by Vicky Savage
In the morning, Dad drives Drew and me to the airport. We both promise to return in June for the wedding. After we wave goodbye, Drew walks me to the international security checkpoint. As soon as we part, I sneak into the ladies room, lock myself in a stall, and immediately shift back to the Chateau.
Even though I mostly enjoyed my trip home, I’m thrilled to be back in my comfy little apartment with Callie curled up next to me. There’s a peaceful kind of contentment in having my own space, being my own person, and charting my own path.
Before turning in for the night, I gather my electronic notebook and my files for the hearing in the morning and place them on the table in the hall. Then I skim through the small stack of mail that accumulated while I was away. An envelope addressed in a familiar hand catches my eye. I slide open the flap and draw out a red foil holiday card with a white dove embossed on the front. Inside is a simple inscription: May your holidays be filled with peace and joy. Warmly, Ryder Blackthorn.
I shake my head and smile. It’s only a card and it doesn’t say much, but the knowledge that he thought about me over the holidays kindles a small fire in my belly.
FORTY-SEVEN
The IGC Courtroom is located downtown in the same building as the Arumel Supreme Court. The awe inspiring structure is a tribute to ancient Greek architecture. The gleaming marble edifice features enormous columns and about a million steps leading up to three sets of ornately carved brass doors. My breath catches as Narowyn and I begin the somber ascent.
Ted and Corinne wait for us at the top of the stairs. They’ve brought a box-toting assistant along with them. Asher, Captain Watterson, Urick, and Ralston are also waiting to accompany us inside for the day’s proceedings.
The courtroom itself is majestic and intimidating. Dark-green marble walls, soaring coffered ceilings, and massive gilded chandeliers create an atmosphere of pomp and gravity. The air is electric with pent-up tension. An acute sense of significance presses down on my shoulders. Much of my future depends on the outcome of this hearing.
Our footfalls are muted by the plush carpeting as we march down the center aisle. Dark pews of polished wood line both sides of the spectator area. Observers have already begun to filter in and take seats. They gawk at us and whisper to each other as we make our way to the front. Large galleries run along the upper walls. The section reserved for the media bustles with cameramen and reporters. Spectators file steadily into the other sections.
Ted opens a short wooden gate leading to the gleaming counsel tables and motions us inside. The Justices’ massive mahogany bench looms large on a raised dais before us. Tall columns, mirroring those outside the building, stand sentry behind the bench. Floor-length, golden velvet curtains cover the spaces in between. Computer monitors, name plaques, and water glasses are positioned on the bench in front of each of the five high-backed judges’ chairs.
Opposing counsel table on the right is already alive with activity. An army of robed lawyers is engaged in filling water glasses, organizing files, reviewing notes, and conferring among themselves. Director Canto sits placidly at the table, his hands folded in front of him. A cadre of corporate types takes up a full row of chairs behind the lawyers. Canto’s lackeys, no doubt.
Our small entourage follows behind Ted to the long counsel table on the left. Narowyn and I seat ourselves in thickly upholstered chairs between Ted and Corinne. The others take seats arranged along the rail behind our table. Ted’s assistant removes two stacks of files from his box. He positions a stack in front of Ted and one in front of Corinne, then he nods at Ted and departs without a word.
“Seems like we’re a little outnumbered,” I whisper to Corinne.
“IUGA must be hoping a show of strength will make up for a loser case,” she says.
I hope her robust confidence is justified. I place my electronic notebook on the table in front of me and take out the paper Ted gave me identifying each justice and their home earth. Behind me the hum of nervous anticipation grows louder.
A wooden door opens to the left of the Justices’ bench, and a dignified looking white-haired gentleman in black robes enters the courtroom. He places a file on a desk below the bench and clips a tiny microphone to his robe.
He walks to the front of the courtroom, and the crowd falls silent. In a booming baritone, he declares, “Oyez, oyez. The Inter-Galactic Confederation Chancery Court is now in session, the honorable Justices Akbar, Juma, Cheung, Obrien, and Chief Justice Goodspeed presiding.”
The golden draperies behind the bench open automatically. Every soul in the courtroom rises, and the five justices step forward to claim their respective seats.
They each take a moment to get situated—activating computer screens, clipping on microphones, arranging papers and tablets. None of them appears younger than fifty. All of them look distinguished in their somber black robes.
Justice Goodspeed, positioned in the center of the bench, flips a switch to activate the microphones and taps her gavel once. “Please be seated,” she says crisply.
According to Ted, she’s the presiding justice for this matter. A senior judge from Sillouhy on an OE ominously nicknamed Darkland. She wears her steel gray hair in an attractive French twist. A jeweled dragonfly brooch is pinned at the neck of her robes.
“This morning we have before us the case of Jaden Beckett and the Transcender Society versus the Inter-Universal Guidance Agency, and the accompanying counterclaim. Are all parties present?”
Ted, Corinne, and the bevy of IUGA lawyers get to their feet.
“Yes, Madame Justice,” Ted says. “Theodore King and Corinne Barker for Miss Beckett and the Transcender Society.”
“May it please the court,” IUGA’s lead attorney says. He’s a portly man with thinning brown hair and a striped ascot tucked into the neck of his gray robes. “C. Bertram Cathcart and Associates on behalf of Director Canto and the Inter-Universal Guidance Agency.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Cathcart, but is Director Canto a party to this lawsuit?” Justice Goodspeed says.
“No Madame Justice, he is with us today as a representative of the IUGA.” He sweeps his hand toward the director who nods and smiles modestly.
“Thank you for clarifying that,” she says. “We have only two days to conduct this hearing, let us be precise in representing the facts, shall we?”
“Yes, Madame Justice,” Cathcart says.
“That applies to both parties.” She looks directly at Ted.
“Yes, Madame Justice,” he says.
“This matter has been fully briefed by both sides,” Justice Goodspeed says. “We have been provided with a list of stipulated facts on which the parties agree, as well as a list of exhibits for both parties.”
She consults the notes on her screen. “Essentially this suit centers around a thirty-day time period in which Miss Beckett was returned by IUGA to the country of Domerica on Earth H87D. Her return was precipitated by a previous order of this court finding that IUGA had overstepped its authority by forcing Miss Beckett to abandon that country against her will. You will confine your arguments and testimony to that thirty-day time period, understood?”
“Yes, Madame Justice,” Ted and Cathcart say in unison.
“Each side shall have one day within which to present its case. You shall both be allowed five minutes for opening statements, and ten minutes for summation. Time limits will be strictly enforced. Mr. King, as the claimant’s attorney, you will proceed first.”
Ted stands and walks to a podium in front of the Justices’ bench. He straightens his robes and squares his shoulders. “Honorable Justices, the claimant’s case is simple. Miss Beckett, a first time Transcender and unsuspecting teenager, was duped by the powerful IUGA into returning to a situation where her death was all but a certainty.
“IUGA took these actions knowingly and with malice aforethought after it gained the knowledge that if Miss Beckett were ever allowed to join the Transcender Society, she would put into motion a sequence of occurrenc
es which would inevitably lead to the complete downfall of the agency.
“The evidence and testimony will show that not only did IUGA mislead Miss Beckett into returning to Domerica, it also infiltrated a criminal enterprise which was plotting her assassination. The agency provided advice and assistance to this enterprise in formulating a precise plan, based upon IUGA’s advanced prediction technology, which had the highest probability of resulting in Miss Beckett’s death. In addition, IUGA unlawfully supplied automatons to participate in the attack on Miss Beckett and the Domerican royal family. At least one of these automatons caused human death in the process of attempting to murder Miss Beckett.
“All of this was done out of greed and self-interest in order to ensure that Miss Beckett’s true destiny with the Transcenders would never be fulfilled. Thank you.” He makes a small bow to the justices and returns to his seat at the counsel table.
C. Bertram Cathcart rises majestically in his robes and ascot and takes his place at the podium.
“May it please the court,” he says. “The claimant’s case is pure fantasy.” He spreads his arms grandly, and affects an indulgent smile. “When given the opportunity, Miss Beckett jumped at the chance to return to Domerica. No trickery was involved. She had left a young man there with whom she had a perpetual contract, and she could not wait to see him again. More importantly, Ms. Beckett was a princess in Domerica and first in line to become its queen. Every young girl’s dream.
“While it is true that once Miss Beckett made her decision to return to Earth H87D, the probability of her assassination increased, IUGA had nothing whatsoever to do with that. The independent plot to eliminate her was based solely upon political and economic factors of Dome Noir, an enemy nation. It had nothing to do with IUGA’s desires. Once the agency became aware of Miss Beckett’s revised destiny, it did what it does in every case of such significance—a case involving the head of a country—it oversaw and facilitated the fulfillment of that destiny. IUGA’s sworn duty.
“If there is a culprit in all of this, if there is a greedy party or an obstructer of destiny, it is Miss Beckett, herself.” He turns and points to me. “She altered the program of a very valuable IUGA automaton, causing him to disobey IUGA orders and turning him into a spy. The information she received—”
“One minute remaining, Mr. Cathcart,” Justice Goodspeed says.
Cathcart nods and continues, “… the information was then used to hamper what had already been preordained for her. In so doing, she altered not only her own destiny, but she also unlawfully altered the destiny of the entire Earth H87D.” He walks to the front of the podium and smoothes his robes. “In closing, I will add that Miss Beckett freely signed a binding contract to remain in Domerica When the tampered-with automaton improperly reported the assassination plot to her, she fled that earth, thereby breaching her contract with IUGA and cheating destiny in the process. We beg the court—”
“Thank you Mr. Cathcart, time is up,” Justice Goodspeed says.
Cathcart’s face flushes. He obviously didn’t get to deliver his scintillating closing line.
“Mr. King, please call your first witness.”
Ted gets to his feet. “I call Jaden Beckett to the stand.”
My stomach clenches and my mouth suddenly blooms with cotton as I roll my chair away from the table. Ted directs me to the witness box at the right of the Justices’ bench. I take a seat inside the box and clasp my hands together in my lap to control the tremors running through them.
Justice Goodspeed addresses me. “Ms. Beckett, it is my duty to inform you that special iris scanning cameras are present in the courtroom today to monitor the truth of your answers. Any deviation from the truth detected by this equipment will be noted in the transcript of your testimony and highlighted for the Justices. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Madame Justice.”
“Thank you. You may proceed, Mr. King.”
Ted smiles at me reassuringly. “Please state your full name for the record.”
“Jaden Victoria Hanover Beckett,” I say, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.
“Bailiff, bring Ms. Beckett some water, please,” Justice Goodspeed says.
A uniformed woman promptly delivers a glass of water to the witness box, and I take a sip. “Thank you Madame Justice,” I say.
Ted continues with a few softball questions designed to put me at ease—what is your address, how old are you—that type of thing. I find myself more relaxed by the time he moves on to the meatier issues.
“Miss Beckett, did Agent Ralston of the Inter-Universal Guidance Agency visit you at your home in Madison, Connecticut in May of last year?”
“Yes.”
“Were you expecting a visit from him?”
“No, it was a complete surprise.”
“What did Agent Ralston say to you at the time?”
“He said that the powers that be had decided I could return to Domerica for thirty days with no impact on my life in Connecticut.” I make eye contact with the Justices, as Ted instructed. “After the thirty days, I would have the opportunity to choose where I wanted to live out my destiny—in Domerica, back in Connecticut, or with the Transcenders in Arumel.”
“Did you accept this deal?”
“Yes.”
“Did he pressure you in any way to accept?”
“No. He did say my mother’s mirror in Domerica was ill, but that wasn’t why I accepted. I wanted to go back to Domerica for reasons of my own.”
“Did Agent Ralston inform you that if you accepted this deal, the probability existed that you would be assassinated?”
Mr. Cathcart bounds to his feet. “Objection, Madame Justice.” He rests his hand on his generous midsection. “That question assumes the probability of her assassination existed at that time. A fact which is not correct and not in evidence. In addition, this entire line of questioning relies completely on hearsay. This is merely Miss Beckett’s version of the conversation.”
“May I respond to that?” Ted asks.
“Make it brief, Mr. King,” Justice Goodspeed says.
“Mr. Cathcart is entitled to cross examine Miss Beckett and present any witness he chooses to refute her testimony. In fact, former Agent Ralston is here in the courtroom and available to testify as to the conversation.”
Cathcart coughs loudly. “That’s absurd, he’s an automaton.”
“He was IUGA’s representative and a first-hand witness to all of IUGA’s shenanigans,” Ted says hotly.
“Enough, gentlemen,” Justice Goodspeed says. “I will not have petty bickering in my courtroom. Mr. Cathcart, your objection is overruled. May I remind both of you that this court is not bound by the laws or rules of evidence of any specific nation. We are a court of equity. As such we have wide latitude to explore the facts as thoroughly as we deem necessary and base our decision upon what is fair and just in our sole discretion.”
“Yes, Madame Justice,” the men say.
“Let’s keep our objections to a minimum, gentlemen,” Goodspeed says. “Mr. King you may proceed.”
Ted turns to me once again. “I’ll rephrase the question. Miss Beckett, when, if ever, did Agent Ralston inform you that a high probability existed that you would be assassinated if you remained in Domerica?”
“About a week before my scheduled wedding,” I say.
This seems to interest the Justices. Akbar and Juma exchange a glance, and Justice O’Brien leans forward in her seat, reaching for her stylus.
“Please explain to the court how this conversation between you and Agent Ralston came about,” Ted says.
“Ralston had just returned from a visit to IUGA headquarters to finalize my contract details. Even though I still had several days to decide, I told Ralston I’d already made up my mind and wanted to sign the contract as soon as possible.”
“And what option had you elected to take?”
“At that time, I had intended to stay in Domerica.”
Ted
steps around the podium and rests an elbow on top. “Miss Beckett, please tell the court what happened when you and Agent Ralston met to sign the contract?”
“I was about to sign my name on the final page, when Agent Ralston snatched it away from me.”
“I see. And what did he say to you after pulling the contract away?”
Out of the corner of my eye I see Cathcart squirming in his seat as if he wants to object, but he remains silent.
“He said that if I signed the contract I would die on my wedding day.” A flurry of gasps and surprised exclamations rumble through the spectator sections.