Metal Boxes - At the Edge Page 5

  Beffie-pie looked at him in wonder. “What, Trey?”

  Stone grinned. “I’m worried about Jay and Peebee, but I should be more concerned about anyone who tries to harm them. They’ll fight to protect themselves.”

  “What about, like, you know, your younger drascos?”

  “The younger ones are on Allie’s World with Queen Danielle.”

  Beffie-pie giggled. “Queen! I’d like to be a queen, that would be so thrill.”

  It sounded like she was joking but Stone caught a strong scent of spearmint. Her desire to be royalty was stronger than she let on.

  Chapter Nine

  Stone’s head throbbed while he sat in the courtroom. He had spent too much time with Beffie-pie at La Rancid. They were packed into the place like blades of grass. Avoiding stimulants or alcohol last night was not helping him this morning. The pulsating dance music thundering in his ears last night still made his eardrums thump. The flashing lights, the cameras, and the constant turmoil was more confusing than the fog of war Stone had experienced. The food was good, but nothing tasted as good as Tim Dollish could whip up.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the brace of lawyers surrounding him. Beffie-pie was behind them, and her team was recording everything. The public relations firm was filming Beffie-pie and everything she was recording. A dozen media outlets, not to be outdone, had cameras focused on everything from every angle.

  Boot jammed a personal assistant reader his nose. “You must agree to this strategy.”

  Grayson grabbed it, read it, and thrust it back. “He can’t. Diminished capacity is an indictment against the UEN. If Stone isn’t mentally capable, the navy made a mistake in making him an officer. They will never allow this defense without medical corps documentation.”

  Boot said, “Then get us his medical files.”

  Stone said, “No.”

  Grayson said, “We’re running out of options. The evidence, both the EMIS reports and the collected video recordings of your actions, have you cornered. Maybe you should consider agreeing to this, even if it does embarrass the UEN because they allowed someone who is unfit to become an officer.”

  Stone said, “No. If the UEN was wrong in making me an officer, then I was wrong for allowing it. I will not embarrass the UEN or the emperor.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t even let this circus in here if you gave me any choice.”

  Boot said, “Whether you like it or not, your exploits have made you a hero to many people throughout the empire, and if not a hero, at least a celebrity. The book and the vidcast they made of your exploits are blessings from the gods. People know who you are. Your cousin being here is wonderful. Bethy Stone is a reality media star and her presence at your side is certain to help us sway popular opinion. Your celebrity status won’t allow the UEN to sweep this under the rug. They can’t just make you go away.”

  Grayson nodded, “The populace is a powerful force, even against the UEN and its rules.”

  Boot asked, “Any luck finding our witnesses?”

  Grayson shook his head. “We should be able to subpoena most after the trial begins, but not all of them.”

  The woman shrieked. “What do you mean not all? They are witnesses in a capital trial.”

  Grayson said, “I’m still working on it. The marines are stonewalling me. They say Major Numos was brought up on charges of inducting non-aligned aliens into the marines. Numos was a lifer with a lot of years of service, so when they kicked the drascos out of the marines, he told them to stuff it rather than accept court martial on the charges. He took an early retirement and disappeared.”

  Stone was shocked. He had no idea any of his friends were in trouble. Numos’s leaving the marines made as much sense as trying to breathe in a vacuum. The drascos loved being marines. Jay and Peebee would be angry and hurt, probably not understanding why there were rejected by the marines.

  Boot snorted, “I’ve got some investigators working to find Numos no matter how deep a hole he digs for himself. Searching for valid witnesses gives us a reason to request a trial delay until we can form a solid defense. The others?”

  Grayson shook his head, consulting his dataport, “The marines officially retired First Lieutenants Vedrian and Hammermill. Both transferred to the Galactic Marshals, Q-Force.” Stone started to jump to his feet, but Grayson put a hand on his shoulder. “Easy, boy. They’re okay, just out of reach.”

  Boot cleared her throat, “Okay, Signore Navyman. Tell your mother: what the dog nuts is Galactic Marshals, Q-Force?”

  Grayson said, “I don’t know, Mother. It’s a classified position. All I know is that I’ve been told—quite forcibly—to stop asking for them.”

  “Commander Butcher?” Boot asked.

  “Classified mission.”

  “Master Chief Thomas?”

  “Classified mission.”

  Boot spun through her list searching for names. “Lieutenant Commanders Gupta and Li?”

  “Classified missions.”

  “Lieutenant Commander Missimaya is available. I saw him in the corridor moments ago. He has to be here as the original complainant.”

  Grayson nodded. “He isn’t going to be a good defense witness.”

  Boots agreed, “True, but we can nail him on cross-examination for being a ridiculous little twit.”

  Grayson shook his head, “The man is a UEN officer. The presiding officer of the court-martial will not allow you to go at him like a civilian judge would allow.”

  Boots shook her head and pointed at another name. “What about this Dollish person?”

  Grayson said, “He quit the UEN. Took his enlistment, voided it, and refused veteran’s status. This kid is even better hid than whatever hole Numos dug to hide in.”

  Stone tasted bile. His friends were broken, disappeared, and scattered. These lawyers sat around the table discussing them like they were numbers on an accounting spreadsheet. He had eaten with, fought with, and shared the same air with these people. It was heartbreaking to hear their troubles discussed so casually.

  Allie was gone? They would find each other—somehow—somewhere—he knew it.

  The lawyers continued their ongoing argument on how to keep him out of trouble. He was nothing more than a court case to either one of them, no more a person than any of his friends.

  He looked around the crowd for a friendly face and focused on Beffie-pie. She smiled and gave him a slow wink. The smile was predatory.

  Boot said, “I still think we can make a deal for a lesser charge. We haven’t been given the time to even try. Grayson, you must ask for an extension.”

  Grayson nodded, “We’ll have the opportunity to negotiate and investigate after the preliminary arraignment.”

  The master chief standing at the front of the courtroom called the military personnel to attention, then turned and marched out of the chamber. The civilians slowly shuffled to their feet, well after all military personnel came to attention.

  Four-star Admiral Temple entered the room. He remained standing until everyone was on their feet and silent. He finally spoke. “At ease, Ensign Stone.”

  “Sir.” Stone snapped to the at ease position with academy precision, a skill he had not mastered at the academy. He was parade ground perfect after many hours of practice under the tutelage of Master Chief Thomas and dozens of marine NCOs.

  Temple’s sharp, clear voice carried across the courtroom without electronic enhancement. “You have been found guilty of eight charges. Are you familiar with these indictments?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you wish to dispute them and claim innocence?”

  Grayson and Boot were nodding as if their heads were on strings. Boot even squeaked out a little “Yes.”

  Stone said, “Sir, I dispute charge eight. I did not resist arrest and attempt to escape.”

  Boot sighed, “Perfect. Now charge seven.” Her voice was low, but it carried across the courtroom.

  Stone looked at her. “Sir, I d
ispute charge seven. I did kill Hyrocanians combatants, but I did not murder any Hyrocanian civilians.”

  Boot sighed again. “Wonderful. Now charge six.”

  Stone shook his head. “I accept the remaining charges. I request a summary judgment per regulations.”

  Chapter Ten

  The courtroom uproar was thick enough to taste. In fact, Stone smelled a mixture of fragrances, everything from the sour milk of disloyalty to the grapefruit and sweet lime scent of fear, thick enough to leave an aftertaste on Stone’s tongue. Media pundits shouted. PR flacks shouted back. Lawyers on both sides of the aisle yelled.

  Stone shifted his position slightly. He moved his eyes from the spot on the wall behind Temple’s head. He stared eye-to-eye at the admiral. His head still ached and his eyes felt bloodshot from Beffie-pie’s party. However, admitting he had done the things LCDR Missimaya accused him of doing hurt worse. Missimaya was a weasel; that did not mean he was wrong.

  Temple grunted. “Son, are you sure this is what you want—?”

  Boot interrupted him with a shout, “Your honor, my client is suffering from diminished capacity—”

  Temple interrupted, “It is Admiral, not your honor, and please don’t shout at me.”

  Boot lowered her voice as she repeated her claim, “Admiral, my client is apparently suffering—”

  Temple interrupted Boot before Stone could tell her to keep quiet. However, Stone would not have spoken. Navy regulations dictated that he only speak when spoken to while standing at ease.

  Temple said, “I am not deaf or stupid, councilor. I heard you the first time. You are?”

  Boot said, “Amelia Boot, senior partner at Bruckner, Savage, Tisdale, and Boot. I’m—”

  Temple asked, “Why aren’t you in uniform, Boot?”

  Boot shivered. “I’m a civilian, sir. Not one of your military lackeys.”

  Temple, eyes cold and hostile, pointed at Grayson, who was in uniform. “Lieutenant, you are?”

  Grayson snapped to attention, “Admiral, I’m Lieutenant Senior Grade Addison Boot-Grayson. LAD assigned me as Ensign Stone’s defense counsel.” He gestured at Boot. “Mrs. Boot is acting as a civilian legal advisor to Ensign Stone.”

  Temple’s glare did not deviate from Grayson, “You may instruct Mrs. Boot that the next time she interrupts me, shouts at me, or tells me that I or my navy are suffering from diminished mental capacity, she will spend many years being her own legal advisor while trying to find her way out of a gag order.”

  Grayson faced Boot and said, “Keep it shut, Mother.”

  Temple nodded, “Succinctly put, Lieutenant.” He waved a hand at the crowd. “Everyone may sit.” He pointed a stern finger at Stone. “Except you, Stone. Did you lie to this court when you said you were innocent of charges seven and eight?”

  “No, Admiral,” Stone answered.

  Temple asked, “Stone, did you lie to me when you said you accepted charges one through six?”

  “No, Admiral. Those charges are accurate on their face and I will not dispute them.”

  Temple smiled. “Case closed.”

  “Summary judgment has been requested. Attention, Ensign Stone.” Temple walked out from behind his table to stand nose-to-nose with Stone. “Blackmon Perry Stone, you have accepted guilt on numerous charges. This court has no option but to strip you of all rank, seize all pay, remove veteran’s status, retract all medals and awards, and grant you a dishonorable discharge from the United Empire Navy. Let it be known to all parties present, that as of this moment, Stone is no longer a UEN officer nor is he welcome in our presence.

  Stone stood silently at attention as every uniformed person in the courtroom stood and turned their back on him except Grayson and the prosecuting attorney. Both men moved to stand before Stone and strip him of his uniform. Once Stone was undressed the prosecutor handed him a civilian powder blue jumpsuit. Grayson slapped Stone’s personal assistant to a sticky patch on his chest. The prosecutor pointed at the courtroom door. Both men turned their backs without speaking.

  Chapter Eleven

  Stone’s heart ached as he trudged through the courtroom. Dishonorable discharge? He may have preferred jail. Temple’s judgment was better than execution, but not by much. Stone refused to acknowledge Beffie-pie’s cries for him as he walked out the courtroom. He ignored the paparazzi and media pundits hounding his every step.

  Four LAD escorts were waiting for him outside the courtroom doors. Forming a square around him, the two in front turned their backs on him. The two trailing guards turned their backs also, preferring to march backward rather than be seen marching in concert with a dishonored individual.

  All military personnel in the corridor turned their backs as soon as they spotted his powder blue jumpsuit. Each about-face was another nail driven into his soul. Dozens of civilians flooded into the corridor, shouting questions at him—calling for his attention. Stone barely saw them. Uniformed backs loomed large everywhere he looked.

  The only UEN person who made eye contact with him was LCDR Missimaya. The man sneered at him with an “I told you I would get you” look before performing a sharp about-face. Stone was not sure whether he was grateful for any recognition or if he wanted to punch the weasel’s face.

  The corridor leading to a civilian exit from the base felt longer than the multi-day march he had made on that nameless planet prior to attacking the Hyrocanian base. There, behind enemy lines, he was surrounded by friendly piglets and drascos. Here, he was surrounded by the backs of nameless military personnel and shouting civilian media hacks.

  All too soon, Stone was thrust through the exit doors. The heavy doors slammed shut behind him, cutting off the horde of camera jockeys, leaving him standing alone under a clear sky, breathing planetary air as a civilian.

  His breath caught. The sky crashed down around his head. Either the air on Lazzaroni was suddenly devoid of oxygen or his lungs had stopped working. Throwing himself backward, he fell against the thick metal door. There was no handle, latch, or even a doorbell to call for help. Stones knees buckled and his anal sphincter violently contracted. He was outside under open sky with nowhere to go. His eyes raked every nearby building. Wanting to run, he frantically searched for the barest overhang or eave to hide under. His mouth went dry. As he felt himself fall to his knees, he fought to control his agoraphobia. Quietly he said, “I’ve been outside before. This isn’t dangerous. What is happening to me?”

  He curled into a small ball while managing to continue looking around for help. The few people standing around stared at him, more from curiosity than concern. A voice called out, “Hey, Signore?”

  He looked toward the parking lot. A cab driver stood by an open vehicle door, waving to him. Racing across the open space, he dove through the cab’s open back door. The driver slammed the door closed with a blank look on her face as if this was an everyday occurrence for her.

  Stone was safely inside. The cab’s back seat was small, but fully enclosed, offering decent cover over his head with solid windows. Recycled air blew across his face. Clenching his gut, he took several deep breaths, trying to control his emotions. When the cabby opened a front door to get into the driver’s seat, he held his breath. Nothing untoward happened and he exhaled a ragged sigh.

  “Now what?” he thought. Stone knew the UEN was quick and efficient. His personal property onboard Rusty Hinges was forfeit. It would be destroyed, sold off, or given away by lottery, according to CDR Butcher’s preference.

  Stone would have to find civilian clothing and locate a customer service center to begin the process of retrieving Jay and Peebee from the military. They would not be mistreated. The navy was not like that. However, he could not delay. The girls must be frustrated by his absence—and no one wants to be around a frustrated drasco.

  Then what? Back to Allie’s World and wrangle a job from Queen Danielle? Call Grandfather? Neither option felt right.

  Stone wiped the sweat from his face and looked up at the driver.
He may be unemployed and homeless, but he was still a member of the Stone family. His personal assistant could transfer enough funds to buy the cab company the woman worked for. Paying for one cab ride was less than pocket change.

  Where should he go? Deciding a clothing store should be first, he started to speak, but the taxi driver silenced him by waving a piece of paper at him.

  Stone was surprised. She held an honest-to-goodness piece of paper in her hand, not an electronic readout. He reached for it, but she yanked it back.

  “You’re Signore Stone?”

  He nodded, “Blackmon Perry Stone, yes. Trey.”

  She handed him the paper. The only thing written on it was “Saronno & C.—D. Lazzaroni, F-19.”

  Stone turned the paper over. The back side was blank. Before he could flip it back to the front, it burst into flames, disappearing in a puff of ash. His fingers were not burned. Either it flashed to ashes too fast or his thickened skin was too tough to burn.

  The driver gestured to the cab door. “Saronno F-19. Either it’s a long walk or I can take you. Your call, signore.”

  Stone caught a whiff of mint and licorice from the woman. She smelled enough like loyalty for him trust her, although she was not telling him everything. Someone had sent her for him. Her reticence in not telling him everything could have several causes, from who told her to be here, to the generous tip she would receive for getting him where he was supposed to go.

  He nodded his acceptance. At least he was inside. “Stop at the first clothing store you come to, please.”

  She turned around and raised the cab a few feet off the ground. “Not my orders, signore. I get paid to offer you a ride and take you to F-19. You can ride or walk, just as you please. I get paid the same for either one, but I don’t get paid for no stops.” She flicked a switch on the dashboard slamming the driver’s protective shield into place, cutting off all further conversation.

  Stone checked the door handle. It was unlocked. He had no intention of getting out, but it was comforting to know he was not being kidnapped. The way he was feeling, kidnappers would be sorely abused before they could get him under wraps. He may have been a low ranking officer, but he had been involved in more hand-to-hand combat than he cared to remember, plus he had spent more time training with marines than most UEN personnel did in a lifetime of service.