Editing LotS/The Story/Politics of War/Courtroom

The cruiser remains on the periphery of the Sol System for some time, while UHW personnel confirm its credentials. They were informed of the Princess’ arrival in advance, in accordance with protocol. And judging by the ambush you encountered on your way, it seems that they were inept at best when it came to preserving the sanctity of that information.

At last you’re given permission to enter the system and approach Earth, in the midst of an escort. No group is permitted a military presence in the system other than the UHW itself, beyond embassy security and bodyguards. Hence there are firm restrictions on the movements of cruisers and other large vessels that have been equipped for war.

“So that’s Earth?” Telemachus says, gazing at the blue and green spheroid that grows larger with each passing moment. There’s wonder in his voice. A short time ago he had no memories of any world other than his native Gallea. Earth, the ancient homeland of humanity, must have seemed remote indeed.

“See that bit up there?” asks Ragnar, pointing to the northern reaches of Europe. “That’s where the original Niflungs lived. Heh. Looks just like a-”

He breaks off as Talia surreptitiously stomps on his foot, perhaps taking the hint that his vulgarisms aren’t appropriate before a child and a princess.

“It’s hard to believe all the humans in the galaxy used to live on that one planet,” says the young prince.

“There weren’t so many of us in those days,” you reply.

For several minutes you all stand in silence, looking out at the blue dot. It’s hard to grasp the antiquity involved, to envision people living savage lives for tens of thousands of years before one day rising up to take their place in the galaxy. Somehow Earth always seems almost magical, as though you’re looking upon a fabulous heirloom.

“You’re cleared for planetfall,” says a voice from the communicator, bringing your shared reverie to a close.

You head to the shuttle bay alongside your companions, an ill matched assortment of individuals who hope to sway the destiny of human space. The task before you will be difficult. But this is Princess Illaria’s domain. She’s been trained for politics and diplomacy almost from the time of her birth. If anyone can turn the Union of Human Worlds against the Centurians, it’s her.

As your vehicle descends towards the planet, Wilex’s cruiser is already moving away – being escorted back to the edge of the system.

You know there’s trouble the instant the hatch opens, and you step off the shuttle.

A group of men and women in the blue uniforms of the UHW’s security force are approaching across the landing pad, laser rifles in their hands. A short distance behind them are two figures in drab grey.

“Centurians,” says the Princess.

“No violence,” you say. “That means you, Ragnar. You too, Tel. Remember – we’re here for diplomacy. There’ll be plenty of time to kill Centurians later.”

Ragnar grunts in what you hope is acquiescence. Telemachus says nothing.

The deputation draws close, and when you see the smug looks on the Centurians’ faces you almost forget your own admonition. The temptation to draw your sidearm and shoot them off is almost overwhelming. But you stay your hand, and wait as one of the UHW people steps forward. Judging by her uniform, she’s a person of some importance.

“Princess Illaria?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Your Highness, I’ve been authorized to take you and the captain of your bodyguards into custody.”

The Princess raises her hand, forestalling the exclamations which were about to fly from your lips, and likely those of your companions as well.

“On what grounds?” she asks.

“For your unprovoked attack on a Centurian vessel!” one of the Centurians cries out.

You grab Ragnar’s arm as he starts to move. It’s like grasping hold of a metal pillar. But the Niflung stops all the same, refraining from leaping at the Centurian and tearing him limb from limb.

“You were given permission to be present at the arrest,” the woman in the fancy uniform says, glaring at the Centurian, “not to interfere. Keep quiet, or I’ll have you removed.”

The Centurian shrugs, the smugness on his face undiminished.

“The Centurian Collective has charged that a pilot under your command carried out a fatal act of violence against one of their ships,” she says, turning back to the Princess. “I’ve been ordered to take the two of you into custody while the matter can be adjudicated.”

The Princess looks to you, her face impassive but her eyes betraying her shock. A simple stratagem, but one you somehow hadn’t foreseen. The events leading up to the Centurian attack on the Sian Empire seemed to you so obvious a pretext, so blatantly an excuse to start a war, that you hadn’t even considered that they might attempt to bring such charges against you here on Earth.

You meet the Princess’ gaze, holding it with your own. She’s waiting for you to help her, as you’ve done so many times in the past. But you’re at as complete a loss as her. Your mind spins as you try to seize hold of something, anything…

“We refuse to comply with your request.”

Lu Bu’s elegant, cultured voice pierces the fog of your confusion. All eyes turn to him in surprise.

“Excuse me?” the officer says.

“Your request is not legally binding, and as such we are quite at liberty to reject it.”

The UHW soldiers begin to raise their weapons in anticipation of violence. But if Lu Bu notices the gesture, he ignores it.

“Heads of state are not obliged to allow themselves to be taken into custody unless they have been convicted of – not merely charged with – a crime of sufficient severity.”

“The Princess isn’t the head of the Sian Empire!” one of the Centurians cries out.

“I won’t tell you again – keep quiet!” says the officer, her eyes remaining fixed on Lu Bu as though trying to scrutinize and fathom the robot. “But he’s right. The Emperor is your head of state.”

“Under the laws of both the Sian Empire and the Union of Human Worlds, Her Highness is the acting head of state while the Emperor is presumed to be a prisoner of war, and hence unable to carry out his official duties.”

“I don’t-”

“If you doubt my understanding of the law, you’re free to consult with your superiors. They will bear out my argument.”

You glance at the Centurians, and see the look that passes between the two of them. It’s enough to confirm that Lu Bu’s right. They know they’re beaten on that score.

“What about her captain?” one of them yells.

“Remove those men!” the officer says.

A few of the soldiers break away from the main group, and approach the Centurians. The two men in grey look to be on the verge of resistance. But they comply without a word – clearly unwilling to risk jeopardizing their faction’s political efforts by resisting arrest and invoking the ire of the UHW.

“You’ll have to come with me,” the officer says, facing you.

“No,” says Lu Bu. “The captain is likewise immune from such measures for the time being.”

“On what basis?” The officer’s words aren’t hostile, and there’s no disbelief in them. It seems she’s beginning to realize just how capable the robot is in such matters.

“Lawyers representing themselves or other parties in such a case cannot be taken into custody until that case reaches its conclusion. As a legal representative in this matter, the captain must remain free until that time.”

“You’re not a lawyer,” the woman says, staring at you. “You’re a bodyguard… a pilot. What do you know about the law?”

“With the greatest of respect,” says Lu Bu, “the fitness or inadequacy of Her Highness’ legal counsel is none of your concern.”

For the next several minutes the officer talks into a communicator, reiterating Lu Bu’s arguments – presumably to one of her superiors. Her interlocutor’s words are lost to you, but when she severs the connection she simply arranges for you to sign the appropriate forms on her datapad, and tells you that you’re free to go.

“That was amazing,” the Princess says, once the officer and her soldiers have left.

Lu Bu bows.

“I’m grateful for your praise, Highness. But I’m afraid that further problems await us. The captain is now your official legal representative, and will have to serve in that capacity within the courtroom.”

That night, at the Sian embassy, you discuss the bizarre situation in which you find yourselves. Lu Bu assures you that the case the Centurians are bringing can be twisted to serve your own purposes. It will take place before UHW judges, and provide a perfect platform in which to make your accusations against the Collective. The Princess is impressed with this idea, and you have to admit that it’s a good one. But Lu Bu is less convinced that you can be turned into a legal mastermind within a few weeks.

After your evening meal, the robot begins to brief you on the basics of the law, or at least its relevant portions – such as courtroom behavior. He’s barely into the proper forms of address one should use when the Princess is called away to answer an urgent communication.

When she returns, the look on her face speaks of disaster.

“The trial…” she says, as though she can’t quite believe the words which are coming out of her own mouth. “It’s going to start tomorrow!”

“Ah…” says Lu Bu. “A cunning move on the part of the Centurians. Demanding or otherwise arranging a speedy trial, as they know the opposing counsel will be as yet unprepared.”

“Great…” you sigh.

When the doors open, and you walk into the courtroom, you feel like you’ve stepped into a dream. You still can’t believe you’re actually going to do this…

The first thing that meets your eyes is the raised bench at the opposite end of the court. Five figures in black robes sit there, the judges who will rule on the case. Each one of them comes from a different faction, representing five of the powers that make up the Union of Human Worlds. Their stares seem to pierce you like lasers, and you drop your gaze to take in the rest of the room instead.

Dozens of faces are turned to you on either side of the aisle – their eyes fixed on you as though they’re sizing you up and judging your worth. A large crowd fills the seats, as you’d expected. A case of this magnitude, set against the backdrop of armed conflict and the astounding accusations TALOS has so recently leveled against the Collective, has captured the interest of all the disparate factions of humanity. There are even a few aliens in the crowd, who apparently also regard this trial as being of some importance, or else believe it might offer an interesting spectacle.

In the front row on the right hand side, you see grey-clad men with mocking sneers on their faces. The Centurian lawyer and his retinue. Your adversaries in this battle.

You look over to the opposite side of the aisle, where your companions are sitting. The Princess’ smiling face is filled with confidence, though you can’t help but feel that it’s a mask for your benefit.

“Remember, I’ll be here when you need legal advice,” Lu Bu tells you as you take your seat next to him.

“And I’ll be here if you want someone to rip the Centurians’ spines out,” Ragnar says from over your shoulder.

You listen to your companions’ exhortations and well wishes, and Lu Bu’s last minute legal advice, without really hearing any of it. Only the Princess’ face adheres to the surface of your mind, its look of trust emblazed there like an afterimage of the sun. She’s relying on you. You can’t let her down.

A few minutes later the trial is underway, and the Centurian’s lawyer – Advocate Tulk – is standing at the podium delivering his scathing accusations. You keep your eyes focused in front of you, knowing that if you so much as look at him you might not be able to prevent a murderous expression from crossing your face. And you can feel the judges’ gazes on you, probing you, scanning you for a sign of any effect your opponent’s words might be having on you.

Finally he sits back down, and it’s your turn.

At first you stumble, your words halting and hesitating. But you think back to the episode of the Centurian ship that initiated this entire mess, and of everything which has happened since. You see all the things the Princess and your people have suffered because of the Centurians. Then the words come like a raging river, a passionate torrent.

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From the moment she takes the stand, Advocate Tulk goes for the kill. He barks questions at her, yells condemnations, trying to break her beneath the savage barrage of his examination. Illaria looks to you, her eyes wavering, anxious for your support.

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You begin to rise, to call out your objection as Tulk hammers her. But Lu Bu grabs your shoulder. He whispers in your ear, and as you look around the courtroom you realize that what he’s telling you is the truth.

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Next it’s Telemachus who takes the stand, and it’s your turn to ask the first questions.

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You walk the boy through an account of what happened to his father, as the two of you hurriedly planned the night before. You ask your questions slowly, giving him time to steel himself – unwilling to make him suffer any more than can be avoided. But his grief is obvious, and will almost certainly invoke sympathy. As that thought crosses your mind, it occurs to you just how vicious and callous a profession the law is.

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You run to his side, and listen to his hurried whispers.

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“Order!” roars one of the judges, a huge man with long black hair framing his rough, bearded face. “Order in court, or I’ll take my gavel to the lot of you!”

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The courtroom is a scene of wrack and ruin. All around the chamber wood is scarred, burned, or smashed. Papers are strewn about, nuggets of legal wisdom lying trampled and unforgotten. Other than a few heads poking up from behind the audiences’ seats, you and your companions are the room’s only visible occupants – along with the Centurian lawyer lying motionless on the floor. Most fled when the fighting started.

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