by Hyde, Ed
Your loving and proud father.
Questions
There is little chance of seeing Carol here. I don’t know if she was summoned. We are, or were, a small crew and they probably summoned the whole lot of us. But I am here alone right now. It’s a bare, small room and the door is closed. Two men in civilian suits sit side by side at a small plain table. No insignia. I am sitting in one of two chairs facing them. Why two chairs? Do they question in pairs? There is a recording device in plain view on the table.
“What exactly were your duties?” they ask. I answer.
“And when you say ‘shipboard’, you mean you had other duties while on the surface of the planet?” I answer by explaining that I assisted David with his genetic documentation work at the bio camp. I think it’s best to answer the questions simply without too much detail. Detail will only raise more questions.
The questions and short answers go on. The inquest officials are both professional, courteous, and non-confrontational. They nod and accept everything I say which, of course, is being recorded. Only one of them speaks directly to me; occasionally they talk quietly between themselves.
“Where was Commander Means at the time of Master Brachus’ accident?”
I answer, qualifying my statement with the fact that I don’t know when the accident actually occurred.
“Switching gears for a moment—please describe what you know of the circumstances of Ensign Water’s injuries.” By this they mean Dylan. I describe what occurred as simply as I can and emphasize that we were all deeply distressed not to reach him sooner than we did. I ask what news they can share of his present condition. “None,” is their answer, they are sorry to say. “Be aware that there are some open questions about his injuries and the events leading up to them. By your admission, you were a participant in at least some of these events. While these questions and their answers are beyond the scope of our meeting today, they will be addressed in the future.”
I nod.
“What was the consensus of the crew regarding Commander Means’ style of leadership, his ability to command?” I decline to speculate on the rest of the crew’s opinions, but do offer my view of David and his ability. I choose to phrase my comments so as to highlight David’s positive attributes.
I am asked a similar question about Brachus. I answer that I had little interaction with him. “He kept mostly to himself and his team; socially we did not engage,” I add.
“What do you know of Master Brachus specifically as it relates to his accident? What was he doing at that moment?” I say that, to my knowledge, he was alone at the time of the accident and so I don’t know exactly what he was doing at that moment.
“Can you speculate?”
“Yes, I can,” I say, and for the first time I see a mild reaction from the officials. “I believe he was retrieving personal items that he wished to bring back home with him.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because he told me as much.” Definite reaction this time, and I see they make eye contact with each other for an instant. I notice now for the first time that the two inquisitors could be related. They look alike in a familial way.
“What did he say?”
“I saw him carrying items to the staging area for uplift— we were preparing for imminent departure—and I asked what they were. ‘My gear,’ he said. ‘Keepsakes,’ he said.”
“Is that all?”
“A little while later I saw him, Master Brachus, heading back in the same direction from which he came when I first saw him with his load. I presumed he had more to retrieve and didn’t think any more of it. We all were packing and making ready for departure.”
“And what was the nature of the ‘keepsakes’?” they ask. I respond that I do not know.
“You do not know?”
“I do not know. I never saw the contents and he did not say. There was a small bundle recovered at the accident site which the Commander opened during a team meeting on board ship sometime after the accident. Inside that bundle were what looked to me like raw ore and crystals.”
“Are you sure of that description?”
“I am in that I did not touch them or inspect them up close.”
“What became of the bundle and contents?”
“David left it in the care of another crewmember for disposal. I never saw it again.”
“Which crew member?” they ask. I hesitate to answer.
“Jason, you realize this is not a trial. We are here to ascertain as many facts and details as we can regarding two things: first, the circumstances surrounding the tragic loss of an experienced and valuable officer and, second, a separate inquiry into the circumstances surrounding the life-threatening injury to Ensign Waters. We conduct these interviews to help make a determination whether or not the facts warrant a further action.”
“A further action?” I repeat.
“Yes.” Silence fills the room.
“David left the bundle in the hands of crewmember Bevan,” I say reluctantly, seeing no other choice. Grigor is not going to be happy. The officials speak together for a moment but I can’t hear what they say.
“It seems that an inventory of Master Brachus’ belongings removed from the ship did not reveal anything beyond ordinarily expected items.” I don’t respond even though their expressions indicate they would like me to.
“Well?”
“I’m sorry, was that a question?” I ask. “It’s possible they didn’t make it up to the ship at all. As I said, I was already on board when the emergency signals were received.”
More muffled discussion between the two officials ensued.
“That will be all. Thank you.”
“I hope I was able to help. It’s a shame that an otherwise successful mission should be marred by events such as these. Dylan is a hero in my mind and Wes—I mean Master Brachus—well, I didn’t get to know him in depth, but any death is sad, especially so close to the end of our mission.”
We all three stand and shake hands politely before I turn to leave.
“Oh, one quick thing. Sorry,” the one asking the questions says before I get out the door. I stop and turn back to face the two men. “The body—it was unrecoverable?”
“Gentlemen, I believe it was unrecoverable without heroic effort and danger to other crew members. You’ve no doubt seen the images of the area; you know we had little equipment left on the ground. I don’t see how it could’ve been done.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” says the one that has been doing all the talking.
______
It’s too far to walk all the way home, but I feel the need to do something physical. I decide to skip the nearby central terminus and walk to the next one. Past the new and old buildings, the dirty dead end street, past where the park should have been, and when I had walked off the remains of my inquest mood, I took the transit home.
“Mom, did Dad ever talk about his shoveling coal?”
“Shoveling what?”
“Coal. Did he ever work in a mine or on a train shoveling coal?”
“Shoveling coal? What are you talking about, shoveling coal? Who shovels coal? Where did you hear such a thing? Shoveling coal.”
“No. Never mind, just a crazy idea.”
“Coal? On a train? Is someone playing a trick on you?”
“No. Nothing. Never mind.”
Again with the speedy decision. This can’t be good. A summons to trial came for me today, exactly one week since the inquest. Who are they going after? David? And why? Sure David’s not a perfect leader, but Brachus caused his own problems. And Dylan, well he, I’m sure, would be the first to blame only himself for his suffering. Maybe they are looking for a fall guy, any fall guy. I like to stay out of political intrigue but I know enough that it sometimes works like that. There’s a dead body, someone has to be blamed.
Funny, I get no response from Dr. Gleshert. I wouldn’t put it past him to delete my messages upon receipt if he’s in the wrong mo
od. He did tell us that Dylan would be transferred to a proper facility so it’s possible that Doc doesn’t have an update to pass along. No news is good news and that’s the saying that I’m going with here.
There’s still been no contact with any of my shipmates since the debriefing. I’m missing some of them already, mostly Carol. Each one must be going through some equivalent of what I am going through. Even so, you would think consideration would have been given to the notion of keeping in contact. We were together a long time. Debriefing should have covered this.
A Question of Innocence
Answers
“We are in session. Commander Means, I am under the impression that we, you and I, have an understanding of the seriousness of this proceeding. Is that a correct assumption?”
“Yes, your honor, it is.”
“And is there that exact same understanding between myself and the honorable members of the bar here representing their respective sides of this case?”
“Yes, your honor,” they respond practically in unison.
“There is.”
“I would like to remind all participants in this case— litigants, witnesses, representatives, interested parties, and visitors—that the defendant is on trial for negligence and dereliction of duty as Commander of a deep space vessel resulting in the death of his second in command, Master Wesley Brachus. The penalties for a guilty verdict are by no means insignificant and may indeed result in further civil prosecution. Let us proceed keeping the seriousness of this case in mind and act and speak accordingly. I would issue a warning to all of you: do not make me feel the need to repeat the terms of this understanding.”
Judge Compton employs a few moments of silence as his gaze passes slowly over the room and its occupants. It is clear that his words and threat have had their intended effect.
He resumes, “Now, if the bailiff will please find and remove the person or device responsible for that incessant clicking noise… It’s coming from over there,” the judge says as he points toward the offending sound. I did not notice it until now, and just as I do—it stops. The persons in the area whence the sound emanated do not move or otherwise betray the culprit. The bailiff, halfway to the gallery halts, waits, and then looks back at the judge who, in turn, scowls, waves the bailiff back to his post and says, “Gentlemen? Proceed,” indicating with his eyes first the representative for the defense, then for the prosecution.
“Thank you, your honor,” begins the prosecutor. “I repeat my question: why would your second in command, who you admit was on the surface on the planet without your knowledge and in noncompliance of protocol, ostensibly wander off into a desolate and dangerous mountain pass?”
This time David maintains composure and answers the question using an appropriate tone. I see Carol looking at me and she makes a silent and subtle gesture of ‘Whew.’ I agree.
I am still confused as to how we ended up with a trial. Past missions, both deep space and local, have suffered losses before. Forget about space missions, all endeavors whether scientific, military, civil, what have you, involve calculated risk. In our careers, the risks are pointed out multiple times and in detail. Sad to say, we have had the occasional loss of an entire ship and crew, and yet cadets continue to enroll, to enlist, and to volunteer. Who is to blame for these losses, or for this one in particular? Not David, surely.
And who’s to blame for Brachus’ actions but he himself? Still, one wonders: Why the trial? Who benefits if David is punished for something he did not cause, nor had control over? Or did he have control? Maybe he should have stepped up and reined Brachus in. It’s true that he relinquished the bulk of control of field operations to him, and for a significant length of time, but that’s a commander’s prerogative. And maybe he should have enforced the order for officers to board according to protocol. But how? Brachus was easy to read in one regard: He was out for himself only. How do you control that?
Dean Carson is on the stand now. He’s being questioned by the prosecuting attorney about the impact of the loss of Master Brachus on the Academy. He answers, “Wesley, I mean Master Brachus, will be missed terribly. He brought a lot to the program, and had a long and bright future ahead of him. I would add that I considered him a personal friend.”
“And what is your opinion of Commander Means?”
“Commander Means has likewise been an asset for many years. He is certainly experienced and we are fortunate to have had the benefit of his service and dedication. But,” he continues, “a complex procedure has been established based on the evaluation of losses in the past. A protocol that is specifically designed to enhance the safety of crew members exists. It must be followed. It must be enforced.”
“Your honor, would you please instruct the witness to answer the questions without embellishment? He was not asked about procedures or enforcement,” objects the defense attorney.
“The witness will restrict his answers to the topic of the question.”
“On the topic of protocol, Dean, please do explain what you mean. Why is the protocol as it is?”
“The current protocol, the one in effect at the time of the tragedy, is the end product of years of analysis of empirical results. In other words, as each misstep or, in the worst of cases, loss, is incurred, an analysis is completed to determine what could have prevented the loss. As we have applied this procedure again and again over the years, the protocol has evolved into what we have today. Sometimes the guidelines are misunderstood or may appear cryptic, but each one is there for a reason. And that reason is to increase safety.”
I don’t buy it. The dean supports the prosecution; ok, I get it, let’s move on. I notice the judge is preoccupied with something. The prosecutor stops in mid-sentence, and looks towards the bench. The judge, noticing his look, orders him to continue.
There is a subtle humming, or vibration, pervading the courtroom. It is of low magnitude but it is there and it’s continuous. It’s the building itself–heating, cooling, filtering. I lose interest in the dean and the monotonous back and forth of question and response. My attention wanders and it is with some effort of will that I maintain what I hope is the appearance of alertness.
“… and Mr. Carson, is it not true that you are in the so-called LMP?” asks David’s attorney. At this, I am brought back to full attention. Exactly the question I would have asked!
“The LMP?”
“Yes, Dean. Why certainly you know the acronym for the life-extending medical treatments that you have been receiving for some time. A very long time, in fact. Isn’t that true?”
“Your honor. Relevance? This line…” interjects the prosecutor.
“Your honor, I believe there may be a stronger connection between the witness and the deceased than mere friendship. A connection that may cloud that objectivity of the witness and may influence his testimony. It is in the best interest of my client, not to mention in the best interest of fairness, that this relationship, if it exists, be brought to light.”
The judge stares at the defense attorney for an instant or two before saying, “You may continue in this line.”
“The LMP, Dean? Is it true?”
“Yes, of course it is true, as you well know. And it’s not a secret.”
“Is that a treatment that is normally reserved for extended-mission crew and their immediate families?”
“Yes, normally, but…”
“Dean, do you qualify under either of those categories?”
“I do not. But it was considered wise, in the name of continuity, to extend…”
“Considered wise, by whom, I wonder? Don’t answer that. Instead consider this: There is a long history in our society wherein learned men and women consider term limits to be the wise choice.”
The dean doesn’t answer, the prosecutor objects, and I am ready to stand and cheer for this breath of fresh air in the proceedings.
“I have no further… Wait, there is one last thing. I understand these treatments are quite expensive. W
ho is paying for them?”
The dean smiles and relaxes visibly. “I am,” he says calmly.
“Oh really? On a dean’s income? Thank you. No more questions.”
The trial went on at an excruciatingly slow pace punctuated by brief moments of headway eliciting in me primarily boredom interspersed with short bursts of mild interest. I have to say I coasted along quite happily for a while after that cross examination of Dean Carson. Maybe David’s lawyer is not so bad after all. Is he bluffing, or does he know something? Either way, he had the dean flustered.
Poor Mark and Craig. They both had to take the stand, being the ones who found the body. Craig was nervous and came across as totally believable. Mark on the other hand did not betray one iota of nerves. He did a workmanlike and professional job answering all that was put to him with short and succinct answers. I’m not sure how a judge and jury would interpret his demeanor, but to my eye it was a great job—vintage Mark, but without any of his corny gags. He said that Brachus had special ores processed, but that he, Mark, did not deal with the output—Brachus picked it up personally. ‘Was the output part of the so-called ‘gear’ or ‘keepsakes’?’ he was asked. ‘I do not know,’ said Mark.
My signed statement has previously been accepted into the court record and I do not expect to have to take the witness stand.
So far, it seems to me it’s all been about character. Prosecution tries to demean David’s and that of his witnesses; defense tries to bolster David’s while bringing into question the character of the witnesses for the prosecution. If I had to call it, I would say David is losing. Prosecution hammers on the fact that David did not have Brachus safely on board at the time of the accident and that this was the primary cause of the whole affair. A simple matter of not enforcing the rules.
Defense has been trying to raise the question of why Brachus, ignoring the widely known deadline for boarding, would remain on the surface for ‘keepsakes’—whatever those may be. I would be hammering away at the fact that Brachus was amassing gems and probably other valuables for his own personal wealth using mission equipment and personnel. What is so difficult about it? I know Mark knows; am I going to have to say something? I really don’t want to have to be the one. Not again.