By Blood Alone (2 page)

Loy allowed a second to pass, turned, and stuck out his hand. The smile was genuine. “Booly! Good to see you.... Here, have a chair. Coffee, perhaps? The best still comes from Earth.”

Booly shook the other man’s hand and took a seat. “No, thank you sir. I topped my tanks half an hour ago.”

“A wise move,” the general said, dropping into his chair. “How was the trip?”

“Long and slow,” Booly answered, wondering where the conversation was headed. “It seemed as if we stopped at every asteroid along the way.”

Loy grimaced. “A sign of the times, I’m afraid. The bean counters cut the passenger flights six months ago. I wish the worst was behind us, but I don’t think it is.”

Booly nodded dutifully. “Yes, sir.”

Loy had deeply set eyes. They were cannonball black. He made a steeple with his fingers and peered through the triangle. “This proceeding has attracted lots of attention. You should see the headlines. ‘Supplies Stolen.’ ‘Officer Loots Legion.’ ‘Weapons Missing.’ Terrible stuff. Especially now. It’s been fifty years si
nce the second Hudathan war, and the public is soft. We could use a police action. Might wake them up.”

The meaning was obvious, even to someone who had spent the last couple of years on the rim. The Pardo case could be used to justify further cutbacks. Booly struggled to maintain his composure. “Sir? What are you suggesting? That I alter my testimony?”

The general’s face grew hard and foreboding. “I suggest you watch your mouth, Colonel ... lest
you
face charges.

“Patricia Pardo has presidential ambitions, and could even win, unless this brings her down. That would be unfortunate, since the governor is one of our few supporters.”

Booly met the other man’s eyes. He refused to make it easy.

Loy broke the silence. “Pardo is guilty as hell, we both know that, and he deserves to be punished. Two years on Drang would serve the bastard right! But why punish the entire Legion for the actions of
one
man? The last thing we need is more negative publicity.”

Booly started to reply, but the general held up a hand. “Give it some thought ... that’s all I ask. See you in court.”

The dismissal was clear. Booly stood, said, “Yes, sir,” and turned toward the door.

Loy saw the mane of silvery gray fur that ran down the other man’s neck and winced. A half-breed. What the hell was next? Officers with scales? It made him sick. The door closed, and Booly was gone.

 

The conference room was small, no more than twelve feet across, and painted bile green. There were no decorations other than a poorly executed portrait of Captain Jean Danjou and a neatly framed recruiting poster. It showed a Trooper II, arms spitting death, with bodies all around. The caption read: “Last to fall.” The furnishings consisted of a much-abused wooden table, six mismatched chairs, and a government-issue waste-paper basket.

Patricia Pardo was beautiful in a hard, calculated way. Her hair was blonde, her eyes were green, and her teeth were white. When she spoke, it was with the manner of someone in the habit of giving orders. “Take a break, Foxy. I want to speak with my son.”

Henry Fox-Smith had dark skin and extremely intelligent eyes. They flicked from mother to son. He was a lawyer, one of the best, and worth every credit of his exorbitant fee. “Tell him to get his shit together, Patricia—there won’t be a second chance.”

Light rippled across the surface of his eight-hundred-credit suit as Fox-Smith crossed the room and stepped into the hall. The door clicked, and Patricia Pardo turned toward her son.

Captain Matthew Pardo had his father’s features, his mother’s eyes, and a full, rather pouty mouth. He tried to appear nonchalant but couldn’t carry it off. Not with his mother. Her voice was low but intense.

“The only thing that stands between me and the presidency is my own son. You had everything and threw it away. And for what? A few hundred thousand credits.”

Matthew Pardo stared at his shoes. “Is that all? Are you finished?”

“No,” his mother replied vehemently. “Not by a long shot! We still have a chance. Not much of one, but a chance. Foxy says that except for the breed’s testimony, the rest of the case is circumstantial. What the hell were you thinking? Not even your idiot father would have done something like that.”

“It worked for a long time,” Matthew replied defensively. “You’ve done worse.”

“Watch your mouth,” Patricia Pardo snapped. “This room could be bugged.”

“Nah, the Legion doesn’t work that way,” Matthew said contemptuously.

“It’s not the Legion that I’m worried about,” his mother replied darkly. “I spoke with General Loy, and he agreed to speak with Colonel Booly.”

“The furball won’t flip,” the younger Pardo replied. “Not in a million years.”

“Well, you’d better hope he does,” Patricia Pardo replied sternly, “because that’s all you have.”

 

The auditorium was packed with a menagerie of reporters, staff grunts, and service-issue robots.

A panel of six officers sat or stood on the stage. There was a lieutenant general, two colonels, two majors, and a couple of captains.

The fact that one of the captains was a half-ton cyborg surprised no one. Some of the borgs held field commissions. There was even talk of admitting cyborgs to the academy-though traditionalists didn’t like the idea.

Conversation stopped the moment Loy mounted the stage.

Booly felt his stomach muscles contract and wished he were somewhere else. The choice was clear: lie for the Legion or retire as a colonel. It should have been simple. Right is right. Then why couldn’t he decide?

General Loy sat at the center of a long wooden table. The gavel banged. “All right ... everyone knows why we’re here ... let’s get on with it. Well, Major Hassan? Are your weapons locked and loaded?”

“Yes, sir,” Hassan replied.

“Fire when ready.”

Hassan hadn’t fired a weapon since Officer Candidate School. His mustache twitched over what might have been a smile. “Yes, sir. The prosecution calls Staff Sergeant Rosa Carboda to the stand.”

The session began with Carboda’s matter-of-fact testimony: “Yes, sir, it
did
seem as if the people under Captain Pardo had lost or misplaced a lot of weapons. A hundred and fifty-six thousand credits worth, to be exact.”

Then came the more colorful comments made by an “entertainer” who called herself Crystal Sunrise. She saw nothing unusual in the large amount of money that a certain captain had to spend and hoped he’d return to Caliente.

The media, many of whom had been dozing up till that point, ordered their hover cams to move in closer. Citizen Sunrise had enormous breasts, and metal clanged on metal as the machines fought for the best angle.

Loy frowned when it became difficult to see the witness through the swarm of machines and ordered them withdrawn. The reporters did so, and the general glanced at his wrist term. “Time for a recess. Fifteen minutes. No excuses.”

Clothes rustled, chairs scraped, and servos whined as the Trooper II left the stage. Major Hassan caught Booly’s eye and waved him over. “Sir, I plan to call you immediately after the recess.”

Booly felt his heart start to pound. “Really? You made some pretty good progress. Will my testimony make any difference?”

“It certainly will,” Hassan answered confidently. “Given the fact that Sergeant Carboda had been a supply sergeantfor less than three standard months at the time of the incident, the defense will attack the extent of her expertise.

“Then, with Carboda on the ropes, they will proceed down the list to Ms. Sunrise, point to what she said, and the fact that Governor Pardo is wealthy. Of
course
Captain Pardo has extra money ... the slimy bastard is rich. Never mind the fact that he isn’t
that
rich. Get the picture, sir?”

“Yeah,” Booly replied wearily. “I get the picture.”

Hassan nodded. “Good. I’ll see you after the break. I gotta bleed my tanks.”

“You sound like the general.”

Hassan grinned. “Good! That’s the plan. Over and out.”

 

The proceedings resumed right on time, and Major Hassan called his next witness.

Booly stood when his name was called, walked for what felt like a hundred miles, and swore to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And it was then, with his hand in the air, that he remembered his father’s words.

He’d been caught in a lie. He couldn’t remember what the incident was about ... just the way his father loomed against the sky. It would have been impossible to tell the real eye from the implant if it hadn’t been for the field of scars that surrounded it. The voice was serious but loving.

“You can’t build anything on a foundation of lies, son. The walls will buckle and crush you in the rubble. The best thing to do is tell the truth and let the chips fall where they may.”

“The witness may be seated,” Loy said pointedly. Booly felt blood rush to his face and and hurried to comply.

“Thank you,” Loy said sarcastically. “Please proceed.”

Hassan nodded, said, “Yes, sir,” and turned to Booly. “Please give the court your name and rank.”

“William Booly, Colonel, Commanding Officer, Rim Sector 872.”

“And the nature of the forces under your command?”

“I command a mixed battalion consisting of two infantry companies, two platoons of sentient armor, three batteries of artillery, and a headquarters group.”

Hassan nodded agreeably. “And for those not familiar with Rim Sector 872, where is your battalion headquartered?”

“On Caliente.”

“Are
all
of your troops stationed on Caliente?’

Booly shook his head. “No. We have outposts as well.”

“Outposts that can be resupplied and reinforced from your headquarters on Caliente?”

“Exactly.”

“Thank you,” Hassan said easily. “Now, tell the court about Captain Pardo.... Does he report to you?”

“Yes.”

“And Captain Pardo’s responsibilities?”

“Captain Pardo commands Outpost RS 872-12.”

“Which is located where?”

“On a planet named Pebble.”

“Thank you. Now, tell us about Pebble, and Captain Pardo’s specific responsibilities.”

Booly’s mouth felt dry. He took a sip of water. “Pebble attracts all sorts of beings. In addition to thousands of law-abiding citizens, the planet is home to smugglers, thieves, and a variety of other criminals.”

“And Pardo keeps the lid on?”

“Yes,” Booly replied. “In a manner of speaking. There are civilian authorities as well.”

“Of course,” Hassan said agreeably. “But Captain Pardo is the senior
military
officer on the planet and, as such, has the latitude to do as he sees fit.”

“Yes. That’s correct.”

“So, let me see if I understand,” Hassan said thoughtfully. “Captain Pardo had been given a significant amount of freedom, was assigned to a planet crawling with criminals, and suddenly wound up with a whole lot of money. Is that about the size of it?”

Fox-Smith jumped to his feet. “I object! Leading the witness. Move to strike.”

Loy speared Hassan with one of his darkest frowns. “Granted. Watch yourself, Major-we’ll have none of your shenanigans here.”

Hassan looked suitably apologetic. “Yes, sir.” He turned to Booly. “So, Colonel, given the fact that you were stationed on Caliente, how could you tell whether Captain Pardo and his legionnaires were faithful to the fifty-three thousand two hundred thirty-seven regulations presently listed on the Legion’s books?”

The question drew titters from the audience. Fox-Smith rose once again. “May I ask the relevance of this line of questioning?”

Hassan looked to Loy. “Motive has been established. The accused spends more than he makes. The question goes to opportunity. Relevance will become obvious in a moment.”

Loy waved a hand. “Whatever. Get on with it.”

Hassan turned to Booly. “Answer the question, please.”

“I hold scheduled as well as unscheduled inspections.”

Hassan nodded as if hearing that particular piece of information for the very first time. “I see. So the men and women stationed on Pebble never knew when you might arrive.”

“That’s correct.”

“Describe the inspection that took place on Earth date October 23, 2645.”

Booly had been expecting the question and was ready. If his words sounded rehearsed, they were. “Sergeant Major Mueller and I landed on Pebble at approximately twenty hundred hours. It was dark.”

Hassan nodded his encouragement. “Tell the court what happened next.”

Booly shrugged. “We pulled our duffel bags off the transport and headed for the terminal. That’s when a hover truck passed in front of us.”

“Was there something
special
about the truck?” Hassan inquired. “Something that set it apart?”

“It had Legion markings.”

“Please continue.”

“I was curious, so I followed the truck across the tarmac to where a shuttle was parked.”

“Did you note any markings on the shuttle?”

“Sergeant Major Mueller took holos of the vessel. The name
‛Rim Queen’
had been painted across her bow and the number ISV-7421-3 was stenciled on her hull.”

Hassan turned toward Loy. “If it please the court-Sergeant Major Mueller’s holos are marked as exhibit 36-and subsequent investigation revealed that the shuttle is registered to the freighter
Rim Queen
. A vessel sought in connection with a variety of smuggling activities.”

Fox-Smith came to his feet. “I move to strike counsel’s last comment as both irrelevant and prejudicial.”

Loy waved a hand. “So noted. Strike the major’s comment.”

Hassan remained unperturbed. An idea had been planted-and there was no way that Loy could remove it. The prosecutor turned to Booly. “What happened next?”