The Forever Hero (26 page)

The flash of the double red lights at the edge of the console caught Gerswin's attention before the sharpness of the sound.

Buzzz! Buzzz!

“Gerswin.”

The image on the other end was Lerwin's.

“Problem, Captain. Lostwin was bringing in the fourth load of those Denv shambletowners, landing them outside Birmha.”

Gerswin nodded.

“Finished off-loading, and one of the Birmha types unloads a sling on the Denv group.”

“And it went downhill from there?”

“Worse. Trelinn orders them to stop. They didn't. He scrambled out of the cockpit and starts using his stunner. The Denv types know better, but not the Birmha types.”

“How badly was he hurt?”

“Cracked ribs, medics think. Gash across the face. Still en route back to base.”

“That the last flitter load for now?”

“Yes.”

“Tell the medical staff. I'll take care of the rest.”

Lerwin nodded, and Gerswin jabbed at the console, waiting for Nitiri's face to show.

“Yes, Commander?”

“Anyone out there?”

“Haskil.”

“Come on in, then.”

Gerswin turned and walked toward the portal. He did not feel much like sitting in any case, and the office seemed smaller and more enclosed than ever.

“Yes, ser?” repeated Nitiri as the portal closed behind him.

“Need to convene a Board of Inquiry on Major Trelinn's actions this afternoon. As soon as possible, and within the next few days. Done strictly. Make sure the board is totally impartial. Rather have officers sympathetic to Trelinn than openly hostile.”

Nitiri's head moved frantically, as if in disapproval.

“You disapprove, Nitiri?”

“No, ser.”

“I do, but that's not the question. Imperial law is rather strict about firing on civilians except in self-defense.”

Gerswin glanced at the blank wall across from his console, the spot where he had never hung any holos or honors, unlike Manders and his predecessors.

“Is that all, ser?”

“That's all, Nitiri. That's all.”

The dapper man with the pencil-thin mustache stepped through the portal, followed by two armed technicians. He wore a plain gray tunic and matching trousers.

“You can go.” The commandant motioned the techs back through the portal.

“But…ser…”

“Where can he go?”

“Yes, ser.”

They left, and the portal closed behind them.

“Have a seat, Linn.”

“No, thank you, Commander. What I have to say will not take long. While I appreciate your kindness in seeing me before I leave, and while you know I am less than perfectly happy with the way in which the Service has considered my years of devotion, those are not the reasons for my request.”

The commander nodded, remained standing.

The dapper man, stockier but no taller than the commander, coughed, then cleared his throat and looked from one side of the office to the other.

“I suppose it doesn't matter,” he continued, “but as a matter of principle alone I wanted you to know that I understand exactly what you are doing and why. Although I can applaud the technical skill with which you have managed to accomplish your goals well within the laws of the Empire and the regulations of the Service, I find your ultimate objective of eliminating the shambletowners nothing less than genocidal.”

The stockier man paused, as if waiting for a reaction.

“Linn, unlike you, I did not attempt to stun down an entire population.”

“That misses the point, as you well know!” The dark-haired former major's voice began to rise, in both pitch and volume.

“Who knows you are a former devilkid? Who knows the shambletowners killed your parents? Who knows your drive for reclamation is merely a tool to destroy the shambletowners and their culture?”

“Linn.” The hawk-yellow eyes of the commander caught the other, who fell silent, stepping back a pace in the face of the glance.

“First,” responded Gerswin, “the I.S.S. and everyone else knows I'm a devilkid. Never hid it. Second, parents' deaths are a matter of record for everyone. You found it. Third, shambletowners are doomed whether I do anything or not. Mahmood Dagati proved that. Fourth, you are incompetent and refuse to face it. Fifth, you'd rather have a dead Earth man abandon your precious belief in procedures or do anything remotely resembling work.”

The commander stopped as he watched the other's bright eyes and realized that Trelinn was not listening, but merely waiting to finish his statements.

“You still want to destroy the shambletowners, and they know it.
They fear you like the devil. They cringe when you appear. They frighten their children with stories about you.”

The commandant took a step forward. Trelinn backed away.

“Fear. You project terror and fear. You use it to cow everyone. But I'm not afraid of you, and I know what you are.”

Gerswin shook his head.

“Sorry you feel that way, Linn. Won't be easy for you. Anything else?”

“No, Commander. Just remember that
I
know what you are, and I'm not totally without friends on New Augusta.”

“Suppose you're not.” Gerswin smiled as he finished the observation, and the former major stiffened as if repressing a shiver.

“Is there anything you want to confess?” asked the officer who had resigned.

“Confess? Hardly!” laughed the commander, with a single hard bark. “Stand by what I've done, and what has to be done. Still a job to be done here, a real job. Will be a lot to do long after you're dust, Linn. Has nothing to do with shambletowners.” He paused before concluding, “Have a good trip home.”

The commander leaned back and tapped the intercom. The portal opened, and the two techs came bursting through.

“Mister Trelinn says he's through.”

The ex-major said nothing as he was escorted from the commander's office.

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY

WRIT OF APPEAL
IN RE

Gillis Marjinn Trelinn
Major

Interstellar Survey Service

Charge: Use of deadly weapon against non-Imperial citizens (I.J.C. 40(b))

Finding: Guilty, with mitigating circumstances

Charge: Endangering I.S.S. Personnel through violation of Imperial Judicial Codes (I.S.S. Regulation, Part C.3)

Finding: Guilty, with mitigating circumstances

Summary of Defense:

1. The defendant claimed that a standard issue stunner was not a deadly weapon within the meaning of the Code; that the conduct of the non-Imperial citizenry constituted a threat to I.S.S. personnel; that the local commandant's decision to relocate a portion of that citizenry incited the non-Imperial citizenry against which the weapon was used; and that the use of nonlethal force was solely to protect Imperial citizenry.
   
2. Defense further contended that the non-Imperial citizenry was incited by the local commandant's relocation decision; that the defendant's use of force was necessary to prevent injury to Imperial personnel; and that since the stunner could not inflict lethal injuries the defendant did not violate the Imperial Judicial Code for the reason that his actions did not constitute the use of a deadly weapon and were designed to protect rather than endanger Imperial personnel.
   

Court of Inquiry Findings of Fact:

1. Historical, practical, and legal considerations all define a military issue stunner as a deadly weapon.
   
2. No actual violence nor injury occurred to Imperial personnel until after the defendant attacked non-Imperial citizenry with the stunner.
   
3. The defendant and three other Imperial personnel suffered injuries of various degrees requiring extended medical treatment.
   
4. In the outbreak of violence that followed the discharge of the stunner by the defendant, between five and fifteen non-Imperial citizens were injured.
   

Summary of Appeal of Verdict:

Summary of Appeal Tribunal Findings:

1. The verdict on both counts is upheld; the appeals are denied.
   
2. The local commandant acted within the scope of both the Imperial Judicial Code and the Regulations of the Interstellar Survey Service.
   
3. The finding of mitigation and suspension of sentence upon receipt of the defendant's resignation from the I.S.S. is within the scope of the code and the service regulations.
   
4. No further appeals need be heard.
   

The greenish-blue tint of the wall imparted a restfulness to the small room with the empty console and the two standard padded chairs. Three tattered faxtab flimsies lay upon the single table. The flextile floors were the standard dark gray of Imperial outposts everywhere. The portal to the main corridor was open, but the interior archway to the rooms behind was closed.

Three lights on the console blinked, then shifted from green to amber as the messages were recorded and stacked for replay.

After a time, a thin-faced technician wearing a pale blue coverall and the insignia of the Medical Corps walked through the open portal from the corridor and took the small swivel chair behind the console. She shook her hands as if to relieve the stiffness in her fingers and forearms and pulled herself up before the twin screens.

Carelessly pushing a wisp of short black hair back over her right ear, she touched the studs on the keyboard and began to scan the incoming messages that had been held for review.

She did not look up at the hum of voices that approached as the archway opened from the consulting rooms in the rear.

Through the archway stepped a short and stocky, though not heavy, woman with strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, and a peaches and cream freckled complexion. Her coverall was the dark brown of the reclamation technical support staff. On her shoulder patch were the twisted spears of fire and water, above the twin linked spheres of barren wasteland and green forests—the insignia of the landbuilders, whose dozers systematically scoured the poisons from the land and prepared the way for the replantings and reforestings.

The second woman, of medium height with natural silver hair marking her as from Scandia, wore not only the coverall of the Medical Corps, but the linked gold bars of an officer on one collar and the twined serpents and staff on the other.

“You're sure?” asked the blonde in a tone that indicated she was repeating a question in hopes of getting another answer.

“That's what all the tests show.”

The blonde woman, her eyes still bright with tears unshed, looked down at the dark gray of the floor tiles, then at the blank wall to her right. “I don't know. I just don't know.”

“Decanting wouldn't hurt you, not at all,” pressed the doctor.

“Can I let you know tomorrow? I need to think.”

“Take as much time as you need. Don't push it. If you're sure tomorrow, that's fine. Another few days wouldn't matter one way or another. But make sure you think it through.” The doctor's voice dropped a note as she saw the technician at the screens.

“Thank you.” The support tech squared her shoulders, turned, and walked out through the still-open portal.

The medical tech at the console looked up at the doctor to catch her eye. Then she waited until the footsteps had faded down the corridor outside.

“Another one, Captain Lysendra?”

“Oh…Madrigel, I'm sorry. What did you ask?”

“Another one?”

“Yes. Another one. I just don't understand it. They don't want to carry the children, and yet somehow none of them can remember taking the contraceptive antidotes.”

“And the problem?”

“They don't want to carry the children, but they want them to live.”

“I wondered why you mentioned decanting. Can we actually do that here on base?”

“If it doesn't turn into an epidemic. Of course, the children will have to be fostered or sent to the Academy home. Under the regs, if they chose a Service career, they'll owe two tours here.”

“Will she,” and the technician gestured at the open portal, “opt for decanting?”

“So far, four have. One decided to carry the child to term.”

“Five? Out of how many?”

“Five.”

“That's a lot for this base.”

“Or not enough, depending on your viewpoint,” mused the doctor, as she turned and headed back to her small private cubicle to think.

“Not enough?” wondered the technician.

Her fingers traversed the keyboard. A series of items appeared on the left-hand screen.

With a coding she was not supposed to know, the woman entered an authentication and another inquiry. The response to that second inquiry replaced the other material on the screen.

Her mouth formed a slight “O,” and her eyes widened as she read the lines as they formed on the screen. So the would-be fathers were from the captain's reclamation finds, the devilkid pilots and dozer drivers that tackled the hotspots and fought the landspouts.

“I wonder…”

She tried another inquiry, but the screen only printed:

“Unauthorized information. Restricted by regulation R/C 230(b) and standing order I.S.S. 435.”

Two lights on the incoming lines blinked green, and the technician erased the left-hand screen, while taking the first call on the right.

“Medical Services, Technician Hru-Sien. May I help you?”

Standing Order 435? There was no Standing Order 435.

She could not shake her head, not while routing the call, but smiled instead, mechanically, and she directed the call to Dr. Lysendra.

Standing Order 435 indeed.