“The Confederated Empire has abandoned us, officially devolving its higher authority down upon the individual Planets and Sectors in the Spineward region of Space,” the Chairman shouted, still pounding on his podium. “What’s more, this august body is not yet able to determine, at this time, if the Confederation at large—hereafter to be known as the Old Confederation—has abandoned its higher duties as well, or if, in fact, it should now be considered occupied by what is currently a foreign power.”
Looking entirely satisfied with himself, the Chairman then gave the podium one last rap before re-taking his seat with a grunt.
Harpsinger leaned down, as if for a quick conference. He took a glass of water, tipped it back, and chugged the whole thing in one continuous swallow. Sitting down with a thump, he pulled over the court-provided data pad placed in front of him, and rapidly scrolled through the screens.
I looked at the little man with surprise, completely shocked at the way he was going on the offensive on my behalf.
“When I told you to do whatever you needed to do, it wasn’t a threat,” I said leaning over to him
He blinked and glanced up at me. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he whispered back, “my ears started to ring and everything went hazy, then my legs collapsed. Some lawyer I turned out to be.”
“No, really—” I started.
“If there are no more protests from the accused…strike that; from witness’s counsel,” said the Chairman, turning to the next Committee Member.
Harpsinger forced himself back on his feet, leaning forward with his hands on the table.
“Yes, counselor,” the Chairman with the slightly green-tinted skin said, frowning down at my lawyer.
“Since the Security Council refuses to recognize my client’s right to a change of venue in a civilian body with superior merit, I have no choice but to advise him to request a Jury of his Peers be assembled, for an official Courts Martial, to clear his name from these dastardly charges!”
I started and then looked up to my divorce—or, more accurately, my marriage—lawyer.
“They’ll just summon Rear Admiral Yagar; the man hates me,” I hissed.
“Don’t worry, Admiral, I’ve got this under control,” he said, looking the exact opposite of a man who had anything under control, as he used his now-soaked handkerchief to wipe his moist palms. He didn’t even glance at me; he just kept staring at the Chairman like a deer caught in the headlights.
The Chairman looked taken aback.
“Objection,” said two different members, standing at the same time.
The right Honorable Guffy Balroon looked momentarily put out, and then the green-skinned Chairman made an irritable motion toward the larger male member of the council.
The female sat down with a huff. “This isn’t over,” she scowled.
“If the Member from Pacifica III will refrain from commenting until it is her turn, things will go ever so much faster,” said the Chairman.
“The Member from Aegis is more than willing to see the matter of this man’s crimes against humanity, including, but not limited to: Planetary Piracy, Ship Piracy—I will add, even a battleship from the very member nation he hails from—as well as a host of lesser crimes up to and including, Impersonation of a Confederation Fleet Commander, and failing in his self-appointed mission to protect the Border Worlds, Mr. Chairman. The list goes on and on!” said the Member from Aegis.
Mr. Harpsinger quickly tapped out a message on his data slate, and lowered it to where I could see it.
-He’s been advocating for the Death Penalty for days- I read, and then glanced up at my Lawyer, who gave me a significant look before wiping the slate clean.
“Mr. Chairman,” shouted the female member jumping to her feet, “Pacifica III will not sit still for any change in venue at this time!”
I cocked my head, trying to remember where I’d heard of Pacifica before, but my train of thought was interrupted by my Lawyer typing out another message.
-Pacifica has a society of committed pacifists. No matter the findings, they will vote for Life Imprisonment- I read on the slate. I paused to mull this over. Life imprisonment was good, I mean it was less than ideal, but it was certainly better than being shoved out an airlock, or facing the long drop.
I froze for a moment, realizing that if I wasn’t actually at absolute bottom, I was pretty close. You knew your life really stunk up the place, when life imprisonment was an attractive outcome.
The Chairman looked back and forth between the two Members and then back down to us.
“It would require a vote, but I suppose the Sector Commandant, Admiral Yagar—” he started, only to be cut off when my Lawyer shot to his feet.
“Whether it is argued that my Client is a Confederation, or Caprian Admiral, the record is clear,” he stated firmly, when to my eyes everything about my Rank was clear as mud, “that ‘Rear’ Admiral Yagar is neither! The ‘Rear’ Admiral hails from Aegis, and most certainly is not an…” he hesitated over word choice, “Old Confederation Admiral, like the ‘Vice’ Admiral we have sitting here today.”
“An outrageous defamation of character, Mr. Chairman,” seethed the large man from Aegis.
“If the Ambassador…strike that; Member from Aegis will please take his seat,” the Chairman warned, reaching for his gavel and pounding on the podium until his gavel had lost its head, so all he was left with was a little wooden stick.
“Bailiff, a new gavel, if you would,” the Chairman ordered, before turning to bestow a withering look on me.
“Since Capria has deferred its rights in this matter to the Security Council, and a panel of Flag Ranked Admirals from the Old Confederation are not within range of our current communications network. Also, since that part of the Confederation within what is now termed the Old Confederation, is currently occupied by multiple foreign fleets—and thus could not possibly be deemed unbiased—I feel it prudent to forgo any vote for a change in venue at this time.”
“We have impeccable recordings and witnesses,” he continued, nodding toward a man sitting in a box to the side. With a start, I recognized the 25th Sector Judge, the highest representatives of the Judicial Branch. Sector Judges held the power of life and death, and only another Sector Judge could halt the order of another Judge, while it took a panel of three or more of the same to overturn.
“This is not good,” I said to Harpsinger, then the man I recognized as the Sector Judge looked my way and pursed his lips before turning away. The stiff, disapproving look he had just given me was enough to make my stomach sink. So much for the possibility of an appeal, I thought with despair.
“Shush,” Harpsinger said, as the Chairman continued speaking.
“It is the decision of the chair—unless a super majority of the Members vote to overrule—that we will forgo a transfer to a military court, and continue with this Informal Hearing of the Security Council,” he grunted, and then looked over gratefully at the bailiff, when the power-armored man handed him a new gavel.
The members suddenly started talking amongst themselves, some nodding their heads, but most shaking them. I looked on with growing disbelief, as an argument about someone’s wife escalated into a full-blown debate about whether or not the Member was going to support a change to military court, in order to spite the other one who clearly wanted me to hang.
“You just so happened to be in the same five star restaurant as my wife, a non-political entity, if there ever was one!” demanded a thin, be-robed Representative with golden hair and pale blue eyes. “I’ll tie this committee up in knots, and propose to send this Confederation Slive off to a military Tribunal, if necessary, Bardan. Anything to crush you like the little, insignificant bug you are!!!”
“I resent the insinuation, Cadmock,” retorted a short, brown-skinned man with a goatee and pencil-thin mustache. My heart almost stopped at the smug way he smiled, and was twirling his mustache around one of his fingers—his middle finger, if my eyesight wasn’t fai
ling me.
“I have the restaurant’s own security feed showing you and her holding hands on top of the table, Bardan,” shouted Representative Cadmock, “if you think spouting a few lines of poetry and taking her out to La-Pastele is going to be enough to steal my wife away from me, you’ve got another think coming, you blasted, electronic paper mite!”
“I’d be careful,” Bardan laughed, “going against the will of the committee organizers might not go too well for you. Besides, who ever said I was looking to ‘steal’ her? At worst, I only borrowed an evening of the sweet—criminally ignored—Matilda’s time…”
Then, when Cadmock looked like his red face was about to explode, Bardan flipped a languid wrist and corrected, “I’m sorry; make that three evenings.”
“I’ll kill you,” shouted Representative Cadmock, “your career is finished, do you hear me?! When I’m done with you, even the Bortack mines of Gantha VII won’t take you! You’ll spend the rest of your miserable little life in a cell right beside our Witness here.”
“I’d be careful, Cadmock,” Bardan snapped, “you’re not as powerful as you—or your sweet little wife—might think. Vote to move this hearing over to the military, and I fear you’ll discover precisely how inflated an opinion you have of yourself.”
The two men were then surrounded by several other committee members, who seemed to be doing more to egg the two verbal jousters on and issue threats of their own, than actually trying to break the thing up.
“This is insanity, aren’t you going to object, or protest, or do something?” I sputtered, half-amused at the scene, despite myself. “This is my life and its fate is being decided based on whether or not someone may, or may not, have slept with someone else’s wife! Don’t I get a say at some point in these proceedings?!”
Harpsinger looked down at me with a hint of pity in his eyes. “I just made a bunch of objections, and they were all overruled. I don’t agree with them, but that was our ‘say’, Admiral,” he said, and then his shoulders bunched as he leaned forward to listen, as the committee debated whether or not to invalidate its entire purpose for coming here today. His eyes tracked the various members with the same focus I would have applied to the main screen on the Bridge, as I followed various enemy ships.
The Chairman leered down at us.
“If you feel any part of today’s hearing has been unfair, illegal, or in any other way prejudicial, you are more than welcome to appeal to the proper authorities,” he said coldly, his eyes moving over to indicate where the Sector Judge was even now sitting.
I shook my head; half in wonderment, half in negation. I could tell when the deck was stacked against me, and this set of cards had all been carefully pre-shuffled long before I ever arrived. Besides, right now I had an itch between my shoulder blades that was more likely to affect my long-term prospects than anything I had to say, at least right at the moment.
After much posturing and gesticulation, the members finally reached a consensus: they unanimously, unequivocally, and absolutely agreed to a motion tabling the discussion, in favor of an extended lunch recess.
Shaking my head, I watched as the motion was put to a vote, and the members shuffled down the aisles of their dais and down to the floor, where they proceeded to exit the chamber with far more dignified bearings than they deserved.
Chapter 23: Deep in the Clutches of the Security Council
“For our first order of business: the Charge of Planetary Piracy, how does the witness plead,” intoned the Chairman.
I jerked in my chair. “I thought this was an informal hearing,” I said hotly.
Harpsinger quickly hushed me and stood up. “My client is correct; there is nothing informal about pleading to these charges,” he said sternly.
Our time in separate cells at the United Planetary Nation’s holding center seemed to have done wonders for his confidence. He was no longer sweating, nor did he look like he was about to pass out. If his hands trembled and he looked paler than I was used to, well, it was still a step up for my main legal defense; not that I was expecting much out of his surprising defensive maneuvers.
They hadn’t allowed me to actually consult my lawyer even once since dragging me before this kangaroo court, not even when everyone else took an hour and a half recess to plot and scheme. As for me, they had left my arms and legs essentially immobilized, but unlocked the shackles binding them together. This allowed me to jackknife my body for a while, and flop around on the floor like a fish, but didn’t do much else to help increase blood flow. The whole thing was hardly the fair and impartial, informal hearing they were pretending for the cameras.
I wondered if we were in the old UPN building because everyone was still getting things organized, or if it was so the Rump Assembly could disavow them later if things went wrong.
I could see it now: ‘Oh, those hotheads over at the UPN,” the Rump would say, “Too bad they axed that False Little Admiral, Jason Montagne, while we were stuck in deliberations over the Border World Relief Act! Bad cess, bad cess indeed…We never would have let such a farce stand, had we but known! Consequently, we believe that yet another act—aptly titled the Jason Montagne Act, which we have already prepared—would ensure that such a travesty never repeats itself—‘
I was shaken out of my reverie by the Chairman. “I am simply asking the same questions that countless others will, should this hearing unearth anything untoward which would require formal charges be leveled,” he said innocently.
The other members leaned forward in their seats, scenting blood in the water.
A grey-bearded figure in an official Caprian State Department-approved Ambassador’s uniform stood. “In the future, the chair should limit himself to questions more in keeping with the spirit of an informal hearing,” he said with dignity, and my eyes bulged: it was Sir Isaac LePierre, one of the few Ambassadors to have survived through several changes of regime back home due to his apolitical stance. He had established massive diplomatic connections with our surrounding worlds over the course of a lifetime. He was a commoner—although, he was knighted for service to his planet—so if he was on board with this, then one could assume Capria and both governments back home were, as well.
My shoulders sagged slightly at the thought of my entire home world being united against me.
“The Chair thanks the Co-chair for his insightful correction. However, may I then assume that, for now, my original question as it was posed, still stands?” said the toad-like Chairman. The hits just kept coming; I was in this thing so far over my head, I was never going to see daylight again.
Sir Isaac frowned and then sat down. “I, myself, am curious as to how the accused answers the question,” he admitted.
Harpsinger’s eyes had caught on the Caprian Ambassador, and stuck like a field mouse as it intently watches an Eagle far above it. Such a creature knows that, the moment it takes its eyes off the circling avian, someone is going to die.
Seeing my lawyers paralysis, I knew I needed to do something fast to break him out of his stupor. Honestly, as far as I could tell, the former paralegal wasn’t even breathing.
“Piracy, shmi-racy,” I said, putting every ounce of royalist scorn behind my voice. “I assure the Members and the Chair—as well as the esteemed Ambassador, and Co-Chair, from my own beloved Capria—that the marriage documents are completely in order,” I rocked over and bumped Mr. Harpsinger with my shoulder in lieu of a hand on the shoulder, “as my lawyer here—the very man who filed the necessary paperwork—can personally attest!”
“What gibberish is this,” the Member from Aegis scoffed, jumping out of his chair.
“The Member from Aegis is correct, and Prometheus wholeheartedly endorses his concern as to the mental well-being of the prisoner. We would caution that he may be intentionally attempting to build for himself an Insanity Defense!” said another member, presumably from Prometheus.
“Dynastic arrangements can seem more than a little insane, both from the outside as well a
s the inside, of—” I began, only to have Harpsinger cut me off.
“What my client is attempting to say, is that while under attack by Bug Raiders,” at this word, several members drew back in an involuntary reaction, and the Member from Pacifica shuddered and politely covered her eyes, “he relinquished his only weapon to a crowd of captives native to the planet Tracto—which our ship was orbiting at that time—where he then instructed them to cut themselves free, to help in their own defense!”
I manfully struggled to keep from blushing at this barebones account of what actually happened. In reality, my eyes had been lured in the direction of my future wife’s buxom, red-headed neighbor, at the time.
“As enlightening as this farfetched tale of heroism and utter stupidity may be to others, the members of this Committee fail to see how filibustering around the topic—to wit, Planetary Piracy—is relevant,” Sir Isaac said sternly, rising to his feet.
“With your indulgence, Sir, it is absolutely relevant to establishing that my client was completely unaware that his actions construed a binding offer of marriage to the woman nearest his relinquished sword,” said Harpsinger, his voice far more steely than I had expected, considering he was addressing the one and only Sir Isaac.
“The marriage of a Montagne, even one with a Fleet, is only of concern to the royal family back home,” Sir Isaac said, shaking his head in the direction of my lawyer sadly, “I move that we strike everything stated so far from the record and start over—”
“A binding offer of Marriage to a Planetary Sovereign,” Harpsinger broke in, and several Members stopped whatever they were doing and stared. Some with eyes bulging, others with infuriated glares as the implications sank in, “thus, entirely invalidating any accusations of Planetary Piracy!”
Admiral's Trial (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 19