Read Identity Page 5

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  With the tracking bracelet, Buckman was restricted to Bertie. The next day he spent working in the recycling hold, tossing trash and material into various bins for disposal. The work was hot and noisy, which was fine, because it took his mind off the troubles he was having. That evening, while he was in the cafeteria, there was an unending stream of questions about the bracelet. Many of the Bents had seen them before or had even worn them at times. A few gave suggestions on how to remove it without the authorities knowing, Buckman had no interest in trying any of the suggestions. Charles had still not returned from the security center, and Buckman was beginning to worry about what they had talked to him about. There was a chance they were holding him just because of his behavior. He was just starting to wonder what he was going to say to Charles when he noticed people were moving away from him.

  A security guard came up beside his seat. The man started reading some form of rights, which Buckman only half listened to. He put his fork down beside his plate and knew any thoughts of seeing Marie soon were useless. When the guard finished reading the rights, he said, “Hold out your hands, and come with us peacefully.” Buckman did so and the handcuffs were put on. The guard then led him out of the cafeteria.

  16

  Parren did not particularly like space travel. Being on a ship usually required two or three days before his digestion settled down. The doctors said the nausea and diarrhea were a result of the change in gravity and lack of orientation to the outside world. Today, finally, he felt he could safely venture away from a bathroom, and had booked a few hours in the Presidents conference room. He had arrived early to enjoy the quiet, take in the view and have a few words with Gryman on the interrogation.

  The room was breathtaking, and if he had not spent a few days getting acclimated, he would not be in there, as he would have had problems with the extreme view. This was not so much a room as an atrium on the outside of the ship. The room was situated on a narrow projection extending away from the hull. The ceiling, three walls, and part of the floor were a dome with a clear view of earth rotating slowly in the background. Bertie, despite its age and degraded state, was tiny but beautiful, joined to the Queen off to the side. Other ships being serviced were scattered about at all orientations, all in a well-controlled tumble through space. Parren put his hands behind his back and took it all in. What a magnificent creation, he thought. Only beings with superior minds could have dreamed and pursued such magnificence. A floating, space-born civilization.

  Technology had advanced at a staggering rate in the last century. His ancestors had set up a system of government and law that had created a society that made great imaginings possible. They had no choice then. War had torn yet another stupendous rift in humanity, and they had to do something to prevent those kinds of problems again. Order was established, and based on people’s natural inclinations, everyone had a role to play. The DNA testing and eventual separation, though not perfect, had allowed this to happen. It had become a covenant in the Book of Proofs and basis of the civilization the Straights had established. Being able to know a person’s tendencies, strengths, and limitations from the moment of birth had allowed nearly everyone to be a productive member of the order they had built. Such a tremendously powerful, yet simple concept. Why did people fight it, when the magnificence of the application of this concept was right in front of them? Look what we have built. Look at what I have done. All of us.

  Parren looked back at the Bertrand Geirer and thought of the two men who were under investigation. Bents like them needed to understand that even their lives were enhanced. There was no denying one’s true self; after all, what was truer than your basic genetic structure? Even if the Bents were allowed to live freely in Straight schools and businesses, their inferiority would doom them to the bottom of the scale. By putting them in one area, they were able to be amongst themselves and do whatever it was they liked to do, instead of forcing them into lives of constant desperation and failure. That would be their lot. They would never understand, though. Unfortunately, they would always be an impediment to progress, theirs and everyone’s, impediments to achievements they could not even conceive. Such was Parren’s chosen obsession: to ensure limitless progress would continue for generations.

  The door behind him opened and Gryman and Morgan entered.

  “My God,” Morgan said, walking over to one of the glass walls. He stuck his hand out and pressed it against the glass for a moment to keep his balance. “I’ve never been in here before.”

  “Yes, it is wonderful,” Parren said, sitting down at the table. Gryman joined him there, and after about fifteen seconds, Morgan sat down as well. “What are the details on the interrogation of the two suspects?” he asked Gryman.

  “Very interesting, to say the least. I was only there for a few minutes, but the actions of the one man were deplorable,” Gryman said.

  “I’ve heard he can be quite vulgar,” Parren said. “And the other man?”

  “He was quieter, and he often seemed to let the others in the room do the speaking. I looked into both of their backgrounds and found information that definitely raises suspicion,” Gryman replied.

  “Are they legal?” Morgan asked.

  “They’re checking further, but it appears the young man is not, and the other one is,” Gryman said.

  “We can’t put our protective measures in place soon enough. This is exactly what I have been indicating for the past year.” Parren had been pushing for further controls on allowing Bents who worked for Straight-owned businesses. “Progress has been made, but this is a tragic incident that will lend credence to everything we wish to achieve.”

  “Sir,” Morgan said, “we’ll need to address how to integrate this into our agenda at a later date. Immediately, we need to control how this is released to the public. I also want to be sure not to overburden you in your time of sorrow.”

  “Not to worry, and thank you for your concern,” Parren said. Parren was well aware of Morgan’s gift for appeasement, but that was a bit much. However, that was why he hired the man. “The legal man, what is his background?”

  “He has a long history of trouble. He was jailed numerous times for minor disturbances. Once for spraying partially refined fecal matter on the front of an establishment that refused to serve him. It was for good reason, I might add.”

  Parren was confused. The statement was indistinct. “You mean the establishment refused to serve him, and then he responded by spraying said establishment with foul matter, and then he was incarcerated? Or did he have a justifiable reason for spraying foul matter?”

  “They refused him for legal reasons, and his response brought jail time. He had recently been released after fighting in a violent border riot, and a restaurant refused to serve him because of his background. A police officer tried to restrain him and was injured. The attack on the property happened a few hours later.”

  “In what capacity did he fight in the riot?” Morgan asked.

  “One of a large unorganized mass. No real role other than to operate a gun and crude missiles,” Gryman said.

  “Can you pass that information to me?” Morgan asked. Gryman made a few entries into his data pad and sent the information over to Morgan.

  “A history of violence, then. How does the evidence look against them?” Parren said.

  “Their presence in the hold is well recorded before the discovery. The older man had been in there briefly the day before, and he has extensive knowledge of the ship’s fluid systems. We were able to gather enough data to have both retained. The timing of each being there is too convenient, and their combined knowledge is enough to cause serious suspicion.”

  “Sir, I hate to bring this up, but have you been briefed as to the details? It is germane to the conversation,” Morgan said.

  “Yes. The brutality was shocking,” Parren said biting his lip.

 
“My fear is that the older man will try to make this look as if they were set up,” Gryman said. “He indicated he knew how this was done and could prove it. Of course this was during one of his many emotional outbursts, so the validity of the claim is doubtful.”

  “Still, a skilled defender could use that as a defense,” Parren said.

  “‘Skilled’ is a relative term,” Gryman said with no intent of humor.

  “Of course, but we have to consider the possibility,” Parren said.

  “How knowledgeable is he really of the ship’s systems?” Morgan asked.

  “Exactly,” Parren agreed. He had been thinking of ways to counter a plausible defense. One way was to exploit the man’s own comprehension.

  “He is the lead mechanical technician on the plumbing staff. He is a certified master plumber but also has apprentice level skills as an electrician and carpenter. This is work he has been performing for over twenty years.” Gryman paged through a number of screens on his data pad. “Yes, actually twenty-three years. That’s why he was able to get clearance to leave his province for work purposes.”

  “The evidence will need to be solid against him, but I do say he has the skills.” Parren gave this some thought. “We have to be sure the evidence does indeed put him there.”

  Gryman put the data pad back onto the table. “There could be some softness there. But the authorities need to put facts honestly before the judges, and a conviction should go through.”

  “Some persuasion may be required,” Parren said, turning towards Morgan.

  “Do we know who the judges are?” Morgan asked.

  “Not yet, but there are a limited number who work in this jurisdiction. I’ll let you know when I learn more,” Gryman said.

  “I can make a pointed release of the perpetrators’ backgrounds. Other details of the crime and connection to these men can be fed out through various channels,” Morgan said.

  “Do you think they actually did this?” Parren asked both of them.

  “Absolutely,” Gryman said. “Their behavior, the knowledge and timing are all pointed to them being the culprits. Yes, everything points towards them.”

  Morgan was looking at his data pad. “And you?” Parren asked.

  “Bents have a well-established pattern of violence and disruptive behavior, especially those from Northern. To be honest, I don’t have the legal acumen of you two, so I must look to you for guidance. However, this conversation is damning to their cause,” Morgan said. “I have plenty of background on both men to create a terribly negative image.”

  “But you haven’t answered the question,” Gryman said.

  Morgan did not flinch. “They are guilty in my eyes. The only question is the total extent of their involvement or the depth of their guilt.”

  “The younger man, what will come of him if he is not convicted of the murder?”

  “The maximum penalty for illegal entry is one year of solitary confinement and mental retraining.”

  “That sickens me. Is that all he could get for entering under false pretenses?” Parren was appalled whenever he heard this. Most Bents that were found like this only received a few weeks, maybe a month, of confinement. Even then, they were cared for at taxpayers’ expense and in prison with their own kind. Hardly a deterrent. Rarely a full year was served. “If it’s only year, make sure he never even thinks of coming back.”

  Gryman and Morgan both understood what they needed to do. Parren dismissed them so he could be alone with his thoughts.

  His access throughout the ship allowed him into places few other passengers would ever see. He exited the conference room a few minutes after Gryman and Morgan to be sure they had left the hallway outside. The exclusive access, in addition to there being few other passengers aboard, meant that he was able to walk by himself without seeing another person. As he was walking, he began to imagine how Charles could persuade the judges of his innocence. Who knows? Maybe he had actually done the murder. When Parren decided Celirna was too great a problem, he anonymously said certain things to certain people. He said how he wanted this to happen and when. The rest was left to them, whoever they were, and they had no knowledge he had made the order. They were professionals, he tried to tell himself, but they were not perfect.

  Parren came to his quarters and entered through a private door in the back. He stopped in front of a mirror and looked at himself, picked up a hairbrush, and began making sure every hair was in place. Charles knew too much. It would be easy to make the classic mistake of underestimating him. Gryman would recognize this, but others might not. That was a problem. The plumber would have enough knowledge of the area to know if there was an inconsistency. He would need to be thoroughly mentally reconditioned. This was a long and tedious process, but there would be time and resources. Charles would probably serve two years, but after one, his mind would be a blank slate. The remaining year, and the rest of his life, would be a necessary blur to him. That was the only way to handle a Bent.

  17

  The two police officers ushered Buckman out of the cafeteria, across the walkway to the Queen, and to a cart. They drove him to the same location he was in the day before and delivered him to the same interrogation room. After sitting for a few moments, Buckman asked, “Can you explain this again?”

  The officer, another bored looking Straight folded his arms. “Like I said, you will have the benefit of counsel. She’ll be here in a few minutes to explain the entire charge.”

  “Don’t you know why I’m here?” Buckman asked. The two men had not said much since they picked him up and read him his rights. He knew what it likely was, but wanted to hear an explanation.

  “Actually, I have no idea. My job is to move people.”

  A few seconds later, the door opened, and a middle-aged woman walked in. She seemed to weave around for moment. “Sorry, I just came on-board, and I’m still getting acclimated.” Then, to the policemen, “You can go.”

  Once they were alone, Buckman asked, “Can you tell me why I’m here?”

  The woman sat down and put a data pad on the table. “Give me a few minutes. They sent me all the way up here to defend you. I was finishing up another case when they called.” Buckman watched as she scrolled through page after page of information. He was not able to catch what she was looking through, but apparently she was a fast reader and could make sense of the text and graphics. She made an occasional “hmm” as she read.

  Finally, she stopped and set the pad aside. “Looks like you’re here illegally. Plead guilty.”

  The woman’s face was a complete blank. Buckman studied the dark skin on her cheeks, hoping to get some indication of what she was talking about. “What was your name again?”

  “Trilana. Please refer to me as ‘Counselor.”

  “Is that all you have to say? For me to plead guilty?” Buckman said.

  “Yes. The proof is undeniable. The tests that came back show you do not match the identity on your stick. The worst thing you can do is refute this and try to fight the charge.” Again, not a smile or expression. She began paging through more data, none of which looked to be related to him.

  “Hold on. What about my friend Charles? What happened to him? You have to tell me. I know he’s innocent. We both are.” Buckman had not realized it at first, but he had been hitting his handcuffs on the table as he was talking. She pulled her head back and grabbed the data pad. Buckman put his hands back into his lap. For moment, she eyed the call button on the end of the table. He knew this would bring in guards with their stun guns, and in seconds, he would be on the floor, paralyzed.

  “I don’t know anything about that, or your involvement. Can you deny you are here illegally?” she asked.

  Buckman clenched his hands, despite the attempt to stay calm. He had always been known for his even demeanor. People had often wondered if he was not passionate enough. But this finally got to him. His chin s
tarted to work up and down involuntarily, and his vision started to blur. “I can’t,” he started to say. He stood up and walked to the far corner of the room, facing away from her. “Not right. It’s not right.”

  Trilana would never have a chance if he were to get physical, but he had enough sense to know that would be a serious mistake. The anger had to go away before he continued. Buckman felt it was best if he stayed there until he was able to get control of his emotions. Every movement and word said in that room was recorded and could show up later if there was any question. His whole life, especially when in Straight territory, was recorded somewhere.

  “Are you feeling well?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he managed to say. The rage subsided with that one word, replaced by a feeling of unsettlement. A thought came to his mind, from Jack of all people. Once he told Buckman, if you want to get out of trouble, act like they do, kiss their ass, they’re to damn stupid to tell. When he was ready, he turned back and sat down. “Tell me about my friend Charles. Please, I have to know, and as counsel, you are required to tell the circumstances of my case. They took him away, and I haven’t seen him since. I have to know, I absolutely have to know what happened to him.”

  “I can’t. That’s another case. I’m forbidden from discussing it.”

  “But it’s directly related to why you’re here, right? Why can’t you talk to me about it?” Buckman had no legal training and was only going by instinct. All he wanted to do was to keep her talking, and there was a good chance she would answer the question. “I know the man. He’s not the type to do what they think he did. I can help his case.”

  There was another button on the table with an “X” on it. She reached over and held the button down. “Stop there. This is strictly between us. Don’t volunteer information on his case. They determined time of death within a few hours. The record shows, and he confirms he was in there within that timeframe.” She flipped through to another screen on the data pad.

  “Possibly, but I don’t think he did it.” Buckman stopped and thought about Charles going in there right after they docked. Was there time for him actually to do this? Maybe, but he knew Charles had no reason to perform such an act.

  “Listen carefully. I do not, understand, do not, have to discuss his case with you,” she said, keeping her hand on the button. “I’ll meet with the judges and suggest six months maximum for you. I think I can get it, based on similar cases. Anything you say or admit to will make this worse for you and him. Everyone knows you were in there at the same time as the body. That looks very bad. You’re facing two years if you are connected in any way. You know how you’ll be treated if you provide information. It’ll be turned against you, rest assured. The best thing you can do for him is not try some kind of elaborate defense, unless you confess you did it. Did you?”

  Buckman could vividly remember seeing Celirna’s body crammed into the beams and then sinking away after they pushed her in. The deformed head and ripped up hand were the last he saw of her as she sank. Then he thought of the contrasting image from the newscasts. The flowing blonde hair and wide smile. “This isn’t fair. The killer will get away. Neither of us did it.” He could say something now, but was not sure. “We saw her.”

  “Stop! Don’t say another word.” Her brown Asiatic eyes were riveted on his. They remained like that until she was sure he was not going to continue. “Serve your time now. Tell your story when you get out. If you know anything, that’s the best you can do. If you truly want to help him, keep quiet, exercise patience as best as you can, or they will lock you up and make you forget.” She released the button. “I’ll enter a guilty plea. Your trial is in two days. Six months to a year, you’ll be back in Eastern. You’ll be reviewed in the standard manner for Bents. A three-judge panel will hear your case. You can argue in your defense, though I would recommend you not argue too strenuously. They’ll decide your punishment. The least amount of trouble you give them, the more lenient they will be.”

  “Wait, what about my family?” Buckman asked. They would be depending on his income for food and support. “Do they know? How will they take care of themselves?”

  “They have been informed; however, personal contact is forbidden. You should have considered the consequences before you did this,” she said.

  “Consider what?” Buckman said. If he were locked away, they would probably be forced to move out of their home. “What’re my choices? Stay there and watch them starve or take the chance to cross over?”

  She stood up from the table and tucked the data pad under her arm. For a brief moment, she seemed to consider his question. “Consider yourself lucky. This could have been much worse.” She rapped her knuckles on the door. It opened, she left, and it was slammed behind her.

  Buckman sat there for about another minute when the door opened again, and a security guard came in. The guard led him away to a small holding cell in the back of the security complex. It was a long walk, but he knew better than to strike up a conversation with his escort. All he needed was to hear more about how Bents were treated so well. How the Straight system of punishment was so humane and equal. They came to his cell. The guard let him walk in and then locked the door behind him. Buckman had nothing better to do than wait until morning.

  18

  Two Years Before

  Parren had been pacing around the back foyer for a good fifteen minutes. He had already been up to make sure Celirna was indeed packing and arranging her belongings for the trip. As near as he could tell, she had made so little progress fifteen minutes before he had to finally go downstairs. Clothes and shoes were all over her room, along with her business and communication computers. Technology had existed for years to combine all this equipment into one unit, but she insisted on carrying separate items for each. She claimed it was easier for her to remember if everything was on completely different computers and coms. No amount of explanation or instruction would convince her otherwise.

  He yelled up the stairs. “Celirna, please, we are 23 minutes late for takeoff already. The crew is sufficiently prepared for our departure.” His own belongings had been arranged and packed per his precise instructions a week before. The com in his pocket vibrated.

  “Give me a few more minutes, I’m almost ready. You know, you own the damn transport, and we have plenty of time. We’re on no set schedule until tomorrow,” she said. Parren could hear her packing as she talked.

  “That’s not the point. Leaving at 4:00 means leaving at 4:00, not 4:43.” There was a deep sigh and the typical silence.

  “There. Clark is bringing everything down now.”

  They clicked off, and Parren saw her manservant coming down the spiral staircase with one suitcase in each hand and a small bag under each arm. Years of similar maneuvers had made him an expert at handling that kind of load. Celirna, dressed casually in custom tailored black pants, low-heeled boots, a loose shirt, and an oversized tweed jacket, followed him down the stairs carrying another small bag. They reached the bottom and headed straight to the door to the transport. “Stop complaining, let’s go,” she said over her shoulder.

  The transport lifted off and quickly they were at the cruising altitude of 10,000 meters. Parren settled in and made some calls on people he was working with on the Council Superōrum concerning land deals with a group of Bent farmers. The Council was an organization he had formed about fifteen years prior, when he made his brief attempt at a run for national office. The attempt failed, but the Council remained and had grown into a force within the ranks of Straight politics. Celirna had made a presentation to the council to provide hospital equipment and school supplies to a cross-border organization called GoodShare, of which she was chairwoman. This trip was a culmination of two years of her work, and Parren was going to be there to present the benevolent face of the Council.

  The call ended, and he stared for a moment at his wife
as she looked out of the window.

  “What do you see?” he asked.

  “Difference,” she said, pulling her hair back and taking a clip out of her handbag. She used it to tie the loose hair into place, displaying the different shades that were always evident. She pointed down to the ground. “We’re following the border. There’s one city just at the horizon on that side and one on the other side.”

  “Hm,” Parren said. The difference between the two was clear even at this distance and altitude.

  “Look at the smog, the sprawl,” she said gazing at the Bent city. “There are people trying to live in that.”

  The brown haze enveloped the Bent city up to a considerable height. “Disappointing,” he said.

  “Disappointing,” she repeated. They were alone in the cabin, with the pilots and two members of the crew in a separate compartment. Parren knew they were not listening, but still he was concerned she might become irritable with him. “Disappointing is when your favorite show isn’t on. People dying because of that brown smog. Lives are being ruined on an ongoing basis.”

  “Please dear,” Parren said. “My choice of words is sometimes inadequate. I’m not as skilled nor versed as you are in these matters. I would prefer we not become cross.”

  A tired smile came to her face. She blinked slowly once and went back to looking at the ground below. They continued to fly along the border. He was fully aware of the differences he could see between the two sides. The border was a solid black line, heavily reinforced and patrolled on the Straight side. The ground was mostly barren on the Bent side, while lush farmland sprawled out on the other. For decades, the farms were a source of employment for Bents, a fact that worried Parren, knowing the flood of people who crossed the border every day. Celirna was toying with a strand of hair that came down over her shoulder to her chest. The two of them had talked for hours about various forms of cross-border employment, but he doubted if she fully understood the problems this caused. He went back to his com to prepare for a presentation he was scheduled to make in a week.

  19

  After several hours of rolling around on the thin cot, Buckman heard a small group of people coming down the hall. He was not sure who it was until he heard Charles starting to yell. “Don’t believe a word they say, Buckman! They’re a bunch of damn liars, and I can prove it! Don’t ever forget it!” Buckman saw them come into view just at the corner of the hall. The guard behind Charles pulled out a stick and gave him a jolt that sent him straight up into the air. They tried to hold him as he started to topple over, but they were not quick enough. Charles hit the floor with an audible smack from the back of his head. If he was not knocked unconscious when the guards stunned him, the fall would have done it. The two guards grabbed him on either side, under his arms, and pulled him along the floor.

  A few minutes later, they came for Buckman and took him to a different interrogation room. The room only had three chairs, one in the corner and two facing each other. Buckman was told to sit in the chair in the corner. The guards left. The room was empty except for him and the chairs, though he suspected there was a camera buried in the wall somewhere. He stood and took a few steps. “Remain seated,” a voice said.

  Buckman sat back down. He was confused. His trial was set for the next day, and everything was probably decided. Then again, he realized this probably had to do with Charles, as the case against him was more serious. Buckman had not talked to him since they were first brought in. He wished he could talk to Charles to find out what they were trying to get out of him. The few times Buckman had been pulled in for minor infractions were nothing like this. He did his best to remember the story he and Charles had agreed upon. They had not seen a thing in the hold. Everything happened as it did, except they did not see her. The monitor, the valve, going out to get parts, all that happened. Buckman almost stood up again but caught himself before doing so. Instead, he kept adjusting his seating position. To make matters worse, the chair had one short leg and kept rocking back and forth.

  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, hoping to find some calm and block out the thought that they were watching every move he made. With a little effort, he was able to go back to the dart game with Jack, then the bus trip to the border, and finally, his family. That was as far as he got when the door opened, and a man entered.

  “Good afternoon. Sorry to keep you waiting,” the man said. “I’m Jaden, and I just need to talk to you for a few minutes. Please.” Jaden motioned to one of the chairs in the center of the room.

  Buckman moved over to the other chair, and Jaden pulled up the third one so that they were sitting a few feet from each other.

  “There isn’t much to talk about, is there?” Buckman asked.

  “There are always things that can be discussed in cases like this,” Jaden said. “I understand you are scheduled for a hearing in a few days. I talked to your counsel, and she said you agreed to plead guilty to being in the territory illegally.”

  “We talked about it. Who are you again?” Buckman said.

  “Right. I apologize. I’m a special examiner assigned to this case. My purpose here is to be sure you are treated fairly and the facts are properly recorded.”

  “I’m not sure what that means. I covered everything yesterday with Trilana.” Buckman knew that tricks of persuasion were often used by the police. He was well aware that Jaden was not there for his well-being.

  “I understand your reluctance to talk to me. Tell you what.” He tented his fingers for a moment. “Let’s start with this. I contacted your family, and they are understandably concerned. Let me tell you they are all fine, though.”

  Buckman stared back at Jaden, and was still not sure. “Thanks. Things will be tough for them while I’m away.”

  “Sure. You know, my work takes me away from my wife and two daughters for months at a time. It’s difficult, but we have to do these things,” Jaden said, a small smile coming across his face. As if reading his mind, Jaden added, “I know our situations are completely different. I know what your living conditions are, and being locked away is nothing compared to what I do.”

  “That’s right. You don’t know what it’s like.”

  “I spoke with your partner...Marie, I think her name is?” Jaden said.

  Hearing him speak her name gave him pause. Again, he might be lying, but Buckman had no way of knowing. “I don’t want to bring her into this.”

  “Hold on,” Jaden said. “You have to agree you are concerned greatly about her. A solid personal relationship is one of most satisfying things a person can have. Wouldn’t you agree? Right?”

  “Of course. Of course we care deeply about each other.”

  “I talked to her, and she explained how much they depend on you. She mentioned they may have to move into an even more crowded home with three or four other families.” Jaden stopped for a moment. “What’s your extended family like?”

  Buckman did not know what all this meant, and to be truthful to himself, he had no idea what was going to happen to everyone.

  Again, Jaden seemed to guess his thoughts. “Well, you don’t need to go into details, but it would be hard to keep everyone together without a decent place to live. I imagine they will have to break up the family to some extent.”

  The people living in their home were an entire range of ages and generations. He had made it a point to keep them together as much as possible and this meant large, but crowded, living quarters. His aunts and uncles would have to move into a group home. The cousins...well, they would go back to living on the streets like they did before. Marie would do the best she could, but it always came down to paying the rent, and if the money was not there, they would be forced to break up the family.

  “I talked to her personally. She sounds like a strong person, but the concern was there. A year of separation will be an extreme hardship.”

  “Trilana said six
months,” Buckman said.

  “Could be as much as a year. I know the laws. If the judges are lenient and you are cooperative, it could be shorter. Much shorter.” Jaden sat back in the chair and crossed his arms. “I could hear the stress in her voice. She has seen the news reports and believes you’re innocent. Love, deep, honest love, is an emotion to be cherished. That’s what she has for you.”

  Buckman knew what he was saying was true. They were as in love as two people could be. They depended on each other and were the pillars of the family. Jaden must have talked to her. Marie would have been very upfront with her feelings and thoughts, and she would have left Jaden with no doubt of her opinions.

  “I’ve seen the pictures and visited prisons,” Jaden said, standing up from the chair and moving around to lean against the wall. “A year in prison isn’t easy. I can’t tell you what they will do, but you’ll come out a changed man. Physical torture is forbidden, against the law, according to the courts, but being locked away will change you forever.”

  “I know. I won’t be able to work over here again.” Buckman said.

  “Maybe, but what I mean is that they can change a person. Make them forget who they are and what they do. The technology they have access to is astounding and very effective. You won’t even know it’s happening until it’s too late.” Jaden came back to the chair and sat down.

  Buckman had heard such things but had not actually known anyone who had gone through prison and reeducation. Even though he was most worried about his time away and what that would do to his family, this had weighed on the back of his mind. “How do they do that?”

  Jaden spread his hands. “I don’t know, but somehow they access the deepest parts of your memory and change things. Erase parts. Put new things in. Centuries ago, they used to do what was a called a frontal lobotomy, where they surgically removed part of the brain. A person might be debilitated, but they were still semi-functional. With the reeducation techniques, they simply remove the mental patterns. In many ways, the lobotomy is better, because the reeducation leaves a person fully in the present but having forgotten years of their life.”

  Buckman took a deep breathe. “That sounds like something a Straight would do. Cruel but legal.”

  “Clearly,” Jaden said, “you don’t want this to happen. So, here’s the problem I have. We both know how hard a year will be, but the other man, Charles, has been saying things that make this sound much worse for you.”

  “What?” Buckman said. He remembered the last words he heard when Charles was being dragged down the passageway. “I can’t believe that.”

  “I was as surprised as you. All along, we assumed he was the only one involved, our only suspect. Once the reality of his situation sunk in, he started talking.”

  Had Charles told them more than they agreed to? How could Buckman ever know? He ran through what they talked about, and everything that happened. Again he reminded himself: other than finding her on the beam, tell everything like it happened. “No,” he said. “Other than fixing the valve and dropping the monitor, we didn’t see a thing.”

  “The valve?” Jaden asked.

  “The broken valve. He talked about it; I know he did. I helped him fix it.”

  “Right, right,” Jaden said, standing up and moving over to the wall again, looking down at Buckman. “What happened to it again?”

  “I’m not really sure. It was busted wide open. I don’t work on those much, so there’s not much I can tell you. Something blew off or got taken off,” Buckman said trying to not say too much.

  “Those are two different things. One’s an accident, and the other’s intentional. What makes you think it was intentional?” Jaden asked, his voice getting quiet.

  “Sure, I know, but I don’t know for sure,” Buckman said.

  Jaden returned to the chair. “Charles seems to think you know the difference. He mentioned you had time to loosen them up before he got there.”

  The statement made no sense in any way, but before he could respond, Jaden again was one step ahead of him. “I know: why would he say that? There’s no proof you did anything, but he said it anyway. Why? Why would he blame it on you?”

  The blur came back. He thought he knew the truth, but he was getting confused. “I did not,” he said, his voice rising. “I barely even know how it works. I don’t understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  Buckman felt his hand tighten on the chair arms. “They—the—Charles knew the bolts weren’t stripped, I saw what he meant. He knew they were backed out. Somebody else did it.”

  “Sounds like Charles knows how this was done. He knows how to make this look like an accident, but he said you did it.”

  Buckman could not restrain himself any longer. He stood up from the chair and started yelling. “He did not! He didn’t! How many times do I have to say that?” Buckman heard a movement from behind the door, but Jaden held his hand up.

  They stayed like that for several seconds, until Buckman began to calm down. “Okay,” Jaden said. “Maybe I pushed that a little too far.”

  “I wasn’t there. Check the records,” Buckman said, sitting back down. Jaden returned to his seat as well.

  “True. I believe you, but I don’t understand why Charles is saying what he is. You have to admit, she was found right after you left. How do you explain that? This shows you at least were involved with the disposal of the body.” Jaden remained calm and still as he waited for an answer.

  “I can’t. I can’t explain it. We don’t know. I dropped that thing,” Buckman said. He was suddenly very tired from lack of sleep and worry. He was drained. “The monitor. I dropped it. We fixed the valve. That was it.”

  Jaden stood up again. “That’s enough for now. We can talk later. I want you to keep a couple of things in mind. The first is that he’s implicating you. If what he is saying is true, you’re looking at a much longer time locked away. A long time away from your family. Even the suspicion of your involvement will be difficult to refute. The other is if he did it, or even if you think he did, and you help us, your time gets much, much shorter. It’s up to you.” Jaden left. The room was very quiet. A few minutes later, the guard came back in and took him to his cell.

  20

  Parren did not particularly enjoy the company of Celirna’s father, Rogef. The man was opinionated and forceful, but he had built a massive business empire on the shoulders of his ancestors by figuring out mining techniques in the outer colonies. Rogef was traveling back from a tour of some of his interests when he was told of his daughter’s murder. The news took a couple of days to reach him, and when he was in range, he had communicated back to Parren that he wanted to talk. When Parren was still a teenager, he met Rogef and Celirna for the first time. Their marriage had been arranged since their early childhood, and that was this first time they were together. As he learned more about Rogef, Parren found him to be a ruthless businessman, difficult to read but dichotomous to the point of being strangely generous. Rogef twisted laws and seemed bent on destroying his competitors, and he did so with regularity and without regret. Contrary to this, he was a philanthropist of a magnitude not seen in centuries. Much to Parren’s horror, he built combined Straight and Bent learning centers at the borders, which encouraged the mingling of children from both sides. Parren had been trying to find a way behind the scenes to close these centers down. He had to be careful, though; Rogef was an incredibly perceptive man whom, though family, he did not in the least trust. With this last thought, Parren had asked Gryman and Morgan to join him in the conference room to receive the communication from Rogef.

  The camera did not cover the entire room, so Parren sat directly in front of it, while Gryman and Morgan sat out of sight on the side. If asked, Parren would say he was alone. With long-distance communication, there was always a risk of intercept, so Parren knew no sensitive information would be discuss
ed.

  They had a few minutes before the call started, and Parren wanted to get an update on Buckman and Charles. “The interrogation of both of them is going fairly well,” Gryman said. “I brought in a specialist, rather than relying solely on the local staff. The young man appears to be on the verge of telling us a different story. We think we can get him to do it. He has a number of weak areas we can take advantage of. They decided to let him think for a few days before continuing.”

  “What does that mean, ‘think for a few days’?” Parren asked.

  “He’s in a cell where they control the lighting and the environmental conditions. His bodily rhythms will be out of sync, making him more susceptible to questioning,” Gryman explained. “This is all legal per statutes governing extra-Earth criminal proceedings.”

  “And the other man, the loud one,” Morgan added handing an information pad to Parren. “He has been involved with incidents for years. I established a pattern of questionable conduct. This has been released to the media and is now being spread throughout.”

  Parren looked over the information, reading quickly. Charles had been arrested for disorderly conduct, destruction of property, transportation of illegal substances, the list went on. “My God, how did we ever allow him in? He should have been arrested at the border. What a disgrace.” Parren handed the pad back to Morgan, thinking this would be an easy case. “And the judges?”

  “We’ve had considerable influence,” Gryman said. “This Charles fellow will be seen before two judges who have backing from your Council Superōrum. The other one is not named, though a majority is all that’s required for conviction.”

  “Good,” Parren said. The light on the console came on, indicating a signal being received. Parren looked at both Morgan and Gryman, and they each backed their seats to the side of the room. Parren pressed a button and entered an access code. Within a few seconds, a dour image of Rogef appeared. The conversation would be excruciatingly slow, with the sound and video compressed to cover the considerable distance. Extraneous movements and long conversations tended to clog up the bandwidth and cause further delays. The conversation have to be brief and to the point.

  “Parren, how are you? This is a tragedy I can barely think about,” Rogef said. In person, Rogef had a deep sonorous voice that commanded attention, no doubt a holdover from his military training. However, to speed communication, the high and low frequencies were removed, so his voice sounded thin and plain. Even with this, Parren could tell his words were slow and measured, showing signs of great fatigue.

  “This has been a difficult few days. I hope all is well,” Parren said. Traveling a great distance without the proper adjustments was difficult even for a young person. Rogef must have been exhausted.

  “Thank you. You know I loved my daughter as much as anything. She was our only child. It’s a great loss,” Rogef said.

  “I understand,” Parren said. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other two in the room. Neither of them made a sound or even moved. “I believe the culprits have been apprehended.”

  “I understand there were a couple of workers servicing the ship?” Rogef asked. He put his hands together and tilted his head back slightly. The image slowed for a second, and then came back.

  “Yes. Both of them were. One was placed at the scene at the time of her disappearance,” Parren said. “They are being interrogated as we speak.”

  “I understand one of them was an illegal?” Rogef asked.

  “Yes. The other has a long history of violence. They both have the knowledge of how to have performed the act,” Parren said.

  There was a long pause, long enough to where Parren thought the transmission had stopped. The control panel still signaled the communication was open, and then Parren saw Rogef move his hand. Finally, he asked, “How are they being treated?”

  Parren could see Gryman and Morgan look at each other. He had to fight the tendency to look at them as well. “They are well. All prisoners are treated in accordance with extra-Earth law. Guilt must be established in an unbiased manner.”

  “This is my family. It’s a tremendous tragedy, but there is to be no spectacle. You and I both know these men must be tried fairly and honestly. No witch hunts or exploitation.”

  “Absolutely. We have been cooperating with the authorities, helping where we can. The media has, unfortunately, latched onto this. Stopping them at this point would be impossible, I would say,” Parren said. Morgan had no doubt begun much of the turmoil, but with the fame of Celirna as fuel, the story had taken on a life of its own.

  Rogef rubbed his eyes. “I prefer your associates not meddle in the proceedings. That will only cause us problems.”

  Parren was aware this reference was to Morgan and Gryman. “Of course.”

  “You will have to excuse me. I can’t talk very long. I have to resume my rest. My arrival is scheduled in a few days. We can talk again then.”

  “Please, pass my sincerest condolences to your family. I have begun the plans for a memorial service. This will be a private affair.” Parren had already contacted various family members.

  “Thank you,” Rogef said. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

  Parren nodded and in a few moments, the screen went gray and faded to black. When he was sure the signal was off, he stood up signaling he was leaving the room.

  “I have to question his remark about the treatment of these men,” Morgan said. “How is he mentally?”

  “The man is old but still exceedingly observant. His comments were directed at the two of you as much as to me. Somehow, he knew you were in here listening. I don’t know what to make of that remark. Anyway, thank you for attending.”

  21

  The three of them went separate ways after leaving the conference room. Gryman was returning to Earth to catch up on other legal matters in the firm and Morgan was going on from the ship to take a short vacation. Parren decided to walk back to his suite and enjoy the luxury of being alone. Most of the passengers had already disembarked, so he saw very few people as he walked.

  Rogef was going to be problem for Parren, though he felt he could outmaneuver him. They had first met when Parren was still a teenager, when the families were together for him to meet Celirna. As was often the custom, when an arranged union was proposed, the families would spend some time together to see how the relations would work.

  Once again, Parren was in awe of the wisdom of the Generators. They had written arranged marriages in the Book of Proofs as one of the covenants. This was developed into a voting procedure between the families that had three steps: Society Decision Review (SDR), Preliminary Decision Review (PDR) and Critical Decision Review (CDR), and finally the wedding or Primary Release Request (PRR). When ready at each step, the prospective couple was presented to a review board and interviewed. Suggestions for further schooling or training were recommended by the board and agreed to by the parents. If acceptable after CDR, marriage was approved. This process had been challenged in courts and had always been upheld. All of the very high order families abided by this process, and to Parren, this proved the basis of the Generators’ intelligence and plan to preserve order. As if divinely guided, the Arranged Marriage Covenant anticipated the problem of low birthrate by ensuring higher quality children. Courtship was a risky, random, and wasteful endeavor. With courtship, there was no control over inheriting a family’s faulty genetics. By arranging unions, the DNA line was preserved, and control was a natural result.

  Celirna was several years younger than he was. Five years, three months and seven days, to be exact. He remembered seeing her for the first time, when the family transport landed at the Rogef family grounds. She was still a youngster, but her vivacity and beauty were immediately evident. If it were possible to fall in love at first sight, this was it. She was throwing a ball around in the yard with some cousins, her long blonde hair flying around each t
ime she chased after it. When the door opened upon landing, he heard her high-pitched laugh. The procedure for SDR was followed a few hours later, but by then he knew this was to be.

  Parren returned to the suite and went to the dresser, where there was a picture of the two of them taken on vacation about ten years before. Her hair was darker in the picture (she had the annoying habit of changing the color often), but the smile was always as bright. Celirna was one of those people who photographed well, a trait, along with her natural storytelling ability, that helped her in the philanthropic endeavors.

  Parren put the picture back on the dresser, and went to his desk to continue work on further funding for Council Superōrum. However, his thoughts drifted back to meeting and learning more about Celirna. Each review took place about every five years. SDR and PDR went well, but CDR presented some problems. Celirna was rumored to have taken a lover while at school, a fact that was obscure and difficult to ascertain. There was an extended private review between her and the panel, the result of which she admitted to the fact but received a pardon. Parren was allowed to read the transcripts, and it was clear she had managed to charm the members of the panel with her looks, verbal skill, and personality.

  He accepted their ruling, as they were a wise congress of elders, and the marriage was allowed to continue. Now as he sat considering the tasks before the Council Superōrum, he knew he should have seen the problems ahead. Celirna’s wittiness could quickly turn into opinion and argumentation. Rogef and Celirna began to express moderation in their politics and established several reconciliation types of organizations. Celirna was put in charge of the Border Learning Centers. Parren often tried to warn of the danger of being involved with such a futile effort, but she would never listen to reason. He would quote her entire chapters of the Book of Proofs, but she would always refute the claims. Reason went unheeded. The cameras and news outlets were glad to follow a striking, talkative woman into the schools and even into Bent territories. There were endless images of her surrounded by those vile Bent offspring, hundreds of them at once. These were the video clips shown over and over since her disappearance. Once, while she was away, he burned the clothes she had been wearing on one of those trips, though she had so many outfits she never noticed.

  The com rang on his desk, but he ignored it, letting the other person, a business owner wanting to work out a donation, leave a message. He wanted to answer the com but could not force the sensations from his mind. Once more, he remembered how she looked and felt. Her tight hips and even how she smelled. She always wore a secret custom perfume that was developed at an extravagant cost. At first, the perfume was intoxicatingly engaging. Parren knew it was a specially formulated exotic pheromone added to help her persuade male counterparts. Undoubtedly it worked, and he came to hate the smell. He had often thought about that, how she manipulated his perceptions, and this was enough to drive him to distraction. Amazing how her allure, at first full and often erotic, could later become an object of contempt.

  Parren contacted the man who had called, and as he listened for the connection going through, he tried to drive the thoughts of her out of his mind. He was only partially successful.

  22

  Buckman thought they would bring him in for questioning the next morning. That morning came and went, or so he thought. When they returned him to his cell, they served him a meal. Then he had nothing to do but sit and wait. The other cells were blocked off, and he was unable to talk to anyone else. The guard who brought his meals was not interested in conversation. Eventually he fell asleep, and he was just starting to dream about walking down the dusty street in his hometown when a steam line started to clank. It was not loud, but about every ten seconds, it went off. It stopped, and he fell asleep, only to have the line start up again. As a plumber, he knew the lines were supposed to have automatic compensators to prevent any kind of imbalance. After numerous tries, he gave up and sat on the bunk, with his mind feeling like a mental fog.

  He stared at the wall and reviewed what had happened over the past few days. The image of her rolling off the beam and looking up at him with those dead eyes was going to be with him for a long time. At one point, he dozed off for a few moments, and dreamed of her sinking down and saying, “he did it.” His head fell forward and he woke up. He tore up some toilet paper and stuffed it in his ears. This helped a little.

  Sometime later, he was not sure how long, the guard came by with another tray of food. It was exactly what was served to him previously; two pieces of dry bread, a meat and banana. “This breakfast?” Buckman asked.

  The guard shrugged. “If you say so.”

  After eating, Buckman sat on the floor with his back against the wall. He leaned down and examined the springs and supports under the bunk. He sat back up, and then leaned down again and counted them. Twelve in one direction and ten in the other. The pillow was thin, as was the blanket. He pulled both of them off the bunk, sat on the pillow, and wrapped the blanket around himself. This helped him doze off again, until he heard another prisoner walking by outside his cell door. He got up to look but did not recognize the man. His neck was killing him, as was his tailbone, from sitting on the floor. Buckman tossed the bedding back onto the bunk and sat down again.

  Over and over again he thought about what Charles was doing. Buckman knew all the things they were trying, the pipe noise, lack of sleep, meals at odd times, were all planned to make him sit and think about what happened. Each time he thought of this, he had to admit it was working. They were trying to get a confession out of one of them, possibly get one to blame the other. Buckman had to keep reminding himself that Charles would not do what they were implying. Would he? How well did he really know Charles? He was from Northern, and except for a few times, they had not gotten together outside of work. One of the few times they did, Charles had a fit because the Straight authorities had put a restriction on the sale of his favorite whiskey. Charles bought a concoction from a man that was supposed to be whiskey, and when Buckman drank, it burned his throat. The burn was worse each time he belched. They could not drink enough even to get drunk, assuming it even was alcohol. Charles thought the man was trying to poison them, and went back and smashed the bottle on the man’s feet, breaking his toe.

  What was Buckman going to say when they talked to him again? Did he do it? No. What about Charles? No. Well, he could have, but Buckman knew him better. Buckman would tell them what happened, except that part. Charles would tell them the same thing. That was what each of them had agreed to. They would play the wait game, but he could sit there for a week and not change his mind. If he changed his story, it would look funny. Straights hated funny.

  A guard showed up with another meal. Buckman did not even ask which it was, since everything was the same as before. He did not bother eating it.

  How was his family? They would be worried. Were they hungry? Marie and his father would be trying to figure out how to deal with his being away. What they had was scarce, and as soon as his pay came in, she bought what they needed and hid it away from the other family members to keep food from being stolen and resold. His cousins worked the streets, or more like the streets worked them.

  Buckman tried to sleep and not dwell too long on any one thought. A day, maybe two or three, later, they came for him in the cell. He stank. Aside from splashing water on his face, he had not showered since being locked away. The clothes were the same, and they had started to itch. His head itched. They put handcuffs on him and walked him to what looked like the same room. This time, when they sat him down, he made no effort to get up.

  Buckman was doing his best to scratch the itchy mess of whiskers on his face when Jaden came in.

  “Looks like you haven’t been sleeping well,” Jaden said.

  “You know what’s going on. Cut it out.” Buckman was not sure where this came from, but he was so tired and disoriented, he could not think of an
other response.

  Jaden pulled one of the other chairs over to where Buckman was sitting. “How are you feeling today?” he asked.

  “How long since we talked?” Buckman asked.

  “Three and a half days,” Jaden said, his voice quiet like the last time they were together.

  “You know. I’ve tried sleeping but can’t. I mean, they keep me waking up,” Buckman said. He knew his words were garbled, but could not put together the proper sentence.

  “I understand,” Jaden said. “Why do suppose you can’t sleep?”

  “The noises, something, the lights aren’t right. Each time I fall asleep, the noises start.” Buckman felt his head roll around on his shoulders as he spoke. He could never remember ever being in such a deprived state.

  “Three days is a long time to think about what happened.” Jaden turned and looked back at the door. “Can you come in here?” The door opened and Trilana came in.

  “Trilana,” Jaden said to her. “Help us out. Explain to him what we’re talking about.”

  “Buckman, this is very straightforward. If you tell us exactly what happened, your sentence stays at one year. If you don’t and we learn you were more involved, who knows how long.” She lowered her voice and looked at him closely. “If you can help us find the killer, the judge can, if he chooses, drastically reduce your sentence. There are appeals I can make to give you a clean record after time is served. You can even apply for a legal ID stick.”

  “Here’s the problem,” Jaden said. “The other man, Charles, is saying things that don’t line up with what you’ve said. You heard Trilana. If what Charles says is true, you’re looking at five years.”

  Buckman looked between the two of them, and was having difficulty keeping the numbers straight. “What does Charles say? I mean what did he say? I did it?”

  “We’re not sure. He said you had time to do this, and the records show you did,” Trilana said.

  “How could I? I wasn’t even there. I can prove it. He was. He knows that,” Buckman said.

  “So you’re saying he was there during the time of the murder?” Jaden said.

  “Yes. No, I mean, he could have been there. I mean, he went in the day before, but that’s all I know. We didn’t do anything. I know somebody else did. I know it. She was there. We saw it,” Buckman said.

  Jaden sat back and brought his fingers together. “Interesting. You need to tell us more than that. I’m having a very hard time understanding what happened. Just start at the beginning, where you first went into the hold. Tell us everything you saw. Tell us how you can show you didn’t do it,” Jaden said.

  Buckman took a deep breath and starting giving them as many details as he could. The entire story came out in one long monotone. Everything except finding her on the beam and pushing her in. He felt an unstoppable urge to spill the entire story out. Neither of the interviewers stopped him as he talked.

  When he finished, Buckman asked, “Can I have a drink of water?”

  “Sure,” Jaden turned around for a moment and a man came in with a plastic cup of water. Buckman drank it down without stopping. “Better?”

  His head seemed to be a little clearer, but the mental haze was still there. His nerves were calmer, though and the light in the room softened a few degrees.

  Jaden stood up from his chair and went over to the now familiar position of leaning against the wall. “Now, I know you have to feel relief over telling us the truth. Let’s get back to a key point. You said you thought Charles figured out how this was done.”

  “He’s the best. He knows how everything in there works,” Buckman said.

  “Absolutely, he’s a very wise man,” Jaden said.

  Trilana broke in after having not said anything for many minutes. Buckman almost forgot she was in the room. “Hold on. Buckman, you were under the tank and didn’t see anything?”

  “Yes,” Buckman said.

  She turned back to Jaden. “He admits he was there, but that in no way indicates guilt in the murder.”

  “We can’t say that,” Jaden replied in the same calm voice.

  “We absolutely can. Those are the facts. That is the official record. He was right there. But that does not make them murderers. Also, keep in mind that if the murderer is not found, conviction as an accessory is very difficult,” Trilana said. To emphasize her point, she started bringing up the recorded evidence.

  “Agreed. Let’s get back to Charles,” Jaden said. “Here’s what I think could have happened. I think Charles is right. Whoever killed her brought her into the hold through the emergency airlock. It’s an entrance not many people know. The outside entrance is in a small access way that very few people even know about. Someone killed her, took her through the lock, and put her in the hold.”

  That was very close to what Charles had said. Jaden had not added anything new. “I guess that would work,” Buckman said.

  “We found footprints by that exit that matched Charles’s. And there were glove prints on the door. We don’t have visual evidence, but we do have molecular detection of the boot and glove material at those locations.” Jaden came back to the chair and sat down.

  “That’s not possible,” Buckman said.

  “Why not? You yourself said he knows the hold better than anyone. He’s way stronger than she was and could have overpowered her. Maybe he had help, but he certainly could have been involved. He could have waited on the other side of the entrance and brought her in. Isn’t that possible?” Jaden said.

  “No, I can’t believe that.” Anything is possible, though, Buckman thought.

  “How well do you know him really? Did you know his father was killed in the Garlandan border war? His brother is in jail on battery charges, not to mention his own activities. He has harsh feeling towards Straights. What do you think his opinion of Parren is? Has he ever had any harsh words towards him?”

  Trilana jumped in again. “He doesn’t have to answer that question.”

  Buckman did not want to answer it, but he looked around the room as he thought about it. Charles was always open about his hate for the Straight society, and had voiced, loudly, his particular disgust of its leaders. He could answer the question, but what was the point? Everyone who knew Charles knew his opinions.

  “What you say in the next few minutes could change your life.” Jaden watched him carefully. “Remember what we said about the impact on your family. A year away will be devastating. So tell us. How did he do it?”

  So many facts had been thrown at him that he could not straighten them out. It would be so easy to tell them that, and be able to take care of his family and save them the hardship. Maybe Charles did it. Charles was in there the day before he was, and that made sense. He had not heard about the glove and boot prints. It was too much to figure out. He was not able to think straight and only wanted have this over and go back to his bunk and collapse. He thought of Marie, and wondered. Charles was ornery, but that was all he was. Marie was strength and would somehow manage no matter what happened. “I don’t think he did it.”

  “There’s a reward out for anyone who leads us to the killer,” Jaden said.

  “Do I need to answer?” Buckman asked Trilana.

  “Yes. It makes a difference for you,” she said.

  Buckman rolled it around in his thoughts. Maybe it was the fatigue, but he was having a difficult time remembering all that was said. The only thing he could remember was the advice he had heard time and again. “I don’t know. I can’t believe he would do such a thing. I’m not smart enough to figure it out.”

  “All right,” Jaden said. He got up from the chair so fast it tilted slightly backwards. He leaned forward until he was right in front of Buckman. For the first time since they had been talking, Buckman saw real anger on his otherwise placid face. “I tried to help you. Enjoy your time in jail.”

  Buckman was escorted ou
t of the room, leaving the other two behind. If guards had not been guiding him, Buckman would not have been able to walk without running into the walls. As soon as the cell door was locked behind him, he collapsed into the bunk and was asleep in a few seconds. He slept without interruptions.

  23

  For Parren, the flight back to the estate gave him enough time to read the report from Gryman. The interrogation of the young man had been fruitless. In the end, he had to conclude the man probably did not know anything more than what he had said, but they had to try to get what they could. For the older worker, the case was all but over. The prints around the emergency door were damning evidence. By his own confession, the man was all over that area. The motive was there, embodied in the constant hate he portrayed, as was the method he used. His legal representative had no control over what the man said. He was constantly shouting, going between making sense and total fiction; his vitriol was enough to convict him.

  Before leaving the Queen, he was involved with attending to Celirna’s belongings. Actually, he had not been able to bring himself personally to go through her items, instead having his assistant do it, and bring anything in question to him for decision. All the clothes were destroyed. Jewelry was shipped back, as were most of the personal items. She had lived there for months and had used it as a temporary home for the past five or six years when the ship was on short runs. He remembered the few times he visited onboard; her possessions were scattered all over the residence, a habit he found infuriating. “Order,” he would say to her. “That is the only way.” He knew there were items still there when he left, and even more in storage. His last instructions were to destroy all the clothes and ship everything else back to the estate.

  The private transport would take him directly to a landing pad in the front yard. As they departed the Queen, he gave an instruction to the pilot to divert from the flight plan and take a pass over Bent territory. The man entered the change in and they left. As they came out of reentry, even from the extreme altitude the demarcation line between Straight and Bent lands was clear. The Straight side was green and lush, while the Bent side was brown. They came in lower, and Parren pulled up a viewer. The most striking differences were the buildings. The Straights had large industrial areas with enormous buildings. Residential areas were again set into rich green land or tucked into hills. Lakes were abundant. The Bent side, on the other hand, was sprawling chaos, with shacks, smog, and congestion. There was open land, but it was harsh, and they had not been able to devise a way to use it properly. Parren knew that if the wind was in the right direction, some of the cities on the Straight side received their pollution.

  “Unbelievable,” Parren said.

  “What is that, sir?” the pilot said.

  Parren had not realized he spoken aloud. “The living conditions. They’re deplorable.”

  “Yes, alarming. I don’t know how they live with themselves,” the pilot said.

  “Do you enjoy your life as a Straight?” Parren asked, though he knew from the man’s background that he did. He just needed to hear him say it.

  “Very much. I’ve flown over this land for many years. It always reminds me of how blessed I am.”

  “I comprehend. You are blessed. In many ways,” Parren looked back at the sprawl beneath him. “All the more reason for my exertions. It’s a trial in a way. It must continue.”

  “Would you like to see more?” the pilot asked.

  “No,” Parren said, taking a deep breath and one final view of the decrepitude. “Take me home.”

  The transport landed on the pad. Attendants were lined up to greet him and carry his luggage to his room. Parren went up to the third floor, to a private area where he could lie down for an hour or two to allow his body to adjust from the trip. On the way, he passed by Celirna’s private quarters. He stood in the doorway for a moment before continuing back to his rooms. After removing his shoes and jacket, he stretched out and closed his eyes, but could not fall asleep.

  A private hall behind the walls joined his and Celirna’s quarters. He got up and went down the hall to her rooms, were he entered and sat on the bed.

  “I’m going,” she had said during of their many arguments.

  The room was going to need to be totally refurbished. The colors were bright and cheerful, with what she called whimsy. There were figurines of dancers on the shelves and old paintings of clowns that she liked to collect. Parren pressed his hand into the cover and mattress on the bed. He looked at himself in the mirror.

  Yes, he thought to himself, she was difficult and undisciplined. Then again, she was alluring in ways he did not think possible. The last time they were intimate was many months ago. He knew it was in this bed. Despite their many difficulties, in that regard, her intense passion for the carnal was indescribable.

  However, this did not balance out the other, more serious rifts they constantly had. He remembered that final argument before she left the last time. They were in this room, and she was carrying things from her closets to the packing cases.

  “You understand we hire people to do these things for us,” he had said as she moved about and picked up clothes and toiletries in a random order.

  “I really don’t mind doing this myself. Really, I don’t mind,” she said. Then she added, “Do you have people do everything for you?”

  “I don’t know what you mean?” he said.

  “Never mind,” she said, walking from her dresser to a suitcase with a handful of underwear. She put them in without folding them. Parren got up and started folding them for her. Celirna took them out of his hands, tossed them into the case, and shut the lid.

  “So where are you going this time?” he asked.

  “I’m touring our border hospitals. Tubar is the largest, and father funded a physical therapy wing that was just finished. Then I’m going to an orphanage in Northern. I’ll be on the ship after that for several months.” She continued packing as she talked, while also straightening out the figurines around the room.

  Her movements made no sense whatsoever. One moment she was placing shower items in a case. The next were some bedclothes and then some formal wear. She came out of the closet with an armful of shoes and divided them up between the different cases spread out around the room. At least she kept the pairs together. Socks went in a completely different location.

  “The easiest and most efficient way to pack is to start with items you wear on your feet and work your way up. That way you know you haven’t forgotten anything. I calculate this improves packing time by 37% with an accuracy of 97.5%.”

  “Will you cut it out? What the hell does a 97.5% accuracy rate mean anyway?”

  “Well,” he started. “When I performed a statistical analysis in school.”

  “Stop,” she said, tossing an armload of pants into the shoe case. “Why do you have to be like this? I don’t want to know your, your, method of making my life more efficient.”

  “Then why did you ask?” he said, confused as to why she would at first want to know, and then refuse to listen. She responded by stomping back into a different closet. “Why do you have to be like this? Why must you always be upset?”

  She came back with a pair of somewhat muddy boots. “You don’t want me to do this, do you? It’s the visits. They conflict with your life’s mission, right? It’s me and father in the territories. Seeing pictures of me with them. Ever see this in a picture?” she asked pointing to the flowery-inked marking between her thumb and forefinger.

  He did, and it disturbed him the most. So many times, as if she were making a point of it, he had seen that hand and mark on the shoulder of some Bent child. “Yes, it does bother me. Greatly.” When they were finally married, they discussed the design. She had insisted on a rose with thorns. He was aghast when she had it done and saw the design covered the entire web of skin, with the line of thorns encircling her thumb. Most women were
very discrete, but hers was always visible.

  “Do we have to argue about this all the time? I don’t believe these people are that much different from us. I know what your studies say, but the difference is actually very small. If you had spent time with them as I have, you would see this. You would understand the capability of all of us.”

  Parren rarely became upset, but this was one thing that would do it, and though he knew she was manipulating him, he did not care. Being compared to Bent was infuriating. “How can you possibly think that?” he said, moving to the opposite side of the room. “What I do is advance the human race. Every advancement in the last century has been a direct result of the strong will and order established after the terrible wars. My family was integral to the formation of the resurrection of the human race.”

  Celirna lowered her head for a second and ruffled her hair. Her lips were pulled across her face in a tight line, and then they relaxed. “We’ve been over this. I know at one time it made sense, but now we have to change.” He knew the argument was over. He had to leave the room. A few hours later, he saw the transport leave the yard, and that was the last sight of her.

  He had been planning to give the order for months. When he saw the craft disappear into the sky, he sent an anonymous, pre-scripted message. As he sat there on her bed, the last place they had made love and the last place they had argued, he knew it was her final words that made his decision. “But now we have to change.”

  As he ran his hand over the cover, he remembered no matter how many times, presented in extreme logic, he was not able to convince her of her errors. The constant warring and devastation had been too great to the point to putting the existence of civilization on the brink. Hundreds of thousands killed each year. Economies destroyed. They had to do something. Separation and control was the only way. Populations were exhausted; all sides knew this was the only way. It worked. Centuries of relative peace. The last hundred years had seen staggering advances, the likes of which mankind had never seen. Everyone was better off, even the Bent population. And she and her father were working diligently to dismantle all of it.

  24

  The next morning, Buckman was awakened by the loud clang of the electronic lock on the cell door. The guard opened the door and came in with a tray of food. “Take your time. Trial’s not ‘til this afternoon.”

  This was a different guard from who had been in there before. The guard started to leave before Buckman stopped him. “Oh, hey, what’s happening to my friend?”

  The guard was very still for a couple of seconds. “Doesn’t look good for him. I’m not a lawyer, but everything I’ve read makes this worse for him.”

  “They think he did it? I know he didn’t,” Buckman said. He was surprised the guard was even talking to him.

  “Hard to tell. All I see’s what’s on the news. He’s been in trouble before and they want to lock him up. They’ll find a way,” the guard said. Buckman began eating, but the guard stayed.

  “Not fair, is it?” Buckman said.

  “If they want to lock up somebody, they can figure out some way of doing it,” the guard said.

  Whatever had happened in the last few days must have changed his status. Buckman decided that since they had let him sleep for a full night, his case had been settled and the odd interrogation would stop. He had heard of worse being done, but not sleeping for three days was bad enough. Buckman changed the subject. “Got any kids?”

  The guard smiled. “Sure.” He took out a portable view screen. It was worn and clearly one that belonged to him, rather than the one for his official duties. After a short search, he started flipping through some pictures on the screen. “This is my boy and girl.”

  Buckman saw a resemblance to the guard. The two children looked bright and cheerful, with rusty colored hair and straight teeth. A rather plain looking woman was kneeling beside them with her arm around their shoulders. “They look like good kids,” he said. The food he was eating was, for once, tasteful.

  “They are. I found a good wife. None of that arranged shit for me.” The man laughed for a moment. “I met the woman they set up for me. We failed the reviews on purpose. Best for both of us.”

  Buckman only had a vague notion of what the marriage arrangements were like. For the lower orders, he had heard the required reviews were a formality only. They were bound by law to do it, so they got it over with and officially recorded the results. “If you’re both happy, that’s what counts.”

  “It really is. Hey, I have to move on. I’m not supposed to say this, but I talked to Charles for a few moments. He said to be careful today, keep your mouth shut as much as you can.”

  “Thanks,” Buckman said, though he guessed his fate was already decided.

  The guard left and Buckman finished his breakfast. The jail was quiet, and after he ate, he had a strange sense of inevitability and relief. This was a problem he was not going to get out of, and his path was already set. Trilana had been of little help other than describing the legal ramifications of what he was facing. Not that he had expected much help. Each time they met, she seemed more interested in reading her data pad to prepare for other cases she had. She told him she was paid by the number of cases she worked. The deal that Jaden tried to force out of him was something he was not even going to consider. Now that he had a chance to think about what happened, he thought Jaden was probably lying about what Charles said. A good night’s sleep had helped see this more clearly, and he was glad he did nothing to incriminate Charles.

  The cell door unlocked again and opened. Reg stepped in, and at first Buckman was glad to see him. One look at his drawn face told him that Reg was not doing well with this.

  “How you been?” Reg asked. He waved the guard away from the door. The man left, but Buckman knew he was standing right outside.

  “Looks like you’ll need to hire replacements for us,” Buckman said. If it were possible, the limp look more pronounced. “How’s Charles?”

  “I don’t know. They won’t let visitors in.” Buckman suddenly knew this might be one of his only opportunities to tell the full story to someone he trusted. Buckman went into all the details of what he and Charles did. Reg knew all the timing was correct. Buckman left out no small fact of everything they saw and did, down to seeing her roll off the beam and sinking into the Alkalinium.

  Reg rubbed his knee. Reg listened to the story and seemed to understand everything they had done. Buckman guessed he had more on his mind than just this.

  “My job is on the line,” he finally said. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be let go as soon as this tour is over. I’m part of the news as well as you two. They split my life open for all to see. I approved the hiring and so I’m being held accountable to some extent.”

  Buckman had a sense that Reg came to see him as much for his own good as it was to lend support. “If I hadn’t dropped the monitor, I’d be on the lounge playing darts with Jack, and you’d still have a job.”

  Reg stopped rubbing his knee. “Wait, back up. You really think you recognized her? Are you absolutely sure you know it was Celirna?”

  “I see her face turn up to me ten times a day. I go to sleep at night seeing her sink in.”

  “Whoever killed her put her there to be found by you two. If not, they wouldn’t have put her on the beam,” Reg said.

  “I don’t think we were supposed to find her, but we did. But she was there when we were. When I saw the leak, I called Charles in. I probably wouldn’t have gone under there if it wasn’t the monitor,” Buckman said.

  “Except you found her and pushed her in,” Reg said. “You haven’t seen the reports. They’re having problems identifying her. They think it’s Parren’s wife, but the decomposition is making it difficult to tell.”

  If Reg was right, Buckman had just put him into a dangerous position. Assuming he believed Buckman, Reg was one of very few people who knew f
or certain this was Celirna in the hold. “Reg, listen. Unless Charles has said something, we’re the only ones who know it’s her.”

  “Whoever wanted her dead,” Reg said, “wanted her found. In total. If they had found her, they had a positive ID. Now there’s questions. You two messed up their plans.”

  “Puts me and Charles right there,” Buckman said. Whoever did this was still out there. They were dangerous and clever, and the only reason Buckman knew what he knew as because of a random accident. “Keep it to yourself.”

  “For now. At some point, I’ll have to tell the right person, but I don’t know who that is. If I say anything now, it’s too easy to make it worse for you two.”

  The door to the cell opened and the guard stepped in. “Visit’s over,” he said.

  Reg stood. “Anything you want me to pass along to your family?”

  “Tell them I love them and to keep things together,” he said.

  For a moment, Reg’s faced eased. “I will.”

  The guard escorted Reg away. Buckman realized he might never see Reg again. He had always been a good, fair boss, and had taught him that not all Straights were full of hate and prejudice. The two of them now shared a secret that connected them in some way. Buckman had also come to understand that everything in the Straight society was not as regimented and accepted as he was led to believe. There was a level of mistrust among them that he had always wondered about but for the first time knew existed. It seemed frightfully obvious now that Straights were not uniformly satisfied with how restricted they were. He thought back to Terrial in her tiny office on the train and now saw the daily boredom and misery she was forced to live with. Her and many other Straights like her. How could he have not seen this for so many years?

  25

  The guard returned a few hours later. This time he did not bother with restraints. The guard only had one hand on his arm and stun gun in the other. They walked through the security center halls and entered a bare room that had twenty or so chairs along the walls. Another door exited the room, opposite of where they came in. There were a few other guards with prisoners waiting. Occasionally a man would step in and a prisoner would follow him through the door. Everyone then shifted down a seat. After about an hour, Buckman was at the head of the line and the man came in. “Next.”

  Buckman walked into the courtroom to find only a large view screen on the wall and a single chair. Other than that, the walls and ceiling were an off-white color with no adornments. The guard in the room pointed to the one chair in the middle of the floor in front of the screen. Buckman sat in the chair and the guard moved to the back corner of the room. The screen was on, but only the words Stand by for Transmission were shown.

  Buckman tried to collect his thoughts as he waited, stretching his back to relieve some tension. It helped, but in the process, he scooted the chair back several inches, putting the feet outside a set of circles drawn on the floor. Buckman looked at the guard, who motioned for him to move the chair back. “Sorry.” He moved it back.

  He tried to think of all that had been covered in the last few days, his conversations with Trilana and Jaden. As far as he knew, he was only guilty for using an illegal identity. If they tried to go further, he was not sure what to do. He had been so tired during that second interrogation that he was having a difficult time thinking of what he had said. As much as he could remember, he told them everything, except finding her on the beam and rolling her in. The words on the screen began to fade away, and a few seconds later, a man’s image appeared in the center. A moment later, two more men, clearly at different locations, appeared on either side.

  The man in the center spoke. “All accounted for?” The other two judges acknowledged their presence. “State your name please,” he said to Buckman.

  “Buckman Carter.”

  The judge on the left spoke. “Do you understand the charges against you?”

  “Not entirely,” Buckman said. After what had happened over the past few days, he wanted to be sure.

  The judge in the center cleared his throat and picked up an information pad. A moment later, the charges appeared on the screen as he read them. “Buckman Carter has been charged with possession of a forged identification. This is a first offense and there are no prior records.” The judge punched a button on the desk in front of him. “Now do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The third judge now spoke. “Have you had the opportunity to speak with counsel?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “She has approached us and recommended you plead guilty. Is this what you intend?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The word Muted came on in red letters across the bottom of the screen. The three judges began talking to each other. After a few minutes, the red letters went away. The judge in the center said, “We’ve agreed to accept the advice of your counsel and sentence you to one year of mental reconditioning in a secure facility. “Do you have any questions?”

  “Mental reconditioning? What’s that?”

  “It’s a proven process to bring you back to being a model citizen. Very effective and painless,” the right judge said.

  “But what happens?” Buckman asked.

  The judge on the left bellowed, “If you want to reopen this case, it will get much worse for you. We know you were involved in a murder. Do you plead guilty to the murder?”

  “No,” Buckman said.

  “Would you like us to throw this out and start a murder investigation? You’re looking at five years. Total mental deprogramming,” the center judge added.

  “All I did was ask a question,” Buckman said.

  “You’ve had opportunities to ask,” the left judge continued to bellow. “You are not in a position to argue your punishment. Do you plead guilty?”

  “Yes. I apologize for my behavior,” Buckman said, taken aback at the sudden reaction by the judge.

  “Noted,” the center judge said. “This session is now closed. Guard, please show him out.”

  The screen went gray, and the word Concluded appeared. Within a span of those few minutes, Buckman was convicted. The guard took him through the door they had entered, where he was taken back to the cell. In the period of time he had been gone, someone had placed a small case of belongings on his bunk. The guard closed the door behind him. Buckman dug around in the case and found they had included the picture of Marie and his family. He ran his fingers over the image, wondering if Reg had contacted them and thinking about what they were going to do over the next year.

  26

  Parren and Celirna stayed that night in a rented house a few miles from the border. Celirna did not want to be seen arriving in a private craft because of the image this would present. Parren also did not deem spending the night in Bent territory safe nor comfortable. They argued about this latter point, but he compromised by renting a luxury home for the two nights to hold GoodShare meetings and taking a bus across the border. They had spent the first evening in separate parts of the house, with Celirna hosting several of the staff from GoodShare and Parren attending to the Council business. After Celirna finished entertaining the guests, she came to Parren’s room.

  She came in and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he sat at the desk reviewing budgets for the next quarterly meeting. Parren slowly shook his head. The colognes she chose were always enthralling, and he knew she had freshened up right before she came in. He felt a tingle spread down his spine. “Dear,” she said quietly into his ear. “I’m not sure I thanked you for coming along. This means so much to me.”

  He took a deep breath, saved his work, put the computer on pause, and stayed enveloped in her essence and warmth. “I know it does. It’s important to both of us.”

  Celirna unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt, slid her hands down his chest, and stroked the smooth, hairless skin several times. Parren felt it and stopped breathing for
a second. Celirna must have sensed the slight tensioning in his shoulders because she stopped and sat down on the floor next to his chair. “Why do you resist me?” she asked.

  This was a matter they had covered countless times, but he had always had to subvert the question. The truth was he was enticed. The truth was she was enthralling. The truth was she was too much. He had thought this through whenever she had asked. Parren looked down at her sitting on the floor, shirt untucked and loose, in bare feet, chin resting on knees pulled up to her chest. The truth was she was too much for him to control. Or rather, he was afraid her sexuality would control him. Afraid he would lose focus on his intentions. It was the intoxication of her he feared. “I’m afraid you will be disappointed again. You know how we are.”

  Celirna straightened out her legs. “That really isn’t as important as being together, spending time. Intimacy is not about sex, it’s about closeness. Being with each other.”

  “Tomorrow. Tomorrow night I know a small restaurant we can fly to. Just us. We’ll have dinner alone.” He smoothed her hair with his hand, running his fingers through the strands.

  She crawled off the floor and walked over to the mirror in the room and looked at herself for a moment. Celirna stared until her jaw relaxed and her mouth opened. Rolling shoulders easily and with small tugs, she adjusted her clothes slightly, as if to make herself more comfortable in them. She ran her hands around her thighs and rested them on her behind. Celirna came back and kissed him on the side of the neck. “Goodnight, Parren. Sleep well. We have a busy day tomorrow,” she said before hurrying away to her room.

  27

  Buckman was told it would be several days until he would be transported back to Earth and sent to prison. In the meantime, he had nothing to do but stay in his cell and wait. His first meal brought to him since returning from the trial was like the others be had eaten, except it seemed to be earlier than normal. When the guard brought it in, he made a small tapping gesture with his hand on the tray. “Take your time,” the guard said. “Eating slow is good for the digestion.”

  At first Buckman thought nothing of it, until he picked up the tray and felt it was slightly heavy. He pulled the napkin aside and found a portable viewer. Buckman quickly began eating and turned the viewer on. Within moments, he found a report of what was happening with Charles’s trial. Unlike what he had gone through, there was full coverage of the entire event. Buckman sat back and listened as Gryman was being interviewed.

  “This is disturbing to say the least. There have been conflicting sets of data from the same victim,” Gryman said.

  “How can this be? Is she or isn’t she Parren’s wife?” an interviewer asked.

  “The DNA evidence can never be 100% accurate, as is seen every day. This situation is actually worsened by the decomposition reaction that has happened.” Gryman continued to talk when another question was thrown to him.

  “Why are you not releasing that information?”

  Gryman’s face twisted up at the question. “I’ve been working these kinds of cases longer than you have been alive. Without positive identification, there can be no such conclusion. As I was saying, they have only been able to establish 55% match, rather than a 99.967% required for a positive identification in a legal case. I have personally enlisted the help of the leading experts. They will need considerable more time to determine the exact lineage of this person and improve on that percentage.”

  “Is anyone else missing on the ship?”

  Again, Gryman’s face contorted at the inquiry. “Now, how would I know? I represent my client.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He has left the ship. As everyone knows, he is not a man to discuss private matters in the public forum. What’s important is that the man arrested be convicted. Whether or not this was Celirna, a murder happened, and the guilty must be punished.” Gryman began to walk away; however, a throng of people continued to follow him. Most were with the media, holding recorders and hurling more questions at him.

  “What makes you certain this man did this?”

  Buckman knew this was not going to end anytime soon and switched over to another channel, where a scientist was describing the effect of the Alkalinium on a decomposing body. The graphics were gruesome, and the man obviously knew what he was talking about. Buckman could only figure out a portion of what he was saying, but he guessed the material works by breaking down dead organic matter at the most basic molecular level. The DNA molecule is disassembled rapidly, and identity is lost within hours. There might be enough left in the remaining tissues to determine more, but he had his doubts and this would take considerable time.

  He scanned through a few of the other channels, when the image of Charles ranting in the courtroom suddenly filled the small view screen. His familiar voice was so loud over the broadcast he had to clamp his hand of the speaker. Buckman fumbled for the volume control and turned it down. Charles was standing on his chair, yelling at the three judges on the screen.

  “This is a ------ circus. Maybe I should put on a ------hat on and do some ------cartwheels you ------” he yelled. Half of what Charles was saying was being edited out, due to the choice words he used. The attorney put his hand on Charles’s shoulder and tried to get him down from the chair. Charles finally stopped yelling.

  The center judge spoke up once Charles had settled down. “Any more outbursts, and he will be removed from the courtroom. You must control your client,” he said to the attorney.

  “Understood. Please give us a moment.” The attorney muted the microphone and began talking to Charles. Buckman knew Charles well enough to know when he was acting up on purpose. Charles had a tendency to become red in the face when he was upset, but Buckman did not see this. Waving his arms was something he had never seen him do before, leading Buckman to think he was playing to the camera. For all he knew, the attorney had asked him to do this. The two of them continued to talk in silence as Buckman was sure many others watched on. Whatever they were talking about managed to calm Charles down. He sat back down in his chair and put his hands in his lap. The conversation with the judges continued.

  “Tell us the time needed to replace the valve.”

  Charles went into the details of what it took to remove and replace the various components of the valve. He gave times of the actions, and to Buckman’s estimate they were close enough. The questioning went back and forth and around on this timeframe. Charles, to his credit, answered each question precisely. To Buckman, the judges appeared to be stuck on this time period when she was obviously in the hold, and they were working.

  “Forensics shows that the victim was in the area you were working at the same time,” the right judge said.

  “There is no evidence to put them there at the same time, or to indicate they were knowledgeable of her presence,” Charles’s attorney said.

  “You ain’t got ----,” Charles said.

  The judges muted their part of the conversation and conferred with each other for several minutes.