Scattered Suns (39 page)

Chapter 80—BASIL WENCESLAS

The Chairman didn’t take pleasure in such a spectacle, but dammit, Prince Daniel deserved what he was about to face. This behavior had to be nipped in the bud. Immediately. And Peter needed to understand the consequences of his actions even more than his shameful heir apparent did.

Pretending to be supportive, Basil wore his finest slick-fabric suit; his steel-gray hair was perfectly styled and arranged. He wished Sarein could be here at his side right now. She had sent a message that she would soon return. Had she accomplished her mission yet, or had even Sarein let him down? Was there a single person in the Spiral Arm—besides him—who did not drop the ball? Couldn’t anybody do the straightforward tasks required of them? No wonder the human race was faltering in this war!

Fighting back his simmering anger, he watched as a very contrite and frightened-looking Daniel faced the crowds and media cameras for the first time. The Prince had obviously been through an ordeal. Even the best makeup could not hide the shadows under his eyes. At last the brat had been broken, whipped into cooperation, though now it was effectively too late. Basil had decided to wash his hands of Daniel, but the Prince could still serve a purpose. His fate could be an effective threat against the too-independent Peter.

The King and Queen, pretending to be well behaved—so smug in their secret about Estarra’s pregnancy!—stood in the background, dressed in colorful raiment. They kept glancing at each other in confusion and concern.

“People of the Hansa!” Daniel’s voice was watery, shaky. OX had coached the boy over and over again; he should have done better. “I...I feel it’s time for me to explain.”

Basil had hoped their surrogate Prince would shine in his last moment in the limelight.
How could I have made such a grave error in choosing this person?
When they’d been forced to pick a potential replacement for Peter, Basil had been under a great deal of stress. He’d moved too precipitously, and now the Chairman had to backpedal just to implement damage control.

Daniel gathered momentum as his stage fright dissipated. “I choose to remain out of public view so as not to diminish the importance of my dear brother King Peter. He is your leader. Your hopes and prayers ride with him, not me.”

Basil flicked his gray eyes to see the surprised expression on Peter’s face. Quietly and discreetly, the King squeezed Estarra’s hand, as if he honestly thought he could protect her from what the Chairman would have to do.

Daniel continued, “However, some people have taken advantage of the fact that my face is not overly familiar to you. You may have seen news reports of an impostor pretending to be your Prince. That poor deluded young man has been apprehended and will be given the treatment he needs.” Daniel fidgeted; makeup hid any evidence of whether or not his face grew pale.

Though Eldred Cain had suggested a toned-down reaction, Basil had dismissed the deputy from his offices and written the speech himself.

“The true King has the vision and leadership to guide the human race through these dark times. He has my support, and I know he has yours.” Daniel bowed, presumably thinking it was all over.

The people in the Royal Plaza applauded politely. Peter and Estarra moved up beside the Prince in a show of mutual respect. Cautiously, Basil retreated a few steps to let the “royal family” have all the attention. Images of the well-staged moment would be widely distributed across the Hansa.

Peter shot a glance at the Chairman, his blue eyes narrowed. Basil was sure his puppet King would understand the need for a tighter grip on power, closer observation.

Cain and Pellidor waited in the shadows. The pallid deputy watched in silence, clearly disapproving. Basil decided to ignore him. No one but the Chairman knew what was in the best interests of the human race.

He turned to his expediter. “Now that Daniel has publicly covered his ill-advised stunt, he probably thinks he is forgiven, but our dear Prince couldn’t be further from the truth. We can’t risk a repeat of this circus. Mr. Pellidor, you know what to do.”

Cain looked at him in alarm, but Pellidor gave a crisp nod. “I have already made preparations, Mr. Chairman.”

At last, Basil allowed himself a calming smile and reminded himself of pleasant thoughts. Sarein would be back in another day or so...

Chapter 81—ORLI COVITZ

After three days of cooling her heels in the EDF base, Orli was already tired of the Moon. Admiral Stromo was due to return later today with his analysis of the Corribus attack—not that there would be any surprises.

General Lanyan was through with her and Hud Steinman, and the EDF was preparing to send them back to Earth, where they assumed the two wanted to be. Despite extensive database searches, no one had been able to find her mother. Orli didn’t know where she would go now or what would happen to her, but she would figure out something. She always did.

In the weeks since the massacre, she had grieved for her father, but at the moment she mostly felt empty and stunned. It would take a long time for her to absorb everything she had lived through. She played music in her borrowed quarters, losing herself for hours in the melodies that flowed from her fingers.

When an EDF soldier led her to the shuttle bay, Steinman was already there waiting. He looked disheveled and dusty, though he’d had ample opportunity to clean himself, shave, and put on fresh clothes. Orli suspected he was just one of those men who always looked rumpled, no matter what he wore or how well he groomed himself.

The old man brightened upon seeing her. “Hey, kid. Somebody on Earth thinks all colonists and refugees are interchangeable. They’re throwing us together with those Crenna folks and sending us off to another Klikiss world.”

“My dad always told me to appreciate any chance for a fresh start.”

“Corribus was the cream of the crop, though.” Steinman shook his head. “You can bet the new place won’t be as fine.”

Orli sat next to him, leaning against the wall. “As long as they send us someplace that doesn’t get destroyed again.” She put her chin in her hands and heaved a deep sigh. Inside her head, she heard her father’s voice chiding her: “Keep your spirits up, girl. Bounce from one place to another. You can’t see the stars when you’re staring down at your feet.”

One time, Jan Covitz had traced her lips with his finger. “See this? When you smile it makes a curve upward, like a cup. You can catch good luck that way. But when you frown”—he tugged her lips downward—“then all the good fortune just slides off and runs down your chin.”

Beside her, Steinman continued to chatter. “After all the efforts I’ve made to get away from big groups of people, my plan backfired on me.”

“A lot of things backfired on us. And for Captain Roberts, too. He tried to help us, and look at all the trouble he’s gotten into.” Orli glanced at the transport that would take them down to Earth. “How long until we leave?”

“We’re on a military schedule,” Steinman said with a shrug. “We go when they tell us to go, and we wait the rest of the time.”

“I need to say goodbye to Captain Roberts.” She trotted over to one of the EDF soldiers working in the launch bay and asked to see her friend.

“He’s in the brig, uh, ma’am,” the soldier said. “I don’t believe he’s allowed visitors. His military tribunal starts in a few hours.”

“It would be just for a minute. Can you check? I’m sure General Lanyan will make an exception.” Orli pestered the guard until he submitted a request, which was forwarded to someone else and then a third person before she was finally escorted down to the brig level.

“You only have ten minutes,” the guard said gruffly.

“I know. My shuttle leaves soon.”

A miserable-looking Captain Roberts sat on his bunk, while a large woman paced the room like a thundercloud on legs. Orli recognized Rlinda Kett, who had flown the
Voracious Curiosity,
taking Orli and her father from Dremen to the transportal hub.

“Of course I remember who you are, young lady,” Captain Kett said, returning Orli’s greeting with a chuckle. “Considering how things turned out, I wish I hadn’t taken you passengers to Rheindic Co. You’d have been better off staying on Dremen.”

Orli looked at Roberts’s hangdog face, his unkempt frizz of gray hair. “I’m sorry for getting you into so much trouble, Captain.”

“Nothing we can do about it, missy.” His voice sounded heavy and tired. “And I wouldn’t have changed my actions anyway. You’d think they’d show a little gratitude.”

“Can I help in any way? Maybe testify about what a good man you are? I could be a—what do they call it?—a character witness.”

“He’s a character, all right,” Rlinda said. “But this military tribunal doesn’t play by the rules we know. They’re only interested in a particular result, and you can be sure they’ll get it.”

“I feel like a feather in the backdraft from a starship engine,” Roberts said. “Why don’t they wait until Admiral Stromo gets back with his report? Once they understand the real emergency, they’ll have better things to do.”

“I’m really sorry,” Orli said again.

“Don’t you worry, young lady.” Rlinda patted her on the shoulder. “Everything will be all right.”

Captain Roberts sat up. “Don’t lie to the girl, Rlinda. She’s already been through a lot.”

Rlinda maintained her stoic smile as she urged Orli off. “It’s time for the young lady to go catch her shuttle, BeBob. You and I still have plenty of strategy to discuss.”

Chapter 82—RLINDA KETT

Less than four days after Branson Roberts’s arrest, a rushed board of inquiry convened behind closed doors. Rlinda threatened to handcuff herself to BeBob if they didn’t let her into the room with him. Shouldering guards out of her way, she marched into the windowless underground chamber.

BeBob walked toward his seat looking defeated and resigned to his fate. She nudged him in the ribs, and he stood up straighter.

His assigned legal counsel was sitting at the defense table. The man had met briefly with BeBob twice, mainly to review facts given to him by the EDF. According to Lanyan’s administrative memo, there wasn’t much need for an actual “trial” because no one disputed the facts of the case.

Rlinda, naturally, disagreed.

She gave the nominal EDF legal counsel no more than a glance as she stepped forward to face Lanyan and two lower-ranking officers. They all wore immaculate uniforms, though there would be no media coverage, yet.

Lanyan frowned. “Ms. Kett, you were not invited to these proceedings.”

“I will be acting as the advocate for Captain Branson Roberts.” She glared over at the preoccupied military representative. “And a hell of a lot better one than your sock puppet over there. At least I’ve
listened
to the accused. One would assume that’s step one in a defense strategy.”

The legal counsel bridled. The two officers at the table chuckled until Lanyan glared at them, and they resumed their professional demeanor.

“This is merely a preliminary hearing, Ms. Kett,” Lanyan said.

“That’s
Captain
Kett.” Rlinda walked to the front of the room. “General, let me remind you of the things
Captain
Roberts has done for the Hansa. You yourself stuck this man on a fishhook and used him as bait to capture the Roamer pirate Rand Sorengaard. Remember that? He risked his life for you.”

Lanyan was not ruffled. “You and Captain Roberts benefited from the end of the Sorengaard matter as much as anyone else. Seriously, he can’t expect to receive clemency because of something that happened eight years ago.”

Without slowing down, Rlinda summarized how most of their private commercial ships had been confiscated and converted to EDF use, how BeBob had been forced to perform dangerous reconnaissance missions against his will, and how, with the blessing of Chairman Wenceslas himself, BeBob had served the Klikiss colonization initiative by shuttling supplies and materials to new settlements, which was how he had discovered the massacre on Corribus.

Out of desperation, Rlinda had again tried to goad the Chairman into taking executive action in BeBob’s case. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, the man would no longer take her calls. BeBob was on his own.

Lanyan was losing patience. “Your reminiscences are irrelevant, Ms. Kett. The incontrovertible fact is that Captain Roberts and his ship were conscripted into vital service for the EDF, and he is therefore under the jurisdiction of military law. He deserted his duties and hid from justice for years. We are at war. We cannot tolerate such behavior from a pilot in the Earth Defense Forces.”

One of the other officers added, “More than a hundred deserters like him have abandoned their posts, and as a result our military effectiveness has diminished. We have no option but to make an example of Captain Roberts.”

The assigned legal counsel showed no inclination to speak up. Sitting at the table, BeBob decided to talk for himself. “But...but you blackmailed me into flying missions for you! You sent me out as cannon fodder. Look what happened to me at Dasra! The hydrogues almost destroyed my ship.”

Lanyan’s face became very cold. “Don’t you dare complain to us about Dasra. Because of our
incomplete
information there, because you didn’t finish
your
job, a military survey team and a tactical squadron consisting of more than three hundred personnel were completely wiped out at Dasra.”

BeBob lowered his head. “Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best example—”

“I’m not sure we need to hear any more.” Lanyan’s voice held a note of smugness.

Rlinda wondered how hard she’d have to smack the EDF legal counsel to get him to do his job. Frustrated, she stepped forward again. “Does the phrase kangaroo court mean any—”

Lanyan slapped his hand down on the table. “The basic facts are clear and uncontested. Even Captain Roberts does not deny them.” He lifted a hand to tick the points off on his fingers. “He was legally conscripted into the Earth Defense Forces. His ship was legally reassigned to serve the EDF. Captain Roberts was allowed to keep flying solely on the condition that he would devote his time to authorized scout missions. Instead, he simply flew off and never came back.” His piercing gaze nailed BeBob. “Do you deny any of this?”

“I came back. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Rlinda turned back to the defense table. “Don’t say anything, BeBob.” She snapped at the legal counsel, “Isn’t that what
you’re
supposed to advise him?”

The man looked at BeBob without expression. “I thought he could figure that much out for himself.”

Lanyan prepared to leave. “I don’t see any point in continuing this nonsense today. Admiral Stromo is arriving with his report from Corribus, and I need to speak to him as soon as possible. We can reconvene tomorrow to wrap up anything else, but clearly there’s sufficient evidence to proceed with a formal court-martial.” He glanced at the other two officers, who nodded.

The General’s expression was full of disgust for BeBob. “Once we go public, the Hansa media will paint you as the slime-dripper you really are. I doubt you’ll get a lot of sympathy. Chairman Wenceslas has already granted approval for us to seek the death penalty if you’re found guilty of desertion. He agrees with the need to crack down on people like you.”

BeBob’s eyes went wide. “Death penalty?”

Rlinda put her hands on her hips but bit back an outcry. At the table, the legal counsel simply nodded solemnly. “Desertion in a time of war is an offense punishable by death. Has been for centuries.”

Lanyan continued in a threatening tone, “However, your past examples of service may be considered mitigating details, along with your rescue of the two survivors from Corribus. Depending on public reaction during the court-martial, King Peter might commute your sentence to permanent penal servitude on an industrial planet.” The General smiled. “If he feels generous.”