from Pell Dock Authority. That investigation will take longer than three days.
In fact, it will be ongoing, and it involves a general warrant, along with a
profile of your ship and its internal identification numbers, a retinal print
and voice print, which we’ll take before you return to dockside, and all this
will be passed to Wyatt’s Star Combine and Mariner through diplomatic and
military channels. Should it later prove necessary, that description will be
passed to all ports, both Union and Alliance, present and future. But you won’t
be detained on our account, once that printing has been done.”
“And what if I’m innocent? What kind of trouble am I left with? That kind of
thing could get me killed somewhere, for nothing, some stupid clerk punching the
wrong key and bringing that up, some ship meeting me at a nullpoint and pulling
that out of library—you’re setting me up for a target.” He cast a desperate look
at Quen. “Can I appeal it? Have I got a choice?”
“Military operations,” Talley said, “are not under civil court You can protest,
through application to Alliance Council, or through a military court. Both are
available here at Pell, although the Council has finished its quarterly business
and it’s in the process of dispersing as ships leave. You’d have to appeal for a
hearing at the next sitting, about three months from now. Military court could
be available inside a month. You’d be detained pending either procedure, but
counsel will be provided, along with lodging and dock charges, if you want to
exercise that right. And you can apply for extensions of time if you need to
call witnesses. Counsel would do that for you.”
“I’ll see what counsel says.”
“That would be wise,” Quen said. An aide had come in, padded round the outside
of the U and slipped a paper under her hands. She read it and spoke quietly to
the messenger, folded her hands over the paper on the table as the messenger
slipped out again. “There is an intervenor in the case, Captain Stevens, if
you’re willing to accept.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Reilly of Dublin Again has offered his onboard legal counsel. This would be
acceptable to Pell.”
The blood drained toward his feet “Am I free to make up my own mind in the
matter?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’d like to talk to them.”
“I think our business with you is done, pending your appointment with the
military identification process.”
“But maybe I don’t want to go through that. Maybe—” He stared into a row of
adamant faces. Stopped.
“Captain,” Talley said, “you have your rights to resist it. The military has its
rights to detain you. Your counsel can interview you in detention and advise
you. If you wish.”
He thought of jails, of a Dubliner arriving to fetch him out, one of Allison’s
hard-eyed cousins. “No,” he said. ‘I’ll go along with the ID.”
That ought to do it, then,” Quen said, and looked aside at Talley. Talley
nodded, once and economically. “Sufficient, then,” Quen said. “Our hopes,
Captain Stevens, that there’s nothing but a mistake involved here. You’re free
to address the board in general. We’ll listen. But I’d advise selecting your
attorney before you do that. And prepare your statements with counsel’s advice.”
“I’ll reserve that, then.”
“Captain,” Talley said, “if you’d go with the officer.”
“Sir,” he said, quietly, precisely. “Ma’am.” He turned and walked out with the
security officer, through the outer office and into the hall, trying in his
confusion to remember where he was and which way the lift was and to reckon
where he was being taken now. He was lost; he was panicked, inside corridors
which were not Lucy’s, a geometry which was not the simple circle of dockside.
There was a small office down the corridor, two desks, a counter full of
equipment. He stood, waited: a technician in militia blue showed up. “General
ID,” the officer said, and the tech took him in charge, walked him through it,
one procedure and the next, even to a cell sample.
It was done then, irrevocable. The information was launched, and they would send
it on. The tech gave him a cup of cold water, urged him to sit down. “No,” he