by Jaleta Clegg
“This way.” The policeman jerked his head to the far end of the hall.
I stumbled down the hall, so tired I couldn’t see straight.
The door at the end opened into a block of cells. He unlocked the door to one halfway down. I staggered inside. The clang of the door slamming echoed in my head.
I dropped to the bed, falling asleep in seconds despite the force cuffs still pinching my wrists.
The door clanged open, startling me awake.
“Time to rise and shine.” A female voice, much too loud and cheerful.
I groaned and tried to hide my head. The cuffs caught on the thin mattress of the bunk. The woman clucked her disapproval. The cuffs pulled tight, then dropped off. I sighed with relief.
“You’ve got ten minutes to eat before the court guard collects you,” the cheerful voice said. Her feet slapped on the plascrete floor. She left the door open.
The smell of hot breakfast finally penetrated my brain. I peeled my eyes open. A tiny tray rested on the bunk next to me. Steam rose from the food. My stomach growled. I took its advice, relishing every bite.
I ran my hands through my hair, trying to restore a semblance of order. I saw the name tag on my borrowed uniform and shuddered at the bright memory of Simms’ death. I pushed it away. I didn’t want to remember the way the Eggstone did, each moment bright and clear forever. I liked my fuzzy memories.
Two massive female guards escorted me from the cellblock and up four flights of stairs. Each set got fancier, the last carved marble stairs wide enough for ten people. Each floor bustled with people, each group more important and busier than the last.
We stopped in front of carved wooden doors flanked by marble pillars. A sign identified the room as the Hovard P. Limbasta Memorial Courtroom. The doors opened from the inside. We marched along an aisle between thickly cushioned seats. The guards opened a waist-high gate of carved wood. Another guard, one with more gold braid, pulled me through, seating me at a table to my right with Jerimon and Jasyn. They both wore the same outfits, Jasyn in a sky blue uniform that matched mine and Jerimon still in the dark chaffeur’s uniform. It looked worse for wear. All of us wore cuffs.
Our guard prodded my shoulder. “Stand up.”
We stood.
The judge entered the court, looking suitably dignified. He climbed a short staircase to a boxed enclosure. A single clerk sat in front of the judge, surrounded by various recording devices. The other side of the room held spectators. Their whispering sounded like water flushing through pipes.
The judge rapped on his desk. The whispers faded.
“Read the charges.”
The clerk cleared her throat. “The planetary government of Tebros versus the crew of the Belliff courier ship, Twinkle. Captain Dace and Co-pilot Jerimon Pai.” She read for twenty minutes. She traded notepads, reading another long list of charges leveled by Viya Station, then Besht, Landruss, and Vega. Nevira’s list only took five minutes. The woman finished, setting her notepad primly on her desk as she took her chair.
The judge stroked his chin.
“We have lists of charges from six-dozen businesses and other enterprises, and suits from individual citizens,” the woman added.
The judge’s eyebrows drew together.
I shuffled my feet. My leg cramped.
“How do you plead?” the judge demanded, pinning each of us in turn with a gaze that could have been used to deep-freeze food.
“My clients are not prepared to answer that,” answered a voice from the back of the room. A short man pushed his way forward, using a thick briefcase to batter his way through the gates. The balding head looked familiar.
“Who is that?” The judge’s frown turned into a full-blown glare. “Remove that man.”
“I am legal counsel for the accused.” The man wedged his briefcase into the gate, shoving it open.
“Leon?” Jerimon whispered.
The judge looked like he’d bitten into a very sour berry. He turned his glare on me. “Is this person your counsel?”
I glanced at Leon, now setting his briefcase on the table. He gave me a grin that would have made any sandcat momma proud.
“He is,” I said at the same time Jerimon said, “Yes, your honor.”
Jasyn nodded. “He represents us, your honor.”
The judge glared at Leon. “How do your clients plead?”
“My clients are unprepared to answer that at this time.” Leon’s voice was too thin and squeaky to be impressive.
“Your clients have had three days, at least.”
“No, your honor, they have not.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his briefcase. “I have the sworn statement of a Patrol Enforcer that they spent that time in the custody of the Patrol psych techs. They haven’t had any time at all.” He handed the paper to the guard. “With all due respect, your honor, I ask for a recess.”
The judge jerked a finger at the guard who took Leon’s paper and presented it to the high podium. The judge snatched the paper, reading it quickly. I half-expected the paper to burst into flames. He slammed his podium. “Recess for one hour.” He marched away in a swirl of dark purple robes. His private door slammed shut.
Leon was the cat that got the cream.
I dropped into the chair, trying to massage the cramp out of my leg with my cuffed hands. “What are you trying to pull?”
“What? No happy to see you, how have you been, thanks for everything, Leon?”
“Good to see you again, Leon,” Jerimon said.
“Who’s the young lady?” Leon asked.
“My sister, Jasyn.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Leon extended his hand.
She lifted her cuffed hands and shrugged. “Nice to meet you, too.”
Leon shook his head over the cuffs.
I studied Leon suspiciously. “Why should you want to help us?”
“Because, Captain Dace, you got me out of a very tight spot. It’s time to return the favor.” He motioned the others to sit. “I read the charges. Most of them are pretty exaggerated. At least I think I can convince the judge. I figure we get the list reduced to maybe two dozen of the more serious charges, then talk him into reducing them even farther.”
“Are you really a lawyer?” I asked.
“So skeptical.” He clucked his tongue. “We play the sympathy card first.”
Jerimon leaned forward eagerly. “How did you find out we needed help?”
“News travels fast,” he said. “A mutual friend asked me to help you out. He also paid me quite a pretty sum.”
“Was his name Grant Lowell?” I asked.
“He paid me not to tell you that. Don’t look a gift pickrel too closely in the eye, Dace.” He patted my hand.
“He’s better than nothing,” Jerimon said.
“That’s reassuring,” I said.
“Cooperate, Dace, or Judge Smidely will throw everything at you.”
“You know him personally?”
“Golf every month,” Leon answered promptly. “Well, at least the same club, at the same time. I’ve watched him in the courtroom several times.”
“What do you want us to do?” Jasyn nudged me with her knee.
I sighed. Leon’s help couldn’t hurt. We were in so deep I didn’t know if we’d ever breathe free air again.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The judge returned, looking as bad-tempered as before. We all stood while he seated himself.
“Well? How do they plead?”
“Your honor, my clients have been horribly mistreated. Horribly.” Leon shook his head. I rolled my eyes.
The judge looked ready to explode. “I am warning you.” He waved his gavel at Leon. “Whatever your name is, don’t try my patience. I don’t have any.”
“Your honor, just look at them.” Leon waved his hand. “Still wearing borrowed clothing, that they’ve had for weeks. The Patrol took them straight into questioning, which they did night and day. My clients have not had sleep, or proper food, since they were
taken into custody. They deserve time, time to heal, time to find clean clothes, time—”
“Time to think up a better story?” The judge slammed his gavel. “You have until tomorrow morning. Nine, sharp. Get out before I change my mind.”
“I want them released into my custody,” Leon said.
The woman at the other table broke her silence. “Your honor, they are a flight risk. Two pilots and a navigator? They could easily steal a ship. They already have, twice.”
“They aren’t pirates!” Leon protested.
“Custody denied. They will remain here.” The judge pointed his gavel at Leon. “Don’t say anything else, unless you want to join them.” He stomped from his podium.
The woman at the other table lifted her nose in the air. I wanted to take her perfectly set hair and shove it down her perfectly painted lips followed by her perfectly manicured nails. I bunched my hands into fists and stared at the force cuffs on my wrists. Leon followed as the guards escorted us back to the cell block. They blocked him at the door.
“I have a right to see my clients.” He tried to worm between them.
“Later.” They pushed Leon out.
“I’ll be back,” Leon called as the door shut.
The guards released the cuffs before locking us in our individual cells.
Blood spotted the sleeves of my suit. The scabs on my wrists had peeled off.
The door of the cell opened. A medtech entered, her white tunic out of place against the dull yellow walls. She set a box on my bunk then looked me up and down. “They said you were hurt.”
“A few bruises, mostly,” I said, embarrassed for some reason. “And these.” I held out my wrists.
She examined them clinically. “How did you do that?” She didn’t sound like she really cared, so I didn’t answer. She smeared a creamy pink ointment around each wrist. “Let it set for an hour before you get it wet,” she threw over her shoulder as she left.
The ointment smelled of anesthetic with an overcoating of peppermint.
Leon showed up an hour later with an even scrawnier, smarmier man. He had dark hair greased flat against his skull. He squinted dark little eyes as he attacked me with a piece of string. I backed away, bumping into the bunk. The little man kept coming, stretching the string between skeletal fingers.
“Dace, meet Manny,” Leon said. “My tailor.”
“Back off.” I raised my hands to defend myself.
“He’s trying to measure you,” Leon said.
“Doesn’t he talk?”
“Pleased to meet ya. Now hold still.” Manny threatened me with the string. “Lift yer arms.” He dropped the string long enough to tug my arms out straight to either side. He wrapped the string around my chest, muttering to himself.
“What color would you like your new shipsuit?” Leon buffed his nails on the front of his green, yellow, and purple plaid jacket.
“This is your tailor?” I asked.
“Does great work,” Leon turned so I could see all of the very wide, very bright stripes in back of his jacket.
I shuddered. “No plaid,” I said to the slimy top of Manny’s head.
Manny knelt and ran the string up the inside of my leg. I jumped.
“Hold still.” He slapped my leg.
“How about a nice yellow?” Leon suggested.
“Yellow is for mining crews.” I squirmed away from Manny and his string.
“Red is good.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“How about blue? You look good in blue.” He shook his head. “Too close to that uniform.”
Manny finally coiled his string and stood, turning away as he made notes on a pad. “Green,” he said. “A nice medium green. What insignia?”
“Independent Traders Guild on the sleeve,” I said.
Leon raised his eyebrows.
“I’m registered with them, I paid lifetime dues.”
Leon shrugged. “Might help you some, I’ll check.”
“What else?” Manny asked, glancing between the two of us.
“Pilot comets,” Leon said.
“Captain’s bars,” I said.
“Which is it?” Manny said sharply. “I ain’t got all day to talk, Leon, not if you want these by tomorrow morning.”
“Why not both?” Leon said. “Looks more impressive, more responsible.”
“More shiny.” Manny stuffed his pad in a pocket. He muttered as he left the cell.
Leon leaned close. “I’ve got the transcripts from the Patrol,” he whispered. “Your whole statement. I’ll let you know what you need to keep quiet about.” He winked.
“Leon, you are a weasel,” I said.
He didn’t look nearly as insulted as he should have. “Don’t get in any trouble, Dace.” He whistled as he left my cell.
Leon appeared very early the next morning. He shoved a bundle of green cloth through my door. “Do something with your hair,” he ordered.
I did my best using my fingers and the tiny sink in the cell. I stripped off the sky blue Exploration uniform, dressing quickly in the new green one. Manny really did do good work; the suit fit well, slightly loose except at the waist. I tucked the pants into my scuffed boots. The gold comets of a pilot winked from the collar, with the captain’s bars just behind. I tried to look at myself in the tiny mirror over the sink, but finally gave up. I could see one eye at a time, if I squinted.
Jerimon and Jasyn also had green shipsuits to match mine. We looked like we belonged together. I wasn’t so sure it was a smart idea but Leon argued it was to our advantage, said it would make us look more respectable. I wasn’t sure I wanted to belong with Jerimon.
The courtroom was packed, Patrol uniforms liberally sprinkled through the crowd. We went to our table and stood, cuffed hands in front.
Leon bustled in, arms loaded with papers and a data reader. He dumped it all on the table. Leon caught his reader as it tumbled off the tottering stack, then stuffed it into his pocket.
“All rise,” the guard shouted.
Leon shuffled his papers into new stacks. They quit trying to slither onto the floor.
The judge came in, looking as sour as ever. He banged on the podium. The audience behind us sat, rustling loud in the sudden quiet.
“Your honor!” Leon shouted, outraged.
“What?” The judge glared.
Leon dragged my hands up. “Cuffs? My clients are not dangerous criminals. I demand these be removed immediately.”
“Not dangerous criminals? What list of charges are you reading?” The judge pointed his gavel at Leon. “The cuffs stay until and unless your clients are proven harmless. Now sit down.”
We sat.
“Prosecution, you may proceed.”
The neat lawyers with their neat data pads called on person after person who testified that Jerimon and I had caused them major damage, destroyed businesses, disrupted traffic, caused irreparable harm to them and their pet, inflicted mental anguish; the list went on and on. We sounded like the most callous, destructive, dangerous people since Bram and Toller had stolen all the major assets of seventeen systems. By lunchtime, when the judge called a short recess, I was certain we were going to be sent to the nastiest prison planet available.
We were taken to a small room. Lunch consisted of leathery sandwiches and limp vegetable salad. I picked at mine, awkward with the force cuffs.
“I thought you said you were going to get us off.” Jerimon ignored the food.
“They’re only a third of the way through,” I said. “Is this supposed to be cheese?”
“It’s su-cheese,” Leon said. “Better than the real stuff.” He took a big bite of his sandwich.
“How can you be so cheerful?” Jerimon prodded the leathery sandwich with one finger.
“Because he isn’t the one going to jail.” Jasyn picked at the vegetables.
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” I said to her.
“I hadn’t realized just how much trouble you were in,” she said
.
“Are you regretting joining us?”
“And miss all the fun? Trip of a lifetime.” She pulled a long stringy green thing from the salad.
“Somehow, I’d rather eat kizzt eyes.” Jerimon pushed his sandwich aside. “What’s your plan, Leon?”
Leon swallowed, wiping his chin with his tie. “Let them finish. Then we shoot them down, one by one. I’ve got statements, vids, witness accounts, everything. We’ll knock those charges back to something believable, and then get them dismissed.”
I wished I had his confidence. I wished I knew who his sources were.
“Lowell’s being awfully helpful,” I said.
Leon shook his head. “I can’t tell you who’s helping, but it ain’t the boys in silver.” He took another big bite. And grinned, with bits of su-cheese trying to escape his sharp little teeth.
The afternoon testimony covered all of our mistakes up to the bakery fiasco on Besht.
The next morning, even more people crowded the courtroom. We must have been the hottest show on Tebros. I got more depressed as the prosecution grew smugger. Leon didn’t take the chance to question any of the witnesses, only asking that they be kept on retainer.
Halfway through the day, a commotion at the back of the courtroom disrupted proceedings. The judge hammered his gavel halfway into the podium but the whispers and murmurs continued. I twisted around to look.
Lady Rina made a grand entrance, looking as regal as the Emperor’s mother in dark ruby satin. She winked when she caught me staring. My mood lifted.
The judge’s face flushed red to match Lady Rina’s dress. He slammed his gavel on the podium until the noise finally quieted. “We will have no more such disturbances in my courtroom.” He nodded at the prosecution. They called another witness.
The judge let them drag the trial out past dinnertime, trying to finish their testimonies that day. They called their last witness, did their last bit of damage, and rested their case.
Returning to my cell block, I had a visitor waiting. Tayvis paced the interview room of the station. The guard escorted me in, checked that my cuffs were tight, then left.
Tayvis stopped, watching me uncertainly. “It looks bad for you, Dace.”
“I know,” I said sharply, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I wanted to go to him, to feel his arms warm around me. I couldn’t let go of my suspicions. “Leon says he has a strategy.”