Starfarer's Dream (Kinsella Universe Book 4)
Page 25
The man’s voice was loud and clear, the words carefully, if rapidly said: “Citing special circumstances, own authority, authorize weapons release. Captain Jaan Martii, Fleet Marines.” The pistol came up, centered on a student lunging at the man in back.
The diminutive admiral had no expression, but turned a little sideways and then his attacker was flying head first down the steps, about six centimeters above the concrete. The would-be attacker traveled a remarkable distance before gravity asserted itself over the last few centimeters.
The pistol lifted slightly and a series of three shots rapped out, almost too quickly to hear the gaps between them.
Everyone froze, stunned; the deafening reports penetrating where reason and sanity had earlier fled.
The man with the pistol said evenly into the air, “Request back up, Class Two. I have men down. This is not a drill.”
Two of the Fleet men were indeed down, although one was trying to get back up, even though his head was covered with blood. Maybe a dozen students were lying on the ground, some groaning. Two or three didn’t twitch; one of them Brian Bickford. The woman in the black shipsuit was leaning against the glass of the school doors, her back to lobby. She was barely able to sit up, her face bloody and pale. There were a couple of students near her, not as badly hurt as Bickford, but unconscious and out of the fight.
The doors to the inside did open then and two security guards came out, their weapons drawn. The Marine captain looked at them hard for a long second and the security cops’ guns vanished.
“Have you called medics?” the officer asked, and one of the rent-a-cops shrugged, but nodded.
There was a sound like the mother of all books being dropped flat on the floor; the loudest rifle report the mind could imagine.
Everyone cringed, except the spacer woman and the two Fleet officers standing. A Fleet Marine assault shuttle, dropping down from the sky at 20 kilometers per second as it hit the upper atmosphere; slowing to a stop, two kilometers above ground. The ride was at 6 g’s for five minutes; not a fun ride. The first sonic boom had been awesome, the second was nearly so.
Amanda resisted her own urge to cringe; instead, she pushed herself off the ground, moving towards the spacer. The officer with the weapon gave her a gimlet eye, but he was down on one knee checking one of his people who wasn’t moving. Overhead, drop chutes began to spill from a shuttle; from further away, Amanda could hear the sound of sirens.
The Rim Runner woman looked at Amanda the way Amanda imagined patients look at doctors about to do something dreadfully unpleasant. Amanda had avoided doctors assiduously her whole life, nearly. Enough to understand the girl’s loathing.
Amanda dipped into her purse and pulled out a wad of tissue for the dripping blood. The other stared at it, shocked, and then with an obvious mental effort, shifted gears. Oh, they’d never use a paper product on a ship for something like this, Amanda realized. The other sat frozen still while Amanda daubed the cut on the girl’s lip.
The fourth man, the one with the wavy stripe and stars simply stood apart from the others, his face stonily blank, watching the drop chutes come down, seemingly ignoring the growing hub-hub around him. Teachers were outside now, some ministering to students and some of the adults running around like injured chickens.
A man in Marine battledress came jogging up, a dozen zooted Marines running on either side of him, eyes swiveling in every direction, weapons ready. “Sir, Colonel Judah Levi, commanding, Fourth Brigade Ready Team!” the Marine officer reported to the admiral.
“Secure the perimeter, Colonel. No one in or out, without my permission. Get medics to the Fleet people down.”
The colonel’s eyes drifted to the number of down students, but there were no orders concerning them. “Sir! Yes, sir!”
“Afterward, secure the uninjured students; we will sort out who’s who directly. Once those ambulatory have been secured, have your medics attend to the other injured. The injured are to be separated, not permitted to talk amongst themselves or to anyone else. Class Two, Colonel.”
The colonel nodded briskly. “Aye, aye, Admiral.”
A hard thing, that. A Class One incident was defined as insurrection against the Sovereignty of the Federation. Class Two was insurrection against public order and discipline. Before the war, Class One meant lengthy trials and long jail sentences. Class Two meant rapid trials, short sentences. Since the war... Class One got you automatically shot. Class Two... well, the Federation promised a hearing before you were shot.
* * *
Thomas Cross was half way through his first class of the day, the advanced Benko-Chang physics symposium that was designed for students who would specialize in the subject as graduate students. There were a dozen very earnest students staring at him with rapt fascination, and he was sure, recording everything he said.
The door at the back of the classroom opened, and he lifted his eyes, prepared to verbally flay whoever it was that had the temerity to interrupt one of his classes. The words stayed in his throat when he saw the first person entering the room. He was Alex Cramer, Dean of the Department of Physics at Arizona State University, and Thomas’ boss. Behind him was Lieutenant Commander Meridith Rhodes, the Fleet liaison officer and a Dean in her own right, the assistant for the Faculty Academy of the Fleet.
Commander Rhodes stepped forward as the two stopped a meter away. “Doctor Cross, it is my duty to inform you that you have been requested to sit in judgment for a Special Board that is convening shortly.”
His mind flashed. He’d done nothing that he knew of, and the Fleet commander hadn’t said he was required to appear. Thus, odds were, someone wanted him to sit on the Board. He briefly contemplated his seventeen-year-old daughter, Amanda. If the Fleet shot him, he might get his fondest wish: her to reconsider her future.
“No,” he replied evenly.
Commander Rhodes smiled thinly. “Admiral Ito Saito has requested that you to sit on a Special Board as a judge.”
“No,” he repeatedly even more emphatically.
“The board will be held at the Peak School. Earlier this morning there was an incident involving a number of students at the school. The charge is a Class Two insurrection against the Federation. Admiral Saito requested you by name to sit on the board; sir, you must comply.”
It just wasn’t possible for his jaw not to drop, and incredulity replace his existing expression. “What?”
“Sir, there’s a jitney en route; it will be here in minutes.”
He lifted his eyes to meet Dean Cramer’s. “Alex?”
“I’ll take your classes for the rest of the day, Thomas.”
“Thank you, sir.”
What on Earth could have possibly happened?
311
Starfarer’s Dream
Chapter 11 -- The Board
I
It took in fact, several hours for something like order to be established at the Peak School.
For Amanda Cross, the most amazing part of everything was seeing the diminutive oriental admiral -- who she was 99.99% certain she knew who he was -- approach the young woman in the black shipsuit.
“I failed, sir,” the young woman said clearly, looking the admiral in the eye.
“I observed, Lieutenant, some difficulties,” the admiral’s voice was soft, uninflected and mild.
“I didn’t achieve my mission, sir.”
“There’s that, but then today, neither did I. I’ve decided to convene a Special Board, Lieutenant. Will you abide by the results?”
“I don’t think that would be fair, sir.”
“I didn’t ask if you thought it would be fair, Lieutenant. I asked if you’ll abide by the outcome.”
“Yes, Admiral,” the young woman was considerably subdued.
The young woman was a lieutenant? In the Fleet? Amanda didn’t understand; the Rim Runner didn’t look as old as Amanda herself! And what was a Special Board? The spacer didn’t look happy at all about that. For not succeeding?
Was that the evaluation she’d kept asking about? That she had failed with that could hardly be her fault, everyone had ignored her; except for Dick Head and his bunch, who had actively opposed her. Why would an admiral ask a lieutenant’s permission for anything?
One of the older Marines came up, and knelt down next to the young woman. “Are you Lieutenant Wolf, ma’am? The Laser Lady?” The young officer nodded. The Marine smiled and said kindly, “I thought so; I just wanted to be sure. Do you need a medic?”
“I have some burn grafts on my wrists... they tore the new skin.”
Amanda saw the Marine’s eyes tighten; his voice was suddenly frighteningly loud. “Medic!”
Two men and a woman came running. “See to Lieutenant Wolf!”
Amanda heard her say something about burns again, and one of the medics helped her peel out of the shipsuit, at least the top. Amanda winced. The spacer wasn’t wearing anything underneath and as tall as she was, there wasn’t much to show she was a woman.
The medic was tut-tutting though, about bandages along both her wrists. As the medics inspected them, Amanda could see fresh blood seeping through the bandages.
One of the students a few feet from Amanda glanced up and made a snide comment about the spacer’s boyish breasts.
The older Marine whirled around, grabbed the young man by the shirt and dragged him roughly twenty meters to his colonel, who was conferring with the admiral. “I want to shoot this one first, Colonel! As a personal favor,” the Marine NCO announced in a voice that boomed through the room.
Amanda shivered. The Marine didn’t sound at all like he was joking. Not even a little bit.
The admiral lifted his eyes towards the sky and shrugged. “Let me guess, you’re an Ozark.” It was in the form of a question, but sounded like a statement.
The Marine NCO nodded. The Marine colonel started to say something, and then stopped when he saw the admiral was going to speak first.
“It will be up to the Board, Gunny. They’ll determine who gets the chop.” The admiral then grinned wickedly. “Your colonel will be president; I’ve got someone coming from the locals. I think, you for the third. Of course then you won’t get to shoot anyone. So sorry.”
“I can’t, Admiral, sir. Captain Hollerith is my first cousin; Gunny Hodges is my stepbrother and Gunny Rogers was married to one of my wife’s sisters.”
“You’ll do your duty, Gunnery Sergeant, as will we all,” the admiral said, foreclosing further discussion.
Amanda suddenly realized what they were talking about. Those Special Boards! The Emergency Rules! Oh no!
It wasn’t something she’d ever contemplated in reference to herself! The Special Military Boards tried cases of Treason Against the Race! The Boards didn’t shoot everyone that came before them, but the percentage was -- formidable. And even as Amanda realized that, she realized she was going to be one of the defendants. Her blood ran cold; she was looking at the ruin of everything she’d ever wanted in her life!
Everything!
And that was if she lived -- and the odds weren’t trivial that she would die here and now.
Because Dick Head was an idiot screw-up! Because... Her thoughts faded off into incoherency.
One of the male students, one of the juniors Amanda thought, was suddenly ill, as he too realized what they were talking about and exactly where he was going to shortly find himself. He had a bruise on his cheek, delivered by the Marine captain. For him, Amanda thought, all hope was gone. So was hope gone for a lot of her fellow students.
They were in the school gymnasium. Most of the students were in the bleachers, while Amanda and those who’d been involved in the fighting had been separated out and were sitting in a group on the floor, surrounded by armed Marines, weapons at the ready, standing every few feet among them. Half the Marines faced inwards, towards them, the others faced the spectators. All of the Marines had their weapons out and ready.
All around her were sudden nervous bursts of conversation; not a few of the students were crying. There hadn’t been many girls involved, but now, all of them were like Amanda, looking at the end of everything.
It can’t happen like this, Amanda thought. This was -- unreal. There was a stir at the door, more people were being ushered in, chivvied by combat zooted Marines, to seats in the bleachers.
Amanda wasn’t surprised to see her father, nor was she surprised not to see her mother.
What was surprising was seeing her father walk past the Marines as if they weren’t there to come and stand in front of the diminutive oriental Admiral.
“Admiral Saito,” her father said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was a name Amanda recognized! Now she knew for sure who he was!
“Thomas,” the admiral’s tone was also neutral. “I asked for you to come.”
“Yes. What,” her father said, gesturing at Amanda and the others, “is my daughter doing there?”
“I’ve convened a Special Board, Thomas.”
“And you’ve asked me to sit on it? With my daughter there?” Her father was incredulous.
“Thomas, I asked for you because I knew you were in the area. At the time I had no idea your daughter was -- where she is. In any case, as soon as we get ready to start, my Flag Lieutenant and I will join her.”
Amanda’s father stared at the admiral and shook his head. “What happened?”
“Simply put,” then the admiral laughed bitterly, “if anything like this is ever simple, I stopped off to give a Fleet officer a lift to Atlanta this morning. She was supposed to see President Van de Veere about an hour ago, to be decorated. I was to conduct a briefing of the President and the Council. Then I was going to whisk her back to Maunaloa for her bridge watchkeeping certificate exam.
“When we arrived, we observed a number of people assaulting Lieutenant of the Fleet Wolf; when we intervened to stop it, we were attacked as well. Two of my guards were injured -- one is in critical condition and the other’s condition is listed as stable but guarded. It required my Flag Lieutenant’s firing over the heads of the crowd to restore order. That and two drop shuttles of Marines.”
“And Amanda was involved? I can’t believe it!”
“Thomas, think!” the admiral said forcefully, “Special Boards have other functions besides shooting morons! One gave me a medal that I didn’t want and then gave me this job! Yesterday another confirmed some of Lieutenant Wolf’s gongs, confirmed her promotion and then dropped the ball! They didn’t dot the i’s and cross the t’s! The lieutenant did not meet some crazy BuPers regulation regarding secondary school academic credits for serving officers. Ernie Fletcher asked and was told the Peak School was the best place to get the mess straightened out.
“So, trust me. Your daughter will leave this place in much better shape than I will. She at least, was of some assistance.”
“You?”
“Yes. I erred.”
Amanda couldn’t believe her ears. The admiral had made a mistake? How could that be? And she was at less risk than he was? Because she’d helped? She took a deep breath, her heart beat slowing slightly.
Someone else brushed past the Marines. “What’s going on here? Who’s in charge?”
Bickford’s father, Amanda saw. He was accompanied by a man in police blue, looking a little upset himself.
Admiral Saito looked at the Marine colonel, who nodded slightly and spoke up.
“Sir, I am Colonel Judah Levi, I command the Fourth Brigade’s assault team; we were on alert status and responded to a Class Two call-out.” He was, Amanda saw, addressing the policeman and not Dick Head’s father.
The policeman looked even more uncomfortable. “We heard there was a disturbance, but the Marines wouldn’t let my people get close. Until now.”
“The students at the school rioted. They attacked Vice Admiral Ito Saito, the Commander of the Military District of the Solar System. Commanding, the Defense of Earth.”
The policeman paled, but Colonel Levi went on rem
orselessly, ignoring him. “The admiral has ordered a Special Board, of which I have been appointed chairman. The Board will consist of myself, Marine Gunnery Sergeant Cecil Howe and Dr. Thomas Cross, chairman of the Physics Department at Arizona State University.”
“Where’s my son?” Bickford demanded, “I demand to know what’s going on! Someone told me he’s been injured!”
“You are Brian Bickford’s father?” the colonel asked. Bickford’s father nodded. “Your son, sir, sustained a broken jaw and other injuries of a lesser nature, in an assault on a Fleet officer, an officer under orders and on duty. The medics tell me he’ll be released to the hearing in another few minutes.”
“I demand to see him!”
“You’ll be able to see him fine, from your seat in the bleachers,” the colonel said equitably.
“I want to talk to him!”
“That, sir, is impossible.”
“I’ll see you all ruined!”
The colonel shook his head. “Mr. Bickford, ninety minutes ago, President van de Veere, acting on the vote of the Federation Council, declared this school and everything within a ten kilometer radius to be a special Military District under martial law, subject to the Special Emergency Rules, as administered by myself. If you have any objections to conduct or procedures, you are free to take them up with the Federation Council.”
The colonel gestured at the bleachers. “Sir, if you would, please take a seat, I wish to commence the proceedings here shortly.” He motioned for a pair of the Marines and the soldiers came up, rifles at port arms, and started herding the two civilians towards the bleachers.
“What’s going to happen to my son?” Bickford’s father tried to ask, but the colonel was already talking to someone else and ignored him.
One of the Marines grinned wolfishly as he pushed Bickford’s father in the direction of the seats and replied loudly enough that everyone could hear. “Your asshole son attacked the Laser Lady! Why do you think we took you by our mates, digging out there on the athletic field? You think we’re going to finish here and have a big barbeque? We’re gonna shoot the stupid son of a bitch! Then we’re going to bury him! And then we’ll shoot all the rest of his asshole buddies and put them in the hole with him! Afterwards we’ll put up a monument so that idiots like him will think twice before doing anything so stupid ever again!”