“Salaam there, boyo, faith and I've had a gesundt shtik trouble getting here.” “This is a general court-martial case,” Bill told the mild, unassuming man with the ordinary face who stood outside the bars. I don't think a civilian lawyer will be allowed.” “Begorrah, landsman-it is Allah's will that I be prepared for all things.” He whipped a bristling mustache with waxed tips out of his pocket and pressed it to his upper lip. At the same time he threw his chest back and his shoulders seemed to widen and a steely glint came to his eye and the planes of his face took on a military stiffness. “I'm pleased to meet you. We're in this together, and I want you to know that I won't let you down even if you are an enlisted man.” “What happened to Abdul O'Brien-Cohen?” “I have a reserve commission in the Imperial Barratry Corps. Captain A. C.
O'Brien at your service. I believe the sum of 17,000 was mentioned?” “I take 10 per cent of that,” Deathwish said, sidling up. Negotiations were opened and took a number of hours. All three men liked, respected, and distrusted each other, so that elaborate safeguards were called for. When Deathwish and the lawyer finally left they had careful instructions about where to find the money, and Bill had statements signed in blood with affixed thumbprint from each of them stating that they were members of the Party d edicated to overthrowing the Emperor. When they returned with the money Bill gave them back their statements as soon as Captain O'Brien had signed a receipt for 15,300 bucks as payment in full for defending Bill before a general court-martial. It was all done in a businesslike and satisfying manner.
“Would you like to hear my side of the case?” Bill asked. “Of course not, that has no bearing at all on the charges. When you enlisted in the troopers you signed away all your rights as a human being. They can do whatever they like with you. Your only advantage is that they are also prisoners of their own system and must abide by the complex and self-contradictory code of laws they have constructed through the centuries. They want to shoot you for desertion and have rigged a foolproof case.” “Then I'll be shot!” “Perhaps, but that's the chance we have to take.” “We-? You going to be hit by half the bullets?” “Don't get snotty when you're talking to an officer, bowb. Abide in me, have faith, and hope they make some mistakes.” After that it was just a matter of marking time until the trial. Bill knew it was close when they gave him a uniform with a Fuse Tender First Class insignia on the arm. Then the guard tramped up, the door sprang open, and Deathwish waved him out. They marched away together, and Bill exacted what small pleasure he could from changing step to louse up the guard. But once through the door of the courtroom he took a military brace and tried to look like an old campaigner with his medals clanking on his chest. There was an empty chair next to a polished, uniformed, and very military Captain O'Brien.
“That's the stuff;” O'Brien said. “Keep up with the G. I. bit, outplay them at their own game.” They climbed to their feet as the officers of the court filed in. Bill and O'Brien were seated at the end of the long, black, plastic table, and at the far end sat the trial judge advocate, a gray-haired and stern-looking major who wore a cheap girdle. The ten officers of the court sat down at the long side of the table, where they could scowl out at the audience and the witnesses.
“Let us begin,” the court president, a bald-headed and pudgy fleet admiral, said with fitting solemnity. “Let the trial open, let justice be done with utmost dispatch, and the prisoner found guilty and shot.” “I object,” O'Brien said, springing to his feet. “These remarks are prejudical toward the accused, who is. innocent until proven guilty-” “Objection overruled.” The president's gavel banged. “Counsel for the defense is fined fifty bucks for unwarranted interruption. The accused is guilty, the evidence will prove it, and he will be shot. Justice will be served.” “So that's the way. they are going to play it,” O'Brien murmured to Bill through half-closed lips. “I can play them any way as long as I know the ground rules.” The trial judge advocate had already begun his opening statement in a monotonous voice.
“… therefore we shall prove that Fuse Tender First Class Bill did willfully overstay his officially granted leave by a period of nine days and thereafter resist arrest and flee from the arresting officers and successfully elude pursuit, where upon he absented himself for the period of over one standard year, so is therefore guilty of desertion…” “Guilty as hell!” one of the court officers shouted, a redfaced cavalry major with a black monocle, springing to his feet and knocking over his chair. “I vote guilty-shoot the buggery” “I agree, Sam,” the president drawled, tapping lightly with his gavel, “but we have to shoot him by the book, take a little while yet” “That's not true,” Bill hissed to his lawyer. “The facts are-” “Don't worry about facts, Bill, no one else heredoes. Facts can't alter this case.” “… and we will therefore ask the supreme penalty, death,” the trial judge advocate said, finally dragging to a close.
“Are you going to waste our time with an opening statement, Captain?” the president asked, glaring at O'Brien.
“Just a few words, if the court pleases… “ There was a sudden stir among the spectators, and a ragged woman with a shawl over her head, clutching a blanketwrapped bundle to her bosom, rushed forward to the edge of the table.
“Your honors-” she gasped, “don't take away me Bill, the light of me life.
He's a good man, and whatever he did was only for me and the little one.” She held out the bundle, and a weak crying could be h eard. “Every day he wanted to leave, to return to duty, but I was sick and the wee one was sick and I begged him with tears in my eyes to stay…” “Get her out of here!” The gavel banged loudly.
“… and he would stay, all the time swearing it would be just for one more day, and all the time the darlin' knowing that if he left us we would die of starvation.” Her voice was muffled by the bulk of the dress-uniformed MPs who carried her, struggling, toward the exit. “… and a blessing on your honors for freeing him, but if you condemn him, you blackhearted scuts, may you die and rot in hell…” The doors swung shut, and her voice was cut off.
“Strike all this from the records,” the president said, and glowered at the counsel for the defense. “And if I thought you had anything to do with it I would have you shot right alongside your client.” O'Brien was looking his most guileless, fingers on chest and head back, and just beginning an innocent statement when there was another interruption. An old man climbed onto one of the spectator's benches and waved his arms for attention.
“Listen to me, one and all. Justice must be served, and I am its instrument. I had meant to keep my silence and allow an innocent man to be executed, but I cannot. Bill is my son, my only son, and I begged him to go over the hill to aid me; dying as I was of cancer, I wanted to see him ne last time, but he stayed to nurse me…” There was a struggle as the MPs grabbed the man and found he was chained to the bench. “Yes he did, cooked porridge for me and made me eat, and he did so well that bit by bit I rallied until you see me today, a cured man, cured by porridge from his son's loyal hands. Now my boy shall die because he saved me, but it shall not be. Take my poor old worthless life instead of his.
… “ An atomic wire cutter hummed, and the old man was thrown out the back door.
“That's enough! That's too much!” the red-faced president of the court shrieked, and pounded so hard that the gavel broke and he hurled the pieces across the room. “Clear this court of all spectators and witnesses. It is the judgment of this court that the rest of this trial will be conducted by rules of precedence without witnesses or evidence admitted.” He flashed a quick look around at his accomplices, who all nodded solemn agreement. “Therefore the defendant is found guilty and will be shot as soon as he can be dragged to the shooting gallery.” The officers of the court were already pushing back their chairs to go when O'Brien's slow voice stopped them.