Imperial Guard

by Joseph O'Day

  “Thank you, Counselor,” the veteran provost growled. He folded his hands and surveyed the defendants.

  “The complexities of this case should be apparent to all. It is the intention of this court to conduct a fair and impartial hearing and to render a just finding, one that will bring glory to the Emperor, vindicate the guiltless, and restore honor to the Corps. It is my duty to advise you that electronically administered truth scans are acceptable evidence when there are no unindicted witnesses available. However, there are restrictions on their use.”

  Here Hamblin fixed a cold, hard eye on Mogul. “Nobility may refuse this provision with no prejudice to their case. In such a situation, truth scans may not be admitted as evidence by either party.”

  “Your honor.” Shedd stood for the bench’s recognition.

  “The bench recognizes Captain Shedd.”

  “Your honor, my client has requested that truth scans be disallowed in this hearing. He is willing to testify to the truth under his bond as a nobleman but will not subject himself to the degrading process of truth scans.”

  “The court so rules. Your client’s decision comes as no surprise,” Hamblin continued, barely able to conceal his disgust. “But counsel should be advised that, unlike civilian courts, a military court holds all who come before the bar as equals under the law, without regard to rank or station except in certain procedural decisions. If this were not the fact, the exemplary record of Major Brogan would have already decided this case against your client. However, since your client has refused truth scans, this court is placed in an extremely difficult position. We are left with only the conflicting personal testimony of two equal defendants, for the court record shows no witnesses scheduled for subpoena. There will be a short recess wherein counsels may consult with their clients. Court reconvenes in thirty minutes.”

  The military provost brought down the gavel and the officials filed out of the room. Takushi and Manazes turned toward Brogan.

  “Mogul’s attorney was probably counting on this stalemate,” muttered Manazes. “Mogul has no career ambitions. A dismissed trial would stand on both your records, but it wouldn’t hinder his social status. You, on the other hand, would see your career come to a screeching halt. Such a blemish would hang as a cloud over you forever.”

  Brogan looked down at the table. “I was afraid something like this would happen. If it wasn’t this, it would have been something else. Maybe even an assassination attempt or something. Well . . . I have an ace up my sleeve.” He glanced at Manazes and then at Takushi with a glint in his eye. “I ran across it in my studies on the trip from Cirrus.”

  “Oh? What did you come up with?” Takushi leaned forward in surprise and anticipation, suddenly very interested.

  “I made a thorough search of Imperial laws concerning cases like this in the ship’s library—even old laws. What I found,” Brogan continued, tapping the desktop with his right index finger for emphasis, “was the Articles of Chivalry, subsection 37J, as approved by Arthur I, first Emperor of the United Empire of Earth. It allows for a trial by personal combat should legal evidence be unconvincing.”

  “That’s great!” Manazes enthused, trying to keep his voice down. Then his face fell. “But what about your arm? You can’t fight Mogul with only one hand.”

  “We’ll have to plead for a postponement until I’m fit to fight. Here’s the scan with the pertinent section that can be read into the record.” Brogan handed it to Takushi. Takushi’s face was full of misgiving.

  “What’s bothering you, Bob?”

  Takushi nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve heard that Mogul has had the best hand-to-hand combat training that money could buy. Are you sure you want to risk combat with him?”

  Brogan shrugged. “I don’t think I have a choice. If you have any other viable options, I’d be glad to hear them.”

  Takushi shook his head. “OK,” he said with hesitation, “this just might work. I’ll take it from here. Let all hope for the best.”

  Takushi turned away and began operating his computer terminal. While he was preparing for court to be reconvened, Brogan and Manazes talked in subdued voices. Presently the board came back in and the proceedings continued.

  Takushi rose and said, “If it please the court.”

  “You have a witness to call, Counselor?” Hamblin responded.

  “No, your honor. My client petitions the court to enforce the Articles of Chivalry, subsection 37J.”

  “One moment, please,” Hamblin said. He leaned toward the nearest judges, and whispered comments and questions were tossed back and forth up and down the line. After a couple of minutes, he straightened and turned toward the defendants. “Petition approved.”

  “Objection!” Shedd, who had been conducting his own hasty research, was on his feet. “The Articles of Chivalry are an ancient code that have not been appealed to for decades.”

  “Surely that does not make them any less authoritative,” Hamblin said with the trace of a grin. “Objection overruled. Counselor Takushi, do you have the subsection to be read into the record?”

  “Yes, your honor.” Takushi read from the scan. “In the event that two officers are charged with the same offense and the circumstances dictate that only one party could be guilty but that the guilt of neither can be proven through normal court proceedings, a question of honor may arise. If legal authority has failed to litigate the issue, the question of honor may be settled by personal armed conflict between the two parties. The presiding officer of the court is to decide the following: who is to have choice of weapons, and when and where the combat is to be held. No surrogates will be allowed.”

  “I object!” Shedd leaped to his feet, spittle flying from his mouth in his agitation. “This is outrageous! The Articles of Chivalry are archaic. Let the law be enforced by reason, not by chance. I demand that this flagrant attempt to win the sympathy of the court be stricken from the record. It is beneath the dignity of a nobleman to be forced to do combat with a common citizen in order to prove his honor.”

  Shedd stopped abruptly. Each member of the board gazed at him with flint hard eyes. They were obviously unsympathetic. Brogan looked at him with amusement. It was entirely possible that not a single member of the tribunal was a nobleman. And Brogan knew that pleading on the basis of nobility was a grave mistake in a military court of law. Shedd turned paler, then seemed to collect his composure.

  “I apologize for my outburst, your honors. The suddenness of this proposal has caught me unprepared. Nevertheless, I still assert that this article is inapplicable and not in the best interests of my client.”

  “Then I presume that Lieutenant Mogul is ready to submit to a truth scan.”

  “Certainly not, your honor. How can my client be expected to choose between two undesirable alternatives? A nobleman’s refusal to submit to a truth scan does not prejudice his case. But it is my belief that this preposterous strategy on the part of the defense is a clumsy attempt to coerce my client to submit to one.”

  The military provost looked up from the computer terminal at his seat. “The court has no intention of coercing Lieutenant Mogul into making a decision not required by law. However, while worthy counsel has been objecting to the petition of the defense, the trial computer has been ruling on the validity of section 37J of the Articles of Chivalry. It is the ruling of this court that this article is valid and binding upon both parties when invoked by one.

  “Sit down, Counselor!” Hamblin exclaimed, raising his voice noticeably. “The court rules at this time that the remainder of this trial be conducted as an affair of honor. The survivor of personal combat will be declared innocent of all charges. Any attempt to avoid the designated meeting will be construed by this court as prima fascia evidence of guilt, and a verdict will be rendered to that effect. Any voluntary admission of guilt by either party prior to the meeting will be admissible in this court. In such an event, the personal combat will be suspended and this court will reconvene to d
eliver a verdict.”

  Hamblin looked over at Brogan. “Major Brogan, please rise.”

  Brogan stood at attention. “Since this meeting was your petition, I am leaving the choice of weapons to your discretion. Do you have a preference at this time?”

  “I have, your honor. I choose stilettos and modified neuro-whips.”

  Hamblin looked down and put his hand to his mouth in an effort to cover his smile. Then clearing his throat, he announced. “So be it. The decision of this court is that Lieutenant Josh Mogul and Major Timothy Brogan shall meet at the Field of Blood to fight a duel of honor with stilettos and modified neuro-whips at a date to be determined.”

  Leaning forward he queried Brogan further. “Major, how long before your arm is sufficiently healed to allow you to meet for this duel?”

  “I’ll have to check with a specialist, sir, but I think ten to twelve months.”

  “Very well, this court will reconvene ten months from now to determine date and time of the meeting. Until then, both parties are prohibited from contact. At no time shall one party be closer to the other than half a kilometer. Both parties are also required to remain on planet. Other than that, no restrictions are placed on their activities. They shall also be free from censure with no prejudice to their military careers until the trial by combat has taken place. Upon the successful completion of the duel of honor, the computer records of this trial shall be destroyed.

  “Does counsel for the defense understand these requirements and conditions?”

  “We do, sir,” responded Takushi.

  “Does counsel for the prosecution understand these requirements and conditions?”

  “We do, your honor, but we comply under protest,” sighed Shedd.

  “Duly noted. This court is adjourned.” The gavel sounded, and the tribunal exited the courtroom.

  As they did so, the soldiers present rose and gave the clenched fist salute of the Imperial Fusiliers. At this point, a private slipped into the room unnoticed. He was carrying a message for Brogan from Daniel Mizpala.

  16

  The telestrip carried the messenger and Brogan, frowning with curiosity, toward the palace quarters of First Minister Mizpala. The cryptically written message told him nothing about what Mizpala could want with him so soon after they had talked the first time. As the marble and oak walls rushed by, he wondered if it had anything to do with the assassination plot against the Emperor.

  He glanced around himself. Events were flying by faster than the walls of the corridor. He had no time to think, no time to reflect, no time to access the situation. He felt like he was walking the edge of a cliff, and he feared that now more than ever he needed all his wits about him or he would plummet to his death. He wondered if the events he had been flung into were bigger than he could handle.

  The apprehensive young man looked up and saw that the messenger had jumped off the telestrip. He concluded that they must be near Mizpala’s residence. He stepped off the telestrip at an angle and bounded a few steps to a stop. His guide caught up to him and led him to Mizpala’s door.

  “This is where I leave you. Stand directly in front of the door and push the visitor button.” Brogan positioned himself as he was ordered and watched as the man walked on down the corridor.

  Turning back to the door, he pushed the button and waited. Almost immediately, two cords snaked out of a receptacle on either side of the door. Brogan stepped back in surprise.

  “Please do not move,” a tip of one of the cords requested in a lifelike but mechanical voice. “You are being electronically swept.”

  An apparatus on the end of each cord scanned Brogan for weapons or anything suspicious. They swayed back and forth and all around him at a distance of several centimeters. In a few seconds their task was complete.

  A voice intoned, “All clear!” and the cords whipped back into the wall. Immediately the door slid open, and he was greeted by a servant.

  “Major Timothy Brogan, reporting as ordered,” he said. “Minister Mizpala is expecting me.”

  “Of course. Right this way.” The servant ushered Brogan into a room off the entrance hall.

  “The First Minister will see you here,” the servant said. “Please make yourself comfortable. I will inform him that you have arrived.”

  Brogan looked around the simple yet elegant room. Its furnishings appealed to him—high quality but not extravagant, attractive but not gaudy. He found a chair and sat down, resting his biopack on the wide, padded chair arm. He found it a relief just to sit in a quiet, pleasant place with no earth-shaking events pulling him in one direction or another.

  Just as he was beginning to enjoy himself, Mizpala entered the room. Brogan started to push himself up, but Mizpala motioned him to remain seated.

  “This is my home, Major, not a government office. We will dispense with formalities here, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” replied his relieved guest.

  “That is not to say, however,” Mizpala cautioned as he took a chair catty-corner to Brogan’s, “that the reason I asked you here is not of the utmost concern.” Brogan shifted in his chair.

  “But before we get to that, how did the hearing go?”

  Brogan summarized what happened, highlighting the trial by combat to be conducted when his arm had healed. When he finished Mizpala was frowning. He tapped the chair arm with his fingers.

  “Well, you made the best of a bad situation, I would say. But ten months is a long time for the Moguls to hatch some diabolical schemes. Speaking of the Moguls, the Second Minister has moved faster than even I gave him credit for. Already he has performed the amazing feat of uncovering the assassin and ensuring the safety of his highness. Conveniently for him, the assassin was killed while his men tried to put him into custody. Which means, Major Brogan, that no one remains to corroborate Mogul’s part in this conspiracy. As usual, my colleague has efficiently covered his tracks. There is now no hope of implicating Kepec Mogul in the attempted assassination of the Emperor.”

  Brogan shook his head. “I’m beginning to wish I’d never heard the name Mogul. First, Carl takes an intense dislike toward me at CIO School, then pulls strings to get me a boring desk job for my first posting. Josh almost gets me killed, then tries to ruin my career. And now their father sees me as a threat that requires elimination and is completely free to make mischief. I’m afraid that Earth won’t turn out to be very much fun for me.”

  Mizpala flashed a mirthless grin, then got out of his chair and began pacing, hands clasped behind his back. “I wish I could give you a word of encouragement and say that your apprehensions are unfounded. But I can’t. I won’t mince words with you, Major Brogan. Your next few months on Earth will probably be the most dangerous time of your life. Having the Moguls as enemies is not something to be taken lightly. They have terminated or ruined many lives over the years. Yours—or mine—would be only one more in a list too long to count.”

  Mizpala stopped pacing and pinned Brogan with his stare. “Your postponed duel with Josh—all by itself—has put your life in extreme jeopardy. It is certain that the Moguls will try to have you killed before Josh has to fight you.”

  Brogan cleared his throat and rubbed his chin with his hand. Mizpala continued. “Since that is already the case, your acceptance of the IAD position would not endanger your life any more than it already is. But you must”—here the minister’s voice hardened—”be prepared and on your guard every minute of every day. You must be expecting attack every second if you are to survive.”

  Mizpala paused and took a deep breath. “I know this will put a terrific emotional strain on you. It will be stress without letup. But I have every confidence in you. You and I serve a higher authority than do the Moguls.”

  Brogan looked up. “It would seem that I have little choice. May God give me the endurance and the skill to get through it.”

  Mizpala sat down on the arm of a chair, hands on his knees. “We shall see. The evil of the Moguls is stro
ng, but our cause is stronger. I have not survived all these years only to fail now.”

  The First Minister slapped his knees and stood up. “Are you ready to see the Emperor? I have made an appointment with him for seven o’clock, but we have plenty of time to get a bite to eat first. Shall we go?”

  *

  The sleek, jet-black flyer raced southeast a few meters above the undulating surface of the Atlantic Ocean. The setting sun glinted off the rear of the vehicle and cast a long, wavering shadow on the azure water ahead. The driver’s jaw was set, but he was biting the inside of his lip in agitation. His eyes were slits behind lowered lids, seething with frustration and anger.

  Suddenly a stream of obscenities was ejected from Carl Mogul’s mouth like so many spent shell casings. The best plan he had ever devised had gone awry, and his whole body was wracked with the irony of it. His plan had not only failed, it had backfired. Just the opposite of what Carl had hoped for had transpired. Instead of Josh never becoming a problem or embarrassment to him again, his brother had complicated his life now more than ever.

  “I don’t need this headache!” he spat out between clenched teeth. He swore some more as he thought about his worthless brother. To Carl’s mind, Josh was a total failure, a blemish on the family name, nothing but a liability and, much more significantly, dangerous to Carl’s plans and those of his father’s. Once again Josh was diverting their time and energy away from their main objectives.

  The island’s silhouette rose above the horizon, and the elder son of Kepec Mogul pushed his anger aside as he made preparations to land. The island, renamed Ilha de Mogul, was the private domain of the Mogul clan. It lay about twenty kilometers east of Rio.

  Hundreds of tiny islands dotted the bay and coastal waters off Rio, and it had become fashionable among the nobility to own one or more of them. It served not only as a status symbol but as a secure dwelling that provided easy surveillance of approaching vehicles.