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When Dane awoke the morning was warm and he stretched his body, rousing his sore muscles from their sleep. The night had been as comfortable as he could have expected, considering he spent it sleeping on the dirt floor of his latest holding cell.
Presently guards arrived with a hearty meal of eggs, ham, bread and milk. He consumed his breakfast with vigor, and wondered absently how long it had been since his last meal. Days, at least.
After eating he was escorted out of his cell by the mercenary and several armed guards, all wearing the blue and orange of the Quantar Guard. They also wore some very angry looks on their faces, not hesitating to direct them at Dane at the slightest opportunity.
They led him outside and into a nearby brick building where he was told to remove his clothing and shower, under guard of course. He finished quickly and was given a new Quantar military uniform without rank, then was directed to shave. Next, his hair was cut, and the barber wasn’t the least bit gentle about it either. As the man hacked away on his head Dane felt him cutting near his pony tail, fashionable as a symbol of the Imperial aristocracy.
“Stop there!” he said.
The barber waved his shears at Dane. “Why royal? Soon it won’t matter at all, all this fancy styling, when they cut off your head and stick it on a pole in front of the North Palace.” The crowd of guards laughed loudly.
Dane stayed determined in the face of their mockery. “I said leave it.”
“And what if I don’t wanna leave it, eh? What are you gonna do about it, when you’re dead?” the guards laughed again. All except one.
“Leave it.” It was the rough voice of the mercenary. He stepped out of the shadows towards Dane.
The barber pointed at the huge man with his shears. “Here now, don’t you think that’s our business?”
“I’m responsible for ‘im, that makes it my business,” the mercenary worked his way through the crowd, hand on the butt of the coil pistol holstered at his side. “I got a lot invested in ‘im, so leave ‘im be,” The barber noted the mercenary’s tone and though clearly unhappy he continued his cutting in silence, leaving the ponytail. A young guardsman came through the area, removing Dane’s dinner clothes just as the haircut was concluding.
“You there, bring me my garments,” said Dane, sitting up in the barber chair and issuing a command. A guard wearing Lieutenant rank stepped between Dane and the young man holding his clothes.
“General Tannace says you’re to wear no rank during the trial.”
Dane had a ready response. “I want no rank, only the family crest. It’s given to us by Imperial edict. The Emperor is the only one who has the power to give it, or take it away.” The Lieutenant contemplated Dane for a moment, then nodded to the enlisted man. The young guard removed the crest from Dane’s clothes and brought it to him. Dane placed the crest on his uniform at the left breast and then stood, pushing past the barber to check himself in the mirror. His uniform fit poorly, but the haircut was clean if not flattering. Momentarily he regretted the loss of his valedictorian pin. Any adornment of authority might be valuable in a trial setting.
The Lieutenant stepped up to him. “Time to go, Sire,” Dane noted the use of the honorarium. Perhaps this is a man I can work with, he thought.
He was led back outside where a military transport of Quantar design was waiting. It carried the blue and orange flag emblazoned on its armored doors, but the Cochrane family crest had been removed. The vehicle was a hovering personnel carrier of a type Dane had trained on many times. He was surprised at the amount of domestic military equipment from Quantar the rebels had managed to accumulate. No question that they had significant help from inside his family’s military. From traitors. The thought made him seethe.
The carrier engines fired up loudly as a group of six men led by the Lieutenant and trailed by the mercenary loaded Dane into the back and slammed the metal doors shut behind them. After a few moments to warm up the carrier pulled out. They hummed along for nearly half an hour of uneventful travel until the Lieutenant broke the silence.
“Do you know where you’re going, royal?” Dane shook his head negative but said nothing. The Lieutenant handed his rifle to one of the detachment and then stood up and unlatched a metal panel, pulling it down so that air and sunshine entered the cabin. “Come have a look,” he said, nodding towards the open hatch.
Dane stepped across and knelt on the seat, looking out across a low valley to white-capped mountains. They were traveling on a hardened gravel road along the rim of a valley lined by mature deciduous trees. Beyond the tree line were fields clearly developed for farming. He focused past the fields and noticed they were getting closer to what looked like a small mountain. After a moment he realized that it wasn’t a mountain at all. A chorus of chuckles came from the guards behind him as he pulled back in astonishment.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” came the Lieutenant’s voice from behind him, “It’s called the Cathedral.”
The Cathedral dominated the valley, echoing in Dane’s mind thoughts of the North Palace at KendalFalk, on Quantar’s northern continent. The North Palace had 150 rooms with gardens to feed a thousand. It was nothing compared to this.
Dozens of gothic-style spires and Byzantine domes like ones Dane had seen in pictures of ancient Earth architecture stood out from the central building, a long rectangular fortress-like structure with tall towers at the corners. Story after story of stone extended out in a circle from the center, each filled with rows of windows. Every three stories the structure became wider and a wall was built up, the next section down being wider than the one above. Dozens of parapets rimmed the glazed stone periphery, so distant that Dane couldn’t see if guards occupied them or not. He guessed it had to be a hundred stories high and three times as wide at the base as it was tall. It was easily the largest structure Dane had ever seen.
The Lieutenant stepped up and abruptly shut the hatch, motioning Dane to return to his place. “Just wanted you to see the Sanctuary once before we went inside. Once you’re in there, you’ll not be coming out again,” this set off another round of uncomfortable laughter.
Dane retook his seat between the mercenary and a young guard, crossing his arms as he reflected on his circumstances. He reviewed what he knew of Earth and the Sanctuary from his studies. To the average Imperial citizen, even the aristocracy, Earth was a great mystery. Most of the histories were choppy and vague, and much was lost during the age after the first Empire fell. Reunification had come after nearly two hundred years of war between the Kallaket families. Only the return of the scientists of Old Earth, who had brought back advanced technologies long since considered lost after the wars had saved the Empire from hundreds of years of savagery.
Soon after Reunification thoughts of a self-governing Constitutional Republic had been the rage, led by the Cochrane’s of Quantar. But within a few decades the old family order had returned and the Empire was restored. The only nod to the idea of republicanism was the establishment of the Kallaket as a deliberative body and an even smaller group, The Board, as a filter for Imperial prerogatives.
The “Historians” of Earth withdrew after the Empire was re-established, erecting the Defensive Shield. Every hostile attempt to pierce the Shield since had ended with the approaching ships either utterly obliterated or simply not coming back at all. The Sanctuary was established as a refuge from the abuses of the imperial peerage system, and the Shield would open only for unarmed diplomatic vessels carrying refugees. But while the new Emperors reigned with the consent of the Board and the Kallaket, and the Starliners enforced the will of the Emperor across two hundred systems, Earth remained quietly behind the Shield, always keeping her technology, and her power, hidden.
Dane’s thoughts returned presently to his predicament as the hovercraft hummed smoothly to a stop. The Lieutenant opened the hatch again and Dane could see out. They had arrived at an entrance of arched stone two stories high and twice as wide with imposing metal doors to match. Through the window Dane saw the driving crew being greeted by guards wearing white uniforms with a sash of gold on the chest, armed with light hand weapons.
“Sanctuary Guardsmen,” said the Lieutenant to Dane, anticipating his thoughts. “We don’t worry much with them. They’re mostly ceremonial,” his tone was conversational.
“Are there many of them?” Dane probed for information, trying not to be too obvious. Any advantage might help him here. The Lieutenant smiled a wry smile.
“Not enough to help you, royal,” The Sanctuary Guard leader checked the driver’s credentials and then waved the craft and the half-dozen escort vehicles through the doors and past the wall. They drove for a long time, perhaps an additional ten minutes, before stopping.
The Lieutenant waved his coil rifle muzzle at Dane and nodded towards the opening rear doors. “Out now,” he said. Armed guards wearing Quantar colors opened the outer doors of the carrier, while his six man detachment, led by the unnamed Lieutenant and the mercenary hustled him out.
Into a mob.
“Die you royal bastard!”
Men and women were yelling curses at him as he descended out of the hovercraft. The guards, at least a dozen of them, formed around him, guarding him from the rocks and garbage that were being thrown at him in anger. The guards pushed back at the surging crowd, overpowering them with brute force. Though they may have agreed with the sentiments of the lynch mob they were too well trained not to follow their orders.
Dane was rushed through the crowd and into the open of a small town square and then into a low brick building. Half the detachment stayed outside to tend to the ugly crowd while the rest took him up a flight of stairs to a plain white room with a wood floor, table, two chairs and a barred window. He was quite literally tossed inside and the door was quickly locked behind him.
Dane took a moment to brush some of the refuse off of himself and examine his new surroundings. Certainly it was sparse but it looked like far less of a cell than anything he had been in recently. He considered sitting in one of the chairs but decided standing provided him with greater dignity. Not that I’ve much of that left, he thought.
Dane went to the window. In the town below he could hear the sounds of the mob abating and a bustling business trade resuming, though he could see very little of it. He strained to look over the high window ledge but could make out only the low skyline of a town full of storefronts and agricultural buildings, all easily fitting within the large and imposing Cathedral wall.
The sound of the door lock turning brought him rushing back to the moment at hand. Colonel Axel Noiman entered the room with two Quantar guardsman flanking her. She wore her military uniform and her ample hair was set high, at duty length. She moved to the desk and sat down, placing a folio on the desk while she affectedly donned reading glasses and began shuffling through a set of legal papers pulled from the folio without acknowledging him. After a moment she nodded to the guards. They hesitated for a second, then reluctantly departed, closing the door behind them.
Dane gathered himself, smoothing his uniform top into place and then sat down across from her at the table. He waited for her to speak but when her attention stayed unwavering on the papers he decided it was time to force the action.
“Nice to see you again, Colonel,” he said, “Or should I call you Lady Calinda?” She was unfazed at this, pausing for only a moment to look up at him through the bookish glasses, then returned to her reading. When she finally replied she didn’t bother looking at him a second time.
“I am here as your chosen advocate, Cochrane, according to the law,” she said quietly. “I feel it only fair to warn you that if I’m allowed to act as your sole defense you will be very disappointed in the outcome of your trial.”
Dane held his response for a moment. He badly needed to engage her in his cause if he were to have any chance at trial, but first he had to get her attention.
“So, you won’t really try to defend me then?” She stopped shuffling her papers, shook her head and leaned back in her chair, genuinely bewildered at him.
“Cochrane...”
“Call me Dane, please,” he said.
“Cochrane,” she repeated, exasperated at his mock politeness. “I want you dead.”
“No, you don’t,” he said. She removed the reading glasses and tossed them down on the table.
“This is pointless. I am here to fulfill my duty so that the forms of law will be obeyed. Nothing more.”
“So you won’t be my advocate?”
“No!”
“Then I shall defend myself, and you will assist me.”
She slammed a fist on the table and shouted at him. “I don’t want to assist you! I want to see you executed, you moron!”
He waited a long moment in an attempt to diffuse her anger. When he spoke again it was in softer tones. “Why did you want to kill me, on the Starliner?” he asked. There was no response for a few moments, then she let out a deep sigh and stood, turning her back to him before responding.
“Because your father destroyed everything that meant anything to me,” she said quietly. He shifted his feet under the desk while he formulated a response. He spoke quietly to match her tone.
“I don’t understand. My father... my father is a good man.” She let out a disdainful grunt.
“Your father is a monster.”
Dane puzzled over this. Nothing in her description of his father made sense. “The man I know, the man I left five years ago, was no monster. He was hurting, grieving over the loss of his wife. He sent me away to the Academy to study diplomacy so that I didn’t have to share that grief with him. I can’t believe what you say is true.”
She turned to face him, the seething anger coming again.
“Believe this, Cochrane. Your father, the noble Director Nathan Cochrane of Quantar, had General Paris Noiman, Chief of Staff in your family’s service, executed for treason! Further, he saw fit to have the wife of Devin Tannace, Captain of the NorthPalace Guard, executed while he was forced to watch. General Noiman was my father. Aria Tannace was my sister. And for that I wanted to kill you! To make your father feel the same pain that I have felt these long years. And be certain of this Cochrane, given the chance I would have enjoyed killing you,” at that she went for the door.
“Colonel,” Dane said, kicking his chair away as he stood. “I still need someone to assist me in my trial defense. It will be you. I expect you to honor your duty to-“
“I will not,” she said.
“I need your knowledge of Sanctuary law. You are sworn to uphold it, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then you will assist me,” he insisted. She slammed the door shut again and sat down at the table, resigned to her situation. She leaned forward and folded her hands in front of her.
“All right then, Cochrane, I will assist you. The trial starts in one hour, what is it you wish me to do?”
This time the sigh came from Dane. He felt the frustration of his circumstances beginning to overwhelm him. He paced the room silently, stopping to stare out the window with his back to her.
“Lady,” he said, his voice cracking. “I must confess, the control I show, the games I play with you are insincere ones. In all truth I tell you I don’t know why you’re doing this to me,” he turned back to her now, wiping a tear from his face. “The things you speak of,” he shook his head, “I cannot believe them of my father. If I am to die here on this world my greatest desire is to know why. I swear to you I know nothing of these things you say he has done.”
The Colonel sat motionless, arms firmly held across her chest as Dane watched her eyes searching his from across the room. It seemed to him that she wavered for a moment, but then her features, and her resolve, hardened.
“You are extremely manipulative, Cochrane, and you are trying to manipulate me. I will not stay for it,” She rose and went for the door. He was losing her.
“Colonel Noiman!” he called after her. She stopped without turning, just a step from the door. “Will you at least grant me one courtesy?”
“I owe you none,” she replied quietly.
“I know,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.
“What is your courtesy?” she finally asked.
“Let me tell my story. Hear what I have to say before you condemn me. Don’t pass judgment on me until you have heard everything. ”
“The court passes judgment. I have no power-“
“I know,” he interrupted. The fear in him felt like a knife stuck in his ribs. “But I need someone, you I suppose, to at least give me a fair chance. The benefit of the doubt, if you will. That’s all I ask.”
She turned to look at him, paused for the slightest of moments, then went quietly through the door. The door lock clicked into place with a heavy finality. Dane returned to the chair and sat down, arms clenched tightly to his chest, and shuddered.
Five years, he thought, hanging his head. Too long.
***
COLONEL AXEL NOIMAN leaned back against the door and closed her eyes, his last words reverberating in her soul. Damn him! she thought. As she cursed Dane she knew that his words carried with them an impact she had never expected.
Truth.
Could he really be innocent in all this? she thought. A pawn in some larger game? No! She steeled her emotions, pushing them back into hiding. He must be tried, no other scenario was possible. But if he was telling the truth...
She clenched her fists hard at her sides, not allowing the doubts to affect her responsibility to her duty. When she opened her eyes the guards were looking at her, confused.
“Get him ready,” she ordered firmly. “We leave for the courtroom in three-quarters of an hour,” then she pushed brusquely past them and down the stairs, heading for the daylight as fast as she could go.