by John Bowers
“What’re you drinking, Private?” he asked. “Next round is on me.”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” She sat down, remaining on the edge of her chair, as if she might need to run. He raised a hand to flag the cocktail waitress and ordered two single malts. As the waitress flounced away he tipped his glass and drained it.
“So, how you been, Vic? Graduate yet?”
“Not yet. Two more years.”
“Two years? I thought law school took four.” He’d been at it for a while; he was slurring, but she had to listen closely to pick it up.
“I’m on an accelerated course.”
He nodded. “I shoulda guessed. Makes sense.”
“How are you doing?”
“Me? I’m good. I’m not even gonna ask how you found me.”
“Just as well. I wouldn’t tell you anyway.”
He smiled tightly, the slightly exaggerated facial fluctuations common to drunk people.
“Well, since you did find me, you might as well have a drink with me. What’ll you have?”
“You already ordered for me, Nick. Remember?”
“I did?” He saw the waitress coming and nodded slowly. “Oh…yeah, I guess I did.”
The waitress placed the drinks on the table, removed Nick’s empty, and walked away. Nick watched her butt until she was out of sight, then picked up his scotch and lifted it in a toast.
“Star Marines!”
He clicked glasses with her and took a slug. He set the glass down.
“I’m over it, Vic. If that’s what you wanted to talk about, you wasted a trip.”
“I don’t think so. I owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t owe me shit. We ain’t married.”
“I love you, Nick.”
“Yeah, you told me. ‘Bout a thousand years ago.”
“I mean it. I still feel the same way I did then.”
His grin widened, looking increasingly crazy. He nodded.
“I got that. It was really obvious the last time I saw you.”
“Nick—”
“You gonna tell me that guy was your brother? That it?”
“No. He wasn’t my brother.”
“Roommate, then.”
“Yes, actually. He was my roommate.”
“And you don’t feel anything for him.”
“Of course I do. But we’re friends, that’s all.”
“Do all your friends leave monkey-bites on your neck?”
She flushed crimson and lowered her eyes. She should really leave, just let him be. This wasn’t going anywhere, and never would as long as he was drinking.
“It was a mistake,” she told him. “A stupid, stupid mistake. I’ve been kicking myself ever since.”
“So it only happened that one time, huh?”
“Yes. It only happened one time.”
He laughed and tilted his glass again.
“And just by coincidence, I showed up that very night.”
“Nick, I’m sorry.”
“I believe you.”
“Do you believe in forgiveness?” In spite of her resolve, tears were forming in her eyes.
“No. I believe in fidelity.” He frowned. “Did I say that right? Fi— Fi— Difelity? No…”
“Nick—”
He slammed a fist on the table.
“You fucked up, Vic. Remember boot camp? You fucked up once, you were gone? No take-backs, no restarts, no do-overs. ‘Member?”
She nodded, her eyes glistening. “I remember.”
“Well, that’s how it works. Your feet touched the bottom. So now—now you gotta take the long…walk—”
“The Long Walk of Shame,” she whispered.
“Yeah, that one.”
“So I’m a pussy after all. Just like at the pond.”
His shoulder twitched. “That’s your call, not mine.”
Victoria pushed her drink away.
“Okay, here it is. I’m the bad guy. I made a mistake. I was lonely, and I know that’s no excuse. Did you never make a mistake? Not once in your life?”
“Not that one.” His eyes narrowed. “Vic, did you know the Federation has military whorehouses on Luna 1? They call ‘em Pink Ladies, and they’re soldiers, just like you an’ me, only their job is to fuck other soldiers who need to get laid. They get regular benefits and everything.”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“Most people don’t. Well, you know what? I was there for nine months and I was lonely, too, but I never, ever visited a pink lady. Not once.”
A silent tear slid down Victoria’s cheek. He didn’t notice.
“How virtuous of you,” she said.
He snorted. “Virtuous? No, I ain’t virtuous. I’m just a dumb grunt who believes that, when you love someone, you love them all the way. And I loved you, that’s all.”
She didn’t miss the past tense when he said “loved”. She stared across the lounge until she could get her voice back. He took another drink.
“So that’s it then, huh?”
“Yeah, pretty much. Your feet touched the bottom.”
“And there’s nothing I can say or do?”
He looked up and met her gaze. For just an instant, his expression softened.
“Yeah, there is one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Be the best U.F. Attorney you can be, and have yourself a good life. Make me proud.”
Victoria managed to hold back her tears as she walked out of the lounge. She never saw him again after that.
Chapter 17
Tuesday, May 16, 0445 (CC)
75th Floor, Federation Building – Lucaston, Alpha Centauri 2
Victoria Cross knocked once on Gary Fraites’ door and walked inside. It was after hours and his secretary had left for the day, but Fraites stood by the window gazing down at the shifting, colorful blaze of Lucaston at night. He turned at the sound of her knock.
“Hello, Victoria.”
“You wanted to see me?” Her expression was neutral—she was pretty sure she knew what this was about.
He nodded and gestured to a chair. He looked tired.
“Take a seat. Sorry to call you out at this hour, but it’s been a fucked-up day and I couldn’t get near you before now.”
She settled into the chair and crossed one shapely leg over the other. She allowed herself the ghost of a smile.
“It has been fucked up, hasn’t it?”
Fraites took his own chair and stared at her for ten seconds.
“What the hell happened in court this morning? You almost gave me a heart attack.”
She shrugged. “I told you I had no stomach for this fight. I don’t believe in the case and in good conscience, I couldn’t continue.”
“I understand that. I even understand you changing sides, but—quitting your job? You’re the best prosecutor on my staff.”
“I couldn’t very well defend Walker as a member of your staff, could I?”
“No, but do you even have to defend him? Godney is tripping over his feet in there. He’s going to lose this one all by himself.”
“I can’t take that chance. Nick is being railroaded and he needs the best defense he can get. I won’t risk him going to prison for just doing his job.”
“He already had a lawyer. Gerry Gabbard is damn good.”
“I know she is, but…this is personal.”
He nodded slowly, his mouth set in a grim line. He picked up a pencil and toyed with it.
“I thought so. But Vic, what will you do afterward? Are you going to set up your own firm?”
She shrugged. “It’s too early to think about that. I just made my move this morning.”
“Sort of an impulsive move, wasn’t it?”
She nodded.
“Not very military of you. Is that how the Star Marines trained you?”
She laughed for almost the first time all day.
“No. They emphasized intel and planning, but they also
taught us to improvise. Almost every operation goes to shit sooner or later, and that’s when you have to think on your feet. That’s what I did. I already had the intel, all I had to do was lay enfilade fire on the objective.”
“You certainly did that. Godney didn’t know whether to shit or retreat. I suspect he won’t sleep very well tonight.”
“If I have my way, he’ll never sleep again. I’m done with the little prick.”
Silence settled over the office for a few seconds. Fraites stirred.
“Vic…when this is over—”
“Thank you, Gary, but no. I already burned this bridge. I’ve been a U.F. Attorney for seven years now, and maybe it’s time I moved on.”
“Do you really think you can defend bad guys? With your moral code?”
“Maybe I’ll only take clients who are innocent.”
“Sure you will. And I have an asteroid for sale, cheap.”
She smiled, her eyes softening. “I’ll be okay, Gary.”
“I’m sure you will. But I will miss you around here.”
It had been a long day, emotional and frustrating. Victoria wasn’t sure how much more she could handle before getting a good night’s sleep. She stood up before she weakened and misted up.
“You’ve been good to me, Gary. I’ll miss you, too.”
She turned to leave.
“Victoria?”
She looked back at him.
“Good luck with this one. Do me a favor and beat the shit out of Godney, will you? He needs the attitude adjustment.”
Wednesday, May 17, 0445 (CC)
71st Floor, Federation Building – Lucaston, Alpha Centauri 2
“The Federation calls Ted Strong to the stand.”
A general stir shuffled through the courtroom as the guard at the door stepped into the hallway to retrieve the witness. Ted Strong had been slated to testify two days earlier, but had been pushed back because of a foul-up with the witness list. Ironically, it was Victoria Cross who had made the mistake that caused the delay—now she was on the other side and would cross-examine him when it came her turn.
Ted Strong was a short, stocky, extremely handsome man with wavy dark hair streaked with silver. He wore a business suit and strode into the courtroom like a man on a mission. He marched up to the witness box and raised his right hand while he was sworn in. When the bailiff finished reciting the oath, Strong replied in a powerful bass voice.
“I do!”
He took the stand and settled comfortably into the padded wooden chair, sweeping the courtroom with a confident smile. His gaze lingered on the news cameras, as if hoping he might be discovered.
Brian Godney approached him, also smiling.
“Mr. Strong, will you state your full name and occupation for the record?”
“Ted G. Strong, businessman.”
“And what kind of business are you in?”
“I run a water service called Strong Enterprises.”
“Where is your business located?”
“Paradise Gulch on Sirius 1, in a region called the Outback.”
“Thank you. Mr. Strong, are you acquainted with a man named Nick Walker?”
“I’ve met him.”
“Looking around the courtroom today, do you see Nick Walker anywhere?”
“Sure, he’s seated right over there.” Strong pointed directly at Nick.
“Let the record reflect that the witness pointed out the defendant, U.F. Marshal Nick Walker.”
Judge Moore nodded. “So ordered.”
“Mr. Strong, how did you come to be acquainted with the defendant?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say we’re ‘acquainted’, but we did meet on one occasion.”
“And when was that?”
“Oh, it must have been about three years ago. I think it was July of Four Forty-two.”
“Could it have been July 18, 0442?”
“That sounds about right. I remember it was a Saturday.”
“Thank you, Mr. Strong. Directing your attention to July 18, 0442, can you tell this court about anything unusual that happened that day?”
Ted Strong nodded and smiled. As he answered, he made eye contact with Nick and held it.
“That was the day that Walker killed a U.F. Marshal in front of my office.”
A stir ran through the courtroom, but a single whack of Moore’s gavel silenced it.
“You say Marshal Walker killed a U.F. Marshal in front of your office?”
“That’s right.”
“And did you see this killing take place?”
“I did.”
“Please describe to the Court what you saw.”
Strong cleared his throat, as if about to deliver a lecture.
“Walker showed up at my office late in the afternoon, claiming he had recently moved to the area and wanted to get set up. He wanted a water contract, and then started quizzing me about buying himself a slave girl.”
“He wanted to buy a slave girl?”
“That’s what he said. Said he was lonely, needed something to ‘take the edge off’—his words.”
“Did he identify himself as a U.F. Marshal?”
“No. In fact, he lied about his name. Said he was Nick Jones.”
“So you had no idea he was a Federation Marshal?”
“No, not at that time.”
“What happened next?”
“Well, I told him I didn’t deal in slaves, but I did have a few girls I had rescued off a slave transport that came in a few days earlier. He got real interested, and said he’d like to see them. I took him to the back of the property where I have a small residence. The girls were staying there until we could make arrangements for them to go home.”
“If the girls weren’t slaves—if they weren’t for sale—why did you take Marshal Walker to see them?”
Ted Strong shrugged. “I figured he’s a young, good looking man, maybe one of the girls might like the looks of him, might want to go with him. I mean, I don’t own them, right? My only concern is their welfare, and if one wants to leave with someone else, that’s one I don’t have to worry about when the time comes to get them back where they came from.”
“I see. Tell us what happened next.”
“Well, Walker met the girls—I think I had six of them at that time—and he obviously liked them. I mean, these were beautiful young Spanic girls, and it was obvious he was captivated by them.”
“How did the girls respond to Marshal Walker?”
“Well, they were scared, obviously. Hell, they were still scared of me, and I’d been taking care of them for several days.”
“Did any of the girls indicate that they might want to leave with him?”
“No.” Strong shook his head for emphasis. “They stood there trembling with their eyes closed, just hoping he would go away.”
“Objection. The witness can’t know what the girls were hoping.”
“Sustained.” Moore peered over his half-moon glasses. “Mr. Strong, do you understand the objection? You can’t testify to what someone else was thinking.”
“You bet, your Honor! It won’t happen again.”
“Proceed.”
Godney picked up.
“So Marshal Walker, under the alias of Nick Jones, saw the girls but none of them wanted to leave with him. What happened then?”
Ted Strong hesitated, then heaved a sigh.
“He pulled a laser pistol on me. That’s when he told me he was a U.F. Marshal and he was arresting me for trafficking in slaves.”
“Did he, in fact, arrest you?”
“Yes, but here’s where it gets weird—we talked for a few minutes, then he un-arrested me.”
“He un-arrested you? Please explain.”
“He told me that he changed his mind, something about me providing a vital service to the region with my water business. He took off the E-cuffs and let me go, but he threatened to come back if he ever found out I was dealing in slaves.”
“He un-arrested you. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”
“Objection, expertise.”
“Sustained. Don’t answer that.”
“Mr. Strong, what happened after Marshal Walker un-arrested you?”
“He told me he was taking the girls, all of them. Hell, it was no skin off my back. I had been feeding them and providing everything they needed, so he actually did me a favor.”
“He took the girls?”
“Yes. Then we all marched back to my office and that’s when he stole my car.”
“Objection. This is the first we’ve heard about a stolen car. There was nothing in the information about this.”
“Mr. Godney?”
Godney stared at Victoria Cross, then stared at the judge.
“Truthfully, your Honor, I didn’t know about this either.”
“Is it germane to your case?”
Godney pondered the question for a second, then shook his head.
“Probably not, your Honor.”
“Very well. Objection sustained. The witness’s statement about a stolen car will be stricken. Mr. Strong, do not refer to the stolen car again.”
“But he did steal it, your Honor!”
“Whether he did or not, this hearing is not about your car. Do not refer to it again.”
Strong nodded. “Okay.”
Godney stepped before the witness.
“Mr. Strong, when you returned to the office with Marshal Walker and the six girls, what happened next?”
“Well, that’s when Walker killed Marshal Baker.”
“How did that play out?”
“Walker was putting the girls in his car and…another car—he had two cars at this point, his and mine—”
“Objection.”
Moore turned to the witness.
“Mr. Strong…”
“Sorry, your Honor. I didn’t say it was stolen, just that he was…using it.”
“Very well.”
“And that’s when Steve Baker came up. He—”
“Excuse me, but was that the first time you saw Marshal Baker?”
“The first time that day, yes. I knew him, of course, but I hadn’t seen him that day until that particular moment.”
“Continue.”
“Steve must have thought—”
“Objection.”
Strong glared at Victoria Cross, but segued smoothly.
“Sorry, I mean, Baker challenged Walker and Walker killed him.”