William Forstchen - Article 23

He then reviewed the attack and seizure of the ship and Hemenez's subsequent behavior. Singh then turned the subject to Matthew Everett and grilled him about Matt and their friendship. He focused on whether Matt had made any statements that might be construed as favorable to the separatists, and Justin was forced to admit that what his friend had said might be misunderstood.

"Now, as to the incident of striking an officer. Remember, Mr. Bell, Captain MacKenzie placed the sentence of execution upon Mr. Everett not for any alleged traitorous intent, actions or statements but rather for striking an officer in what was believed to be a state of emergency while administering his lawful office as captain of the ship. Did Mr. Everett strike Captain MacKenzie?"

"Sir, it was accidental, a glancing blow while Matt was still asleep."

"Did he, or did he not, strike him?"

"Sir, Captain MacKenzie laid hands on Matt, dragging him violently out of his sleeping net without warning. Matt flailed about; he has a hard time waking up from a deep sleep."

"Did he or did he not?"

" Sir, that would be like someone saying that you hit their fist with your nose. Matt banged into him, yes, but Captain MacKenzie had grabbed hold of Matt and was dragging him around."

"Then he did strike him."

"I didn't say that, sir," Justin replied and a touch of anger was in his voice. He could sense where Singh wanted this to go; that no matter how erratic and crazy MacKenzie's earlier actions might have been, the bottom line was that a cadet hit a captain of a ship. If that was the case, then everything else would be brushed under the carpet. Matt would be guilty and therefore his own actions and those of his friends would have been illegal, or at best in a very gray area of the law.

Singh- looked down at his computer screen, then back at Justin.

"According to a statement made this morning by Captain MacKenzie, and I quote, 'based upon the information given to [me] by Mr. Colson,' Cadet Matthew Everett had uttered treasonous statements, and had declared that he planned to take the ship and turn it over to the separatist movement. Everett had boasted that he would do the Gustavus one better."

"That is a lie, sir," Justin snapped angrily. " Either I or Cadet Smith was with Matt the entire time, and we never heard him make a statement like that."

"Cadet Colson is not facing charges at this moment," Singh replied sharply. "You and Smith are, and so help me, son, if you interrupt me again you'll have a charge of insubordination thrown at you before you leave this room, do you understand that?"

Justin looked over at his legal advisor, who shook her head sharply.

"Yes, sir."

"So you are claiming that Cadet Colson is lying in regards to his allegations against Cadet Everett?"

"Yes, sir," Justin said emphatically.

'That is all I have to ask," Singh said calmly and as he leaned back in his chair again he gave a disarming smile as if he and Justin were in a friendly game and not involved in an issue of life or death.

"Are there any other questions?"

There was a moment of silence, as if all that Justin had said was somehow beyond belief, and then an officer at the end of the table stirred.

"I have some, sir."

"Go ahead then."

"Cadet Bell, I am Captain Roberto Marcioni. I wish to tell you now that I served with your father when I was a cadet, and found him to be an honorable man."

"Thank you, sir."

"As I look at your file I see that you gained admittance to the Academy not through the standard review process but rather by special decree as the son of the winner of a posthumous Medal of Honor. I therefore have to ask you are you worthy of the honorable name of Bell, or is your presence in this service nothing more than a way for the service to honor your father?"

Startled, Justin did not reply for a second. The thought had indeed troubled him during the long days of the cruise after the mutiny. What would his father have done, he had wondered while lying awake at night. During the time from Marts arrest to his seizure of the ship he had not had time to contemplate that question and he realized now that in fact he should have cast the question more in that light before going ahead, rather than simply acting on the impulsive decision that he was right and MacKenzie was wrong.

"Sir, I believe I am worthy of my father's name."

'Tell this board why, Mr. Bell."

"Sir, my father, as you know, gave his life to save over five hundred civilians aboard a transport that was threatened with catastrophic decompression. I believe my father did not hesitate to make that decision, even though in those few seconds before his death he knew that he would certainly die by going through that airlock and closing it behind him."

Justin paused for a moment. Again the image formed and he wondered if in those last seconds his father might have indeed hesitated, if he was afraid, and if his last thoughts were of his wife and son. Justin drew a deep breath, afraid that there might be a shudder in his voice, worried that the others in the room would then believe that he was trying to play on their emotions.

"I made my decision to take the Somers based upon Article Twenty-five, that the Captain was engaged in an immoral and illegal act and as such I was honor-bound to stop him. Also, I did it to save a life.

"To ask if I can compare myself to my father is unfair," he said, his voice steady but low. "I am proud to be his son and only hope that someday I might measure up to half his stature."

He fell silent.

"If the cadet facing execution had been Mr. Colson rather than Mr. Everett, would you have acted?"

Justin, surprised by the question, said nothing for a moment. Would he? He loathed Colson, and Matt was his best friend. Would he risk his life, his career for a worm like Colson? He realized that if he would not be willing to do that, then he was indeed a hypocrite, only willing to selectively apply the high ideals of Article Twenty-five.

"I believe, sir, that I would have," Justin finally replied, "though I must confess it would have been far more difficult to reach that decision."

The captain questioning him said nothing for a moment.

"One final question, cadet."

"Sir?"

"Did you want to kill Captain MacKenzie?"

Justin closed his eyes for a moment.

"Yes," he said. "I wasn't sure when I made my way upstairs and prepared to attack. I had considered the chance that people might get shot. I had hoped originally to arm everyone I had released, burst into the room, and by a show of force convince the guards to lay down their weapons. The idea of firing the engines was a lucky break."

"Not for the two cadets who were seriously injured," Singh interrupted.

"I regret that, sir, I honestly do, but I saw no other way."

"I think you realized though that MacKenzie would fight," the captain continued. "I know the man, and you did, too."

"Yes, sir, perhaps I wasn't thinking that far ahead at that moment. But when I came through the door after firing the engine and saw my friend in the airlock, breathing vacuum and dying, yes, sir, I did want to kill him."

"Why didn't you? He fired two shots at you but you did not reply."

"Perhaps I was afraid, sir," Justin whispered.

"I don't think so, Bell," Marcioni replied, and he looked over at Singh. "No further questions."

Justin looked out the window, watching as the shadows of twilight deepened on the side of the mountain. It was such a strange light, the sky directly overhead a dark indigo blue, the horizon showing a faint orange glow of reflected light from the surface. On the south-facing side of a nearby hill he saw a team of farmers wearing light pressure suits checking the protective plastic covers that automatically wrapped around the rows of Yarinba cactus when the temperature dropped below zero. The plant had been created from genetically altered barrel cactus to withstand the thin air and harsh climate extremes of the planet. The Yarinba were part of the first step in terraforming the planet, the plant locking moisture beneath its tough outer hide and ever so slowly pumping the hundreds of billions of cubic meters of oxygen into the atmosphere that would finally make the surface habitable.