross?”
“That’s crap, your Honor. This is a court of law, not a battlefield, and since we live in a democracy, I can work for whomever I want, provided they want to employ me. Marshal Walker has agreed to accept my representation, and since he is the only one in this courtroom with anything to lose, he deserves the benefit of the doubt.”
Moore turned back to Godney with raised eyebrows, expecting him to rebut. He wasn’t disappointed.
“I renew the objection, your Honor. The people of the Federation deserve a benefit as well, and allowing Miss Cross to jump ship like this is a betrayal of trust.”
“Your Honor—”
Moore raised a hand to cut her off. He cleared his throat.
“Mr. Godney, while I sympathize with your predicament, I have to agree with Miss Cross. Your objection is crap. Overruled.”
“But—”
“This is not a criminal case. Marshal Walker has not been charged with a crime, and there is no law on the books that precludes counsel from switching sides in a hearing of this nature. Overruled.”
Godney’s mouth snapped shut. He glared at the laptop on the table before him, the muscles in his jaw working.
“Miss Cross, do you need a day or two to familiarize yourself with the case?”
“Thank you, your Honor, but no. I believe I know this case inside out from both sides, and Ms. Gabbard has agreed to act as consultant. The defense is ready to proceed.”
“Very well. Mr. Godney, call your next witness.”
Chapter 15
“The Federation calls Fred Ferguson to the stand.”
Nick sank down in his chair and slid a hand over his eyes. Victoria Cross noticed and leaned over toward him. She spoke in a whisper.
“Did you do it?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Okay.”
She turned her attention back to the proceedings. Nick frowned. Okay? That was it?
Brian Godney strutted in front of the witness, his boundless confidence restored. Fred Ferguson looked very much as Nick remembered him from five years ago—skinny, grungy, badly groomed. His hair was still too long in front and hung down over his eyes. He looked skinny and scared, his eyes darting about the courtroom as if looking for snipers.
“Mr. Ferguson, what is your occupation?”
“I’m, uh, a plumber.”
“How long have you worked as a plumber?”
“About…maybe—oh, six or seven years.”
“And where do you practice your occupation?”
“On Ceres.” Ferguson tried on a smile. “It’s the biggest asteroid in the Solar System.”
Godney smiled. “I’m sure it is. Mr. Ferguson, were you at one time employed by Farrington Industries?”
“Yes, I was. I worked for Mr. Cramer.”
“And what did you do there?”
“I did plumbing.”
Godney strode back to his table and picked up a document.
“Were you working for Farrington Industries on August 10, Four-Forty Colonial Calendar?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, I been there six years, so I guess I was there then.”
“And at that time, did you have occasion to run into Marshal Nick Walker?”
Ferguson glanced at Nick and then quickly away.
“Yes.”
“Did Nick Walker arrest you that day?”
“I guess that was the day. I don’t remember the date.”
“But Nick Walker did arrest you, did he not?”
“Yeah. But it wasn’t my fault.”
“Just answer the questions as I ask them, please. Now, moving forward, where were you when Nick Walker arrested you?”
“I was in the Open Airlock. That’s a bar.”
“I see. And when Marshal Walker arrested you, did he take you to jail?”
“Yes, he did.”
Godney frowned. “Did he take you directly to jail? Didn’t he take you somewhere else first?”
“Objection, leading.”
“Sustained.”
Godney scowled. “Mr. Ferguson, when Marshal Walker arrested you, where did he take you?”
“He took me to jail.”
Godney ground his teeth. “Before he took you to jail, did Marshal Walker take you anywhere else?”
“Oh, yeah. He took me to the park.”
Godney seemed to relax. “He took you to the park. Can you describe the park?”
“Uh, well, it was, you know, a park. Grass and trees, picnic tables…you know, like that.”
“I see. Was there some kind of restraining wall in the park?”
“Oh, yeah. Well, I don’t know if it’s a restraining wall, but it’s a wall. Maybe ten feet high.”
“Did Marshal Walker take you to the wall?”
“Yeah. He made me stand in front of it.”
Godney sucked a deep breath. He planted his feet.
“Thank you. Now, can you describe to the Court what happened after Marshal Walker made you stand against the wall?”
Ferguson swallowed and his forehead wrinkled with the memory.
“He started asking me questions.”
“What kind of questions did he ask?”
“He wanted to know who hired me to…well—”
“He wanted to know who hired you. What did you tell him?”
“Well, at first I didn’t tell hi
m anything. I was too scared.”
“You were scared of Marshal Walker?”
“No, I was—well, yeah, I was scared of him, too, but I was a lot more scared of Mr. Cramer.”
“You were more scared of Mr. Cramer than you were of Nick Walker?”
“Oh, yeah, definitely.”
“So, because you were more scared of Mr. Cramer, you refused to answer Marshal Walker’s questions?”
“Yeah, that’s what happened.”
“What did Marshal Walker do then?”
“Well, he—he made me tell him.”
Godney heaved a frustrated sigh.
“Mr. Ferguson, do you remember our conversation yesterday in my office?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember what we talked about then?”
Ferguson frowned, then brightened. “Oh, that. Sure, I remember.”
“Wonderful. Now will you please tell the Court what you told me yesterday. Tell us what Marshal Walker said and did when you refused to answer his questions.”
Fred Ferguson squirmed on the stand. For a moment Nick thought he might cry. Nick felt like crying himself.
“He started shouting at me. He said he had three options.”
“What were the options?”
“One was to take me to jail, to stand trial and face a jury; the next was to beat the sh-shit out of me…” He glanced up at the judge. “Can I say ‘shit’?”
“You’re doing fine.”
“Okay. Beat the shit out of me and make me wish I was dead…or…”
Godney leaned forward. “Or what, Mr. Ferguson? What was the third option?”
Ferguson’s face twisted in painful memory and he chewed his lower lip.
“Or he could…shoot me in my fucking head.”
Nick sucked a deep breath and studied the ceiling. Godney leaned closer to his witness.
“Mr. Ferguson, did you say the third option was to shoot you in the head?”
Ferguson nodded. “That’s what he said. Only he said ‘fucking’ head.”
Godney stood straight and took a step back. He smiled encouragement at his witness.
“Did Marshal Walker shoot you in your fucking head?”
“Counselor…”
“Sorry, your Honor. Slip of the tongue.”
“Don’t let it slip again.”
“Sorry. Withdrawn. Mr. Ferguson, did Marshal Walker shoot you anywhere at all?”
“Yeah. In the ear.”
“He shot you in the ear?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he shoot you with?”
“His laser pistol. He set the beam on needle and blew a hole right through my ear.”
“Did you tell him what he wanted to know?”
“Not then. I was still too scared.”
“What, if anything, did Marshal Walker say or do when you still refused to tell him what he wanted to hear?”
“He said the next one would go through my…d…” Ferguson mouthed the word so quietly the sound didn’t carry.
“I’m sorry, what did you say? The next one would go through your what?”
Ferguson’s eyes were glistening now. He glanced around the room as if planning to bolt.
“Mr. Ferguson?”
“My dick! He said the next one would go through my DICK!”
Godney seemed to swell slightly as he paused a moment to give the room at large the opportunity to soak up the horror of it.
“Thank you, Mr. Ferguson. Did Marshal Walker, in fact, shoot you through your dick?”
“Counselor!”
“Penis, your Honor. I meant to say ‘penis’. Sorry.”
Moore wiped his face and sighed, glancing at his watch. Godney returned to his witness.
“No,” Ferguson said. “I told him what he wanted to know.”
Godney nodded. It had been like pulling teeth, but he had the testimony he wanted.
“Nothing further.”
***
Victoria Cross conferred in whispers with Nick for a few seconds, then stood and approached the witness.
“Mr. Ferguson, where do you live now? Are you still on Ceres?”
“Yeah. I mean…yes, Ma’am.”
Victoria favored him with her brilliant smile. “It’s okay, Fred, you don’t have to call me that. I’m not that old.”
Ferguson blinked and some color flowed back into his face. She was standing six feet away and her perfume, though conservative, was tangible.
“Then what should I call you?”
“You don’t have to call me anything. Just answer yes or no, that’s all.” Her smile got brighter.
“O-okay, sure.”
“Good!” She took a step back and crossed her arms, slender and sexy in a tight white sheath dress that hugged her hips and matched her nearly-white blond hair. “Mr. Ferguson—may I call you Fred?”
“Objection!”
“Sure!”
“Sustained.”
Victoria glanced at the judge’s stern features and shrugged. She looked at Ferguson again.
“I guess I can’t call you Fred. Oh, well.” She smiled. “You said you still live on Ceres. Where, exactly, is your residence?”
Ferguson pinked a little.
“I, uh…I’m in prison.”
“You’re in prison on Ceres?”
“Yeah.”
“How long is your sentence?”
“Five years.”
“And how long have you been in prison?”
“Almost five years. I’ll be getting out in a few weeks.”
“You must be looking forward to that.” She smiled.
“Yeah, you bet I am.” His eyes adored her.
“Mr. Ferguson, what did you do to get sentenced to five years in prison?”
“Objection, relevance.”
“Credibility, your Honor.”
“Overruled. The witness will answer.”
Ferguson’s forehead wrinkled. “I was convicted of being an accessory to murder.”
Victoria’s eyes widened dramatically.
“Accessory to murder! Wow! That’s a pretty serious charge! How did you only get five years?”
“I—I cut a deal. With the prosecutor.”
“I see. And what kind of deal did you cut?”
“I testified against Mr. Cramer.”
“So you turned Federation’s evidence?”
“Right. And I had to plead guilty.”
Victoria smiled at him. He positively glowed at her attention.
“When Marshal Walker arrested you, was that the first time you and he had met?”
“No, M— Uh, no.”
“When was the first time? Do you remember?”
“Sure, I do. It was in the hotel lobby a couple days before that. Well, actually I saw him the night he first showed up, but we didn’t exactly meet.”
“You met him in the hotel lobby?”
“Yeah. I wanted to warn him about Turd Murdoch.”
“Turd Murdoch?” She giggled. “Is that a man’s name?”
Fred grinned. “Yeah, can you believe it? His mother actually named him Turd!”
“Why did you need to warn Marshal Walker about…Turd Murdoch? What was…Turd planning to do?” She giggled again.
“He said he was gonna kill the Marshal. So I warned him first.”
“And what did Marshal Walker say? Was he grateful for the warning?”
“Oh, yeah, he was. He thanked me and everything, and said it was just between us.”
“So Marshal Walker was friendly at that first meeting?”
“Yeah, he was real friendly. I liked him.”
“Did you run into Marshal Walker again before the day he arrested you?”
“No. I saw him at a distance once, but we didn’t talk.”
“When Marshal Walker arrested you, what did he arrest you for?”
Ferguson’s color began to fade. He swallowed.
“He said it was…murder. But it was really an acc
ident! I didn’t mean to kill nobody!”
Victoria stepped toward him and smiled. “You’re not on trial here, Fred—”
“Objection!”
“Sustained. No first names, counselor.”
Victoria nodded. “You’re not on trial, Mr. Ferguson. Nobody is on trial here. This is just a hearing, do you understand?”
“Oh. I thought Marshal Walker was on trial.”
“No, he isn’t. Not yet, anyway. Mr. Godney over there is trying to figure out if Marshal Walker did anything that he can use to send him to prison.”
“Objection! Your Honor!”
Judge Carlos Moore exhaled a weary sigh.
“Approach, both of you.”
Victoria Cross walked in front of the bench and stood next to Godney, her hands crossed in front of her like a schoolgirl about to recite the Pledge. Her wide blue eyes were pools of innocence.
“Your Honor, Miss Cross is trying to make a fool of me! Can’t you do something?”
“Miss Cross?”
“I don’t know what he’s talking about, your Honor. Clearly he doesn’t need my help.”
“Then what is all that flirting about?” Godney demanded. “Goddammit—”
“Counselor!” Moore bellowed. “Do not put yourself in contempt!”
Godney’s breath exploded outward like the spume from a whale. He leaned closer to the bench.
“She wants my job, your Honor. That’s why she quit! She’s trying to undermine me with the witness!”
Moore shook his head. “The witness can’t hurt you, but I can. And she can’t undermine you with me, so keep your head on straight! As for you, Miss Cross—”
“I don’t want his job, your Honor. Why would I want his job? Mine had a bigger paycheck!”
“Just knock it off! And quit flirting with the witness!
“Step back.”
Godney returned to his table, red-faced and fuming. Victoria returned to a spot in front of the witness stand, prim and proper. Nick had watched the exchange from his seat at the defense table, but couldn’t hear much of what was said. But he caught the sparkle in Victoria’s eyes as she returned to her position.
“Proceed!” Moore ordered.
Victoria smiled, but not quite as sweetly as before.
“Mr. Ferguson…you said Marshal Walker arrested you for murder.”