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Authors: Orson Scott Card

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BOOK: The Swarm
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A flicker of movement in one of the tunnels caught his attention, and Victor reflexively trained his light on the hole. The creature retreated from the beam and disappeared from view. Round and hairless, and definitely not a Formic.

 

CHAPTER 17

Defendant

Ansible transmission between the Hegemon and Polemarch,
Office of the Hegemony Sealed Archives, Imbrium, Luna, 2118

UKKO:
   Every ship in this fleet is going to have interchangeable parts or it won't get built. Period. If a part is built in Poland and shipped into space, it's going to fit in the socket that was made in China and shipped into space. I'm not going to allow you to create unique ships with no interchangeable parts. I don't care how big the ship is, or what its mission is. We use standardized parts across the board. That way, in battle, mechanics can repair damaged ships from the same basic pool of supplies and return the ship to combat as soon as possible.

KETKAR:
   In principle I agree with you. But there is room for exceptions in vessels with unique purposes or—

UKKO:
   No. There are no exceptions. We are going to build these ships my way. I'm not going to fund any ships that are built of unique parts that can't be interchanged with others. And if your design principles don't accomplish that, then you are out of a job. I will cease working with any admiral who brings me nonsense like these specs.

KETKAR:
   You're not listening to reason. There are some weapons, for example, that will require an exception.

UKKO:
   Wrong. If a weapon can't be used on every warship, it's not getting made. It's got to be something that every ship can use. Every now and then we'll have something so big that it can only be used on a big ship, but then all the big ships have to use it. No unique anything.

KETKAR:
   But that's wasteful. That will lead to overproduction.

UKKO:
   There is no such thing as overproduction of weaponry when fighting a technologically superior enemy, since attrition will constantly deplete our stocks. No matter how much they damage a ship, we will always be able to repair it. If they destroy a valuable ship or weapon, we'll already have another just like it. Let's not forget who is the expert on manufacturing here. Your job is managing the Fleet. My job is building it.

KETKAR:
   This is why a civilian should not be making these decisions.

UKKO:
   You want to go down and ask Earth for money? No? I'm the taxing authority. I've got the money—and all the resentment over taxation. You get to be the heroes who win the war.

Mazer had to pass through three separate security checkpoints before he reached the Judge Advocate General's offices in the east wing of Central Command, three stories beneath the surface of Luna. Lieutenant Prem Chamrajnagar was waiting for him in the lobby, dressed in her white class-A uniform and sporting a single bar on her lapel. She carried a small attaché case and smiled when he approached.

“You ready?” she asked.

“Ready for it to be over,” Mazer said. He also wore his class-As, and the blue wool fabric felt stiff and heavy, even in Luna's lower gravity. Kim had polished the buttons and pins on his jacket that morning despite him telling her not to bother, but now he was glad that she had. He needed to come off as the consummate soldier.

“It's just the arraignment,” said Chamrajnagar. “They read the charges, we say not guilty. A few taps of the gavel, and we're done. You just have to stand there and look innocent. Keep your face expressionless. Don't smile. That makes you look unrepentant and disdainful of the whole proceedings. Only a jackass smiles in court. And jackasses go to jail.”

“I don't smile much anyway. We should be fine.”

“True,” she said. “You generally look grumpy. Don't do that either.”

“I don't look grumpy,” Mazer said, a little defensively.

“Believe me, your resting face is intimidating. It's like you're considering how to break someone's fingers with a moon rock. You furrow your brow like this.” She demonstrated for him.

“That's not grumpy. That's pensive. It means I'm thinking.”

“Thinking about killing someone maybe,” Chamrajnagar said. “Take my word for it, it's not a good courtroom face. Not when you're standing before Colonel Michio ‘the Hatchet' Soshi, and not if you want to keep your job and your uniform.”

Mazer nodded. “No grumpy faces, scowls, growls, or sneers at the presiding judge. I suppose I can't hit with him spitballs either. I thought you said this was going to be fun.”

She handed him her tablet. “A bit of good news.”

He looked at the screen. “What's this?”

“A clean bill of health courtesy of Dr. Amelie Renoir. She says you're good to go, combat ready.”

“Funny. I don't remember being examined by a Dr. Renoir.”

“She looked at your full medical file and the results from your last physical. That's all she needed. You're perfectly healthy.”

“That was kind of her. Will this hold up in court?”

Chamrajnagar swiped the screen, and a new page appeared. “This is from Dr. Jorge Gonzalez issuing you a clean bill of health.”

“I've seen a lot of doctors recently,” said Mazer.

“I have five statements from five different military physicians. You're clean. We'll win that battle.”

“Good. But will we win the war?”

“One day at a time. First the arraignment. And speaking of which, a warning. Lieutenant Commander Reginald Ravenshaw, the prosecuting attorney, will be there as well. Ignore him. He's a snake. He thinks he's some dynamite district attorney hotshot playing out some military courtroom drama. I don't know why JAG tolerates him, other than the fact that he wins cases and plays virtual golf with some of the judges. He's good, but he's as gentle as a heavy boulder to the head. Everyone knows he's Colonel Soshi's lapdog, too. Anyway, he'll try to intimidate you. He'll want to get into a staring contest with you. Don't. He's trying to rile you.”

“Can I break
his
fingers with a moon rock?”

“After the court-martial.”

“If Soshi and Vaganov are playing it safe, they're bringing in their own people to close this up,” said Mazer. “Have you met with Ravenshaw?”

“This morning. He wants to cut a deal. He says he'll drop all other charges, if you'll plead guilty to espionage and agree to seven years.”

Mazer laughed. “How kind of him. He was insulting your intelligence, of course.”

“He was trying to intimidate me. I'm young, inexperienced. He's the schoolyard bully threatening to bloody my nose if I don't surrender my lunch money. I think he was hoping I'd counter with a softer plea out of desperation. Maybe drop espionage and assault and settle with conduct unbecoming. You wouldn't go to jail, but your life in the IF would be hell thereafter. I told him he doesn't have a case for espionage. He only sneered at me, like he knew something I didn't.”

“Does he?”

She looked around, checking for listening ears. “Come with me.”

He followed her to the cafeteria. It was between the hours of breakfast and lunch, and so most tables were empty. Even so, Chamrajnagar led Mazer to a table in the back, as far from the corridor as possible and well out of earshot of anyone. She sat with her back against the wall, giving her a view of the entire cafeteria. A soldier's reflex, Mazer thought. Keep your eyes on all entrances and exits. Defend your back.

Mazer took the seat opposite.

“The espionage charge is a joke,” said Chamrajnagar. “Article 793 states that it's unlawful for unauthorized persons to take information of global defense and either retain it or deliver it to persons not entitled to receive it. That's not what you did. I can punch holes through their argument big enough to fly a warship through. Victor sent the information regarding the asteroid to your e-mail address. They can easily prove it was a matter of global defense, and they could argue that your sending it to other officers constitutes people not entitled to receive it. But the IF has to own the information and deem it classified first. By this logic they could arrest anyone who forwards the daily news. It's ludicrous.”

“Then why hasn't the prosecutor dropped the charge? He conducted his investigation. He knows it's bogus. He'd look like an idiot in court when he presents his evidence.”

“They want to scare you into a plea. That's the only explanation I can think of. They believe if they pour on the heat, you'll cave and admit to a lesser charge. I've seen their depositions and list of witnesses. They've got nothing. If this goes all the way to court-martial Ravenshaw will drop espionage before it starts. He's bluffing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mostly sure.”

“What about the other charges?”

“There's the aggravated assault charge against Nardelli. Everyone knows that's bogus, too. There were no witnesses. It's your word against his. I've got three depositions from dockworkers at WAMRED who claim Nardelli ordered them to vacate the docking bay the day you were shipped out at the same hour that he staged his little attack. He threatened the dockworkers with bodily harm if they didn't comply.”

“Nardelli isn't the brightest bulb,” said Mazer.

“He's an idiot. And believe me, your record could not be more different than his. He has a string of offenses and second chances. How the man is even still in uniform is beyond me. My guess is Vaganov keeps him as muscle. Regardless, Nardelli won't be in the IF very much longer. He signed a deposition and perjured himself. JAG will go after him. I'll do it myself if no one else does. My point is, no jury is going to believe him over you.”

“You
are
good,” said Mazer. “Tracking down the dockworkers was smart. What about failure to obey a lawful order?”

She winced slightly. “This one is the trickiest of the bunch. But there's enough wiggle room in the law to get you acquitted here as well. I think. There are several counts against you. First, every time you didn't fulfill the excessive work detail Vaganov filed it as a criminal offense. That holds as much water as a sieve. No chance the jury will side with Vaganov on that. I have the work details, and they're untenable.”

“So we're clear,” said Mazer.

“Maybe,” said Chamrajnagar. “But the jury won't like that you broke chain of command and uploaded the intel into the forum.”

“I gave the intel to Vaganov,” said Mazer. “That's the first thing I did. When he seemed reluctant to act, I uploaded it the forum. We can argue that I didn't break chain of command.”

“We will,” said Chamrajnagar. “But the jury may think otherwise. You have to understand, these guys on the jury
are
Vaganov. They're all senior officers. They all have people under them who are smarter than they are, just like you. They see you and they see their own subordinates. That terrifies them. In their minds, you guys are their saving grace and their worst nightmare. They look to you for their best thinking, but they constantly worry that you'll take their job. That's Vaganov to the letter. And these guys will recognize him as one of their own. They won't like his methods. They'll publicly condemn his actions and his attitudes. But they can't be seen siding with you either. They can't condone someone who breaks chain of command. That sends the wrong signal to everyone beneath them.”

“So how will it pan out?” Mazer asked

She shrugged. “Honestly? Either way. We're walking a razor's edge here. But we can employ a tactic to improve our chances. A tactic you won't like.”

“Namely?”

“We need to show them why your brain works the way it does. That you're special. That you're trusted by the Strategos.”

“You mean use my classified service record? Show what happened in the First Formic War? My involvement?”

“Sir, you're a hero. You get things done. Vaganov was threatening to sit on the intel. What you did was in the best interest of global security. We have to make the members of the court see that. Your previous record is proof that—”

“We can't do that,” Mazer said.

“Sir, this is a closed court proceeding. Anything we present as evidence can't be discussed outside the court. Soshi can put a gag order on the proceedings. Everything would be confidential.”

“I don't feel comfortable doing that,” Mazer said. “I made a commitment to Robinov, the Strategos. I told him I would keep my involvement quiet. He ordered me to, in fact. If I renege on that then I
am
disobeying an order. I can't break one order to excuse myself for breaking another.”

Chamrajnagar sighed. “Sir, I understand your dilemma. And I respect your desire to be honorable here, but as your attorney—”

“I don't want your advice as my attorney, Prem. I want it as a friend. As a fellow officer.”

She was quiet a moment. “Without the classified file, there is a very good chance that we lose on that one count and they slap you with conduct unbecoming. It's the weakest of the charges, but it's the one that might stick.”

“And if it does, they'll discharge me?”

“Or tuck you away somewhere. They want you to disappear, Mazer. Soshi will impose the maximum punishment if they get a conviction. You won't see any jail time, but you won't see the inside of a warship either.”

“Did you catch the news this morning, Prem?”

She nodded solemnly.

“We have confirmation now that the Formics are coming in from below and above the ecliptic,” said Mazer. “We have an asteroid in the Kuiper Belt that's occupied and sealed off by Formics, possibly being prepared as a weapon. Possibly a hundred other bad outcomes. We don't have time for a lengthy trial here. We need to end this as soon as possible so I can get back in the field.”

BOOK: The Swarm
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