"No, Doctor, there is not," Fournier replied. "This is merely a formality which is being observed. When the evidence is confirmed –"
"What if it isn't?" Celia demanded. "What if it doesn't hold up?"
"It will," said Fournier quietly.
Celia nodded impatiently. "You've seen to that, I suppose? How much of the budget have you spent on making sure that – ?"
Fournier bolted up from his semi-seated position against Atal's desk. He towered over the small figure of the Doctor and bellowed, "That is enough!"
Celia held her ground. "Do you deny it? Do you deny that it would be politically embarrassing to the Council if the murder charge against Aer'La were dropped or disproven? Do you deny that steps might be taken to assure it won't be?"
Gritting his teeth, Fournier answered, "Even if the evidence is not sufficient for a conviction or arrest by traditional Confederate law, by Varthan law, she must still stand trial. They are members of the Confederacy, but they have their own ways. As a citizen of Varthan Freespace, Aer'La must be governed –"
"She's not a citizen, dammit, she's a slave!"
"She is a subject. The law applies. The J.A.G. is merely reviewing the case to determine if it falls under its jurisdiction. Now, Doctor, you will show proper decorum, or I will have you confined."
"Georg," said Mors, clearly trying to draw the Admiral's attention away from Celia, "don't you think the girl should be monitored? Jan's people have suggested she might be suicidal. If she kills herself, wouldn't matters become... unfortunately complicated?"
Atal suppressed a smile, despite the gravity of the subject. Mors, even after a century or more away from home, was still Phaetonian where it counted. Use self-interest to appeal to your opponent, and you'll stand a far better chance of swaying him. Never mind Aer'La's welfare, Mors knew that her death would be an inconvenience to Fournier. That would make him want to protect Aer'La, where human decency and compassion might not.
"Dr. Flynn is keeping watch."
"Dr. Flynn has many patients to worry about. There's a more efficient method of guaranteeing her safety."
"And that is?"
"A telepathic scan, of course."
Fournier looked as though he'd been expecting that answer. "And I suppose you're volunteering?"
"Actually," said Mors, "I believe young Mr. Cernaq is more suited to the task. He is... familiar with Aer'La's psyche."
"You mean he's sleeping with her. My god, are they all sleeping with her?"
"Is there something wrong with that?" Celia muttered.
Mors, for his part, allowed himself to look uncomfortable with the question. "I am not... conversant... in such practices. Nor would it be seemly of me to attempt to discover –"
"I don't think it's a good idea," said Fournier.
"Because you're afraid of exposing Aer'La to... rogue influences... That might suggest you're trying to hide something, Georg."
"I'm just trying to get this over with! I have an entire Navy to run!"
"And Aer'La," said Mors gently, "has a right to adequate care, and to visitors. Unless proven dangerous, the accused is allowed –"
"She is proven dangerous!"
"Not since you sedated her," Celia shot back.
"And I don't trust telepaths around a prisoner!"
Mors raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
"That is," stumbled Fournier, "the boy has a personal relationship. It's not advisable to have him... too close."
"As a telepath, he can tap into her mind from anywhere on the ship," said Atal. "So it doesn't help you to keep him away."
"Nor does keeping him away prevent him from scanning her. So why allow him into the room with her?"
"Because physical access will make it easier for him to scan, and easier for him to take steps to prevent her from... creating complications," finished Mors.
Fournier looked defeated. "You're all so damned clever, aren't you? All right, dammit. Let him see her. But he'll have an armed escort!"
Mors smiled graciously. "Of course. If it gives you peace of mind, Georg."
"Nothing," sighed Fournier, "can give me peace of mind when I'm dealing with this crew."
* * *
Cernaq entered the darkened cabin, calling out to the A.I. to activate some lights. Of course, Aer'La hadn't turned the lights on. She was too incoherent to care about light, and the marines had been standing watch in the corridor, till now. Now, one of the armed guards walked at Cernaq's heel, his weapon raised.
"You can put that down," Cernaq told him, checking the man's peripheral emotions to be sure that his own tone was as disdainful as others had often told him it could be. It was. "She's in no condition to fight you."
"Orders," muttered the guard.
"She's not even capable of coherent thought," Cernaq added. Which makes you about even, he said to himself.
"Just the same," said the guard.
The light bathing the room revealed Aer'La to be asleep on the deck. She hadn't even attempted to get into bed, and Cernaq doubted anyone had thought to help her. Putting the guard out of his mind, he went to crouch beside her. She was in a deep slumber. He brushed the hair away from her face, and called out to her telepathically.
She moaned quietly, and rolled onto her back, looking up at him, squinting against the light. "Dru?" she muttered.
A wash of guilt that he didn't quite understand passed over Cernaq. She thought he was the dead boy, Druberj. Traumatized, muddled by drugs, her mind was retreating into the past. Her training as a slave, so brutally imprinted on her psyche, was driving all her responses.
"No," he whispered. "It's Cernaq."
She looked blankly at him. "Master? I - I'm sorry, Master." She started to rise, he caught her with his hand and gently held her down.
"You need to rest. Don't be afraid."
She shook her head. "I should have been ready for you, Master. I... I didn't mean to fall asleep." She reached up and placed her hands on his chest, sitting despite his resistance. She kissed him repeatedly on the cheeks, her hands playing at the fastenings of his tunic, slipping beneath the folds of his uniform to caress the flesh beneath.
"Aer'La, no –"
"No, please, Master! Don't reject me! I can make you happy! After you've punished me – I know you have to punish me – but after. I'll make you feel so good..." Her hand strayed to his crotch, where she raked the backs of her fingernails over him.
"Aer'La –"
There was a snort of laughter from behind him. "Go ahead," said the guard. "Might as well get some while ya can, kid. Don't mind me if I watch."
"Shut up," Cernaq spat back, then, clinically deciding more invective was required, added, "you fucking asshole."
Not bothering to notice if he'd offended the guard, he turned back to Aer'La. He gently removed her hands from him and wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently. "You don't have to do that," he whispered. In her mind, he added, There'll be plenty of time for that when you're well.
Her eyes, still unfocused, nonetheless tried to train themselves on him. "Y - you talked... in my head..." she said wonderingly.
He nodded. "Don't let it frighten you."
"Hey," snapped the guard, "no funny stuff."
"Making telepathic contact is what I came here for," said Cernaq. "Right now I'm just trying to calm her."
Aer'La registered the guard's presence. "Is he to have me first, Master?" she asked.
"Not if I can help it," Cernaq muttered. Then the thought occurred to him that the guards might just try something like that. He would have to maintain constant contact with Aer'La. He wouldn't allow her to be used in this condition.
Aer'La, he called out again, try to remember. You're not a slave. We're on the Titan. My name is Cernaq.
Quiet. And then, not words, nor any symbol that might represent complex thought, but an image... an image of Aer'La and himself...
Yes, he encouraged her. That's right. You know me. We're friends. You've been
drugged. Try to resist it. Focus on my mental presence.
More images, of herself, of Cernaq, of Metcalfe, Carson, Kaya... of Atal and Celia...
That's very good, Aer'La. Remember...
Cernaq?
Yes, Aer'La. His own laughter, nervous and relieved, echoed through their minds. The thought-formation of his own name had never before held such meaning.
Thank you, her mind said to him. I was... lost... in there.
You're safe now.
No. I'm not. Help me, Cernaq, please.
Any way I can, Aer'La. You know that.
Stop my heart.
What? No!
Yes. You can do it. Please, Cernaq... kill me.
No!
I'd rather die in your arms, with someone I... I love... than go back there. Please, Cernaq.
You're not going back there. Captain Atal has a plan. I know he does.
You're lying. I can see that, in here. You're lying to me.
No! I'm sure he has a plan. I just don't know –
He'd have told you by now, if he knew a way out. They're going to come for me soon. Please let me die in peace.
Fighting the upsurge of despair that threatened to engulf him, Cernaq reigned in his feelings, as he'd been taught to do so many years ago on Phaeton. He couldn't let emotion interfere with his reasoning. Seeing Aer'La like this, touching her mind, desperate and frightened as it was, brought out so many feelings he wasn't accustomed to, in such depth as he'd never experienced. He couldn't even begin to identify...
He cleared his mind, the first step in Phaetonian discipline, to establish the dominance of Reason over all. He asserted his sense of self, the second step. He carefully tagged and identified all feelings and impulses of which he did not understand the intellectual root. He set them aside for later study.
Now, he was prepared. His reasoning mind could function, free of interference. Aer'La wanted to commit suicide. That, of course, was not a viable alternative. He had to convince her of that. Her mind was in no shape for reasonable dialogue, however. Aer'La's was a primal, emotionally reactive mind, lacking training, its sense of identity maimed by years of negative reinforcement, of exposure to the poisonous teachings that the individual is the rightful property of others. He could not quickly correct the damage. He also could not stay with Aer'La continuously. The guards would not allow it. Yet, if he were to leave her, she might find some way to accomplish herself the grim task she'd asked him to carry out. She might take her own life. He had to prevent that. Metcalfe had been right. Confronted with a mind unable to help itself in the here and now, Cernaq had no rational choice but to buy time, so that he could help her later.
Go to sleep, Aer'La, he said to her mind. At the same time, he used his interface with her nervous system to cause her heart to slow its beat, her mind to allow itself to sleep. It was not the drug-induced sleep, full of nightmare visions as it was, that he allowed to return. It was the true sleep the body craved, and which he needed Aer'La to have, while he decided what to do next.
"Hey!" a voice called out to him, intruding on the hypnotic peace of their joined minds. It was the guard. Cernaq allowed his attention to return to the physical world.
"What's the matter with you?" the man demanded. "Can't you hear your goddamn radio going off?"
Indeed, his personal radio was signaling for his attention, on the Titan officers' channel. He keyed the microphone. "Cernaq here."
"Mr. Cernaq," said Atal's voice, "I'm sorry to bother you. Is Aer'La... stable?"
"She's in no immediate danger, sir. I've put her to sleep."
"Good. Conference in my office. Ten minutes. I'm afraid it's bad news..."
* * *
When Cernaq arrived, his three fellow Arbiters, Celia Faulkner, and Professor Mors were already present. "Thank you for coming so quickly, Cernaq," the Captain said. "I've received word back from Headquarters... from the Judge Advocate General's office."
"Where's Admiral Fournier?" asked Metcalfe, his tone colored with irony. "He's in command, after all."
"This is not a command conference," said Atal. "This is... a private meeting. I felt that Aer'La's friends deserved to know, before the media and the crew." Atal sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with steepled fingers. "I have a friend at J.A.G., who's one of the principal defense attorneys. He let me know in advance that they've decided Aer'La's case falls outside their jurisdiction. She was never, legally, a member of the crew, so –"
"That's bullshit!" spat Metcalfe.
The situation was far too serious for the Captain to correct anyone's manners. He merely nodded in agreement with Metcalfe's outburst.
"There's more, isn't there?" asked Celia.
Atal nodded gravely. "With the question of jurisdiction decided, Aer'La is now to be remanded to the custody of the Varthan investigator. Captain Harl is coming to claim her within the hour."
A chorus of objections sounded, but Atal held up his hands to still them. "I'm well aware of everyone's personal feelings in this case. I trust you are all equally aware of mine. I wanted to be the one to tell you, however, that we've exhausted our legal options up to this point. Aer'La must be turned over to the Varthans. From there... You're all aware that the Council has asked Admiral Fournier to appoint an executive staff member to accompany Aer'La. I have filed an official request that I be given that appointment."
"You're leaving Titan?" asked Kaya. "For how long?"
"For as long as it takes. Until Aer'La's... trial... is over."
Kaya started to speak. Atal cut her off. "No volunteers. I will not be taking a staff, assuming I'm given the job." He surveyed the occupants of the room with his eyes. "I want you all to know how... how sorry I am, for what that's worth." His tone became firm. "But I also want you to know that you are still officers aboard my ship. I expect you to follow my orders. You are to take no actions that I have not authorized. Clear?"
The four midshipman nodded, as did Celia. Mors watched with a bemused expression.
"I swear to you," Atal finished, "that I haven't given up yet."
He dismissed them, and they dispersed. Cernaq walked aimlessly in the general direction of his cabin. His duty shift was over, and he needed time, to digest what was happening. He needed to decide if he'd done the right thing in sedating Aer'La so she wouldn't kill herself. So buried was he in concentration that he didn't hear Metcalfe come up behind him until the other man had taken him by the elbow.
"We need to talk."
"Not now, Terry. I... am in no condition..."
"Cernaq," Metcalfe said urgently, taking his friend's hand and pressing it into his own, "you have to listen. We have work to do."
At the firm touch, Metcalfe's thoughts tickled the edge of Cernaq's mind, inviting him to explore further. He did, and he was ready to listen.
* * *
"I thought you were done here," the guard complained as he accompanied Cernaq back into Aer'La's cabin.
"As you so delicately pointed out," said Cernaq, "I was interrupted by a signal from my Captain. I was forced to put my work on hold."
"Yeah," the guard observed. "You put her on hold, all right. She ain't moved since you left."
"Indeed not," agreed Cernaq. "I can be very persuasive. It takes only the gentlest suggestion, sometimes, to push a mind in the desired direction."
"Just make sure you don't go pushing my mind."
Cernaq smiled. "I'd have to find it first."
The guard missed the insult. "You mean you can't work that stuff on me? Like, I'm immune?"
"Utterly," said Cernaq with a straight face.
This pleased the idiot. He shook a meaty finger at Cernaq. "See, you people aren't as smart as you think you are."
"I can only imagine. Now, if you'll be quiet, I'll complete my scan and report back to the Captain."
"Better hurry. She's bein' transferred as soon as the Varthans get here."
Cernaq grunted understanding and set to work. He had no time to be subtle. A
psychic jab roused Aer'La. Despite the affects of the drug, she awoke and sat up, recognition on her face. "Cernaq?" she muttered.
Don't talk, he said in her mind. It makes it harder to maintain the illusion.
Huh?
Never mind. Just come with me, and be very quiet.
She accepted his hand and got up.
Stay beside me. Don't react to anyone, or to anything I say out loud.
She did as she was told.
Cernaq walked toward the guard. "That will be sufficient."
"You're done?" he asked. "That was quick."
"I just needed a final scan to complete my report."
He moved past the guard, Aer'La following him, looking quizzically as she did. The guard, rather than watching them, was staring thoughtfully at the spot where she had lain before.
"How long she gonna sleep?" he asked.
"Oh, some hours," said Cernaq. In the man's mind, he could see the unimaginative carnal fantasies forming, what he could do to amuse himself with the sleeping woman, before the Varthans arrived. Cernaq could see just as clearly the image in the guard's mind of Aer'La, still asleep, still lying on the floor. It was, in fact, a subtle push from Cernaq which inflamed the guard's desire for her, allowing the illusion to work more effectively. He was seeing what he wanted to see. It made it easy to obscure the message his eyes were sending to his mind – the picture of Aer'La, conscious, about to leave the room with Cernaq.
"You coming?" Cernaq asked him.
"Uh," said the guard, "you go ahead. I wanna... keep an eye on her, for a minute."
"As you wish," said Cernaq. Boldly, he took Aer'La's hand and led her into the corridor.
He didn't see me? Aer'La wondered.
In fact, he did. But I kept the information from registering. When he is told what happened, he will, no doubt, remember seeing you.
Where are we going? What are you doing?
I believe Metcalfe said something about a 'laundry truck.'
He led Aer'La down the corridor, his telepathic sense probing ahead, to be ready to work his power of suggestion on any passersby.
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