David Gunn - Death's head

Something tells me Paper Osamu is wondering whether offering me asylum is a good idea. Not that she need worry; I refuse as soon as I realize asylum means leaving the others behind.

I ask to see them.

Ms. Osamu tells me this is not possible.

All of us, what remains of the army…we’re kept separate by rank, corps, and gender, apparently because Paper Osamu believes our social and sexual models of interpersonal relationships are unfair, and does not wish to implicate herself by encouraging hierarchical models while we remain in her care.

Haze says she’s a prude, and her announcement that postsexuality is an ideal just means she’s so bored by fucking she doesn’t want anyone else to enjoy themselves, either. The blush as Haze says this tells me things have gone further between him and Rachel than any of us guessed.

The morning after I’m offered asylum, Paper Osamu wakes me at dawn to tell me to collect my belongings; all of us are being returned to Octovian care. Almost inevitably we’re arrested for treason, desertion, and cowardice the moment we step aboard General Jaxx’s mother ship.

My trial is simple and quick, its verdict obvious. A lieutenant I’ve never met represents me. He barely bothers to see me beforehand.

A colonel sits behind a desk.

He’s wearing full uniform, complete with battle ribbons and an Obsidian Cross first class. Braid drips down his chest, because braid always does, and his eyes are as cold as glass. His mouth has a permanent twist, as if he can’t stand the stench of treason in that tiny room.

I’m the first to be tried.

The verdict passed on me will apply to all others. This is Death’s Head logic and legal precedent: I led the group that took the silverhead ship.

The colonel asks if I understand.

“Yes,” I say. “I understand perfectly.”

“Read the charge.”

The charge is simple. Although Octovian soldiers are expected to fight to the last, we obeyed an order from Colonel Nuevo to surrender. Because our duty to OctoV outweighed all other duties of obedience, this was an act of treason.

“How do you plead?”

“Guilty.”

The colonel looks up from his slab, his hand poised over whatever task he was actually doing while the charge was read out. Maybe he was expecting me to plead not guilty.

“Except Colonel Nuevo didn’t send the order.”

The officer for my defense leans forward. I will be allowed time to make a brief statement, but that comes later. Until then I’m to keep quiet.

Only the colonel has other ideas and it’s his courtroom, and he outranks everyone, so when the man decides to question me directly my defense officer sits back in his own chair and keeps his face carefully neutral.

“How do you know he didn’t?”

“Because I was there.”

The colonel glares at me. “You will address me as sir. ”

“Why?”

It’s worth saying just to see the man’s face. Although to his credit, the colonel’s lecture on rank, respect, and hierarchy is delivered in a voice that is almost conversational. And when I say interesting… he carefully ignores the fact that I don’t add sir to the end of that, either.

“And where was this?”

“Our HQ at Ilseville.”

The man checks something on his slab. “You were delivering a message?”

“I was Colonel Nuevo’s ADC.”

He controls his surprise well. We can go on like this for another five minutes, maybe even half an hour, but I can’t see the point. So I decide to simplify things, because that’s how life should be lived.

“I sent that order.”

The courtroom is quiet. I have their total attention. Admittedly, the officer for the prosecution is almost purple with rage, but since the colonel is silent, he makes himself stay silent, too.

“It was part of a bigger plan.”

Officers glance at one another. The colonel checks his slab, and then checks it again. Whatever he’s hoping to find isn’t on there.

“You are under oath,” he reminds me.

My intention was to plead mercy for the Aux and accept all the responsibility myself. Only that stopped being an option when I discovered a judgment on me was a judgment on them. I need a stronger plan.

Putting my fist over my heart, in the old legion sign of respect, I sail dangerously close to the truth, with a few vital changes. “Having signed the order paper, Colonel Nuevo shot himself; Captain Mye followed his example…This left us to carry out his original orders.”

“Us?” the colonel demands.

“The Aux. Myself, Sergeant Neen, Corporal Shil, and Troopers Rachel and Franc, plus Trooper Maria, who was killed in combat.”

He checks his slab. “Your group has one other.”

“Haze,” I say. “Our intelligence officer.”

The colonel leans forward, interested despite himself. Prejudice is a wonderful thing. He’s got us down as a bunch of militia led by a renegade officer. Only we took down a silverhead ship and called in the U/Free. And militia groups don’t usually worry too much about gathering intelligence.

“You were a lieutenant,” he says. “Surrounded by majors and captains. Why would you know this plan?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t have sufficient security clearance.”

Punch the right buttons, use the right words, and even the wildest lies sound real. So real, in fact, that I’m beginning to believe them myself. Something that obviously shows in my face, because the colonel is talking intently to a major who sits just behind him.

“Who can confirm this?”

The entire court, all five officers, know what I’m going to say before I even open my mouth. Just as they know the judgment is no longer theirs.

Sergeant Hito arrives to escort me from my cell. I’m not sure which irritates me more, trying to work out what to say to General Jaxx or the sergeant’s refusal to answer a single one of my questions.

In the five minutes it takes us to walk from the cell to the elevator, drop fifteen floors, and make our way to the general’s office, Hito keeps his silence. He doesn’t tell me to shut up or even shake his head; he simply ignores me right up to the point that he knocks on a heavy steel door.

“Enter…”

The command is loud enough to be heard clearly in the corridor.

A major I don’t recognize looks up, skims his gaze across me, and dismisses Sergeant Hito with a nod. The major is young and rather too aware of his own elegance and I see the sergeant’s lips tighten, but he simply salutes, spins on his heel, and leaves me standing in the outer office.

“What’s that?” demands the major, staring at the silver sack in my hand.

“A present for the general.”

“I’ll take it.”

“No you won’t.”

He stares at me, openmouthed at my insubordination. And finally I begin to enjoy myself for the first time in several days. The problem with being boss is there’s no one above you to insult.

“Give it to me.”

I shake my head.

So he does something very stupid indeed: He draws his gun. Now, I know he’s not going to shoot me because that would make General Jaxx very cross, and even this man isn’t that dumb. And there’s a basic law in combat: Never draw a weapon if you’re not prepared to use it.

“Hand it over,” he says, holding out his other hand.

I shake my head again.

“I’m warning you.”

Laughing isn’t my best move, nor is punching the man in the stomach when he tries to club me with his pistol, but having hit him once it seems a pity not to finish the move.

“That will do.” The voice is mild, but only a fool would miss the edge of steel that runs beneath it. “Hitting a senior officer is a serious offense.”