A Choice of Treasons (43 page)

York didn’t understand. He couldn’t even remember where it was that he and Harshaw had had their conversation: the brig, his cabin, maybe sickbay? Nor could he remember how long the court-martial lasted. Sierka sat as chief jurist, with Soladin as his second and Armbruster as his third. They called in witnesses, questioned them, and the evidence was quite clear: York had threatened to kill Sierka and there was no denying it. There were also implications of excessive use of the suit’s combat drugs, and questions concerning York’s judgment and competence. In York’s defense Harshaw called only Alsa Yan.

“Doctor Yan,” Harshaw began. “When you first saw Lieutenant Ballin after he had returned from Anachron IV, what condition was he in, medically speaking?”

Alsa shrugged. “He was a wreck, close to death . . .” She went on to describe York’s condition in considerable detail.

“And how did he come to be in such shape, Doctor Yan?”

“It began with a breach in his left gauntlet down on the surface of the planet—”

Soladin objected at that point, claiming she couldn’t know the details of what had happened on the planet’s surface. Sierka sustained his objection, said he would allow no further discussion of events prior to the alleged mutiny attempt. But the empress asked if she could ask a question or two of her own. Of course Sierka granted her request, and she asked about marine armor.

Alsa went into considerable detail concerning the time-stamped telemetry and medical logs kept by a suit’s computer. From those she had been able to determine exactly when the breach had occurred, and exactly how long York’s hand had been under vacuum. She also knew the dosages and timing of all the drugs he’d taken. “Lieutenant Ballin was knocked unconscious no less than three times, resulting in a concussion and a certain amount of disorientation. He was suffering from an extended breach wound of the left hand, an excruciating injury at best. He had also been exposed to a lethal dose of hard radiation, which would certainly affect his ability to function, though since his suit alarms were damaged and inoperative, he was probably not aware of it. And yet he managed to save the lives of his people and return them to this ship. Certainly his capacity was diminished by his condition, and the drugs he’d taken in the line of duty.”

“The drugs,” Harshaw said, nodding thoughtfully. “In your professional opinion, doctor, how would you evaluate Mister Ballin’s judgment in self-administering combat drugs?”

“In my professional opinion, given the wounds he’d suffered, Lieutenant Ballin used the drugs effectively to remain conscious and sufficiently alert to save the lives of nearly sixty members of this ship’s crew. I believe his judgment was impeccable, and his reasoning sound.”

Harshaw was finished then. Sierka adjourned the court-martial and a couple of AI goons hustled York back to his cell. All he could do was wait while Sierka met with Armbruster and Soladin in closed session to decide how to execute him.

He pulled a chair out of a bulkhead, sat down under the weight of sheer exhaustion, raised his left arm and examined it carefully. Alsa had cut off his arm just below the elbow, done a neat job of attaching the prosthetic. He wiggled the fingers, and like the toes on his false foot he wouldn’t have known by feel that they were plast and circuits wrapped in skin from a clone culture. No, it wasn’t a dream!

He looked up at his bunk, wondered if he had the strength to climb into it, knew he’d need another twenty hours of sleep before he’d be rid of the side effects of Alsa’s speed heeling treatments . . .

Harshaw woke him sitting there. York had trouble bringing his mental processes up to any kind of reasonable speed, looked at his watch. He’d only been out an hour.

“You’ve been acquitted of all charges,” Harshaw said happily. He reached down, lifted York’s hand and shook it.

York looked at him and shook his head. “Sierka acquitted me? Just like that?”

Harshaw grinned. “Well, not
just like that
. Apparently the empress felt that
closed session
didn’t exclude her. I don’t know what went on in there, but you’ve been acquitted.”

York stood unsteadily. “Am I free to go?”

“Yes, you are.” Harshaw leaned close to him, whispered softly, “But Her Majesty would like to see you in her cabin.”

York looked at him carefully for a moment, couldn’t read anything in his face. The side effects of the speed heeling were still weighing on him heavily, and if there was some meaning hidden between Harshaw’s words he couldn’t fathom it. York turned away from him, walked out of the cell, called over his shoulder, “Later. After I get some sleep.”

“But . . .” Harshaw said. “But Lieutenant, she said now. You can’t . . .”

When York got back to his cabin the chime on his terminal was sounding steadily. He debated ignoring it but decided he might as well answer it.

He touched the receive switch on the terminal and a rather officious looking woman in the uniform of the royal guard appeared on the screen. “Ah!” the woman said, looking a bit perturbed. “Finally! Where have you been, Lieutenant?”

York blinked and shook his head. “In jail. I just got out.”

Her look shifted to impatience. “Well it’s about time. If you’d answered your terminal earlier you’d have more time now, but as it is you’ll just barely be able to make it up here.”

She was starting to irritate him, and he knew that too was a side effect of the treatments, as well as her attitude. “Up where?” he asked, trying not to sound angry.

“The empress suite, of course. You mustn’t keep her waiting. I’ll tell her five minutes—”

“The empress wants to see me?” York asked. All he wanted to do was go to sleep.

The woman could no longer contain her impatience. “Well what else would this be about?” she demanded.

“What for?” York asked.

She stopped short, frowned angrily. “Pardon me?”

“I asked what for.”

Her frown deepened. “I’m sure Her Majesty will discuss that with you—”

“No. You discuss it with me now.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. You’ll—”

“Then find out. And when you know, call me back.” He hit the blank switch.

He leaned against the console, shook his head. He was a damn fool, he knew. But he was so tired, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

He folded a seat out of the bulkhead and sat down, almost too tired to make it to his bunk . . .

The chime on his terminal woke him again. He’d fallen asleep sitting up with his head cocked to one side. He checked the time, found he’d been out for about ten minutes.

The chime sounded again, so he stood, leaned over the terminal, touched the receive switch, and the officious looking guardswoman appeared again, though the expression on her face was quite different now. “Lieutenant Ballin,” she said. “I’m Major Dewar of Her Majesty’s Guard, and I would like to express my apologies for my rather abrupt behavior a few minutes ago. I was not aware that you had recently suffered some rather serious injuries, and Doctor Yan informs me you’re still in need of time to sleep off the effects of the speed healing medications. Again, my apologies, but this is an important matter that cannot wait.”

Someone had given her hell:
be nice, if you have to, but get the idiot up here.
She was still abrupt, but now she was at least polite, though York had to struggle to avoid biting her head off anyway. He closed his eyes, couldn’t think of any better way of calling a truce than to say, “Apology accepted. I was a bit short myself.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” the woman said. “Her Majesty cordially requests your presence, at your convenience, in her suite. May I convey your reply?”

Someone had really come down hard on this woman. “Certainly,” York said, trying to come up with something better than
Ya, sure
. “Tell her I would consider it an honor, though I need about twenty minutes to make myself presentable.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Twenty minutes then.”

York took a quick, cold shower, shaved, put on a clean uniform, though, out of a recently acquired habit, the last thing he did before leaving his cabin was slip a small gun into his belt hidden beneath his tunic. By the time he reached the empress’ suite he was starting to get hungry, and he realized he hadn’t eaten real food in days.

He tapped on the door politely and Daka Temerek opened it, stepped aside to let York enter. The room inside was crowded. Besides Temerek there was Olin Rame, Alsa Yan, Armbruster, Straegga, and Maggie. York was glad to see Maggie there. Temerek and Armbruster looked guilty, Rame looked determined, Alsa looked confused, and Maggie looked like she wanted to warn York about something. Straegga marched right up to York, took his hand and shook it. “Lieutenant, this is the first chance I’ve had to thank you for saving my life, though I wish you’d told me before hand you were going to booby-trap your reactor pack that way.” She grinned. “Andleman wasn’t at all pleased, was he?”

Straegga held a cup of caff in one hand and the smell of it made York’s mouth water. “Do you think I could get a cup of that?”

Armbruster jumped. “Let me do the honors, Lieutenant.” He crossed the room to some sort of bar, and York wondered if they had any
trate
, though he didn’t voice that thought.

The room seemed overly large. He knew
Invaradin
from stem to stern, and there were no cabins on her of this size.
Cinesstar
wasn’t much larger than
Invaradin
, both warships, and a luxury the size of this cabin didn’t belong on her. It took him a moment to understand they’d cut away a bulkhead between two cabins to make a large sitting room for the empress. It was connected to another cabin beyond that, where he wouldn’t be surprised to find they’d cut away another bulkhead to make a large bedroom. He wondered if they’d gotten the starboard chamber repaired first.

Armbruster shoved a cup of steaming hot caff into his hands. York stepped back out of the center of the room, put his back to a bulkhead and took a sip. Alsa cornered him there, reached up without ceremony, peeled back the eyelid on his real eye and peered into it carefully.

“Alsa?” he whispered. “What’s going on here?”

She whispered, “I don’t know any more than you. They called me up here about an hour ago, asked about your condition, and wouldn’t let me leave after that. Against my recommendation they woke you up early, said it was important. I think Maggie knows what’s going on, but they won’t let me near her. Be careful, York. You’re still short about twenty to forty hours of sleep before you’re done with the side effects of the healing. You’re going to be tired and on edge, so don’t bite anyone’s head off.”

She produced an injector, pressed it against his thigh and pulled the trigger. He heard a faint puff and it stung a bit. “That’ll give you a little energy. No drugs, just synth-nutrition concentrates.”

“It was bad, eh?” he asked her.

She looked him in the eyes. “You almost bought it again. That’s twice now in as many months. Be more careful, eh?”

“Yes, Lieutenant, you should be more careful.”

Alsa spun about quickly and stepped aside. The empress approached, saying, “We need you, Lieutenant. Please take care of yourself. We’d hate to lose you, though that was a brave thing you did, willingly suffering a breach wound and exposing yourself to lethal radiation to save your people.”

York knew protocol required him to bow, or drop to one knee, or something. Probably drop to one knee, but he didn’t have the strength to get up again if he did that so he opted for a deep bow. “Your Majesty.” York thanked all the gods of space she didn’t hold out her hand.

Behind the empress stood Sylissa d’Hart, Martin Andow, Sarra Fithwallen, the old queen mother with her usual sour expression, and of course Major Dewar. “Doctor Yan tells me you’re still a bit tired after your ordeal, so why don’t we dispense with the formalities. Let’s find a comfortable place to sit and chat.”

She lead York to a small couch on the other side of the room, and when she sat down everyone else followed suit as if it had been rehearsed, leaving him and Alsa standing, both a little confused. The empress nodded toward an empty seat facing her. “Please, Lieutenant.”

York felt every eye in the room tracking him as he carefully sat down.

The empress smiled. “Tell me about your condition, Lieutenant. Are you feeling better?”

York shrugged. She had something she wanted to say, but she was going to take her own time saying it. “I’m just tired, and a bit confused.”

“Confused?” she asked. “About what?”

He lied. “It’s always confusing when you wake up after healing.”

“Ah!” she said. “Yes, that must be unpleasant, though there hasn’t been much on this voyage that has been pleasant.”

If that was an opening he wasn’t going to take it. “This is a warship. And warships aren’t meant to be pleasant.”

He decided to throw a joker into the deck, see if he could get any reaction. He looked around the room, said, “Nice place you have here.”

The empress smiled. “Yes. Commander Sierka has been most accommodating, though I’d really be quite content with something more Spartan, under the circumstances.”