Shen Ark: Departure

by John Hindmarsh

  “That the year is 1575? Absolutely. It is important for you to relax. Keep in mind what I said—you can’t force the return of your memories. One of my nurses will check on you later this afternoon, and I’ll visit you again tomorrow morning. Oh, and your physical therapy commences tomorrow, as well.”

  ~~~

  After the doctor left the small ward, Steg climbed out of his bed, carefully holding onto the metal framed bed end. He was unsteady on his feet, far more so than he expected, and fought against waves of dizziness. The tank-based processes had not included maintenance of physical condition, he realized. He was shaken by the doctor’s response when he had asked the date. His memories were of a very different time—something was wrong, yet he was unable to identify just what. It took him nearly five minutes to reach the locker, even though it was only yards away. He opened the steel door and felt around, working his hand back as far back as he could without falling. The locker was surprisingly deep. His uniform was hanging there, cleaned and pressed. Behind it, he felt the hilt of Ebony and he lifted the sword out.

  For some reason he was disappointed. Ebony felt dead, lifeless, and while he knew it was an inanimate object, for some reason he had expected to feel its life force. Steg held it, examining the blade as well as the hilt. The blade showed minor heat scaring, more cosmetic than physical. The pommel and grip were both badly damaged as a result of the impact of the blaster fire. He recalled carrying the sword high, across his shoulder, and the hilt had probably saved his life, absorbing the force that otherwise could have caused his death. He held the sword in both hands, vertical, one hand on the blade, the other on the grip, trying to remember. Nothing. He shuddered and returned the sword to the back of the cabinet.

  Steg barely made the return trip to his bed without collapsing. At last he fell face down onto the bed and rested, half-asleep, half unconscious. He was not aware that his handling of Ebony had awoken the hilt-hidden bio-nanite and micronic technology contained in the hilt, and now, its recovery triggered, the sword began a process of self-healing. Soon Ebony would reach out, seeking its rightful owner, in order to continue its protective responsibilities.

  ~~~

  “I have good news for you,” smiled Dr. Li across her desk. There was a touch of sadness in her expression. “Your current medical condition and progress with physical therapy are both very good. I suspect your physical condition is back to your normal status. The head of therapy is hopeful that time will heal your memory loss; however, that process is unpredictable. This all means I can discharge you from my care. There’s one problem—”

  She had asked Steg to attend her surgery office and he was sitting in one of the comfortable office chairs. He raised his head as the doctor paused.

  “I’ve deferred your medical discharge and can probably do so for another week. Once I discharge you, ImpSec will step in. They claim you’re some kind of spy, and that your membership of the Imperial Intelligence Agency is impossible, because the agency doesn’t exist. They want to arrest you before we reach Althere; we’re scheduled to arrive there in two weeks. I have held them off—they realize this surgeon has very sharp teeth. If they follow their standard routine, they’ll arrest you, charge you, arrange a court hearing within twenty-four hours, find you guilty, and then ship you to one of the private jails—probably, and worse, one managed by the House of Aluta. Unfortunately, I upset them early in your recovery process, as you may remember.”

  The doctor’s news settled on Steg’s shoulders like a dark, depressive cloak. He had focused on his recovery, physical and mental, and had not thought about proving his identity or the existence of the IIA. He now had probably only days; it seemed, to find proof which would stand in an ImpSec court hearing. Imprisonment in a jail run by a corporate house was not something he wanted to experience. He had heard about the conflict between Dr. Li and the ImpSec lieutenant, a junior member of House of Aluta, and the punishment settled on that young officer would not endear Steg to the ruling family. He—the lieutenant—probably deserved his punishment: a dishonorable discharge from ImpSec and five years in jail—although Steg did not expect that would deter the family from taking some form of revenge.

  “Will I be able to carry out research to find the details I need? Or can you arrange for someone to help me, if I can’t access Imperial systems?” he asked.

  “I’m unable to grant you access to a workstation—not even a surgeon colonel can authorize that, under these circumstances. I can arrange additional therapy under the guidance of one of my nurses. She’ll be able to run research commands for you—that’s the best I can do.”

  “More than I could expect, Dr. Li. Thank you for your help. I just hope I can find something—”

  “So do I, young man, so do I.”

  ***

  Chapter Three

  Steg was both successful and unsuccessful with his searches. He validated the date, which seemed an impossibility, given the current state of his recollection of history and personal events. Admittedly, he had very large gaps in his memory, gaps he could not bridge, no matter how much effort he applied to the task. He continued searching system records via his nurse amanuensis, hoping at least something would surface, which would help him convince ImpSec he was genuine, that his claim to service in the Imperial Intelligence Agency was valid. He was unsuccessful.

  On the final day of his extended therapy he met with the doctor in his small ward. He sat on one of the casual chairs while the doctor performed her final examination before clearing him for release.

  “A good cosmetic surgeon can fix this for you,” said Dr. Li as she checked his scar. It was rectangular in shape with a deep disfiguring edge, reaching from temple to jaw on the left side of his face. “I gather you didn’t discover anything useful?”

  “Not a thing. I seem to be in a different time zone—there are events I found that seem to belong in my past, and some I think occurred, regarding which I can find no trace. I’m confused.” He shook his head.

  “We—the head of therapy and myself—are also perplexed. We can’t offer any explanation unless somehow you’ve invented time travel.”

  The doctor’s comment stabbed at Steg. He knew time travel was impossible, yet something deep in the back of his memories stirred, attracted by the suggestion.

  “Well, at least I tried,” reasoned Steg. “I can’t think of anything else to do, to defend myself against what’s coming.” ImpSec had placed a guard on his door some three days before, and he was now, unofficially at least, under arrest for spying.

  Dr. Li patted his shoulder. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Steg considered the doctor’s offer. “Ebony—my sword. ImpSec won’t let me take it with me—they’ll probably dump it somewhere. Can you keep it for me, until all this is over, and if I’m jailed, hold it until I’m free again?”

  “Certainly. I can’t guarantee where I’ll be—”

  “That doesn’t matter. As long as I know Ebony is safe. Somehow, it’s important—very important, for me.” He stood and walked over to his locker where he reached in for his sword. He lifted it out and held it in both hands. To his surprise, the hilt, including both the pommel and grip, was restored; it showed no signs of damage at all. Perplexed, he wrapped his right hand around the grip and raised the sword, as though weighing it. Something stirred deep in his mind.

  Steg placed the sword against a chair beside the doctor. Ebony was, he guessed, longer than the doctor was tall. He was reluctant to part with the weapon; somehow, it was a link to his identity.

  “Well, I suppose tomorrow is inevitable.” ImpSec had scheduled his hearing for first thing the following morning. “I feel like a condemned man; yet I know I’m innocent of any wrongdoing.”

  “I spoke with the defending officer earlier today. He’s a professional. I’ve heard good things about him,” said Dr. Li.

  Steg also had spent time with his counsel earlier in the day and did not contradict the doctor. Captain Farmer appe
ared to be well skilled in his chosen profession; however, he had been almost brutally frank in his assessment. Steg, despite various ImpSec searches, still was unidentified—there were no records of either his DNA or his fingerprints, and the Empire did not have an organization such as Steg claimed. As far as ImpSec was concerned, the Imperial Intelligence Agency did not exist. While Captain Farmer agreed Steg’s condition had scarcely allowed him to operate as a spy, his presence on board xTaur was unauthorized. Steg returned his attention to the doctor.

  “Yes, we spoke, also. He thinks the court will—if I plead guilty to at least some of the charges—agree to a short sentence.” He shook his head. “I just don’t know.”

  “Some of the medical staff are to give evidence, covering matters such as the suddenness of your appearance, the treatment we gave, and so forth. I’ll be giving evidence, as well. We—myself and my nurses—will be wishing the best for you.”

  “Thank you,” acknowledged Steg. “I’m hoping for the best.”

  “We all are.”

  ~~~

  Steg understood the courtroom was the same facility where the ImpSec team had conducted its initial enquiry with Dr. Li. He had been escorted under guard to the large room, where he now sat at a small table in front of the judge’s bench. He was waiting for his counsel. No one else was yet in attendance; the rows of seats were empty, as were the three larger, more elaborate seats behind the longer, highly polished judicial bench. After nearly thirty minutes, a young lieutenant rushed into the courtroom, almost breathless. He was carrying a small file.

  “Captain—I mean de Coeur. I am Lieutenant Emerson, your counsel. Unfortunately, Captain Farmer has had an accident—concussion and a broken leg, very bad—and I’m next on the duty roster.”

  Steg’s heart sank. “How did it happen?” he asked.

  “No one knows. The captain’s still unconscious. Now, tell me, what are the charges?”

  Steg’s heart sank even further. “I thought Captain Farmer was going to confirm the details this morning.”

  “Oh.” The lieutenant leafed through the small file, searching for the information. “There’s very little information here. He must have his personal notes in another file.”

  Steg wondered why the young officer did not access the ship system, where undoubtedly the captain had kept his records. People were starting to enter the courtroom—two court officials, three nurses, two of whom he recognized, and some strangers, likely to be curious onlookers.

  “Lieutenant, I suggest you request a stay of proceedings, because of the captain’s accident.”

  “Oh, no. I cannot do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’d be a black mark on my record, if I’m not ready for the trial as scheduled.”

  “This black mark’s more important than ensuring justice is done?”

  The young officer slowly turned red, and did not reply. He continued to leaf through the file, apparently reading the contents—his lips were moving silently as he focused on each page. Steg realized his chances of a reasonable hearing were fading very quickly.

  “If you don’t request the stay, I will. Even if I must dismiss you.” Steg was grasping at possibilities in an attempt to find a way out of this looming disaster.

  His comment was met by a horrified expression on the lieutenant’s face. “Oh, no. That’s not possible. The schedule’s fixed.”

  “In that case, I dismiss you as my counsel. Give me the file, and get out of my sight.” Steg plucked the file from the shocked junior officer’s loose grip.

  The lieutenant’s jaw dropped. His face had turned from red to ashen. Before he could react, the court usher raised his voice and issued a command.

  “Attention in the court. All rise. Silence while the presiding officers take their places.”

  Three ImpSec officers, the same officers who had questioned Dr. Li, entered the courtroom and took their places behind the long bench. They were chatting quietly, joking and laughing, oblivious to any need for their silence, and would have been taken aback if anyone had made such a point. Minutes passed as the three judges settled into their seats and shared comments about the contents of files on their bench top. In the meantime the prosecuting counsel had taken his place at a table twin to the one where Steg was now standing. The court usher waited for another few minutes until the senior presiding officer gave him a signal.

  “Court is in session. Please be seated. Judges are Colonel Richmond, with Major Rayner and Major Dawson. Our first case today is Emperor v. de Coeur. Prosecuting counsel is Colonel Tanner. Defending counsel is Captain Farmer—”

  One of the other court officials interrupted him. The court usher appeared to be startled. He continued after the official nodded his head, apparently in confirmation.

  “Apologies—defending counsel is Lieutenant Emerson. de Coeur is charged under Articles of War, section 301, with the offense of spying for an unknown enemy. The accused is also charged with trespass, unauthorized boarding of an Imperial hospital ship, and impersonation of an Imperial officer.”

  Steg blanched. Somehow he had trodden on a nest of stingers and they were after his blood. The unfortunate young lieutenant—his supposed defending counsel—had almost collapsed at the mention of section 301. Steg gathered it was regarded as an extremely serious charge.

  “Thank you. Any comments from counsel?” Colonel Richmond paused momentarily. When neither counsel commented, Steg spoke up.

  “Sir. I wish to dismiss Lieutenant Emerson. He has neither briefed himself nor interviewed me prior to this potential miscarriage of justice.”

  “Prisoner de Coeur, you have no standing here. You are not permitted to address the court. All communications must be through the allocated counsel,” replied Colonel Richmond.

  “Sir, I protest. The lieutenant’s not capable of representing me. He has no knowledge of the charges, has evinced no intention to establish with me the facts from my perspective, and probably does not have relevant experience to act in this court.”

  “Silence. Prisoner de Coeur, I’ll not warn you again. If you further disrupt this court, you will be removed and judged in your absence.”

  Steg struggled to restrain himself. The proceedings, from that point on, were a farce, in his opinion. When the prosecuting counsel introduced an expert witness who then uttered the most bizarre testimony about how the accused must have used an alien craft to approach and dock with the hospital ship, Steg savagely kicked the lieutenant’s ankle and showed him a note that read “Protest - irrelevant”. However, the lieutenant turned his back and ignored the admonition.

  “Sir, I protest.” Steg could no longer restrain himself. “The defending counsel should be objecting to these witnesses, and to their spurious evidence. This is a travesty. The lieutenant is totally inept and should be relieved of his role—and of his commission.”

  The presiding colonel said, “You’ve had your warning. You will now be removed from the court and will be returned here when we have reached our verdict and sentence.” He then directed the court bailiff to remove Steg, who was first chained and manacled, as though he was a violent offender.

  Steg was isolated from all subsequent involvement in his trial. The tiny cell where he had been ignominiously dumped stank of human waste, putrid and potent. It was two hours before he was re-admitted to the ImpSec court. He looked around the courtroom—the medical staff had been removed before his entrance; Dr. Li was not in the room, nor were her nurses. He then stared at the colonel, almost daring him to do his worst.

  “Well, prisoner de Coeur, if that’s your name. We have heard from various witnesses and experts, including the medics who treated you. The evidence against you, in our decision, is overwhelming. We find you guilty as charged under Articles of War, section 301, with the offense of spying for an unknown enemy. We dismissed the other charges as too minor for this court to consider. We doubt Dr. Li’s diagnosis that some injury, probably related to your unauthorized access of this hospital s
hip, caused possibly permanent loss of memory. The recommended penalty for an offense under section 301 is execution by firing squad. Before we sentence you, do you have anything to say?”

  “This entire hearing has been a farce. The lieutenant who you allocated to be my defense attorney is inept. Your court is acting well outside the normal bounds of justice. I protest the decision, and the lack of justice.” Steg could not see how anything he said could change the results of the court, given its obvious intention to find him guilty.

  “Indeed. And you offer no details of your mission, of your employers, of your failed and—to use your term—inept—spying attempts? Perhaps to cause us to reduce your sentence?”

  “Sir, I do not recognize this court—”

  Whatever Steg was intending to say was lost, as he staggered, tried to steady himself against the table, and fell to the floor, unconscious.

  “Bailiff—check the prisoner—I suggest a bucket of water poured over his face will suffice.”

  The court bailiff rolled Steg onto his back and checked for vital signs. He looked up at the colonel. “Sir, this man is unconscious. His pulse is erratic. I think the medics should attend to handle this.”

  “Oh, very well. Recorder, complete the records—include our sentence.” He looked around the room, frowning as the bailiff tried to make the unconscious prisoner comfortable. “Bailiff, you are responsible for custody of the prisoner until the sentence is executed. Court dismissed.” The three officers stood and, joined by the prosecuting counsel, left the room. The lieutenant gathered his papers and, ignoring the body on the floor, also departed.

  ***

  Table of Contents

  Also By John Hindmarsh

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10