Neutronium Alchemist - Conflict

“I’m sorry, Pieri, that doesn’t mean much to me. I’ve never heard of Nova Kong.”

“Really? Not even on Norfolk?”

“No. The only one I know is High York, and that’s only because we’re heading to it.”

“But Nova Kong is famous; one of the first to be flown into Earth orbit and be made habitable. Nova Kong physicists invented the ZTT drive. And Richard Saldana was the asteroid’s chairman once; he used it as his headquarters to plan the Kulu colonization.”

“How fabulous. I can’t really imagine a time when the Kingdom didn’t exist, it seems so . . . substantial. In fact all of Earth’s prestarflight history reads like a fable to me. So, have you ever visited High York before?”

“Yes, it’s where the Jamrana is registered.”

“That’s your home, then?”

“We mostly dock there, but the ship’s my real home. I wouldn’t swap it for anything.”

“Just like Joshua. You space types are all the same. You’ve got wild blood.”

“I suppose so.” His face tightened at the mention of Joshua; the guardian angel fiancй Louise managed to mention in every conversation.

“Is High York very well organized?”

He seemed puzzled by the question. “Yes. Of course. It has to be. Asteroids are nothing like planets, Louise. If the environment isn’t maintained properly you’d have a catastrophe on your hands. They can’t afford not to be well organized.”

“I know that. What I meant was, the government. Does it have very strong law enforcement policies? Phobos seemed fairly easygoing.”

“That’s the devout Communists for you; they’re very trusting, Dad says they always give people the benefit of the doubt.”

It confirmed her worries. When the four of them had arrived at the Jamrana a couple of hours before its departure, Endron had handed over their passport fleks to the single Immigration Officer on duty. He had known the woman, and they’d spoken cheerfully. She’d been laughing when she slotted the fleks into her processor block, barely glancing at the images they stored. Three transient offworlders with official documentation, who were friends of Endron . . . She even allowed Endron to accompany them on board.

That was when he’d taken Louise aside. “You won’t make it, you know that, don’t you?” he asked.

“We’ve got this far,” she said shakily. Though she’d had her doubts. There had been so many people as they made their tortuous way to the spaceport with the cargo mechanoid concealing Faurax’s unconscious body. But they’d got the forger on board the Far Realm and into a zero-tau pod without incident.

“So far you’ve had a lot of luck, and no genuine obstacle. That’s going to end as soon as the Jamrana enters Govcentral-controlled space. You don’t understand what it’s going to be like, Louise. There’s no way you’ll ever get inside High York. Look, the only reason you ever got inside Phobos was because we smuggled you in, and no one bothered to inspect the Far Realm . You got out, because no one is bothered about departing ships. And now you’re heading straight at Earth, which has the largest single population in the Confederation, and runs the greatest military force ever assembled—a military force which along with the leadership is very paranoid right now. Three forged passports are not going to get you in. They are going to run every test they can think of, Louise, and believe me, Fletcher is not going to get through High York’s spaceport.” He was almost pleading with her. “Come with me, tell our government what’s happened. They won’t hurt him, I’ll testify that he’s not a danger. Then after that we can find you a ship to Tranquillity, all above board.”

“No. You don’t understand, they’ll send him back to the beyond. I saw it on the news; if you put a possessed in zero-tau it compels them out of the body they’re using. I can’t turn Fletcher in, not if they’re going to force him back there. He’s suffered for seven centuries. Isn’t that enough?”

“And what about the person whose body he’s possessing?”

“I don’t know!” she cried. “I didn’t want any of this. My whole planet’s been possessed.”

“All right. I’m sorry. But I had to say it. You’re doing a damn sight worse than playing with fire, Louise.”

“Yes.” She held on to his shoulder with one hand to steady herself and brushed her lips to his cheek. “Thank you. I’m sure you could have blown the whistle on us if you really wanted to.”

His reddening cheeks were confirmation enough. “Yeah, well. Maybe I learned from you that nothing is quite black and white. Besides, that Fletcher, he’s so . . .”

“Decent.”

Louise gave Pieri the kind of look that told him she was immensely interested in every word he spoke. “So what will happen when we arrive at High York, then? I want to know everything.”

Pieri started to access all his neural nanonic-filed memories of High York spaceport. With luck, and a surfeit of details, he could make this last for a good hour.

•   •   •

The Magistrature Council was the Confederation’s ultimate court. Twenty-five judges sat on the Council, appointed by the Assembly to deal with the most serious violations of Confederation law. The majority of cases were the ones brought against starship crews captured by navy ships, those accused of piracy or owning antimatter. Less common were the war crimes trials, inevitably resulting from asteroid independence struggles. There were only two possible sentences for anyone found guilty by the Magistrature: death, or deportation to a penal colony.

The full Magistrature Council also had the power to sit in judgement of sovereign governments. The last such sitting had determined, in absentia, Omuta to be guilty of genocide, and ordered the execution of its cabinet and military high command.

The Council’s final mandate was the authority to declare a person, government, or entire people to be an Enemy of Humanity. Laton had been awarded such a condemnation, as had members of the black syndicates producing antimatter, and various terrorists and defeated warlords. Such a proclamation was essentially a death warrant which empowered a Confederation official to pursue the renegade across all national boundaries and required all local governments to cooperate.

That was the pronouncement the Provost General was now aiming to have applied against the possessed. With that in the bag, the CNIS would be free to do whatever they wanted to Jacqueline Couteur and the other prisoners in the demon trap. But first her current status had to be legally established, if she was a hostile prisoner under the terms of the state of emergency, or a hapless victim. In either case, she was still entitled to a legal representative.

The courtroom in Trafalgar chosen for the preliminary hearing was maximum security court three. It had none of the trimmings of the public courts, retaining only the very basic layout of docks, desks for the prosecution and defence counsels, the judge’s bench, and a small observer gallery. There was no permitted or designated place for the media or the public.

Maynard Khanna arrived five minutes before the hearing was scheduled to begin, and sat at the front of the small gallery. As someone used to the order of military life, he had an intense distrust and dislike of the legal profession. Lawyers had abolished the simple concept of right and wrong, turning it into degrees of guilt. And in doing so they cut themselves in for fees which came only in large multiples of a navy captain’s salary.

The accused were entitled to a defence, Maynard conceded, but he still never understood how their lawyers avoided feeling equally guilty when they got them off.

Lieutenant Murphy Hewlett sat down behind Maynard, pulling unhappily at the jacket of his dress uniform. He leaned forward and murmured: “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Me neither,” Maynard grumbled back. “But the Provost General says it should be a formality. No court in the galaxy is going to let Jacqueline Couteur walk out of the door.”

“For God’s sake, Maynard, she shouldn’t even be let out of the demon trap. You know that.”

“This is a secure court; and we can’t give her defence lawyer an opportunity to mount an appeal on procedural grounds.”

“Bloody lawyers!”