Having already been as candid as possible, neither crystal singer could expand on the information already on record. And Killashandra did not quite understand the matter of disciplinary action for Lars and the remand orders.
“Then this session of the Grand Felony Court of Regulus Sector Federation is closed.” The traditional crack of wood against wood ended the hearing.
Perplexed by the legal formulas, Killashandra turned to Lars and his father.
“Are you free, or what?” she demanded.
“I’m not quite sure,” Lars said with a nervous laugh. “It can’t mean much. Everything else was dismissed, wasn’t it?” He looked to Olav and was sobered by his father’s solemn expression.
“He has been remanded,” the Bailiff explained kindly, taking Lars by the arm. “I interpret the judgment to mean that the Court has dismissed all charges but Lars Dahl’s physical assault on you in the matter of your abduction. Disciplinary action is always short term. On the second remand charge, the Court requires further discussion of the allegations about the use of subliminal conditioning by the Optherian government. If these are proved correct, then it is likely that the disciplinary action will be suspended. I can give you hard copy of the precedents involved, indeed of the entire trial, if you wish.” When Lars nodded a perplexed affirmation, “Then I shall program them for your quarters. If you gentlemen will come with me?”
A panel at the back of the seating area opened and it was toward this that Funadormi gestured Lars and his father.
“Come with you?” Lars cried, trying to break from the Bailiff’s grip.
Shock and surprise briefly immobilized Killashandra and before she could make a move to reach Lars, the Bailiff, securely holding her lover, had him nearly to the open door.
“Wait! Please wait!” she screamed, falling over the chairs in her haste.
“You two have been dismissed. Justice has been served! Arrangements for your transport have been made and the ground vehicle programmed to take you to the appropriate site.”
“But – Lars!” Killashandra’s cry of protest was made to the immense back of the Bailiff which was disappearing through the aperture, totally eclipsing Lars. Olav hurried anxiously after, adding his protests. “Lars Dahl!” she screamed, every fear alerted to his unexpected departure. The panel closed with a final thuck just as Killashandra reached it.
“Justice has been served?” she shrieked, beating the wall with impotent fists. “What justice? What justice? LARS DAHL! Couldn’t they let us say good-bye? Is that justice?” She wheeled on Trag who was trying to silence her tactless accusations. “You and your fool-proof verbiage. They’ve charged him after all. I want to know why and what does disciplinary action mean for a man who’s put himself on the line for a whole benighted fardling useless planet?”
“Killashandra Ree,” and both crystal singers turned in astonishment as the voice issued unexpectedly from the wall. “During your evidence, your psychological reactions exhibited extreme agitation and apprehension – unusual when compared to your official profile – which have been interpreted as fear of the accused, despite your generous testimony to his actions against you. Disciplinary action will prevent the accused from any future acts of felonious assault.”
“WHAT?” Killashandra could not believe what she had heard. “Of all the ridiculous interpretations! I love the man! I love him, do you hear, I was frantic with worry for him, not against him. Call him back. There’s been a dreadful miscarriage of justice.”
“Justice has been served, Killashandra Ree. You and Trag Morfane are scheduled to leave this Court and this building immediately. Transport awaits.”
The silence after that impersonal order provoked a thunder of tinnitus in her skull.
“I don’t believe this, Trag. This can’t be right. How do we appeal?”
“I do not believe that we can, Killashandra. This is the Federal Court. We have no right of appeal. If there is one available to Lars, I am certain that Olav will invoke it. But we have no further right. Come. Lars will he taken care of.”
“That’s what I’m fardling afraid of,” Killashandra cried. “I know what penalties and disciplines the Judicial Branch can use. I had Civics like any other schoolchild. I can’t go, Trag. I can’t leave him. Not like this. Not without any sort of a . . .” Tears so choked her that she could not continue and a sudden disastrous inability to stand made her wobble so that Trag only just kept her from falling.
She didn’t realize at first that Trag was supporting her out of the room. When she found them in the hall, she tried to wrench herself out of Trag’s grasp but there was someone else by then, assisting Trag and between the two of them, she was wrestled into the lift. She struggled, screaming imprecations and threats, and although she heard Trag protesting as sternly as he could, she was put in padded restraints. The ignominy of such a humiliating expedient combined with fear, disappointment, and her recent physical ordeal sent Killashandra into a trembling posture of aggrieved and contained fury.
By the time they reached the shuttle transport to the Regulus transfer moon, she had exhausted her scant store of energy and crouched in the seat, sullen and silent, too proud to ask for her release from the restraints. She let Trag and the medic lead her where they would, and didn’t protest when they undressed her for immersion in a radiant fluid tank. Legitimate protest and recourse denied her, she submitted to everything then, despairing and listless. Over and over she reviewed her moments in the witness chair, when her body, the body which had loved and been loved so by Lars, had betrayed them both with false testimony. She was appalled at that treachery, and obsessed by the horrifying guilt that she, herself, her anxieties and idiotic presentiments, had condemned Lars on the one count which had not been dismissed by the Court. She could never forgive herself. Somehow, sometime, she would be able to face Lars, and beg his forgiveness. That she promised herself.
All the way back to Ballybran, she said not a single word to anyone, nodding or shaking her head in answer to the few questions that were put directly to her by officials. Trag supervised her meals, immersed her in radiant fluid whenever such facilities were available, and remained by her side during her wakeful hours. If he resented her silence or interpreted it as an accusation, he gave no indication of regret, remorse, or penitence. She was too immersed in her obsession with the Outrageous circumstance of Lars’s betrayal to try to explain the complexities of her depression.
By the time she and Trag had completed the long journey to Ballybran’s surface, Killashandra was completely restored to physical health. She paused only long enough in her quarters to check, as she had begun to do toward the end of the trip, with galactic updates. There was no further word on the Optherian situation beyond the original bulletin announcing the arrival of Revision troops on the planet to “correct legislative anomalies.” She refused to consider what that statement might mean for Lars. Dumping her carisak, she changed into a shipsuit. Then she headed for the Fisherman’s bailiwick and, with a voice grown gruff from disuse, demanded her sonic cutter. While waiting for him to retrieve it from storage, she checked with Meterology and, with a twinge of satisfaction, learned that the forecast predicted a settled period of weather for the next nine days.
She backed her sled out of its rack herself, though she could see the wild protesting signals of the duty officer trying to abort her precipitous departure. As soon as she was clear of the Hangar, she poured on the power and, in an undeviating line, fled for the Ranges.