The Shadow of Cincinnatus (11 page)

The captain turned to face Roman. “Commodore,” he said, “I move that statement be struck from the record.”

“Do it,” Roman said, after a moment. Even a
hint
of alien sympathies could destroy a career, no matter the actual context. The mere presence of an alien starship built with human technology would be alarming enough. “We must assume the worst.”

He sighed, inwardly. It hadn’t been
that
long since he’d taken shore leave on an alien world, where he’d seen just how badly the aliens had been degraded under humanity’s jackboot. They’d rebelled later, he’d heard, and he didn’t blame them. The Federation might be hated and feared along the Rim, where Federation membership brought more oppression and exploitation than benefits, but aliens had the worst of it. They were, at best, nothing more than slaves. It was strikingly rare to encounter an alien away from its homeworld, outside a zoo.

And who
, a nasty little voice at the back of his mind muttered,
could blame the new aliens for trying to defend themselves
?

“See to your duties,” he said, tartly. The voice had to be ignored, right now. There was too much to do, rebuilding the Federation, to worry about alien rights. Something could be done later, he was sure. “Dismissed!”

Elf waited behind until the other officers had left the compartment. “Young Higgins will be in for some trouble,” she observed. “That was a very intemperate remark.”

“His superiors will not be pleased,” Roman agreed. But Higgins was really too good an engineer to lose. “His career will survive.”

“Chew him out personally,” Elf suggested. “No one else will say a word to him if you chew him out first.”

Roman smiled weakly, remembering his first deployment on
Enterprise.
There had been a strict pattern for young officers who happened to screw up by the numbers. They’d be chewed out by their immediate superior, then the next-ranking officer, and
then
all the way up to the XO. But if the XO happened to be the first one to chew the young man out, no one else said a word.

“I’ll see to it,” he said. “What do
you
make of the whole mess?”

“A mess,” Elf said. “Nothing about this makes sense, Roman. That probably means there’s more than one party involved, perhaps working at cross-purposes.”

“The governor and...the aliens?” Roman asked. “Or insurrectionists? Or...what?”

“We may not find out for a while,” Elf said. She rose to her feet, then paced over to sit next to him. “And you were right. We must be prepared for the worst.”

Roman sighed. His plan had been simple enough; the superdreadnaughts would remain at Athena, while his smaller units would be assigned to convoy protection. They would aggressively chase every contact they detected, ensuring that the pirates knew there was a new game in town. Any pirates they happened to capture would be interrogated, hopefully allowing ONI to track down their bases, which might lead to rogue colonies beyond the Rim. He’d even been planning to send out new survey missions, once he had a feel for the entire sector. They might have stumbled across an entire world of rebels and started the task of bringing them under the Federation’s authority.

But the plan hadn’t survived contact with Governor Barany.

“They bought vast amounts of military gear,” he mused. “Why would they want so
much
of it?”

It was rare, vanishingly rare, to encounter a pirate ship larger than a light cruiser. The crewing requirements were staggeringly high, beyond the capabilities of any reasonable pirate organization. Besides, the larger the ship, the more complex its operations. Pirate crews were rarely capable of handling such a ship for long, even with automated systems to assist. The pirates seemed to be purchasing material they had no logical use for, save the mere pleasure of ownership. But add in an alien race using human-derived technology and one explanation suggested itself fairly quickly. The
aliens
, not the humans, wanted the technology.

He outlined his thoughts and Elf nodded. “It makes sense,” she said. “If they’re trying to build up a fleet of their own, they’d need as many weapons and other pieces of hardware as they could get. And we already know they’re technologically ingenious.”

“Higgins made that clear,” Roman said. Actually, his report had suggested the engineer was more than a little impressed with his alien counterparts. The report might have to be edited carefully before it was sent up the chain to Earth. Federation Navy HQ would be unlikely to take a calm view of it. “We definitely have to prepare for the worst.”

Elf smiled, then rose to her feet and walked out of the compartment. Roman watched her go, then looked down at the reports on his datapad. There had been so much hardware flowing out of the system that he couldn’t help considering it a major threat, if it was gathered together in one place. And Governor Barany hadn’t helped. Even if he’d had no idea that aliens – and human collaborators – were active within his system, the sheer lack of oversight had allowed them to get their work done without interference. That would have to stop...

But cutting off their supply lines will tell them we know what they’re doing
, he mused.
And they might do something stupid – or dangerous
...

He tapped a switch, bringing up a star chart of the Rim. A number of worlds were tagged as having been catalogued, but not officially brought into the Federation; beyond them, there were no tags, apart from a handful of question marks. The Survey Service had been cut to the bone long before the Justinian War. Anything could be out there, anything at all.

“Record,” he ordered, straightening up. “To Emperor Marius, from Commodore Garibaldi. A dangerous situation has been uncovered...”

Captain’s Court. A formal venue for military court-martials. Seven active-service Captains sit in judgement over defendants, who may be of any rank. Sometimes referred to as the Admiral’s Bane, as Admirals may be judged by their subordinates.

-The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199

Earth, 4098

“Back again, Admiral?”

Marius nodded as he stood in front of the forcefield, clasping his hands behind his back. The captive was lying on his bunk, staring up at the cold grey ceiling, resting his hands on his chest. As Marius had ordered, a barber had been allowed to visit Blake Raistlin, ensuring he looked his best for the hearing. But no one could really look their best in the bright orange jumpsuit he’d been forced to wear. No other clothes were provided for prisoners within the Federation Penal System.

“It must be a special day,” Raistlin said, mockingly. “I had my hair cut. Do you know how hard my mother and the maids had to work to get my hair cut when I was a child?”

“It’s truly sad to see you never grew out of being a brat,” Marius said, although he knew that was unfair. Raistlin’s career had been promising, despite his exalted family connections, before he’d tried to kill Marius Drake. He should have gone into starship command and wound up commanding a cruiser, like so many of the graduates from his class. “I would have thought you’d be glad of the shave.”

“No one here to be impressed,” Raistlin pointed out. He swung his long legs over the side of the bunk and sat upright. “No women to charm, Admiral. Not even a guard intent on having his fun with a helpless prisoner. Not even a shower room to accidentally drop my soap. Why should I bother looking nice?”

“Your trial has finally been scheduled,” Marius said. “It will take place in three hours from now.”

Raistlin lifted one dark eyebrow. “And how will I defend myself in a court you have packed with your supporters?”

“You will receive a fair trial,” Marius said. “It’s no less than you deserve.”

“And did my family,” Raistlin asked, “receive a fair trial?”

“They could never have had one,” Marius said. He didn’t regret shooting the Grand Senators, but he hadn’t been worried about putting them on trial at the time. “You will have every chance to defend yourself.”

Raistlin smirked. “You must be confident I can’t defend myself,” he said. He stood and stalked towards the forcefield, coming to a halt just before it would have thrown him back into the cell. “Or are you merely intent on watching as I die?”

Raistlin paused. “Or do you have another reason to keep me alive, admiral?”

Marius clenched his fists. Tiffany had been right. Raistlin was a skilled manipulator, even when he was on the wrong side of a prison forcefield. His words cut into Marius’s soul, even though Raistlin was nearly sixty years younger than Marius himself. But no amount of words would change the fact that he was a prisoner and about to die.

“Your death will set an example,” Marius said, instead. “You will be tried – fairly. You will be judged – fairly. And you will be executed – fairly.”

“How very
fair
,” Raistlin observed.

“The universe isn’t fair,” Marius snapped. “How many of your family’s atrocities would have been carried out if the universe were
fair
?”

Raistlin smiled, but said nothing.

Marius turned as a hatch opened, revealing a short grey-haired man wearing a black suit and tie, rather than a military uniform. “This is Lobe Darlington,” he said. “Your defense lawyer.”

For the first time, he thought he saw an honest emotion on Raistlin’s face. Surprise.

“You actually hired a defense lawyer for me?”

“You will be tried by a Captain’s Court,” Marius said. He took a moment to enjoy the younger man’s astonishment, then stepped back from the forcefield. “You are entitled to a defender, if you wish, or you may defend yourself. The choice is yours.”

“Thank you, Emperor,” Darlington said. He had an irritatingly nasal voice, which had proven surprisingly effective in the past. The Federation’s justice system might be thoroughly corrupt, but a skilled lawyer could sometimes make a real difference. “If you don’t mind, I need to speak with my client.”

“Of course,” Marius said.

“And I further wish to register a complaint about how the guards treated me as I entered the facility,” Darlington continued. “They searched every inch of my body.”

“This is a high-security facility,” Marius said. Normally, a Captain’s Court would be held on the moon, but there was no time for him to leave Earth. “And your paperwork was left untouched.”

Darlington nodded, reluctantly, as he drew an old-style notebook from one of his pockets, followed by a pen. Marius puzzled over it for a moment, then realized that the notebook would be impossible to hack. The Marines at the gates would have insisted on scanning any portable terminal thoroughly, just in case it had been rigged to explode at the right moment. A notebook posed no real threat, beyond paper cuts.

“It is still a breach of my rights,” Darlington said. “I...”

“...Was hired to serve as a defense attorney,” Marius said. “The security requirements are a part of that, I’m afraid.”

He walked towards the door, then stepped through it, resisting the temptation to shout something rude as he left. He’d always hated lawyers, hated the way they could twist the truth into a pretzel or manipulate the jury until someone who was obviously guilty was released on a technicality. God alone knew how many corrupt officials had escaped punishment because they’d been able to pay for a good lawyer. But it was important to ensure that Raistlin had a fair trial. The Federation’s legal system needed to be repaired.

Three hours later, they assembled in the courtroom. It hadn’t been designed to serve as a courtroom and there had been some quick changes to allow for the procedure. A long table held seven Captains, all selected by lot, while two smaller chairs and tables had been put to one side, one for the defendant and one for the prosecutor. Captain Helen Yale saluted Marius as she entered, then sat down at the prosecutor table. Moments later, Raistlin and Darlington were escorted into the room.

“He looks better than I expected,” Tiffany muttered in his ear. “Where did he get that uniform?”

Marius shrugged. Raistlin wore a commander’s uniform instead of the orange jumpsuit. He considered it briefly, then decided that Darlington would have asked for the uniform, or simply brought it with him when he entered the President’s House. Marius hadn’t forbidden him to bring anything, as long as it didn’t set off the security alarms. But it was still an uncomfortable sight.

Captain Warren, the senior Captain, tapped for silence. “Commander Blake Raistlin stands accused of treason, murder of a senior officer, attempted murder of a senior officer and obeying illegal orders,” he stated. There were few of the formalities seen in civilian courts. “Commander Raistlin. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty, sir,” Raistlin said.

“Duly noted,” Warren said. “Captain Yale?”

Helen Yale rose to her feet. “The case before us is simple,” she said. “Commander Raistlin was assigned to the permanent staff of Admiral Marius Drake as his aide. He served in this role until the defeat of Admiral Justinian, whereupon he took a gun into the CIC and opened fire, resulting in the wounding of Admiral Drake and the death of General Vaughn. These facts are beyond dispute.”

She paused, for effect. “Commander Raistlin is an officer in the Federation Navy,” she continued. “He was commissioned as an officer six years ago, just after the Battle of Earth, when he took the second oath. As such, he has a duty to uphold both the traditions of the Federation Navy and the structures that make the Navy work. To betray his senior officer, to call into question the trust the Navy needs to function, is the act of a traitor. Is there any defense he can make that would save him from the consequences of his actions?

“Yes! There is! He will say that he was only following orders! But the orders from the Grand Senate to murder Admiral Drake were not, could not, be legal! Admiral Drake was not a declared rebel, an enemy of the Federation. He was an officer following orders who could be legitimately recalled to Earth. There were no grounds for ordering his subordinates to remove him, let alone assassinate him.