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FOR THE THIRD TIME in as many minutes, Khaifa smoothed out the wrinkles in her suit jacket and straightened its lapels. There was nothing wrong with the jacket, no new wrinkles had formed since her last smoothing, but it was something to do, something to occupy her mind. Not that it could fully distract her from the fact that she was about to attend a political execution.
Sighing, she looked at herself in the mirror.
"How did we come to this?"
When her reflection refused to answer, she sighed again and looked at the clock.
Ninety minutes.
Less than two hours is all that remained in the life of Anna Cortez.
She would have been turning twenty-two in less than thirty days, but instead she would be twenty-one for the rest of her life.
Not for the first time since the Cortez conviction, Khaifa was reminded of Natasha. Her daughter with Harlan Grey would have been twenty-one as well, had she survived the boating accident that took her life twelve years prior. Their daughter's death was the catalyst for the slow downfall of her marriage with Grey and for Khaifa to throw herself into her work with MediCorps as well as several ill-advised relationships. As her personal life fell apart, her professional life soared and now here she was, a highly-placed government official, arguably the second most famous person in the Commonwealth after Finn Radko. And, thanks to her alien autopsy video, the most recognizable.
But with Bianca Upshaw well-entrenched as the Prime Minister's right hand, Khaifa's role as advisor was now honourary for all intents and purposes. There appeared to be nothing she could say or do to save a young officer from a sham of a trial or an abomination of a sentence.
When her door chime sounded, Khaifa ignored it at first. She didn't want to have to deal with anyone; she didn't want to have to put on a public face. All she wanted was to go see Cortez, talk to the young woman, let her see a friendly face before she died and to be with her when that moment came. To make sure she didn't have to die alone.
After the chime sounded for a third time, the doctor reluctantly opened the door. She didn't recognize the man standing there smiling at her with a smile that seemed equal parts friendly and intentionally non-threatening. He wasn't particularly tall—only marginally taller than Khaifa herself—but he was powerfully built. His hair was a buzzed Mohawk and he wore a simple grey t-shirt with simple block letters spelling out 'Revelstoke.'
A REV1 pistol was strapped to his left thigh.
"Doctor Khaifa," he said, the smile widening slightly. "Captain Maximillian Ironhorse, Revelstoke Ranger Company."
Khaifa forced a smile.
"A pleasure to meet you, Captain Ironhorse," she said. "How can I help you?"
"It's the other way around, ma'am—I've been asked to serve as security for you."
"Security... you mean a body guard?"
"More or less, ma'am."
That anyone felt it was necessary for her to have a body guard while on Thor's Hammer spoke volumes about the situation. That she was glad to have someone watching out for her spoke volumes about her own feelings on the situation.
"All right then," she said. "I have somewhere I need to be right now, Captain."
He nodded, the smile finally fading.
"Yes ma'am."
"So you've heard about the Cortez situation?"
The Captain fell into step beside her as Khaifa exited her office and began walking down the corridor.
"I'd be surprised if anyone here hadn't, ma'am."
"And your thoughts?"
There was a momentary pause before he replied.
"I wasn't at the court martial, ma'am. I wasn't privy to the case being presented."
It was a carefully neutral answer, one that she knew was designed to be non-committal.
"I was. It was a travesty of justice."
Before Ironhorse could reply—assuming he had been planning to, which was not a given—the pair rounded a corner and came face to face with a pair of ATC Castle security agents, each carrying a Caliburn SMG.
"Doctor Khaifa," said the taller of the two. "We're here to act as your security detail."
"On whose authority?" asked Khaifa, fairly certain she knew the answer.
"Deputy Prime Minister Upshaw."
"Deputy Prime Minister Upshaw?"
She didn't even try to hide the combination of incredulity and indignation in her voice.
"I am the doctor's security," said Ironhorse.
The tall security man looked down on Ironhorse, literally and figuratively.
"We have orders from-"
"I am the doctor's security."
The shorter of the agents—shorter, though still a head taller than Ironhorse—stepped forward, the muzzle of his submachine gun twitching ever so slightly in what Khaifa could tell was a subtle and intentional threat.
"Stand aside. Our orders come directly from-"
"I am the doctor's security," said Ironhorse, stone-faced.
The tall agent, a snarl on his lips, took a quick step toward Ironhorse, raising his weapon and before Khaifa could protest there was a blur of motion and the tall man was on the floor, clutching at his dislocated elbow, his Caliburn in Ironhorse's right hand while the Captain's pistol—in his left—was pointed at the second agent. Its muzzle was a hair's breadth from the man's forehead.
"ATC Castle's services are not required here," he said. "I am the doctor's security."
Red-faced, seething, the agent looked down at his injured comrade, then back to Ironhorse.
"My name is Ironhorse," said the Captain, cutting off the bluster forming on the agent's lips and handing him his comrade's weapon.
At the mention of the name, Khaifa saw the agent's eyes widen. Even the injured agent, slowly getting to his feet, stopped his cursing and fell silent. The pair exchanged a look and then, nodding to Khaifa, suddenly found they had somewhere else to be.
"What was that all about?"
"Easier to keep tabs on you if they have their own people guarding you."
"Yes, of course," she said quickly. "But I meant their sudden change of heart once they heard your name."
Ironhorse holstered his pistol and shrugged, the small smile returning.
"Names carry the weight of reputation."
He nodded down the hallway.
"Shall we, ma'am?"
"Please don't call me ma'am," she said as they resumed walking. "I didn't graduate medical school to be called ma'am."
"Sorry, Doctor. Didn't mean any offense."
She shook her head, forcing a smile once more.
"I know, I'm sorry, I'm just... this is not an easy day."
Seeming to know it wasn't something Khaifa wanted to discuss—or perhaps not caring enough to ask—Ironhorse just nodded and walked the rest of the way with her in silence. It left her alone with her thoughts, which while not necessarily a good thing, was nonetheless something she needed. Getting through the coming hours was going to take all of her concentration and willpower—and even then, it could just be the beginning.
When they arrived at the detention centre, it was both too soon and not soon enough.
"Doctor Nasrin Khaifa," she said. "I'm here to see Lieutenant Cortez."
The guard nodded and wordlessly led her and Ironhorse into the cell block, where they found Cortez standing, leaning against the bulkhead and staring out her small window into space. Toward Earth. She was dressed in the putrid orange jumpsuit of a convict, one size too big for her tiny frame.
They hadn't even let her wear her uniform.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Ironhorse's jaw muscle twitch as he clenched his teeth. He knew it probably better than she did—dressing Cortez like a common criminal was all part of the game, both to humiliate her and enrage those for whom this production was really meant.
"Lieutenant Cortez."
Khaifa could already feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She didn't know Cortez well, but she'd come to know her well enough through her close association with Radko to see the girl... to see the woman as a friend.
And Cortez did not look well. She was gaunt, her eyes bloodshot—though dry. She hadn't been crying. And despite her obvious frailty, she held her head high, her back straight. Her gaze, when she locked eyes with the doctor, was clear and unwavering.
"Doctor Khaifa," she said, smiling a smile so genuine one would think they'd just run into each other at a shop. "It's good to see you again."
"Likewise, Lieutenant. Oh, and this is-"
"Captain Ironhorse," said Cortez, shaking hands with the Ranger, though gently. "A pleasure."
Ironhorse nodded a greeting.
"Of course," said Khaifa. "You're in Intelligence—you probably know who everyone is."
"Was intelligence. Now I'm a traitor, remember?"
"No one believes that."
"The court martial did."
"That court martial was a...," she trailed off. Her fists had clenched and she had been starting to raise her voice, but she stopped herself. What was done was done. She hadn't the power to undo it. "I'm sorry, I'm just... sorry."
The tears came. She tried to fight them, but they came anyway and she turned away from Cortez and Ironhorse to wipe her eyes.
"Captain," she heard Cortez say quietly. "Would you mind giving us a few minutes?"
The doctor didn't hear a verbal response, but she heard the cell door open and close and then felt Cortez's hand on her shoulder.
"It's okay, Doctor, really," she said. "I'm at peace with what's happening."
"How? How can you be at peace with a death sentence for something... something you didn't do? You're not a traitor, Anna."
"Oh, believe me, I know. I'm not at peace with being a pawn in someone else's game, I'm at peace with dying. I've been dying, slowly, for a long time now. Honestly, it's nice to know when it will happen, rather than wondering if it's today or tomorrow or two months from now."
"You're being made a scapegoat. And bait."
"And if my life is what it takes to wake people up to what's been going on here..."
"Radko's going to do something stupid, isn't he?"
Cortez smiled again, but there was a hint of sadness in it.
"No. He's going to do what's in the best strategic interest of mankind. He knows that's what I'd want him to do," she said. "I just wish I could have had a chance to say goodbye."
"Would you like me to try to arrange it?"
Cortez shook her head.
"You said it yourself—I'm bait. I won't feed into that. You just pass along a message for me, okay?"
It was Khaifa's turn to nod.
"Tell him I said not to stop until he's finished. See it through. All the way," she said and then added quietly: "And tell him I have always and will always believe in him."
"I will," said Khaifa, barely choking out the words.
After a silent moment, the cell door opened and Ironhorse walked in, flanked by the same two security agents he had summarily dismissed as Khaifa's security detail earlier.
"It's time," said the taller one, still holding his right arm close to his body—still clearly in pain. "The prisoner will proceed to maintenance airlock twenty-one."
"The prisoner has a name," said Khaifa. "Please use it."
The agent ignored her, reaching out and roughly yanking Cortez to her feet.
"She can walk under her own power," said Ironhorse, stepping directly in front of the security agent.
He then whispered something to the man, something Khaifa thought she heard, but was convinced she couldn't have heard correctly: no one will care if I kill you.
Whatever he actually said, the security agent unhanded Cortez, who, standing tall, led the procession to airlock twenty one. DeFreitas and Upshaw were there, looking pleased with themselves. Mahoney was there, looking like he was ready to vomit. And a four-member firing squad—ATC Castle, every one—stood ready as executioners.
Cortez walked past them all and stood ramrod straight in the centre of the bay. As a maintenance airlock, it was large enough in which to land a shuttle, and the echoes of her footsteps lingered. Cortez smiled at Mahoney—a silent thanks for his efforts on her behalf—and refused to even look at DeFreitas and Upshaw.
"Anna Nekane Cortez," said Upshaw, a note of triumph in her voice. "You have committed treason, knowingly and willingly, against the Commonwealth. Your sentence is death by firing squad, to be carried out immediately."
She paused for a moment, probably gloating and savouring her victory, thought Khaifa.
"I'm sorry, Anna," said Mahoney. "So very sorry."
"It's all right, sir. I know you tried."
"Firing squad make ready," said Upshaw.
"Wait!"
The word was out before Khaifa even realised she was speaking, and everyone turned toward her.
"This is insane," she said. "This isn't what the Commonwealth is about. This isn't what we do."
"Yes it is," said Cortez as all eyes turned to her. "This is what these two people have turned the Commonwealth into."
Finally, she turned to Upshaw and DeFreitas.
"They'd rather have us scared of our own shadows and looking for enemies within than to have to risk facing the real enemy."
One of the security agents started to reach for Cortez, to silence her.
"The prisoner will-"
But he never reached her.
It took four heavy punches to the face before the agent had the good sense to stay down.
"She's about to die," said Ironhorse, wiping the blood from his knuckles onto his pants. "I don't recommend anyone else try to interrupt her last words."
"Thanks, Captain," said Cortez, smiling again. "Yes, I'm about to die. My life doesn't matter. I was going to die anyway—you've seen my medical records. I'm about to die because you're too afraid to make a stand; because I helped the one man who wasn't. But executing me won't change that, it will only make it worse. When I'm gone, someone else will step up to take my place."
She paused, chuckling slightly.
"You're scared to go after Radko directly because of what he symbolizes to the people here on Thor's Hammer, but you're too blinded by your fear to realise that killing me won't make a difference. It won't make him suddenly swear allegiance to you. It won't weaken his resolve. It won't even weaken his support, because he's Finn Radko and he's right. He's been right all along, you were just too stupid to listen. So go ahead and execute me. I will go to my death happily, knowing that one day soon, no one will remember the names DeFreitas and Upshaw, because Finn Radko will have returned—with his friends—and saved humanity from extinction."
"Pretty speech," said Upshaw. "But you're wrong."
"Radko will face his own charge of treason soon enough," added DeFreitas.
Upshaw smiled.
"We will bring him down. But you won't be around to see it," she said. "Firing squad make ready."
The four-man squad took their positions.
"Aim."
Weapons raised. Barrels pointed at the chest of Anna Cortez.
Khaifa clenched her fists. She could feel herself shaking, but refused to look away.
Cortez smiled and locked eyes with the doctor. She nodded slightly, as if letting Khaifa know everything would be okay—as if forgiving her for failing to stop the execution. It hadn't been an act, her acceptance of her fate. The young Lieutenant was perfectly at peace with it and was willing to accept it, regardless of the fabricated nature of the charges and the conviction.
Cortez said she knew that someone would step into the void left by her death.
Someone.
"Fire."
Khaifa twitched as four rifles barked in unison and Cortez staggered backward two steps and then dropped heavily to the deck plates.
Rushing to her side, Khafia was both relieved and devastated that Cortez was already dead. One of the shots had gone straight through her heart, making her end mercifully quick. Reaching out with her left hand, Khaifa gently closed the young woman's eyes.
"Justice is done," said Upshaw.
The doctor had to physically bite her tongue to remain silent. The self-satisfied tone of the ATC Castle woman was enough to make her years of practice at controlling her temper feel inadequate and it was only feeling Mahoney's hand on her shoulder that really held in check the words threatening to come out.
"It wouldn't do anyone any good," he said quietly.
He was right, of course. Though the old man would probably be deeply troubled by the comparison, Mahoney reminded her a little bit of what she imaged Radko would be like in thirty years: strong, competent, but quieter and very, very tired of everyone else's bullshit.
After tucking a loose strand of hair behind Cortez's ear, Khaifa stood and turned toward DeFreitas and Upshaw.
"Earlier today I heard someone refer to you as Deputy Prime Minister," she said to Upshaw.
"Yes," said Upshaw, raising her chin slightly. "As of this morning. We'll be releasing a statement soon to make the appointment official."
"Appointment?" she said, turning her eyes to DeFreitas. "The Deputy Prime Minister is elected by the citizens of the Commonwealth. I don't recall hearing anything about an election."
Khaifa could feel Mahoney's presence behind her and wished she could see his reaction to the exchange. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ironhorse looking between her and Upshaw as they spoke.
"Extreme circumstances," said Upshaw.
"Mister Prime Minister, does she speak for you now?"
There was a time when DeFreitas would at least have looked chagrinned at such a question. Now he simply shrugged and smiled.
"As she said, extreme circumstances. I have also appointed her to the position of Minister of Defence. Admiral Mahoney, you will now report to Deputy Prime Minister Upshaw—she will coordinate and direct the war effort."
There was a lengthy pause before Mahoney responded.
"Understood, Mister Prime Minister."
"Good," said the PM, clapping his hands once. "And now that this unpleasantness is behind us, I believe we should all get back to work."
Khaifa forced a smile and nodded, while touching her necklace—and deactivating the recording device secreted therein.