The Messenger guards who came for Sean and Dillon were polite and very alert. They brought two fresh uniforms, Academy cadet green and Attendant grey-blue. But every emblem had been removed from both, including the buttons. Sean felt slightly queasy as he sealed the seams of his jacket and trousers, thinking the outfits had been specifically made for their trial.
They traveled to the surface by way of a glass-tube elevator rising from the internment levels to a judiciary forecourt. It was the first time Sean had seen the sky in a week. The guards were evidently used to inmates needing a moment to adjust. They hovered but did not push. There was no need for the guards to keep hold, as the clamps attached to their ankles kept the twins in place.
Sean took a slow look around. The sky had never seemed so beautiful. Every cloud was a work of art. The mild wind carried a chilly whisper of farewell. He had not missed his freedom so much as at that very moment. Now it formed a bone-deep ache.
The guard said, “That’s it. Let’s move.”
The forecourt to the Halls of Justice was a stone-walled circle carved from a much larger plaza. The floor was inlaid with the galactic-sunburst emblem of the Human Assembly. All around the plaza, people stopped and stared at their passage.
Dillon muttered, “I don’t get it.”
Sean nodded but did not speak.
“We’ve committed the crime of the century?” Dillon glanced over his shoulder. “Everybody’s still watching us.”
The justice building was shaped like a palace from some Arabian nightmare. Round towers rose from a pale building with softly curved corners. Seven turrets soared high overhead. Seven flagstaffs pierced the sky like spears. The stairs and the doors and the foyer were all oversized and very grand. Sean tried to tell himself it was all meant to intimidate. Repeating that helped—not much, but a little.
They passed through the massive portal, crossed the foyer, and climbed stairs that curved around a huge rotunda. They entered a windowless courtroom that formed another incomplete circle. The Assembly’s sunburst was repeated twice, inlaid into the raised wooden dais where the three tribune Justices would sit, and carved into the rear wall. A dozen empty pews formed ranks between them and the dais.
Their escorts pointed the twins forward, then positioned themselves by the rear portal. A third guard entered and took up station by a smaller door beside the Justices’ dais. The chamber’s only other occupants were their former Advocate Cylian and a man who stood with his back to the room.
The Advocate shot them a look, her blank mask still in place, then went back to her whispered conversation with the man. The pair stood between a small front door and three rows of seats that rose like giant steps by the side wall. Sean assumed the seats were for the Assembly’s version of a jury. Or maybe they required a certain number of official witnesses for an execution. He swallowed hard. His lack of knowledge filled the chamber like sulfurous smoke.
As they walked the central aisle, Sean murmured, “It’s not too late. We can still ask the Advocate for her help.”
Dillon snorted. “All she’ll do is help tie the noose.”
“I’m serious.”
“And I’m telling you it doesn’t matter.” Dillon’s face was so tight it appeared bloodless. “This whole deal is over before it starts.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I kept expecting somebody to show up and rescue us,” Dillon replied. “Think about it. We’ve got a whole planet in our debt. Not to mention all those people we worked with—Carver, Tatyana, Elenya’s father . . .”
“Forget her family. Elenya’s mom is probably watching this and cheering.”
“Still, none of those people could spare a few minutes to find out what happened to us?”
Sean slipped behind the front table. “I wondered about that too.”
“They’ve obviously been blocked,” Dillon said. “We’re cut off from our allies.”
Sean settled into the padded chair. “But why?”
“Same reason all those people around the plaza stopped and watched us. This thing is a lot bigger than helping Carey’s cousin.”
Sean studied his brother. “You’re not nearly as dumb as you look.”
Dillon offered the first smile in what felt like years. “I’m smart enough to know you need to handle this one. Not some flunky assigned by the guy who wants to sink our boat.”
The guard by the front portal snapped to attention and called, “All rise.”
Kaviti said, “The accused may be seated.”
Ambassador Kaviti was the oldest of the three Justices, but only by a few years. The other two were female. One was a handsome, dark-skinned woman who glared at them with Zulu intensity.
Dillon indicated her with a jerk of his chin and murmured, “I know about that one.”
“Tell me.”
“She used to teach at the Academy. A couple of years ago they ran her off. Too tough.”
Sean glanced over. “Is that a joke?”
“Watch closely,” Dillon replied. “This is me not laughing.”
The third Justice was a rotund white-haired woman who wore her rumpled uniform like a bathrobe with buttons. Any hope of grandmotherly affection, however, was erased by a single glimpse of those merciless grey eyes.
Kaviti occupied the central chair. He addressed the woman standing by the empty jury box. “Assume your position, Advocate. Let us begin.”
“Begging the Justices’ pardon,” Cylian replied. “I have been dismissed.”
“Dismissed? By whom?”
“The accused, Your Honor.”
“This is outrageous,” Kaviti sputtered. “Cadets refusing counsel? I’ve never heard of such nonsense.”
“Nonetheless, Your Honor, it is their right as accused—”
“Rubbish.” Kaviti aimed across the distance at Sean. “You there. Sean Kirrel. I am hereby ordering you to accept the wisdom of your betters.”
Sean rose to his feet. “Gladly, Your Honor. But only if you permit us to appoint our own Advocate.”
Kaviti sniffed. “Out of the question. Advocate Cylian is perfectly suited to the task at hand.”
“She is also on your personal staff,” Sean replied.
“Tribunal Justices are tasked to remain impartial. Advocate Cylian was appointed to serve your best interests.”
“Just the same,” Sean replied, “your own assistant has said it’s our right to make the selection.”
“Unacceptable,” Kaviti snapped. “We intend to complete these proceedings without further—”
“Point of order,” the Zulu Justice said.
Kaviti sniffed again but subsided.
The dark-skinned woman said, “Kirrel, is it?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Sean Kirrel.”
“Explain yourself.”
“This entire proceeding is a charade,” Sean said. “And Kaviti knows it.”
“You will refer to him as ‘Ambassador’ or ‘Your Honor,’” she replied, but without heat. “Do you realize you could face years of incarceration?”
Sean glanced at his brother, which was a very good thing. Dillon’s gaze carried the confident rage that had seen them through numerous early battles. His look said all. He had Sean’s back and total confidence in his brother’s ability.
Kaviti snapped, “Answer the question.”
Sean directed his words to the Zulu. “Can I ask a question of my own?”
“Very well.”
“Who brought these charges against us? I’ll bet it was Kaviti.”
“I will not warn you again as to the proper form of address.” She fingered her tablet as she spoke.
“Was it him? Because I’m pretty sure the charges don’t have anything to do with our actions, and everything to do with him hating me from the first day I set foot—”
“Silence!” Kaviti said.
The Zulu passed her tablet to the dumpy woman. “I for one would like to hear the cadet’s full response.”
“This is a waste of the court’s time,” Kaviti muttered.
“Nonetheless.” The Zulu motioned to Sean. “Continue.”
“You heard him yourself, Your Honor. First he orders us to take his own assistant as our counsel. Then he claims that he’s totally impartial. Now you discover that he’s the one who—”
“I’ve heard enough of this garbage!” Kaviti’s face was beet red. “The accused will sit down and this court will proceed with its judgment!”
The man who had been standing in the jury box’s shadow stepped forward and said, “Point of order, if the court allows.”