Michael Thomas: Siege of Titan

“Judge, if I may?” he asked formally.

The Judge gestured towards him and then sat down.

“The evidence brought against my client has not been proven. Yes, he was present at the site and, yes he was involved in the violent entertainment. Our main argument is that the ATU officers opened fire on the spectators and on those in the arena. It was a botched operation and by all accounts resulted in over twenty deaths, including six well-trained and equipped officers. It should never have happened and if the operation had been properly planned and executed, we wouldn’t be here today. My client was simply caught up in a vicious exchange where he was forced to fight to try and escape with his life. Our plea from the start has been one of self defence and that is a right every citizen has in law.”

“Nonsense! When a man breaks the law he forfeits his rights to due process, you will be well aware of the Citizens Charter! The ATU have provided video evidence of his culpability in the attack of many police officers and the manslaughter of Officer Riley, who was forced to his death in a terrible fall. This evidence was taken from the video feeds of every officer present. We have seen what was taking place. We are not talking about the usual televised combat sessions, this was unlicensed, murderous combat with weapons and equipment designed to maim or kill. Every officer who entered that building took a great risk for the public good and many paid the price,” the Judge responded.

Spartan hadn’t seen the footage, at least he didn’t remember seeing it. But one thing was very certain. He knew a set up when he saw it.

“No way I’m getting out of this one,” he muttered.

“Not only did the accused physically attack multiple officers present at the scene, he also managed to steal police equipment and turned it on them. We have the medical reports on the internal injuries and damage caused by his direct actions.”

Some seated near Spartan looked at him, thinking they heard him speak but he just gave them a long hard stare. It was a hollow victory but it was something. The Judge continued.

“Based on the evidence presented, even after taking into account your argument of self defence, I have come to my decision.”

It was a grim indictment of the way the legal system had evolved, in that Spartan’s attorney just sat down and let the Judge continue. Spartan turned his head in disgust as he watched his rights torn up in front of his face.

“I have taken into account the difficult situation that the accused is in financially, but this desperation does not justify turning to illegal and dangerous combat. I am also convinced of the fact that the police raid was not initiated because of any specific actions of his. The raid was due to an undercover operation, that I am glad to report has resulted in over thirty arrests and the closure of six separate establishments, all of which were running the same form of gladiatorial entertainment. I believe him to be out of control and until he is properly re-educated, a man like this has no place in public and must be relocated to an area better suited to his character.”

A murmur spread through the audience and cameras seemed to almost lean towards the Judge as they waited for the verdict.

“Based upon the crimes committed, the injuries caused and the death of a good police officer, I give Spartan two options and it is for him to choose one of them. Either he will face ten years for manslaughter and a following sentence of ten years for unlicensed gladiatorial combat at an unlicensed arena….”

Before he could continue, a volley of shouting came from the public gallery, as well as from the gathered press.

“Silence!” the Judge shouted as he brought down a heavy hammer that issued sparks across his desk. “I also offer Spartan the chance to redeem himself and his character by a term of service with the Interstellar Military. This term of service is to be no less than ten years and will involve a potential posting to countering the insurgency throughout Proxima Centauri.”

He turned to Spartan and stared at him for several seconds.

“The choice is yours, Mr Spartan.”

As the Judge sat down the two guards next to Spartan lifted him up so that he faced him. The attorney in the suit approached and stood to his right.

“I’m sorry, Spartan. We managed to get your murder sentence revoked but there is no way out of this manslaughter charge. We can go for the prison option and then go to appeal, but with the current waiting list for justice you could be in for two or three years before we could even consider going ahead. Alternatively the military option has risk, but based on your track record it could make you,” he said apologetically.

Spartan looked around, he couldn’t believe the situation he was in. Just a few weeks ago he was fighting for his life in a bloody arena just to pay for his mistakes years before. Indentured service meant he had to fight at twelve events and he only had two left before he was free. Now he was being offered a choice between prison or the military. He looked at the people around him and then at the Judge.

The room went quiet as everybody listened intently to his decision.

“You don’t give me much of a choice,” stopping as he gave the matter one last thought.

“You must decide or I will be forced to make the decision for you,” said the Judge firmly.

Spartan looked around the room one last time. He would rather die than be forced to prison. Some might think his months working in the pit-fighting world were akin to prison, but he could leave anytime he wanted. He only stayed to pay his debt. It wasn’t easy to stop an armoured-up, heavily equipped gladiator from leaving if he truly wanted to. He needed the work as much as the organisers needed him to fight. Twenty years would take away the best years of his life. By the time he came out what would he be able to do? At least with a full tour of duty under his belt he would have access to free education, state welfare, support and who knows, maybe even a career. He took a deep breath.

“I choose the ten years military service.”

“Good, I am in no doubt that your skills will prove useful in fighting the insurgency!” he sneered.

“It is the ruling of this court that Spartan will forgo his sentence and instead offer himself for voluntary service in the Confederate Marine Corps for a term of service of no less than ten years. He will join one of the military recruitment transports where he will be transformed into a man the Confederacy can be proud of. The journey throughout the System is long but it needs to be. By the time you have made several passes through the sector you will be fully trained and capable of any military posting. It is an efficient system where you train as you travel. The Marine Corps is always looking for strong and resilient young men and woman to serve, and though this man has shown poor judgement he has proven an ability to stand firm and to fight when the situation demands it. A full term in the service of the Confederation will strengthen his character and mould him into a citizen befitting this fine society.”

Spartan thought the Judge was now just enjoying himself with his little speech and was tempted to add his own thoughts to the proceedings, but the man continued with even more.

“It is of course assumed that to fully compensate the state for the damage he has caused he will give up a good and vigorous decade of training and service. If he fails to complete the full term for any reason, other than honourable discharge due to battlefield injury or similar, he will forfeit this verdict and be transferred immediately to a maximum-security prison to carry out the remainder of his sentence. Spartan, you will undergo two weeks additional medical assessment and care prior to your shipping to your boot camp. We need to ensure your injuries are fully healed before sending you on your way.”