Starfarer's Dream (Kinsella Universe Book 4)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  Amanda closed her eyes, remembering. Lieutenant Wolf had hit Dick Head with her free hand, dropping the folio as she did. Then she had taken a step forward, putting one foot on the binder. Amanda shivered.

  The lieutenant had been protecting her orders. Could she, Amanda Cross, ever have the presence of mind to do something like that? She looked at the young lieutenant, unsure like she’d never been before of her own desire to be in the Fleet.

  One of the Marine enlisted persons, a middle-aged woman with six chevrons on her sleeve, took the papers and presented them to the colonel. He read them quickly, and then passed the pages to the others. A moment later they were back in the colonel’s hand. “Mr. Potter, are these the orders presented to you?” He held them up; even from Amanda’s remove, she could see the Fleet logo along one side of the first page.

  Mr. Potter glanced at them. His eyes remained on them only for a fraction of a second, before moving elsewhere, but never looking at the court or the sheet of paper again. “I can’t be sure; I paid only the most cursory attention at the time.”

  “Mr. Potter,” again it was Amanda’s father speaking. “I would draw your attention the Fleet Comet along the left margin of the first page. Do you recall seeing that?”

  Mr. Potter again glanced at the page, and then again looked away. “I don’t remember.”

  The colonel asked, “How many times did the Lieutenant attempt to gain your attention?”

  “I don’t remember. Several times. After the first time, I ignored her.” Mr. Potter saw the hardening of the faces of the board members. “I said it before -- in the past students have gone to considerable lengths to take advantage.”

  “And when the disturbance started, what did you do?” asked the colonel.

  “I called to one of the security guards. When the actual violence started the guard called in the alert to the local police.”

  “And then?”

  “I went to inform the headmaster.”

  “You made no attempt to intervene?”

  “I informed the security force -- that is the extent of my duties in that regard. I hadn’t quite reached the headmaster’s office when they opened fire.”

  “And then what happened?” the colonel continued.

  “I dropped to the floor, along with everyone else in the lobby. About ten minutes later, armed Marines entered the building and told us to get up. We were taken here a few minutes later. All of us who’d been in the lobby. Later they came and separated me from the others and held me at gunpoint. Marines.”

  “Mr. Potter, do you have anything further to offer on your behalf?” the colonel asked of the teacher.

  Potter looked around, obviously afraid, obviously unsure. “I don’t know what else to say,” Potter murmured.

  “Gunnery Sergeant?” the colonel asked, turning to the junior rank of the board.

  “Shoot him.”

  “Doctor Cross?”

  Her father sighed. “I’ve stated my objections to Fleet policy; in retrospect I admit to having been mistaken. Even so, I also have real objections to tribunals such as this, even if I understand the need for them and the purposes of them. I had intended to insure that Mr. Potter received a sentence of forcible enlistment and assignment to a particularly unpleasant duty and location for the duration plus one year.

  “However, the man lies. Patently, he lies. In the recordings I personally counted eleven times he looked at Lieutenant Wolf and her orders. Ten times those orders were forcefully presented. I could excuse a stupid mistake like the one he made with the lieutenant and her orders. I can’t excuse the lies to this Board. He was warned. Shoot him.”

  “The Chairman of this Board concurs.”

  The colonel rapped the table again with his balled fist. “Dennis Potter, you were presented with orders by someone in uniform; Fleet uniform. Whether or not you recognized that she was in uniform isn’t germane. The lieutenant’s orders are clearly marked as Fleet; they are signed personally by the President of the Federation Council by his own hand. It will not help you, sir, but perhaps by your example others will learn that they can no longer be cavalier about orders from the Fleet or from the Federation Council.

  “Mr. Potter, from the very first Emergency Decree of the Federation Council the phrase, ‘All citizens shall aid in any way necessary any uniformed military person in the accomplishment of their duty,’ has been included in every order and directive. To plead ignorance of that order is insufficient as a defense. To plead inability to recognize Fleet uniforms is not sufficient. To lie about it, sir, was fatal.

  “It is my duty, Dennis Potter, to inform you that you are to be taken forthwith from this room, to a site suitable to the local area commander and there executed, not later than twenty minutes from now. Sir, make your peace with your Maker. May God have mercy on your soul, on those who sat in judgment of you and those of us who are still alive, after.”

  He gestured at two Marines, who reached towards Potter, still standing in shocked silence. Right up until they touched him; then he began to struggle and cry protests; it mattered not to the Marines; he was out of the room in less than a minute.

  “Lieutenant Wolf.”

  The young woman stood, walked forward and stood before the three judges.

  Colonel Levi was curt. “The cameras recorded events. You have prepared and presented a written report, which we have reviewed and accepted. Have you anything further to add?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Does the Board have any questions for this witness?” The colonel asked. The other two board members shook their heads.

  “Sergeant Major, did Lieutenant Wolf do less than her duty?”

  The Marine snorted. “No, sir. She did her duty and more.”

  “Doctor Cross?”

  “She did her duty and more.”

  “Lieutenant Wolf, I find that you did your duty and more. It is the unanimous verdict of this Board that no officer could have done more to fulfill their duty.”

  “Sir,” the young officer said.

  “You are dismissed, Lieutenant.” The young woman turned and found a seat.

  “Amanda Cross.”

  Hearing her name startled Amanda, no matter how much she’d tried to adjust to the fact that it would be said at some point. Amanda stood, aware of the stiffness in her legs; the raw fear still in her gut as she walked forward to stand in front of the Board. Of all of those who’d gone before, she walked alone; there was no Marine guard for her.

  “Do you have anything to say to this Board?”

  “Sir, I hope you will give due consideration to our youth and the dislocations of the last few months.” There was nothing else; all she could do was look the colonel in the eye, not daring to look at her father.

  “Do any of the members of this Board have any questions for the witness?” The colonel intoned again. Again, the negatives.

  The colonel stared back at her for a moment, and then nodded. “Dr. Cross, you may not vote in this particular. Gunnery Sergeant?”

  “I know Tag Cross, I served with him twice. He is one hell of an officer.” The gunnery sergeant gestured at Amanda’s father. “I never served with this officer before, but I’ve heard of him. He was a fine officer, except for his opinions about the nature and duty of the Fleet.

  “In this matter I have reviewed the recordings. Young Miss Cross, at personal risk, suffering personal injury, went to the aid of Lieutenant Wolf. Even when Miss Cross was struck, she continued to attempt to assist the lieutenant, was struck again and knocked down, she was further struck repeatedly, and when she could, she got up and continued her assistance of Lieutenant Wolf as the Marines were taking the situation in hand.

  “I would have no problem serving under Miss Cross, if she were an officer of the Fleet. I personally commend her on her actions, taken at personal risk, suffering personal injury. I wish she could be a Fleet Marine; that’s the highest compliment I can give.”

  The colonel nodded. “I too would not mind
having Miss Cross serving under me as a junior officer. She showed courage and poise. I too, personally, commend her actions. Miss Cross, it is the decision of the President of this Board that you shall receive a letter, signed by myself and such other voting members of the board who concur, commending your service here. You are dismissed, Miss Cross.”

  Amanda was escorted to the spectator seats, bemused and relieved.

  “Brian Bickford.”

  They had to wheel him in on a gurney, two medics and a Fleet doctor in attendance.

  “Doctor, I understand that you have a statement?” the colonel asked the doctor attending Bickford.

  “Sir, in the events before you, Lieutenant Wolf rendered a blow to Brian Bickford that shattered his jaw. He is, sir, unable to speak in his own defense. Further, because of the necessary medical treatments that have been required to stabilize his condition, he is drugged. It is my medical opinion, Colonel, that at this moment the defendant is not competent to stand trial.”

  The Marine gunnery sergeant growled, “How sad! I say, shoot him anyway!”

  “John Bickford?” the colonel spoke, and the boy’s father stood and when motioned to, came forward.

  “Your son stands accused of assault on a Fleet officer and inciting riot. Sir, you may speak in your son’s defense. Or not. But sir, your son’s actions will be determined here and now.”

  “That’s not fair, when he can’t speak for himself!”

  “We have video and audio recordings of the events that transpired, Mr. Bickford. The gunnery sergeant has stated his opinion; this officer finds himself in agreement. Doctor Cross?”

  “Colonel, it is my understanding of the nature of Special Tribunals is that they are to render reasonable decisions in a minimum amount of time.”

  The colonel looked a little uncomfortable. “We are not here to render justice in real time,” he said. “We are more deliberative than that. On the other hand, we don’t have to follow all of the long and involved formalities that have been embedded in the Federation’s legal system over the years. For one thing, not only are the subjects of a Special Board denied legal counsel, so are we. No lawyers are permitted.” The colonel grinned wryly. “Thus, things move faster.”

  Amanda’s father said firmly, “Colonel, what I would like is a simple quid pro quo. What happened here was more than a simple riot -- it was a number of young people faced with changes to their world that they don’t comprehend or understand and the importance of which they barely conceive.

  “Colonel, I believe that we should review the recordings of the events before us. Any student unequivocally shown to be participating in the disturbance should be forcibly enlisted for the duration plus a year and a day, case by case, in a branch of this Board’s choice. Any student we can not be certain one way or the other of, said student should be given a standard six year enlistment in a branch of the Board’s choice.”

  There was a moment’s silence, and then the chairman looked at the gunnery sergeant. “Gunnery Sergeant?”

  “Sir, my people will not be the better for shooting two dozen high school students, no matter how well deserved the sentence. Dr. Cross is correct. I agree.”

  The colonel nodded. “I too find that no useful purpose would be served by carrying out such sentences, no matter how technically correct.”

  Bickford’s father was on his feet. “And my son?”

  Amanda was shocked by the sudden wicked grin on her father’s face. “Shoot him.”

  “Agreed,” the colonel said firmly. Bickford’s father screamed, but colonel went on, regardless.

  “Brian Bickford: as of this moment, sir, ameliorating medications are forbidden, until a competent medical authority states that your faculties are clear. Then, sir, you may opt for execution at once by lethal injection, or sir, when you are able to stand and face the justice of the Federation as rendered by a firing squad. You may, as you so desire, file an appeal, based on your current incapacity and inability to defend yourself.”

  “No!” Bickford’s father was adamant.

  “No?” The colonel said, “Is that your response, sir? You can certainly plead in defense of your son, sir. As I said before, you may speak in your son’s defense. In matters germane to the actions he participated in here.”

  “How can I? You don’t want to listen!”

  The colonel shook his head. “We listen, sir! But we will also decide. Here and now. The facts, sir, stand for themselves, unless you can present an alternative explanation.”

  “My son, sir, is young and was foolish. He was caught up in the heat of emotions; he wasn’t thinking clearly. He should be treated the same as the others who participated.”

  Amanda’s father spoke again. “I’ve reviewed the recordings several times. There is no doubt in my mind at all, absolutely none. If your son had kept his mouth shut, had he simply minded his own business, none of this would have happened. Two minutes, sir! Had he simply waited two minutes, Admiral Saito would have had the doors open, the lieutenant’s certificates would have been rapidly evaluated, and Admiral Saito and his party would have been on their way.

  “Mr. Bickford, your son was the primary catalyst. His urging the others on, his use of inflammatory statements against the lieutenant’s origin and gender, with his physical attack on Lieutenant Wolf. Certainly he was not solely guilty of what happened, but his crime is more than mere participation: he personally incited the events.”

  Amanda’s father stopped, looking into some far distance. In Amanda’s entire life, she’d seen that expression on his face once before: the night her mother had moved out.

  “Colonel Levi, a point of personal privilege.”

  “If possible, Dr. Cross,” the colonel replied formally.

  “I would like Gunnery Sergeant Howe to take off his judicial hat for a moment and answer a few questions of general interest. Not only my interest, but which should prove edifying to everyone else. Perhaps even Mr. Bickford.”

  “Gunnery Sergeant?”

  “No problem, Colonel.”

  “Gunnery Sergeant,” Dr. Cross motioned towards where Mr. Bickford was standing. “If you would.”

  A thin smile crossed the gunnery sergeant’s face, and he went and stood facing the board, next to Bickford’s father. “If you would, Gunnery Sergeant, please face the spectators.”

  The sergeant did a perfect about face and stood expressionless. “Sergeant, state your name, rank, branch and length of service.”

  “Fleet Master Gunnery Sergeant Cecil Howe, Fleet Marines, twenty-three years and six months.”

  “Can you see Lieutenant of the Fleet Wolf from where you are standing?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What, Master Gunny, is Lieutenant Wolf wearing?”

  “A Fleet shipsuit. Black for weapons. A senior lieutenant’s three pips, and a ring and a half on her sleeve.”

  “Not commonly seen on Earth, are they? Shipsuits, I mean.”

  “No, sir, not most places. Maunalua and some other locations, yes. There’s no regulation about not wearing them -- it’s just that they make some people uncomfortable. Preferred dress is Fleet dress uniform, but it is not required.”

  “What is an Ozark Marine?”

  Amanda was curious, she’d never heard the term before today.

  The sergeant answered crisply. “Many Fleet Marines are from the Ozarks, here in the old USA. Quite a few of us...” He stopped and cleared his throat. “We’re not as inbred as some folks think, but there aren’t as many last names as we’d like.”

  There were a few smiles as people started to relax. Amanda realized it too -- only Potter and Bickford were going to be shot and while no one would say it, they were all happy it wasn’t going to be one of their kids.

  “In the recordings, you asked Lieutenant Wolf her name, and then, a few seconds later, you mentioned other names.”

  “Yes, sir. Gunny Hodges served with the lieutenant on Starfarer’s Dream. Gunny Rogers was killed aboard the Catskil
l, saving some of the survivors. Sam Halverson, sir, is a Marine captain and is the Marine detachment commander aboard the Warlock, Lieutenant Wolf’s next ship. They’re family, sir, maybe some closer than others, blood-wise, but we like to think of all those of us in the Fleet as family. Blood or not.”

  “And these three are what, to the lieutenant?”

  “Lieutenant Wolf was the weapons officer aboard Starfarer’s Dream. Gunny Hodges came home safe. She couldn’t save Tom Rogers, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. She helped save more than two dozen others off Catskill.”

  He stopped, his throat working. “Maybe she didn’t help directly in the rescue, but her burns, sir, are because while most of the crew of her ship were helping with rescue of survivors of the crew of Catskill, the lieutenant was assisting the chief engineer of her ship, fighting a fire in vacuo.”

  “Thank you, Gunny. I think that’s all for now.” Amanda’s father looked at the colonel. “I know I’m rather usurping your prerogatives, and I know we haven’t gotten to Admiral Saito yet, but I’d like to ask him a few preliminary questions.”

  “You’re doing fine, Doctor. Continue, please.”

  “Admiral Saito.”

  The Japanese officer rose and stood facing the spectators when his name was called.

  “Why did you come here today, Admiral?”

  Amanda was startled. Her father knew many Japanese and he was always telling Amanda about how you had to be extra polite when speaking to them. And never, ever, ask a direct question.

  “Curiosity.” The admiral gestured in the direction of Lieutenant Wolf. “Admiral Fletcher had assured me that everything was in order, but I was curious how a young woman, not yet seventeen, could become a Fleet ensign, and then, six weeks later, be promoted lieutenant, no matter how junior. Wartime conditions or no. Birthday or not. And then promoted full lieutenant by her captain just before reaching Earth.”

  “And how did your curiosity manifest itself?” Amanda’s father asked.

  The admiral smiled.

  That was more like a question should have been, Amanda thought.