Fortunes of the Imperium (22 page)

CHAPTER 19

For the third time in as many days, I stood before the captain’s desk. But this time, we were not alone. An LAI transcriptionist was present, as were a prosecutor and my defense attorney. I stood an official court martial.

My heart was in my highly polished shoes as I listened to the charges. As all official court proceedings, it was being broadcast shipwide and recorded as part of the official transcripts. There was no hope that my mother would not see it or hear tell of it. In fact, I would not be surprised if Jil was not recording the shipcast to send directly to her when it was over.

The charges were read out. None of it came as a surprise to me. Disobedience to a senior officer, repeated in spite of warnings and previous penalties. My counsel had advised me to offer an honest defense. The fact was, I had none. I should have known better, but I trusted Parsons, who had not even troubled to appear at my hour of need. I kept glancing over my shoulder toward the door in case he should appear suddenly and inform me that all of this had been a deliberate misunderstanding. But he did not come.

“Kinago! Pay attention!”

I swiveled my head to return to the captain’s direct gaze.

The captain leveled a finger at me.

“This is unpleasant for all of us, Kinago. You disobeyed my specific orders. You were given punishment detail as a first warning. Evidently it was not enough to deter you from your behavior.”

Determined to put a brave face on my situation, I held myself erect and stared over the captain’s head. I felt tragically alone.

“Evidently not, sir.”

“How do you plead?”

I had no choice and no argument against the charges. I threw back my head in a heroic fashion.

“Guilty, sir.”

“Have you anything to say in your defense?”

In those words, I believe I heard the appeal of humankindness. I chanced a look down. Captain Naftil’s eyes were so dark it was hard to distinguish pity from discipline. I gulped back a sigh.

“All I can say, sir, is that the subject with whom I spoke to was planning what amounted to an anarchist’s attack. The ship might continue to be in danger if I had not interviewed that crewmember, sir. I believe that my actions saved numerous lives, sir.”

Naftil’s left eyebrow twitched slightly.

“You would not have been in a position to hear the confession if you had not been disobedient.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. Had I detected any softening at all in his tone? I did not believe that I had. I could have implicated Parsons, who had been seen by all of the security personnel who had intercepted first Goliffe then me in the garden. But if he had not been mentioned in the reading of the charges, I would not bring him up. One betrayal did not lead to another.

My viewpad began pinging, denoting one received message after another. With a glance for permission, I silenced the notification alerts.

“Very well. Your plea regarding your actions leaves me no choice. A ship cannot function if everyone simply does what he or she pleases. There is a chain of command that must be respected and followed. This court therefore finds you guilty. You are sentenced to serve one day in the brig.”

I had withdrawn into myself, fearing the worst. When my brain sorted out the assorted sounds of his final sentence, I peeped out of the protective shell I had gathered around myself.

“One . . . one day, sir?”

Naftil sighed. “Yes, Kinago. One day. Mitigating circumstances do apply here. We exist in a real world, where unintended consequences become more important than the act that precipitated them. But it will go on your record. Any final words?”

“But that’s outrageous, sir,” I said.

Naftil blinked.

“What?”

“Disobedience to a senior officer must be worthy of at least a week. I didn’t follow your instructions. You must see that it’s necessary to send a message to the rest of the crew that that kind of behavior can’t stand. What would my mother say?”

It took Naftil a moment to see the logic in my argument.

“I am the captain, Kinago. Are you questioning my authority?”

I smiled. That was the up-and-coming officer I knew him to be.

“No, indeed, sir.”

“One day. Is that clear?”

“Aye, sir,” I said, sweeping my hand up in a perfect salute. “I will serve it with honor.”

Naftil brought his hand down upon a blinking icon on his desk.

“Very well. This court is adjourned. Take him down.”

I dared not display the cockiness I felt as the bullet-headed ’bot escorted me to the deepest inhabited level of the ship, near the gravity core. One day! It was a trifle longer than I had spent after crashing into the Empress’s memorial statue, but hardly what I expected.

The real punishment would, I assumed, arrive in the guise of a message from my mother. I fully expected a thorough dressing down, during which she would chide me for being an idiot, another charge to which I would humbly plead guilty. No change there from my ordinary modus operandi. I was spared that humiliation, however, as no message came. Perhaps the maternal unit was too busy with more important matters, such as overseeing the defense in a major war breaking out in a vital star system. I was escorted down to the depths of the
Bonchance
. The corridors were surprisingly empty for that time of day. I missed spotting even one pair of sympathetic eyes.

“In there, Lieutenant,” said the senior security officer on duty in the brig, the very woman who had arrested me in the garden. I peered into the cell before entering. It measured half the size of my cabin, which I considered small to begin with. A bunk was secured to the floor. A combination hygiene unit with a long mirror above it was secured to the wall. A chair and a pull-down flap desk were installed beside the bed. A virtual home from home.

“Not as comfortable as the Taino city lockup, but a good deal cleaner,” I informed her cheerfully.

“Inside, Lieutenant,” she said.

I complied. The door closed behind me with a thunk. I paced the two steps to the wall and back again, feeling slightly let down. One day was hardly enough to take advantage of my surroundings. I longed for an extended meditation session. It would clear my mind. Still, one day was better than nothing. I sat down upon the thin mattress and drew my spine erect.

Yet, I had just assumed
padmasana
when the door of my cell slid open. I rose to my feet and stood at attention, as I had been instructed to do, should I ever occupy a military prison. A stocky male Croctoid in a security tunic stalked in. His bulky person, with particular emphasis on his thick tail, which switched back and forth impatiently, took up most of the space in my none-too-generous temporary quarters.

“Serves you right,” he said, his upper lip curling back to reveal his impressive dentition.

“I believe it does, sir,” I said, attempting to stare over his head. He grabbed my chin and pulled it down so our eyes were on a level. He fixed me with a spiteful leer. “You wouldn’t read my stars, but you read
hers
.”

“I hadn’t intended to read anyone else,” I protested. “But I . . . Parsons told me . . .” Then I remembered my own words to the captain, and ceased my unworthy defense. He seemed almost gleeful when he closed the door upon my prattling. I sat down upon the desk chair and contemplated the blank walls.

Not that continuing would have raised my reputation in the eyes of the security officer, or the hundreds of ill-wishers whose assessment of my situation coincided with his, which I discovered shortly on the comments queue on my Infogrid file.

I took responsibility for my own actions. It just made me feel rather despondent to be the only one who knew that I had done the right thing.

The night I spent in the lockup was one of the longest of my life. Penitentiaries were, as I had read once, were intended to provide a venue for those in them to learn to be penitent.

I vowed thereafter to be more self-searching, and only employ my interest upon those who really need it, not broadcast as though I were the sun beaming beneficence down upon the land. It was an entire equation. I was giving something, yes, but I was asking something in return: information. They were part of my study. Did they intend to be? No. Did I inform them of that fact? Well, yes, I had. Did they understand that?

Looking at the flaming entries on my Infogrid page, apparently not.

But I saved the ship
, I thought to myself.
That ought to count for something
.

But did it?

I ate the survival rations that were served to me late that evening, feeling them as ashes in my mouth. I was cast adrift, alone, isolated. Sometimes I enjoyed a good wallow in self-pity, as who did not? But this one did not satisfy me. I settled on the bunk, staring toward the ceiling in the darkness.

A ping sounded from my viewpad. I was not entirely alone, then. Someone wished to communicate with me. I hoped it was Parsons. I felt that he owed me an explanation. I was undecided whether or not to speak to him until after the conclusion of our mission. Barring an apology from Parsons, I would have been happy for a kind word from anyone.

Instead, I received a missive unlike any that I had ever read in my life.

“Lord Thomas,” it began, “you don’t know us, but we need your help.”

The tap on the door came softly. Almost before Naftil lifted his head, the black-clad presence was before his desk.

“Commander Parsons.”

“Captain Naftil.”

“Are there any objections to my actions?” Naftil asked.

“None, sir,” Parsons said. “Lord Thomas is unusually observant. It is better to distract him for the moment so he is concentrating on our mission when we depart. It is also good to have had all the ship’s eyes on him. It will raise fewer questions now, or later.”

“Good. I am very happy to cooperate.” Naftil hesitated, studying the lean, dark figure before him. “This is the first time I have been asked to assist in a covert operation. I rather enjoyed it.”

“The First Space Lord is grateful for your assistance.”

Naftil absorbed the praise, feeling like a small boy being given a prize at school. He tried not to wriggle with pleasure.

“I do admire her greatly, you know. I am a bit sorry I had to treat her son in that fashion. He is a charming young man.”

“It is one of his most useful traits,” Parsons said. Naftil tried to read his tone and failed.

“His concern for others is genuine, isn’t it? Not assumed? Many of my crew have become fond of him in this short time. I would hate to think it was all an act for the sake of your mission.”

A tiny crease appeared above the left corner of the other man’s upper lip.

“No, sir. He does care for those he befriends, captain. I fear that may do him more harm than good in the future, but he will cope. Or learn to.”

Naftil’s smile became broader.

“I watched the recording of the event that you set up. His interrogation of that poor young woman was masterful. He gleaned information about her mental state and that of the people manipulating her that none of the doctors or her co-workers suspected. It did almost seem like magic. He nearly had me convinced that I ought to ask for a reading.”

“Perhaps you should have one on the return journey, sir,” Parsons said. “He seems to have a unique gift for picking up on what is unsaid. He really is very perceptive, though in this case it is based upon specious nonsense.”

“Maybe a little nonsense is good for me,” the captain said. “But I must say I will be glad to have you depart.”

“Good for all of us, sir,” Parsons assured him.

As before, Parsons came to retrieve me from my incarceration. Brief as it was, I thought it had done me good. But I surveyed his baleful countenance with trepidation. I might still have been annoyed with him, but he was my eyes and ears in places I could not otherwise go.

“How bad is it?” I asked.

“The captain has his misgivings, but you have done a service to the navy. The young lady is being confined in the infirmary until she can be taken to a planetside hospital.”

I let out the remainder of the breath I had been holding.

“Well, that’s good, I must say. Having her choose the Two of Swords was almost prophetic to her state of mind, but it wasn’t until I did a further reading that I saw how disturbed she was.”