Though the Heavens Fall

Prologue:

Harper focused on the wave building up underneath him, watching the whitecap form and then start to curl. He leaned left, gently guiding the surfboard away from the tube that was forming, but slowly, giving it time to take full form so he could shoot the tube. A hand trailed along the wall of water he was riding as he glanced back, allowing the wavecrest to form over his head, then he turned forward. He spent one long second after another surrounded by blue-green rushing water on three sides, endlessly chasing the light at the end of the tunnel, pummelled by the thunderous roar of tonnes of water falling around him. He gauged the height of the wave ahead of the opening, shifted his weight, and shot back out into full daylight just ahead of the tube's collapse.

"YYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-HHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

His victory yell, loud as it was, was swallowed up by the crashing of the wave around him. He threw up his arms, fists clenched and screamed again.

"YYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-HHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

"Oh, Rom-Doll! If you could only see me now!

"YYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-HHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Elsewhere around him, surfers were popping up from having fallen into the water during the collapse of the wave. Those who had ridden on top of the crest. The original field of ten thousand was down to three hundred seventeen. Harper turned his board outward to catch the next wave when a shadow passed overhead. He glanced upward at it as the sound of a slip-fighter's engines suddenly registered on his consciousness. Almost the entire mass of humanity on the beach was pointing at the sleek ship glistening in the sun as it shot majestically over the surfers and breaking waves. It decelerated, hard, and then the nose came up to ninety degrees attitude and it spun halfway around its axis. The nose came down to horizontal and the ship floated down toward the sand gently.

Harper's heart fell in his chest. "Aw crap. Not Tyr. Not now! I'm up to forty second place you bastards!"

He looked back out over the ocean, then shoreward, then outward, but he knew that the only reason the Nietszchean could have to be there was that Andromeda needed him. He turned the board toward the beach.

Tyr had had the foresight to bring the fighter down right on the water's edge, but a crowd of onlookers had encircled it anyway. Some of them standing waist deep in the water; which surged as high as their chests when a swell came in. The crowd was thin, here, however, and Harper had no trouble pushing his way through it on the surfboard.

"Tell me you're here to give me some good news for a change. No; oh, no, if it was good news it would be Beka or maybe even Dylan himself, but they wouldn't have sent you."

"I'm sorry, boy, but we need you back on the ship. She's in high orbit right now, so maybe the interruption won't be for too long."

"You think that's going to make a difference?" he asked, almost bitterly "The only way I can leave this competition is to withdraw from it. Ah!" he exclaimed hopefully. "You don't really expect me to just quit and walk away, now, do you?"

Tyr shrugged. "Why not? I'd just call it a strategic withdrawal and come back some other time."

"I'm up to forty-second! What the hell did you do to my ship, anyway?"

"Your ship?" Tyr stared at Harper, amazed at his presumption and briefly wondering what Dylan would say if he had heard it. Then he set the issue aside as irrelevant and pointed a finger at the engineer. "Look, I don't like this either. I told Dylan that you should be allowed to have your fun but he insists that we need you on board right now. And may I remind you as he so eloquently reminded me that you did not get his permission to go gallivanting and swimming with exotic fish."

"Oh, yeah? Well maybe you ought to try it some time."

"Believe me I'd like to. Any sharks out there? Besides, Dylan sent me because he knew that I'd drag you back by force if I had to." He cleared the braids from his face. "I sympathise with you, boy, I really do. I admire your accomplishment and told Dylan we should let you be, but Andromeda was attacked by Restos who let loose a plague of nanobots in her. The ship says she needs you and your dataport to sort out some software and get everything back online."

"Okay, okay. I'll go. But you all owe me big time. And the first thing I want is the names of any survivors so I can kill them myself."

Tyr shrugged. "Done."

* * *

The ship shuddered through the turbulence of transition as the weird, twisting pseudo-reality of slipstream burst into portal-flash and that faded out to an endless vista of far suns and nebulae. Except for one. Brighter and larger by far than all the myriad, myriad points of light around it, this sun was a few light-hours distant.

Beka reported, "We've exited slipstream. Speed is ninety PSL, on course for Waterloo Drift."

Harper chimed in with, "We're well enough down to the plane of the ecliptic. Radiation levels are not appreciably elevated. I don't suppose that'll start to be a problem until we get close in to the primary."

At Fire Control, Tyr contributed, "There is some minor traffic in the area. It appears to be outbound. It's on course for the portal. Nothing seems to be paying any special attention to us."

"Thank you, all," Dylan replied. "Andromeda? What do your scans of that star show?"

"Not much difference from the last scans on record from three hundred ninety-seven years ago. As you might remember this star has been in a pre-nova state since before the inception of the Commonwealth."

"Yes, I do remember. Both The Vedran and Ceti Universities of Astrophysics have been bickering about it since they became rivals in CY-8592. As I recall the only thing they agreed on was, 'it's going to go nova any day now.'"

"Yes, well, it will. Except that 'any day now' in stellar terms can be any time in the next million years."

Beka retorted, "Let's just hope that 'any day now' isn't today. I'm getting really tired of surfing the wavefronts of exploding planets, white holes, and nebulae. I mean, sure, I plan to include stars on that list, but only some time in the distant future."

Dylan smiled, then said, "Captain Valentine, steady as she goes. I'll be in my quarters studying up those intelligence reports."

The huge ship, a conglomeration of graceful lines and sweeping arcs, hurled inbound. Andromeda was an awe inspiring sight; one given to promote artistic appreciation. Any sense of menace was held in abeyance by her keeping her blades retracted.

A half an hour later Beka said to Andromeda, "You better tell our fearless leader that we are approaching Wotan. You can tell him that we are well within the planetary shadow as well. ETA at Waterloo Drift is five minutes and we are within real time communications range."

"Done," the ship replied. "He's on his way to the bridge."

Just then the one of the systems beeped for attention. Trance said, "We're getting a communication already, except it seems to be a private comm channel."

"Maybe someone is happy to see us. Put it on the main viewer."

The tactical display disappeared to be replaced by the picture of a slim, handsome, dark-haired middle-aged man. The handsomness of his features were marred, however, by a mixture of confusion and desperation. "Hello! Big Ship! I know you! You know me! I know you do! Help! Help me, please! They're killing me!"

Beka gaped, the blurted out, "Rafe?! Rafe! It's me! What's going on?"

Raphael Valentine stared back wildly for a moment, his mouth working for a moment as if he was trying to say words that would not come, then he said, "Beka! Beka! You're Beka! You're here! I was right! I did know the ship! I knew I did. Help me, Beka. Help me! It's torture! You don't know what I'm going through!" he said, ending his begging with a sob.

Beka stared back, stunned at this impossible to recognize representation of her brother, then there was a sound from off camera. His head came up and he looked toward the source of the sound. "Ah! They're here! They're here! I won't go back with them! I won't let them take me!" He spun and ran out of sight.

"Rafe! Wait!" She called to him again a number of times but the pickup remained empty. There was a sound as of a door being forced open, then a group of uniformed people entered the viewfield.

"You four, check out the rest of the suite, you others get into the air vents. It's a sure bet he's in there already." The officer turned toward the comms unit and peered at the screen. Beka got out of the piloting station and strode toward the main screen. Tyr quickly moved to take her place.

"You! Who are you? What's going on over there? What are you doing to my brother?"

"I'll ask the questions here; you are ordered to identify yourself."

"Oh? You want to know who I am? I'm Captain Beka Valentine on board the Highguard Warship Andromeda Ascendant. We've got weaponry, we've got enough firepower to blow an entire planet back into the stone age, and we've even got nova bombs!" Behind her, the blast doors hissed open and Dylan walked onto the bridge. "So you just better get off your high horse you stuffed-shirt, pompous -- "

"Whoa! Okay, that's quite enough thank you, Captain Valentine, I'll just take it from here." Beka glared daggers at him but he merely looked back at her levelly for a moment, then turned to the main viewer.

"I'm Captain Dylan Hunt of the Highguard. Who are you?"

"That's none of your business. Peacekeepers are not required to identify themselves to suspects."

"Suspects? How droll considering that we've never been to this system before and couldn't possibly have committed any crimes on Waterloo Drift. What are the charges?"

"Receiving an unauthorized transmission, failure to respect a duly appointed authority, making death threats, and smuggling prohibited weapons. You are ordered to proceed to the nearest available dock and submit yourself to arrest under -- "

"Thank you, Trance, you can close that channel now. Tyr, come to a stop in relation to Waterloo Drift, thrusters at station keeping. Andromeda, draft a diplomatic complaint concerning that officer's rudeness, over stepping of his bounds of authority, and attempt to violate our diplomatic immunity."

"To whom shall I address it?"

"The head of their diplomatic corps. . . . Their head of internal security. . . . President for Life Harriman, . . . and the Wotan Star System Committee for System and Commonwealth Interactions."

"Ready for transmission."

"Transmit away."

"Message sent."

"So," he said, turning to Beka. "What was that all about?"

"They've got my brother, Raphael, and in the time we had to talk he said they were torturing and killing him."

"You're kidding?" He turned to the image of Andromeda on the main viewer. "Did you record that transmission?"

"Of course I did. Replaying now."

Dylan watched the replay wordlessly, unbelievingly. Finally he said, "Let's get some more information on this situation before we go launching any nova bombs."

A beep came from Trance's station. "Incoming transmission. From their security department."

"Too small a fry. Ignore it."

"Dylan! The least you can do is get them to call their thugs off my brother."

"We will, but through proper channels. The only thing you get from flunkies is argument, but a flunkie won't argue with his supreme boss. I just want the security forces to sweat a bit."

Beka growled in frustration, rubbing her hair angrily, and then began pacing.

Another beep from communications. "We've got one from their diplomatic corps."

"From the Head of Diplomacy?"

"An undersecretary."

Harper asked, "Not even an oversecretary? Hey, even I rate at least that much these days."

Dylan cheched his fingernails, looking at them unhappily. Then he turned toward Tyr, showing him the curled fingers. "Do you think I should get a manicure?" Tyr stared at him wordlessly until Dylan shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "What?"

A long wait; then, "Receiving a transmission from their head of diplomatic corps."

Dylan shrugged it off. "Too little and too late. He should have responded before his undersecretary."

Another long wait. "Jackpot! The President's office. Asking if we will accept a transmission from President Harriman."

"Sure. That puts me in a good enough mood."

The viewscreen cleared to show a late middleaged man, slightly paunchy, with gray hair that lent him a distinguished aspect. He held himself erect as if a soldier on the parade ground. Although it was not especially handsome, and it was wrinkled from the ravages of time and weather, the face had a proud character to it.

"Captain Hunt. Welcome to Waterloo Drift. I am President for Life Harriman."

"Mr. President for Life, this is an quite an honour to meet you. Your reputation for victory against Nietszchean ground troops is well known, of course."

The other man smiled lightly. "Thank you, Captain. As well known, I trust, as your reputation for victory against Nietszchean space forces?" Dylan nodded acknowledgement. "You also have a somewhat amusing reputation for being the focus of some kind of trouble wherever you go. Stealing a tour-boat, assault and battery against an entire detail of security forces on Hockentiel Drift, kidnapping an avatar right off his own deck at that casino drift." He smiled more broadly. "It's rather refreshing to see you live up to that reputation. You haven't even docked here yet and you've our own internal security forces squealing like an unlubed bearing."

Dylan grinned. "Just a misunderstanding, that's all."

"Hmmmm. Well, if you could advise me as to the source of the misunderstanding?" Dylan filled him in about the transmission they had received. "Ah, yes. Our escaped prisoner. I don't see how it should be of such concern to you, however. Even if the man is a former crewmate of yours. Is he?"

"No, Mr. President, he isn't. He is, however, Captain Valentine's older brother, and during the transmission he said that he was being tortured and that you -- or your system of justice -- was killing him? . . . "

"Ah, that old canard. Well, no, not really, but those are two of the most contentious misinterpretations of the issues surrounding our method of rehabilitation. Captain, please accept my assurances that Raphael Valentine has not been subjected to torture and is not in any danger of his life except perhaps from himself. Also, kindly accept my assurances that the peacekeeper to whom you spoke did indeed overstep his authority and that Andromeda and the nascent, reborn Commonwealth are most welcome to Waterloo Drift. If you would do us the honour of docking I'll have an escort guide you to my office so we can discuss this incident in greater comfort."

"Thank you, Mr. President. I look forward very much to this visit to Waterloo Drift."

The main viewer reset to the tactical display and Trance reported, "Transmission terminated."

"Yeah?" Beka growled. "Well, I'm looking forward to this visit too. I want to know just exactly what's going on here with my brother."

"Tyr, take us in. Don't worry, Beka, we will find out what is going on here, but I'd like to remind you that we are here on a diplomatic mission. Waterloo Drift has been able to fight off the Trade Federation, the Than Empire, the Nietszcheans, and a few other star-faring races for over a hundred fifteen years. Given the fact that they've done it by sitting on top of the richest antiproton fuel source and necessitating all those political players to formulate an Oddyseian Compact speaks of high competence and daring. And I would like very much for them to join the Commonwealth because if they don't they can see to it that we don't get any A-P fuel from the Wotanian atmosphere, and the entire Compact will back them up on it."

Harper cut in with, "Uh, excuse me, boss-man, sir, but couldn't we find a star of our own that is pre-nova and irradiating a gas giant of its own and set up in business for ourselves? A little healthy competition might be just what Waterloo Drift needs to keep the gravity well level."

"I haven't ruled out that option, Mr. Harper, but right now I want to get Waterloo Drift into the Commonwealth, not alienate it and shift the politics of the Trade Federation and the Than against us."

"Even more against us, you mean. At least for the Federation."

The main viewer showed a vista of Waterloo Drift slowly approaching the ship. Then the drift's apparent forward motion stopped. Tyr reported, "We are docked at Waterloo Drift."

"Right then. Let's go find out what kind of trouble we walked into this time, shall we?"

A short while later President For Life Harriman greeted Dylan and Beka in person. The room in which they met was a replica of the living room of a very well to do hunting lodge. The immense picture window looked out onto space and the gas giant, the banded atmosphere of Wotan filling up half the scene. The holographic fire in the Rock Maple fireplace cast no heat, of course, but Trance could see at a glance that the fur-skin carpets were for real; and all one piece. After pleasantries they got around to discussing Beka's brother. "I've managed to review the case briefly since we talked, Captain. A very sad one it is. Mr. Valentine has been sentenced to total rehabilitation."

Beka jumped in before Dylan could ask anything. "And of what, exactly, does this total rehabilitation consist? You didn't see my brother, did you? He looked absolutely wild and hunted."

Harriman nodded, "To be sure, because he was being hunted. You saw that for yourself. And I did review the transmission between you two. As to his look of desperation it is common to this stage of total rehab cases."

"Just what," Dylan asked, "is total rehabilitation?"

"Total rehabilitation is a sentence reserved only for criminals who are considered to be both habitual and incorrigible. It is our equivalent to the death penalty, to which it is frequently likened. It does not, however, involve the physical death of the convict. Allegations that it kills the person involved by destroying the gestalt between intellectual, emotional, and experiental self are completely metaphysical.

"You see, the sentence is executed by injecting nanobots into the convict which we then use to unravel -- actually, disassemble -- the Ribose Nucleic Acid component in cerebral cells and to disrupt certain neural pathways. We effectively dismantle a portion of the convict's lifetime memories and experiences. We keep most learned skills and knowledge intact, but, regress him or her to the age of four."

"Agh! I don't believe it!" Beka expostulated. "You call a mind-wipe rehabilitation!"

"Ms. Valentine, please! It is not a mind-wipe, we attempt to be as selective as possible. That's how your brother recognized Andromeda. And after the regression stage is finished the convict is fostered into a family who will raise him up again, from the age of four to adulthood, but this time under carefully controlled conditions to ensure socialization along mainstream lines."

"Wow," Trance said. "That is so awesome."

"I. Beg. Your. Pardon!"

"Well, gee, Beka, I know it's really tough to have this happen to your brother and all, but I can see a lot in favor of this system. It's certainly a lot better than the prison planet Dylan and Rommie were sent to and at least he's still alive."

"Alive, sure! Just not himself. Someone else entirely!"

"Yes, Ms. Valentine. A law abiding citizen. But your plaint," he admitted, "is the crux of all anti-rehab dissent."

Dylan asked, "So, what crime did he commit?"

"He conspired to defraud a number of local businessmen. When we did a background check on him we found that he was a career criminal and confidence trickster."

"Well," Beka challenged him, "how do you know these businessmen are entirely honest themselves."

"A couple of them are. They turned in your brother. The other two are not as credible as witnesses because they were charged with criminally negligent victimism, but that was not so relevant that their testimony was discredited."

"Excuse me?" Trance said. "Criminal victimism? That's like, against the law to be a victim?"

"In the case of what is called white collar crimes and some passive crimes, yes. With white collar crimes, criminal victimism is based on the ancient adage, 'You can't cheat an honest man, he has to have larceny in his heart to begin with.' In essence, those businessmen entered into a criminal conspiracy willingly, despite their having been a victim of the conspiracy."

"So, what happened to them?"

"All of their business possessions were seized. The businesses themselves, investment properties, all inventory."

"Wow. Tough system."

Harriman smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

"But my brother!"

He shrugged. "Caught dead to rights. And convicted before a panel of three jurists who all agreed as to his guilt and the sentence." He looked at Dylan. "I've taken the liberty of having full records and transcripts forwarded to your ship."

"Thank you, Mr. President. We'll certainly go over them and see if there is any recourse to an appeal. . . . "

"Of course. I'll see to it that all departments give you their complete cooperation."

"And just how," Beka asked ascerbically, "did your security department let him get loose?"

"He suckered them. As you know he is a confidence trickster. We can attest that he is a most accomplished con-man. He escaped three days ago and has managed to elude recapture because he is so skilled. Still so skilled; even now. If it reassures you, the agents responsible have been most thoroughly reprimanded."

"I don't care about them," she snarled. "It wouldn't mean anything to me if you blew them out an airlock. In fact I might even feel rather gratified if you did." President Harriman grinned wolfishly back at her.

Later, back on board Andromeda Ascendant, Trance discussed a sticky legal precedent with the ship. "But if we agree to remove him and set him down on some regressed planet for a number of years the way they did then? . . . "

"Probably not good enough," the hologram answered. "That spacer was granted such a conditional release because he was a hardship case. He was the sole source of income for his aged parents and they would have starved without his income."

"Well, that's it, then, we've run through every pertinent ruling and precedent. Could we just ask for clemency?"

"Maybe, but I imagine we'd need a better reason than that we like his dimpled smiles. And we really should have something solid upon which to base such a request because it would exhaust his appeals."

The blast doors sighed open. Dylan, Beka, and Harper came onto the command deck. "Well?" Dylan asked. "Any luck?"

Trance looked crestfallen. "Only bad luck this time. We haven't got a thing to work with."

Beka gaped at her unbelievingly. "My good luck charm has come up with zilch! That's it! It's got to be the end of the world!"

"I'm sorry, Beka. Really I am," Trance said in a rush. "It's just that they've got such a tight legal system. And this place is a police state. I mean, it's not totalitarian or anything that drastic but . . . well, a constitutional police state. They don't cut suspects a lot of slack."

"Yeah," Harper said. "Look at us. We almost got busted for answering a hail."

"Okay! Arrgghh! I just feel so helpless!" Beka clenched her fists a couple of times. "So, . . . now what?"

"Well," Dylan replied, "we have a state dinner tonight. We might be able to talk to someone from legal about a pardon? . . . "

"Hey!" Trance's face lit up. "That's it! Andromeda! Didn't you say there was something about the victim of a crime granting a pardon?"

The hologram's eyes looked upward for a second. "Yes. I've got it. A very early precedent created by a judge who ruled on a verse of the Q'ran. He was something called a Muslim. A practioner of the Islam religion from Old Earth. The perpetrator and the victim were also Muslims and when the guilty verdict was returned the victim insisted that because all the parties involved were Muslims, Q'ranic law could reasonably be invoked. Apparently the victim was one of those opposed to full rehabilitation on moral grounds. The full Presidential Judiciary Council finally ruled that Q'ranic law could be permitted under such circumstances. Basically, the full rehabilitation sentence was suspended. If the perpetrator were convicted of a second crime, however minor that crime might be, then the suspension would be automatically revoked."

"So why can't we try that?" she asked happily, looking pleased with herself.

"Because none of the principals involved in this case are Muslims."

"But maybe if we got them together at the dinner tonight and asked them face to face they might agree to pardon Rafe and we could ask for a suspension of his sentence."

"Yeah!" Beka exulted. "And then we could get him away from this festering hell hole and make sure he never comes back!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Dylan broke in. "Let's not forget that two of those victims lost everything they had because of Rafe's actions. They aren't likely to be too happy about helping get him off."

"Well -- no -- okay," Beka admitted. "But it's worth a shot, isn't it? So far it's our only chance."

"Hey, yeah," Harper said. "And we're looking at what? One chance in four that one of them won't be nice enough?"

"Actually," Andromeda replied, "it's more like one in a million that one of them will be."

"So, it's one in four million! -- hey! -- we've beaten those odds before."

Trance cleared her throat. "Actually, it's more like one million to the fourth power, which makes it one chance in one times ten to the twenty-fourth power."

Now it was Harper's turn to look crestfallen. "Oh. Geez. Sorry I asked."

At 1745 local time Harper was pulling on a pair of clean briefs. At that moment the door lock chimed, announcing that someone wanted to come in. "Yeah!" he called out. "It's open." Trance came in as slid his arms into the sleeves of a freshly laundered and ironed Hawaiian shirt.

"Hey," she said. "I knew you'd be decent."

"Uh, yeah. You got me pegged right down to the second. What gives?"

"I just wanted to say that it was very sweet of you to try to buck up Rebecca this afternoon."

"Well, you know me. I kind of like Beka and all and hey! -- she is a crewmate. If you won't help out a crewmate in a jam then what good are you? Right?"

Trance smiled brightly. "Right! I knew you'd see it that way."

He glanced at her suspiciously. "See what what way?"

"Well, I remember that you were rather upset when you found out about Rafe and how Dylan had let him go after he damaged Andromeda with that nanobot construct."

"Hey, I had every right to be ticked off. I was up to forty-second place in the competition and Tyr promised me that I could kill any Resto survivors from the attack."

"No-o-o-o-o-o, actually Tyr only promised to give you the names of any survivors so you could kill them yourself."

"Yeah, and just like a Nietszchean he jumped at the opportunity to betray me because he knew Rafe was the only survivor and I couldn't go after him because he was already gone."

"And because he's Beka's brother."

"Okay, okay. Yeah, that too. So what?"

"Well, Beka's a crewmate and she's in trouble because of her brother and you said that somebody who wouldn't help a crewmate wasn't any good for anything so does that mean I can count on you to help get Rafe out of this jam?"

Harper stared at her for several seconds, then asked, "Are you up to something sneaky?"

"Very sneaky."

"But it's about this guy I'd rather kill for pulling me away from that surfing competition?"

"But it's very, very sneaky."

He looked at her in silence for several more seconds. "Okay. So tell me about it."

"Well, the legal system here dismantles the convict's life memories but it doesn't do a mind wipe. It is very selective. That means that they have to use a lot of fancy high tech gizmos to measure brain patterns, neural pathways, and whatnot, and that they need a map of it all so they can pick and choose which parts to dismantle. And that means they have to have a record of what they started with and what they've done. And of course this record is going to be in some high security box somewhere deep inside the security section."

Harper kept looking at her, but a wide smile began to spread slowly across his face.

After the dinner, Dylan and Tyr linked up in the state ballroom. They easily picked out a small knot of three men and a woman, merchants by their dress, who had their heads close together. Tyr said, "They are talking about us, of course. Sharing what little intelligence they might have and today's gossip to try to figure out why they've been summoned to a state dinner on such short notice."

"And, of course, the two in the lower quality, more worn suits, are the ones who lost everything through their association with Rafe."

"The two who are least likely to be cooperative."

"No time like the present to find out." The two moved toward the corner. When they were close enough Dylan introduce himself. "Good evening, citizens. I'm Captain Dylan Hunt of the Highguard Ship Andromeda Ascendant. This is my Weapons Officer Tyr Anassazi."

"Ah," one of them answered. "So the rumours are true then. One of your crewmembers is indeed family of the perpetrator who tricked us."

"Yes, those rumours are true."

"And she is simply heartbroken," he continued bitterly, "about his sentence and wants President Harriman to put a stop to it. Yes? Even to the point of abusing diplomatic authority!"

"No, that's not the case at all. Oh, she is heartbroken about it, yes, but we are not making a political issue out of this. We're looking for a legal method to solve this impasse. You see, that's where you come in."

The bitter one looked slightly taken aback and the others appeared to be very wary, but curiousity got the better of the woman. "Us, Captain? I don't see what we can do. Your friend has had the full benefit of due process and was found guilty. Even his first appeal failed to overturn either sentence or conviction."

"Yes, we are aware of that, but we believe that there is an avenue open to a final appeal. However, it requires that you assist us."

This merchant regarded him with suspicion. "Assist you how?"

"We believe that we have found a precedent that will allow Raphael Valentine's sentence to be suspended. What we would like to ask of you is that you forgive him."

"For! -- " They stared at him in silence after that truncated expostulation.

The second better dressed merchant spoke up now. "I beg your pardon, Captain, but are you playing some kind of practical joke on us? Forgive this criminal for attempting to vicitmize and criminalize us? Do please tell me that you jest."

Dylan smiled. "No, sir, I do not jest. I understand very much what you have been through and I do ask you in all seriousness to forgive Raphael Valentine. Is that such a great thing to ask for?"

The steely glint of anger went out the merchant's eyes, but hardness remained. "Yes. It is."

The woman spoke up again. "You must understand, Captain, that your friend not only attempted to steal from us and make us criminals in our turn, but he also offered us an unpardonable affront."

"I'm sorry? There's more? Something I haven't been briefed about?"

"I don't know what you've been briefed about but perhaps you are not entirely conversant with our society. We are a very proud folk. I know that we are considered backwards and provincial by people who transit the slipstream from system to system, but we have our pride, and your friend insulted our intelligence," she pointed to the other well dressed merchant, "when he attempted to gull us."

The bitter merchant spoke up again. "And don't think that I'll take kindly to him after what he's done to me. I had a good and thriving business. Built it up from nothing over thirty years! And he came along and ruined everything by offering me a more competitive deal on nonexistent goods! I'd rather they spaced the lousy kludge!"

Dylan turned to the fourth merchant. "You haven't said anything yet, sir. Could you see your way clear to offering a pardon to Raphael?"

The bitter one snarled, "Don't even think about it!"

The last merchant looked at the bitter one for a moment as if his nostrils were filled with a bad odour. Then he said, "Let's take a walk, shall we Captain Hunt?"

"I'm warning you, Dworleen!"

"Oh, go blow yourself out an airlock." He turned away from the man and started across the room with Dylan. The bitter man, his face twisted with hatred moved to accost him, but ran into Tyr's massive bulk instead. The Nietszchean didn't look too happy to have to deal with him.

"I don't believe I caught your name."

"I am Dworleen, Captain. A former merchant. Now a stevedore in the loading bays. My fault. Unlike my former confrere, I admit freely that I let myself be blinded by the promise of an easy profit. 'If something is too good to be true', correct?"

"'Then it probably is not,' yes. Does this mean that you are willing to forgive Raphael Valentine?"

"No. Not at all. I will not help your friend, Captain. I am not so bitter as Charriel but I am resentful enough that I want Valentine to suffer his just fate."

"Is it a just fate?"

"I have asked that question myself many times, Captain. Since I was criminalized I have had much incentive to examine the legal issues of my case and Valentine's." He stopped walking and turned to face Dylan. "Yes, it is a just fate. Or, at least, the only justice I can envision. I was born here and grew up in this culture, and even though I have traveled the slipstream to many other systems, it is this culture in which I am most comfortable. Leave Valentine to his justice, Captain. It is important for everyone that justice be served even if the act of justice sends all of the stars themselves careening from their orbits. It must be done, Captain, and it must be seen to be done. Else we have nothing upon which we can rely. Good evening, Captain." He turned and walked away without another word.

Later, Beka sat on her bed, her head in her hands. The door chime sounded. Several seconds later it sounded again. Then, finally, a third time. "Andromeda, who's at my door?"

A disembodied voice answered, "It's Trance."

Beka got up, crossed to the door, and unlocked it. It slid open to show the cheerful but somber looking golden pixie. "Hi," she said, subduing her perkiness. "You okay?"

"No, Trance, I am not okay. My brother is being wiped out and I can't do anything to stop it. We can't use political force and even though my every criminal instinct screams out to be let lose to wreak havoc on these people I can't do that either because of the same politics. And I'd really rather be left alone right now."

"Suppose I told you that you might be able to get Rafe out after all? Although," she continued hurriedly, "only after they finish the regression phase of his sentence."

"What good will that do?"

"Well, he'll be in your custody instead of being left here among his jailers. Even if he won't quite be the Raphael you knew you'll be able to raise him in the Valentine family tradition, and you'll be together. If you'd rather leave him here, though. . . . "

"What?! Don't be ridiculous! Of course I don't!"

"Well, then, the first thing you need to do is to apply to foster him. Fortunately," she said, holding out a flexi, "I have everything you need in the way of paperwork right here."

At ten hundred hours the next morning Dylan and his entourage walked into the main conference room of the Waterloo Drift Administration Section. He was flanked by Tyr, Trance, and Harper. "Good morning, Captain," Harriman said. "You seem to be missing someone?"

"Yes. Captain Valentine asked to be excused. Given the issues she has concerning her brother's case and some side business dealing with it, she felt that there might be some conflict of interest. She's with your legal department right now."

"Ah, I see. Well, then, I'll leave it up to them to let her know that Raphael Valentine was apprehended very early this morning; along about oh-three-thirty. He was recaptured without being harmed and after being assessed by Medical he was returned to Security."

"Ah. Well, thank you for that update."

"Oh, there's more to it. It seems that when the Psych department team doing the regression on Mr. Valentine checked his files in the Security Section vaults there was an unlisted access incident. Someone had opened the vault and Mr. Valentines records and files without following proper identification procedures. Something that is supposed to be impossible under ordinary circumstances."

Dylan smiled disarmingly, readying a reply, but Harper beat him to the punch. "Yeah, well, you know Waterloo Drift is over a hundred years old, and you're right in the middle of a high radiation zone where gamma particles can knock all kinds of bits out of your software. Maybe it's past time you did a review and an upgrade on your systems?"

Harriman grinned at him wolfishly. "Why, perhaps so, Mr. Harper, perhaps so indeed."

Harper had on his very best "Who me?" innocent look.

Waterloo Drift and Wotan Star System, and all territories, possessions, and colonies thereof, formally ratified the New Commonwealth charter and joined as a full member in good standing at a special ceremony that was televised throughout the drift and broadcast to all outposts and ships that afternoon; drift time. The signing was followed by a reception. In the middle of it, a Legal Section bailiff found Beka and handed her a flexi. She thumbprinted the receipt form he held, then scanned her legal document. Dylan asked her, "Care to tell me about it?"

She looked up. "It's my formal application to gain custody of and to foster one Raphael Valentine convicted of incorrigible criminality and sentenced to full rehab and the hearing for which is scheduled for oh-nine-hundred tomorrow morning. Oh, by the Divine, Dylan, what am I gonna do if they don't let me have him?"

"Just. . . . " He put a hand on her shoulder. "Take it one step at a time."

She nodded, then stared numbly at the flexi in her hand.

"This special session of Superiour Court of Waterloo Drift in the matter of Rebecca Valentine versus Waterloo Drift concerning the custody of Raphael Valentine is hearby in session. All present may be seated. Are all parties present?"

Trance replied from where she was standing, "Plaintiff is ready, Your Honour."

"Defense is ready, Your Honour," replied the counsel for the drift.

"Very well, then, Mr. Koachemar, you may begin."

"I would ask the court to deny this petition on three grounds. First there is the fact that rehabilitation is designed to resocialize an incorrible criminal along mainsteam lines. As Captain Valentine is the prospective fosterling's sister she is part and parcel of the familial and social environment that socialized the prospective fosterling into criminality in the first place, and that her own socialization taints her as a prospective sponsor. The second ground for dismissal is the suspicion that the recorded engrams of the prospective fosterling have been tampered with."

Beka hissed to the Drift lawyer who was co-counsel with Trance, "Objection! That can't be part of the case!"

"Shhh!" he hissed back. "We don't object during opening arguments. Be patient."

"By keeping Raphael Valentine in this locality, we can monitor his progress without any extraordinary measures or intervening inconveniences. Third, and most importantly, by allowing the removal of Raphael Valentine from this purlieu, the court will violate the right of our society to see justice being done."

The co-counsel hissed to Beka and Trance, "And that argument is going to be the kicker in this case."

"Very well, Mr. Koachemar. Mr. Villiars, your turn."

Villiars stood and addressed the court, telling the bench how Beka was better qualified to be a sponsor in light of being family, how there was no evidence that there was any tampering with the engrams, and how progress reports on the fosterling could be filed with the embassy that would be opened at the Commonwealth center and forwarded to the Drift by spacemail.

That done, the bench called its first witness. "Rebecca Valentine will take the stand." When she sat in the witness stand the court bailiff adjusted the monitors and sensors attached to the chair and calibrated them. Then the judge said, "Ms. Valentine do you understand that if you are found to be in perjury that will be automatic grounds to find against you?"

"Uh, yes."

"Do you understand that if you are found to be in perjury you will subsequently be charged under the Criminal Code of Waterloo Drift?"

"Yes."

"Do you understand that your diplomatic immunity is waived by this court and will not stand you in good stead should you perjure yourself?"

"Uh, yes," she replied uncomfortably.

"Do you understand that the witness stand is a physiological responses monitor and that if you attempt to mislead this court with deliberate false testimony your own involuntary response system will betray you, and that evidence will be admissible in trying you for perjury?"

"Yes," she said, swallowing nervously. "Yes, I do."

"Mr. Koachemar, you may begin questioning the witness."

Examination took until twelve hundred hours, with counsel for the defense supplying Beka's service record and extracts from the log of the Eureka Maru; both gotten by subpoena. Then the court adjourned for a thirty minute lunch. That was followed by cross examination. Then Dylan Hunt was called to the stand and he was examined and cross examined.

When Dylan had finished the court heard closing arguments. Koachemar went first. He began, "The overriding principle of justice on Waterloo Drift and within the Wotan Star System is that justice must done and justice must be seen to be done. Indeed, the very motto of our legal system is 'Let Justice Be Done Though The Heavens Fall.' Meaning that we too must be willing to accept any sacrifice or inconvenience to ourselves in the pursuit of justice. In this case, Justice is better served by having Raphael Valentine fostered to a citizen-couple who are members in good standing of this community, the community which he wronged." He then pointed to the evidence which suggested that Beka was every much the criminal mastermind her brother was and that this alone invalidated her as a potential sponsor and showed beyond reasonable doubt that Raphael stood a good chance of being socialized yet again along fringe lines. He finished up by saying, "The defense rests its case, Your Honour."

Trance stood to deliver closing arguments. "Your Honour. While it is true that justice must be done, it is also true that no man is an island, entire of itself. This is now especially true for Waterloo Drift which has seen fit to join a greater community at large, the Commonwealth. Yes, Captain Valentine has certain criminal tendencies, but in military parlance those tendencies translate into intelligence operations abilities, and both Captain and Raphael Valentine served the Commonwealth in good stead when Andromeda was attacked by the gang of technophobic terrorists called Restos. And Ms. Valentine has used them often under other conditions in service to the Commonwealth. I submit to this court that the social environment in which the Valentines grew up and were socilized has been seriously eroded by the rebirth of the Commonwealth, and while their criminal tendencies are largely at odds with the lawful spirit of the Commonwealth, those tendencies were also part and parcel of the ethos of the Dark Night. With the Dark Night over, such a society will not play a part in the resocialization of Raphael Valentine." She then went on to stress how the Commonwealth also supported the laws and principles of justice of all its member states. When she was done she too rested her case. It was 1830.

The judge announced, "Very well, then, as there are no other witnesses or evidence or arguments, this court is adjourned. We will reconvene tomorrow at thirteen hundred at which time I will render my decision." The gavel banged.

Beka hugged trance tightly. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, that was absolutely inspiring."

"Yes," Koachemar said, "but not good enough. Aside from our principle of seeing justice done here within our own community, no legal precedent exists that might encourage the court to grant custody to extrasystem sponsors. You did do very well today, Captain. I was certain on a couple of occasions that I'd gotten the better of you, but you kept yourself under tight control. But . . . well, don't go building false hopes. Our legal system is absolutely loathe to create new precedents."

Beka stared at him for a moment, then said, "Well, thank you, Mr. Koachemar. I'll keep that in mind."

At 1300 the next day the bailiff said, "All rise," as the judge came into the courtroom. He stepped behind his bench and sat down.

"Be seated." He looked out at the assemblage, appearing both stern and somber. "I have heard testimony, seen evidence, and considered arguments in the case of Rebecca Valentine versus Waterloo Drift and I am ready to render my decision.

"After due consideration, I find no fault with the arguments of both counsels, and precedents do exist that allow for family members to sponsor convicted persons. Against that I must weight the principle of justice being seen to be done. In light of that argument, I concur that justice would be sufficiently served if we were routinely apprised of the fosterling's progress, if certain stringent guidelines were established; which guidelines would be well within the authority of this court to impose, were creating precedents a habit of this court.

"The last factor to take into account is the allegation of possible tampering with the fosterling's engram records. I am no cyberneticist or programming engineer, and this court has not heard from any such about the likelyhood of such an occurance due to time constraints. As a result, the possibility that such tampering has been effected cannot be a factor in this decision.

"However, a side issue exists. That of the moral responsibility of the court. In the interest of serving justice, when we remand a suspect or convict into the custody of this society, we also take upon ourselves the responsibility for the care and wellbeing of that person. I believe that in this case a reasonable doubt exists as to guarantees for the safety of Raphael Valentine's mental faculties in light of the possibility of tampering with his engrams. By keeping him here, however, we can determine an incipient collapse of those faculties for ourselves and react in a timely fashion should such an event occur. Therefore I have no recourse but to deny your petition, Captain Valentine. I do, however, also place this ruling under advisement, so that should our investigation and forensic examination of your brother's engrams show that there is no danger to his mental faculties, you may file an appeal at a later time.

"This case is dismissed."

The whole crew followed the government functionary, a secretary of the Diplomatic Branch, through the corridors of Security Section. He palmed a plate before a door heavily surrounded by interal defense stations and it hissed open. Inside, a command was shouted and the personnel came to the attention. Each of the Peacekeepers was wearing a full dress uniform. The Commander of the Watch saluted. "Sir!" he snapped out. "Welcome to Detention and Rehabilitation. If you'd follow me." He turned and led the group down the corridor.

As Harper walked past a face he recognized from seeing it through a comm channel he pointed at the man's chest and said, "Your badge is on crooked."

Trance chirped in with, "Your boots need shining, too."

Tyr walked past them all as if they were beneath notice.

Thirty meters into the D&R section they entered a final door and into the cellblock. Raphael gave them a wild look. "Beka!" He pushed up against transparent door.

Beka placed a hand against the material. "Oh, Rafe. I couldn't do it. I couldn't get you out. They won't even let me have custody so I can foster you."

"Beka! Please!"

She leaned her head against the door and sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Hours later she was lieing, inconsolate, on her bunk. The ship lurched through the transition to slipstream. Moments later the door chimed. When she failed to answer it the door slid open. "I thought I locked that door," she muttered.

"You did, boss, but you know we kind of have this in-thing with the lock."

The hologram of Andromeda appeared as Trance and Harper and walked into the room. "I understand that you'd rather be alone right now, Beka, but I think it's better if you have some company."

"Maybe. You two could probably start by explaining why you messed with Rafe's engram recordings."

"Oh, we didn't mess with them, Beka, we just made records for ourselves. Everything they started with and everything they'd done. Given the pattern of changes so far, I can guess what they'll do next and eventually work out the entire part of the procedure we don't have."

"So, why? And didn't you think that they might find out and take that into account?"

"Uh-hm. Yes, I did. But I figured that the odds of getting Rafe out were negligible even without that as a factor to take into account. Waterloo Drift courts are notoriously conservative. As to why, what's done is done but can be undone. Sometimes."

"And in the meantime we have to leave him there and let him go through hell. Alone."

"Uh, . . . well, yeah, Boss, but you can't have everything your way all the time, and, I mean, we can come back for him in a few months when we get some phony ID's solidly faked up and can charter a ship and then skip system with him in tow. As soon as we've got him we can start treatment to reconstitute his real self. A couple of months after that and he sends them a spacemail bragging about how thoroughly he chumped them all! Hoopla! We all live happily ever after." Beka smiled through her tears and sniffles.

The blast doors to Command Deck sighed open and Trance and Harper walked through them, laughing. Dylan looked up from his post. "Ah, Mr. Harper. Ms. Gemini. So, given that I've been on a tour of Waterloo Drift Security Section, and in particular their Detention and Rehab, how did you manage to get in there and access those records, anyway?"

Harper put on his very best innocent look. "Who us? Geez, Dylan, you're talking as if you don't trust us. We were right here onboard Andromeda making repairs and training the new crew. We logged everything."

"Yes, I saw that. When I transmitted a copy of the log to the Peacekeeper investigating the unauthorized access to Raphael's records. Fortunately he settled for that -- never thinking that even Andromeda's logs could be counterfeited with the right kind of finesse and maybe even a little help from the ship itself. Or perhaps he just didn't want to create a diplomatic incident based solely on suspicions."

"Well," Trance said, "that was very kind of him."

"So you two aren't going to do anything impolitic yourselves, are you?"

"Heck, no! That system has been left behind. We've been there, we've done, we've shaken the antiprotons out of the tee-shirt. Why would we want to go back?"

Dylan made no reply, but his smile would have troubled any person who did not trust him.