Alarm of War, Book II: The Other Side of Fear (42 page)

On the battleship
Lionheart,
Emily and Captain Eder were in the middle of planning the attack on Timor when Emily’s comm beeped the emergency tone.  Startled, she pressed the activation stud.  She listened without speaking for fifteen seconds.  “I’ll be right there!” she said.  “Under no circumstances is anyone to use lethal force against her.  Do you understand, no use of lethal force is authorized.”  She cut the connection, turning back to Eder.  “Captain, I have an emergency on the
Rabat
and have to get back there.”

Eder nodded.  “I’ll arrange for a shuttle-“

“Too slow,” Emily said.  “Do you have one of the new Tilleke transport units on board?”

Eder nodded.  “I’ll take you there myself.”

In the mess hall on the H.M.S.
Rabat,
Hiram was just finishing dinner when an excited buzz of conversation swept the hall.  Curious, he motioned to a passing soldier.  “What’s going on?”

The soldier skidded to a stop.   “Sir, it looks like someone has taken one of the Duck prisoners hostage and is threatening to kill him.”

Hiram was out of his chair and running, screaming to Mildred for the location of the incident.

Cookie said:  “Do you remember when you cut off Wisnioswski’s hands and hung them around his neck?  Do you remember when you and your boys gang raped me, Schroder?  And then did it again for weeks and weeks?  Remember when you choked me until I blacked out?”

Schroder convulsively clawed at her hands, trying to get free.  Cookie put the knife beneath his eye and he froze. The guards and others watching her had gone absolutely silent. 

Cookie lowered her voice.  “Do you remember jamming your neuro-baton into my body –
inside
me – and triggered it?  You said you wanted to give me something I’d always remember.  Well, Schroder, I
remember
.  I screamed in agony and begged you to stop.  I screamed and screamed.  And you
laughed
.  Do you remember, Schroder?  You
laughed
.”  She dug the knife into the skin below his eye and drops of blood trickled down his cheek.  “Well guess what, now
I’m
laughing.”

In the background came the sound of many men running towards them.  Cookie knew who they were, what they wanted. 
But not today
, she thought. 

She pulled Schroder up to his feet. 

“Cookie, don’t!” someone yelled.  The voice was far off, distant.  Her focus entirely on Schroder.  Schroder, who had done so much.  Who had taken so much, so much that she would never get back, no matter how hard she tried.

Schroder, whose time had come.

“Gods of Our Mothers, my gift to you,” she murmured, then pulled the knife hard across his throat, severing the neck arties and slicing the trachea.  Blood fountained high in the air and splashed the bulkheads.  The blood was red, the color of joy.

The color of justice. 

Then, wary of the miracles they could perform in the sick bay, she plunged the fighting knife through the thin bone of his temple and into his brain.  She twisted it.

Just to make sure.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.  It was done.  She had done it.

She let the twitching, shuddering body fall to the ground, knife still sticking out of his head.  Blood covered her from head to toe.  Her eyes focused slowly and she saw Hiram Brill standing not ten feet from her, staring at her with a look of vast sadness.  Her heart sank.  He was gone forever.

“Can you love me now, Hirii?” she cried, her voice thick with anguish.  “Can you love me now?”

Chapter 40

Onboard the carrier H.M.S.
Rabat

              Marine guards immediately closed in on Cookie.

              “Hold!” a voice snapped.  Commander Emily Tuttle stepped forward.  “Pick up the prisoner and bring him to the Auxiliary Loading Dock.”  The guards looked at her in confusion.

              “Do it!” she said forcefully, then turned to two other Marines.  “Assist Sergeant Sanchez to the Auxiliary Loading Dock.”  She lowered her voice.  “Gently, very gently.”  She turned once more, spying Admiral Wilkinson pushing through the crowd.  Wilkinson stopped when she saw the body on the deck and Cookie standing next to it, covered in blood.  She cast a stricken glance at Emily.

              “Admiral, I would greatly appreciate it if you could give Sergeant Sanchez a mild sedative.  I need her calm for the war crimes trial I am about to conduct,” Emily said matter-of-factly.

              Wilkinson clenched her jaw.  She pointed at Schroder.  “Is that the man who abused her?”

              Emily, who had arrived in time to hear most of what Cookie said, nodded.

              “Gods of Our Mothers!  Commander, you can’t try her for killing him.  She’s an emotional wreck.  He raped and tortured her for months.  He-”

              Emily held up a hand, stopping her.  “Admiral, I need Cookie to be a witness.  The trial is for this prisoner.  I am trying him on charges of war crimes.”

              Wilkinson’s mouth closed with an audible ‘snap.’  She looked in bewilderment at the blood-soaked figure being loaded onto a gurney.  “But…but he’s –”

              “Doctor!” Emily interrupted.  “There has been no examination, no declaration of death.  I have determined that the trial of this man should be held immediately.  Do you disagree?”  She stared hard at the Fleet Surgeon.

              Martha Wilkinson was many things, but two of those things were not stupid or hesitant.  She walked to the gurney and examined the man lying on it.  “Mildred, please record this as the preliminary inspection of the Dominion prisoner –” She glanced at Emily.”

              “Schroder,” Emily supplied.  “Rank not yet ascertained.”

              “Dominion prisoner Schroder.”  She bent over and peered at his face.  “Please note that my preliminary inspection reveals a shallow puncture wound on Schroder’s cheek that will require one or two stitches.  Mr. Schroder has some blood on his face due to this injury.  Mr. Schroder also has a laceration on his right temple with some bleeding.  Details about this wound will have to await a more in-depth examination.  Mildred, state the time.”

              “The time is 18:23, Universal Fleet Time.” 

              “This is Dr. Martha Wilkinson.  Due to the press of time I conclude this preliminary medical examination of Mr. Schroder at 18:23 UFT and release him to the custody of Commander Tuttle for further proceedings. Time permitting, I will resume my examination at a later date. End recording.”

              Emily nodded somberly.  “Mildred, please record my receipt of the prisoner Schroder at 18:23 UFT.  End recording.”  She turned to the baffled Marines and to Hiram and Cookie.  “We shall reconvene in fifteen minutes in the Auxiliary Loading Dock.”  She thumbed her comm.  “Captain Zar?”

              Captain Rahim Zar had been watching the monitors in the corridor.  He came on at once.  “Yes, Commander?”

              He sounded so casual and matter-of-fact that Emily could have kissed him.  “Captain Zar, do you have any question that I have the authority to carry out a war crimes trial of one of the Dominion prisoners?

              “No, I shouldn’t think so,” he replied slowly.  “The accused should have a lawyer, of course.”

              Emily rubbed the bridge of her nose.  She hadn’t thought about lawyers.  Lawyers were a…complication.  The problem with lawyers was that they sometimes insisted on following inconvenient rules.  “Of course, Captain Zar.  Do you have any recommendations?”

              “Well, it so happens I have a fine young legal officer on board, Michael Mastromonaco.  I’ll give him a quick briefing and have him report to the, ah, courtroom.  Speaking of which, Commander, I will make sure the courtroom is prepared and ready for you.”

              Emily let out a deep breath.  “Thank you for your support, Captain.”

              “All for a good cause, Commander,” he said gravely.  “Mildred, please note the appointment of Second Lieutenant Michael Mastromonaco to represent the interests of Prisoner Schroder.”

              It took another thirty minutes to get everyone to the Auxiliary Loading Dock.  Chairs and tables were already in place when they arrived, along with a tray of water, coffee and finger foods.  Emily gulped down a coffee and stuffed some food into her mouth, then sat down.  While she was getting organized a gangly looking lieutenant with hair a little too long strode quickly into the room and saluted her.  He was so skinny that a stiff breeze would have blown him away.  He wore thick glasses.  Emily thought he probably smelled like an old library: dusty, musty and wise.

              “Second Lieutenant Mastromonaco reporting, Commander.”

              “Relax, Lieutenant,” she told him.  He let his boney shoulders droop.  “Did Captain Zar brief you on what I am doing here?”

              “I understand that I am representing Prisoner Schroder in a war crimes trial.  Commander, I will require a statement of the charges and adequate time to confer with my client,” he said firmly.  “And I will want the entire proceedings recorded.”

              “Very well, Lieutenant.  Mildred!  Record proceedings orally, no visual.  Commence recordings now.”

              “Recording,” said the grandmotherly voice.

              “Prisoner Schroder is hereby charged with war crimes, to wit: first, that over a period of months while he was one of the guards on the Dominion Prison Ship
Tartarus,
Prisoner Schroder inflicted on one or more female prisoners rape and rape by two or more individuals.  Second, that while a guard on the
Tartarus,
he mutiliated a prisoner in his charge by forcibly amputating the prisoner’s hands.  Three, that while a guard on the
Tartarus,
Prisoner Schroder physically abused, beat and caused torment and pain to two or more Dominion soldiers in his charge in violation of the Queen’s Code of Military Justice.”  Emily eyed the young Lieutenant.  “The Fleet reserves the right to bring additional charges depending on the evidence introduced.”

              Mastromonaco nodded.  “I will need to confer with my client, Commander.”

              “Mildred, note that the hearing is adjourned for twenty minutes.”  Emily stood up and nodded in the direction of the gurney which stood in the corner, a puddle of blood slowly collecting under it.  “Your client, Lieutentant.”

              Mastromonaco looked at Schroder’s corpse.  He took a deep breath.  “Hmmm…yes, Captain Zar suggested that this would be unusual.”  Mastromonaco turned back to face her.  “Commander, I believe that I will not require the entire twenty minutes.”

              Emily resumed the trial.  “Mildred, please play back the recording you made of an incident in passageway No. 3 earlier today.”  The AI complied.  When it reached the part where Cookie said:  “I screamed in agony and begged you to stop.  I screamed and screamed.  And you
laughed
.  Do you remember, Schroder?  You laughed,” Emily said, “Stop there, Mildred.”  She turned to Cookie, who sat on a folding chair.  Hiram sat next to her, holding one hand.  Someone had cleaned the blood off Cookie, but while her face was clean, her clothes were still splattered with blood and gore.  She was staring at her hands.  Her jaw was set firmly, but a muscle twitched noticeably in her cheek.

              “Sergeant Sanchez,” Emily said softly.  “While you were a prisoner of the Dominion, were you sexually assaulted?”

              Cookie’s eyes flickered to Emily.  “Yes, many times,” she whispered.  “Many times.”

              “Was the Dominion soldier known as Schroder one of your assailants?”

              Cookie nodded.  “There were five of them.  Schroder was their leader.”

              Emily pointed to Schroder’s body.  “Is that Schroder?”

              Cookie’s face hardened, then she unexpectedly smiled and laughed.  “That’s him.”

              Next Emily linked to the sick bay and talked to Otto Wisnioswski.  “Private Wisnioswski, during your captivity, were your hands forcibly removed?”

              Wisnioswski lifted his stubs and showed them to the camera.  “They cut off my hands with an electric arc welder.”

              “Who did this to you?”

              “A bastard named Schroder and some of his pals.  I don’t know their names.”

              Emily turned to Lieutenant Mastromonaco.  “Lieutenant, do you have any witnesses to call for the defense?”

              Mastromonaco pursed his lips, then shook his head.  “Defense rests, Commander.”

              Emily straightened in her chair.  “The Tribunal has considered the testimony and finds the defendant Schroder guilty of war crimes in violation of the Queen’s Code of Military Justice.  I hereby sentence the defendant to be put to death by vacuum.”  She nodded to one of the Marines.  “Execute the sentence by placing the defendant in the air lock and expelling him into space.”

              Which the Marine did, a puzzled look on his face as he wondered why he was executing a corpse.

              Emily nodded once the order was carried out.  “Mildred, let the record show that the prisoner Schroder was found guilty of war crimes and executed on this day.  The Tribunal is now closed.”

              People in the audience stood up, puzzled, smiling or frowning, and wandered off to their various duties. Junior Lieutenant Mastromonaco approached Emily.

“You did rather well today, Lieutenant,” Emily told him.  “You should be pleased.”

Mastromonaco shook his head.  “I am satisfied with the outcome, Commander Tuttle, but I am not pleased.”

Emily cocked her head at him.  “Oh?”

He paused, some inner dialogue flitting across his face.  “May I have permission to speak freely, Commander?”

Emily stared for a moment at this intense, earnest young man.  “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

“The fact is that today you corrupted justice, Commander.”  Emily opened her mouth to protest, but Mastromonaco raised his hand to stop her.  “Please, Commander. Although I am new to the Fleet, I’ve been a lawyer for years. You suborned justice and I helped you do it.  Between us, we made a mockery of one of the most important institutions Victoria has, one that sets us apart from the Dominion and from the Tilleke.  It was for a good cause, I know that, but there were other ways to protect your Marine without creating a phony trial.”

“He
was
guilty, Lieutenant,” Emily said, a bit more coldly than she intended.  She was being chastised by a Junior Lieutenant and she was surprised by how much it stung.

“Of course he was,” Mastromonaco agreed.  “That is why it was so easy.  But maybe next time the facts will be a little bit grayer, a little less certain, but you’ll still be tempted to use a mock trial to achieve your end.  And that, Commander, is how the road to hell is paved, brick by brick.  Once we exploit the justice system for some short-term goal, we’re on the slippery slope.  Pretty soon, no one trusts the justice system will actually deliver justice.  When that happens, Commander, we will have lost something priceless, and it all started here.  Don’t get me wrong, it was important to protect Sergeant Sanchez, but the way you went about it carries a price, one that you ignore at your peril.”

He stepped back and gave her a short bow.  “By your leave, Commander?”

“You are dismissed, Lieutenant,” she told him.

Hiram sat with Cookie.  Cookie turned to him, letting go of his hand.  “You don’t have to stay.  I understand,” she said.

              Hiram shook his head and took her hand again in his.  He raised it to his mouth and kissed her fingers.  “Can’t get rid of me that easy.  I’m staying.”

              Emily came and sat beside them.

              “I killed him,” Cookie told her.

              Emily shook her head.  “I’m afraid you’re wrong, Cookie.  The record is quite clear: Prisoner Schroder was just tried for war crimes and executed.”  She felt a twinge as she said it, courtesy of the very polite tongue lashing she had just received.

              “But-“

              “Sergeant Sanchez, don’t argue with official Fleet records,” Emily ordered with mock sternness.

              Cookie said nothing.   Emily touched her shoulder.  “I sent you in harm’s way, Cookie, and, to my shame, I had to leave you behind.  Now, thank the Gods, you’re back, but the rule stays the same:  ‘Always together.  Never alone.’”

              Cookie took a deep breath.  She tightened her grip on Hiram’s hand.  Unabashed tears rolled down her cheeks.  “What happens now?” she asked.

              “Now?” Emily’s eyebrow arched.  “Now we move a piece on the board and bluff the Ducks into moving one of their pieces.  And if they move the piece we want them to move, we crush them once and for all.”