Wings of Earth- Season One

by Eric Michael Craig

  Only Angel accompanied him all the way to Cochrane Station. She’d volunteered to come with him, since she was the only witness to what had happened on Starlight. He told her she didn’t need to, since she had been in with the kids when it all went foobed, but she insisted.

  “A character witness is better than no witness,” she’d said and, although he didn’t know for sure what was coming, he was glad not to face it alone.

  She tapped him on the shoulder and nodded at four uniformed security units that were making their way through the crowd in their direction. “Smile, they’re looking at you,” she whispered.

  She was right.

  “Ethan Walker?” the shortest of the officers said. He was holding a small identification scanner in his hand. The green light blinking on the screen showed that it had already confirmed his identity, so the question was pointless.

  He nodded.

  “We’re with CSL Station Security, you’re to accompany us to the security block to begin your processing,” he said.

  “I’m being bound?” He knew that was a possibility, but he hadn’t expected it after his meeting with MacKenna. His heart stopped and the deck under his feet seemed to collapse. Angel’s hand on his arm was all that kept him from dropping.

  “No, sir,” he said. “I’m sorry. You’re not being held. We need to get you processed for temporary residential status. At this point, you are only facing a formal enquiry.”

  Relief washed over him, and he glanced over his shoulder and tugged his elbow free from her grip.

  “That’s a good sign,” she whispered.

  “You’re not traveling alone?” one of the other guards asked, apparently noticing Angel for the first time when she spoke. “Will your companion be staying with you?”

  He shrugged, and she nodded. “I’m CSL so I’m eligible for a room during a layover, aren’t I?”

  The officer with the scanner held it up and nodded. “Angelique Wolfe. Yes, of course you are. Your ship is operating in system for the duration of the enquiry, so you are more than welcome to stay. Space is short in the handlers’ biv, but if Captain Walker is willing to share his room, we can probably bump you upstairs to the O-decks and get you both into a double occupancy suite while you’re here.”

  He shrugged again.

  “I think we’ll manage,” she said.

  “Then let’s go get you bunked,” the officer said. “Your preliminary starts at 0600 tomorrow morning.” He turned and led the way through the crowd toward the main part of the station. The other three dropped into position to the sides and rear, a point that neither of them missed.

  “It’s just a formality,” he said.

  She nodded but looked far less than convinced that it wasn’t something more serious that motivated the overstuffed escort.

  It took almost three hours to get him processed and the bureaucracy never missed an opportunity to make the whole process as complex and dehumanizing as possible. The problem was that he, as an officer, could have a guest in his suite, but she as an enlisted crewman on a ship, wasn’t allowed to bunk in the officer section of the station complex. And once they started the processing, it was beyond common sense to just remove her name from the accommodations request and replace it with the word GUEST.

  They had to cancel his room and remove him from the residential roster and then wait for shift change and a different intake manager to come in to start the process over. This time they were careful not to mention that Angel was more than a guest. An hour after shift change, and much swearing later, they got to sit down in a room and just breathe for a minute.

  It was already past thirdmeal in the officer’s mess and they hadn’t eaten since they’d arrived at the station, so they ended up having to find a dive bar that served something that vaguely resembled food.

  Yesterday. Today it was questionable if it had ever been edible.

  Although ten minutes into their meal that didn’t seem to matter much to Angel since she seemed determined to drink most of her limit in substances that smelled similar to cleaning solvent.

  Ethan picked at the carcass of a meal and watched her unbend in ways he’d never seen in her. It was good that she got it out of her system because he knew the next several days would be tough on him and most likely her as well. She was just short of a table dance that might have ended up in a barroom brawl, when he convinced her it was time to call it a night.

  It was a little after 2300 by the time he got her shoveled into her room and even though he didn’t begrudge her need to party off her worries, he couldn’t have forced himself to let go no matter how much alcohol he drank.

  He barely slept and was awake and ready by 0430, but somehow when the security officers arrived to escort him to his hearing, Angel still got to the door before him. Of course, it would have been better if she’d managed to get the upper half of her body into her thinskin before she opened the door.

  Ethan grinned in spite of himself as the officers tried to maintain professional appearances. “Captain Walker?”

  “That would be me,” he said, slipping around Angel and into the hallway. Turning back, he winked at her. “Do try to be better dressed if they need you to testify.” He pulled the door closed and shrugged.

  “She’s been working a small ship for a while?” the shorter of the two escorts asked. He hadn’t realized her gender until he heard her voice. “I grew up with parents that were long-run haulers. Shyness is overrated.”

  “Yah, tends to bend the grounders,” he said. “I’ll have a word with her to keep the guns holstered.”

  “It’s alright, we’re all grown-ups and I’ll just tag the file for tomorrow’s duty roster,” the other one said. He followed them down the corridor and out onto a high promenade.

  “I don’t know anything about the proceedings of an inquiry, so do you know how many days this kind of thing usually takes?” he asked as they boarded an open air lift carriage that hung from an overhead beam.

  “A lot swings with the spec,” the first one said, turning to face him as they whisked along twenty meters above the main concourse. “The prelim hearing is a one day thing, then there will be fact finding sessions and a public challenge hearing. After that they get to deliberation. Might be five or six days depending on the docket load. If your deal is complex, it might go longer.”

  “Sounds like you know a lot about the process,” he said.

  “Been working the Revocations Unit for fifteen years,” she said. “You pick up a lot.”

  “Revocations?” he asked, his heart felt like it was pumping concrete.

  “Yah, don’t panic,” she said, reading his face. “It’s a formal term for the hard cases. They don’t pull a Shipmaster ticket unless things are really bad, but if your mess is a bloodcase, maybe.”

  “I assume bloodcase means where someone died?”

  “The tribunals make a stink over it when someone gets killed,” she said, shrugging. “About half the time those go permanent, and in really messy ones they end up referred up to the criminal unit.”

  “I don’t think you’ve got much to worry about though,” the other guard said.

  The lift carriage swung to the side abruptly and slowed as they stepped off onto a landing platform. “The tribunal chambers are through those doors and down the hall on the right,” the short one said, pulling a thinpad out of her pocket and thumbing the screen on to check the docket schedule. “You’re in hearing room… Uhm… C.” She glanced at her partner in a significant way.

  “Good luck, Captain,” the other one said, biting her lip and trying to smile. It wasn’t a good sign.

  Chapter Twenty-Two:

  The tribunal chamber was big enough to seat several hundred people, but only Ethan sat in the center of the room. He had a small table with a glass and a pitcher of water and nothing else. He faced three people behind a massive slab of wood that was imposingly tall and imposingly dark. None of the three spoke as he sat there, watching them sort through a stack of
thinpads that he assumed contained the background on what had happened.

  Obviously, this was the room for hearings that packed a bigger interest.

  The center person at the table leaned forward and cleared her throat. “Good morning. If you are ready, shall we begin?” she asked, her voice amplified and echoed around the empty room even though she was less than ten meters away.

  He nodded. It was strange how, now that it had started, the entire situation seemed so much more intimidating.

  “I am Executive Civil Magistrate Vada Purnell,” she said. “These are my co-magistrates, CLS Operations Commander Lu Chen Maxwell, and Advisor Prianna Chopak. Would you please state your name for the record?”

  “Ethan James Walker,” he said surprised when his voice came back to him from the walls. He understood the need for a recording of the proceedings, but it made no sense to have the public address sound system tied in. It would have been funny except that it was a serious matter.

  “You have the right to request a recusal of any of the magistrates on this tribunal due to a conflict of interest. Do you wish to do so?” she asked.

  “I do not,” he said. It was pointless to protest at this point since he knew nothing about any of the three of them. He had heard of Commander Maxwell since he technically was his boss, somewhere a dozen decks above his head, but the others were blank faces in a crowded world.

  “Do you understand the nature of these proceedings Mister Walker?” she asked.

  “I believe so,” he said.

  “You understand that this is an informal preliminary hearing and not a formal action regarding criminal liability?” Advisor Chopak asked.

  “I do,” he said.

  “You need to be aware that any admission of any act that might be criminal in nature may be used as a basis from which to open a criminal proceeding,” the advisor said.

  “I understand,” he said.

  She nodded and leaned back from the table appearing to be satisfied that she had completed the needed disclaimer requirements.

  “Because of the possibility for legal jeopardy, your participation in these hearings is strictly voluntary,” Purnell said. “The tribunal is already in possession of a substantial body of evidence and offers this opportunity to you in order to establish your interpretation of the circumstances of your case. We can make a determination whether or not you elect to participate. Do you understand this?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. He knew the facts they possessed were primarily from what Leigh Salazar provided, so if he stood any chance of swaying the outcome, he had to take his chance at explaining his side.

  “And do you elect at this time to answer questions or make a statement of your own free will?” she asked.

  “I do.”

  “Very well,” she said. “Do you have a prepared statement to make?

  “My statement would only be my log entries made during and immediately after the incidents at Kepler 186e,” he said. “You should have these in your records already and I believe they clearly state the reasons as well as the circumstances that dictated my actions.” He’d read them over several times on the journey home and had nothing else to add.

  The three of them leaned back and conversed for almost a minute before Commander Maxwell leaned forward. “Mister Walker, I’d like to clarify something that Captain Colleen MacKenna said in her preliminary report. In her introductory documentation, she states that you expressed that you believed the explosion that caused the death of your crewmembers was the result of an explosive trap. Is this correct?”

  “It is,” he said.

  “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  “When I entered the area where the explosion had occurred, Crewman Chandler was still alive. Before he died, he was able to tell us that they had seen the trap, but that it went off before they could get clear,” he said, trying to hold his voice steady as he remembered that moment. Again.

  “Did he explain what kind of trap it was? How it was constructed?” Maxwell asked.

  “No, sir. He was dying. He didn’t have time before he passed.”

  “Then how do you know he would have recognized such a device?” he challenged.

  “I assumed he would know what he was talking about,” he said. “He was a CSL security certified handler.”

  “Do you think CSL security routinely trains cargo handlers in bomb building and diffusing techniques?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Probably not.”

  “For the record you are correct, Mr. Walker,” he said. “This type of training is not standard.”

  Ethan nodded. He could feel where this was going, and he wasn’t sure it was a place he felt comfortable being boxed into.

  “But you stand by the idea that this was some kind of booby trap?” he said.

  “I do,” he said. “I don’t know what else it could be, and I trusted his judgment.”

  Maxwell glanced down at the file in front of him. “At that time, he was dying of massive blood loss and internal physical trauma. Is this true?”

  He nodded, clearing his dry throat. “Yes. He was.”

  “Do you think his injuries could have affected his ability to remember what he had seen prior to the explosion with accuracy?”

  “That’s possible, I guess,” he said. “But I don’t understand why you’re attacking his credibility. The point is it was a bomb going off that killed him, regardless of whether he correctly recognized it as a trap.”

  “Was it hot in the hospital?” the commander asked, again looking down at the file in front of him.

  “Yes. Very hot. At or above forty-five degrees. Why?”

  “Because I am looking at the facts as they are being reported by Captain MacKenna,” he said. “The investigators from the Magellan found no evidence of a bomb.”

  “Then what was it? Something that blew up with a lot of force flattened the entire lobby of the Radiological Medicine Department,” Ethan said. “It had to be.”

  “The Magellan is reporting that it looks like it was the result of a structural failure of an oxygen tank that the extreme heat had weakened,” Maxwell said.

  “Oxygen doesn’t explode like that,” he said, remembering that from basic chemistry classes he’d taken in college. “It takes both a fuel source and something to provide ignition.”

  “Yes, but it was stored with other flammable materials,” he said. “The oxygen tank that ruptured was inside a sealed storage locker and may have been venting for some time. It could have been under pressure and might have provided more than an adequate accelerant to the environment. This would resemble an explosion.”

  Ethan leaned back in his chair and thought that through. It was possible, but it didn’t make sense. “I’m not saying I agree with that finding, but even if it is true, what bearing does that have on anything? If it wasn’t an improvised explosive device, it was an accidental explosion.”

  “Accidents rarely are,” Advisor Chopak said. “Something can only be considered truly an accident if it is beyond reasonable expectations of predictability.”

  “What exactly are you saying?” Ethan said.

  “Don’t you think it would be reasonable to expect that a facility where you know dangerous chemicals are stored would be… dangerous?” she asked. “Especially in a situation where none of the storage containers are within their acceptable environmental limits.”

  “In hindsight maybe,” Walker said. He could feel the noose tightening around him.

  “Hindsight is what’s left when foresight fails,” Commander Maxwell said.

  “That sounds great on paper, but in the real world that isn’t how it works,” he protested. “I was managing two other crises at the time of the explosion—”

  “Yes,” the Executive Magistrate said. “And at least one of those two additional crises was because of another lack of being ahead of a developing situation on your part.”

  “Any space service captain knows it is essential to opera
te proactively at all times,” Maxwell said. “Failure to do that leads to reckless decision making that ends up getting people killed.”

  Ethan pushed himself back in his chair and shook his head. They were driving the one point home that he already knew. Neither of his men would have died if he hadn’t ordered them down to the surface. He should have seen it coming because Pruitt had already spoofed the computer once. If he’d anticipated what Kaycee and Pruitt could do, this would never have happened.

  He knew it. And he had no way to argue himself out of it.

  He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “If we hadn’t gone down to the surface, those children would have died,” Ethan said. As it came out of his mouth, he realized it sounded more like an excuse than an assertion of his moral high ground.

  “That is true,” Purnell said, nodding. “Honestly it’s because of this one extenuating circumstance that you have not already been charged with negligent homicide.”

  “Bluntly put, the negative publicity that would come from arresting the person that rescued the only survivors of the Starlight Colony is not something we’re willing to bring down on CSL,” the advisor said. “At least not unless Captain MacKenna reports something egregious in your actions.”

  “So far, what we’ve read in your reports is not a compelling argument in your defense, particularly in the face of the preliminary work being done by the crew of the Magellan,” Maxwell added.

  “I understand,” he said. He felt the desire to fight drain from him.

  “Do you have anything else you wish to add?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am,” he said quietly. He stared at the back of his hands on the table in front of him and shook his head.

  “Then we will work our way through the steps of the process and consider our decision,” she said. “You are not to leave the Galileo Station Complex and you are to remain available should more questions arise through our exploration and additional hearings. You are not expected to attend, nor are you required to participate, in these proceedings from here forward. I think it is reasonable to expect that it will take no more than a week to ten days for us to arrive at our conclusion.”