He sighed heavily as a picture of himself from his former life filled the vidscreen built into the polished wooden desk inlaid with dark red leather. His short cropped hair noticeably less grey than it was now. His deep blue eyes framed by the same silver rimmed antique spectacles he always wore, although they were tinted now. The starkest difference between now and then was that his former self sported a clean shaven squared jaw look, as opposed to the goatee he preferred today. The clipped disembodied voice of the female reporter from the Galaxic News agency speaking over his image filled in the missing details.
“Welcome to this extraordinary session of the recently formed and some would say fragile Assembly of the Federation of Free Planets. Called to hear the demands for the extradition of this man, to some a hero and freedom fighter to others a grave robber and a war criminal.”
The view cut from his picture to the dark skinned reporter standing outside the Assembly of Free Planets. The flags of the assembled free colonies fluttering defiantly in the breeze behind her. Her brown shoulder length hair tumbled down onto the collar of the plain light blue jacket she wore over a simple white blouse. Her ID badge glinting in the late afternoon sun as microphone in hand she stared intently into the camera with hazel eyes.
She continued. “A combined delegation from the Talmari, Hyneari and Onggar home worlds spent yesterday morning petitioning the assembly to hand over the man known on Anobar as Guardian Ford, one of the founders of the Federation, to stand trial for crimes against their peoples. The assembly remains locked in a closed session, that has sat throughout the night and into a second day, to consider the dossier of evidence. That under various guises this man operated as a rogue relic hunter, desecrating sacred sites and stealing holy alien artefacts. Now back to John in the studio for an update on developments elsewhere in the Galaxy.”
The feed cut to the studio where a middle aged balding anchorman, a grey moustache crawling across his upper lip like an anaemic slug, sat behind the news desk in the regulation blue and white of Galaxic News. The screen behind him filled with the logos of some of the most notorious corporations in human controlled space.
“Thank you Sarah. Earlier this afternoon the Vesperon, Haldyne and Zodan Corporations, who have been locked in a bitter and often bloody take-over battle to gain control of the assets of Malstrom, whose stock has fallen considerably since the Anobar rebellion, issued an unprecedented joint communiqué. Demanding that the Federation uphold intergalactic law and maintain a stable business environment by handing over the criminal known as Ford to the independent tribunal convened by the Talmari and their allies. To be held accountable for crimes against their peoples.”
He paused as someone off screen passed him a piece of paper. “Breaking news just in Sarah. Malstrom and the new religious sect, the Brethren, that has been sweeping the galaxy, have also just issued a joint statement on the man they call the butcher of the battle of the three fleets. Apparently they have called on the assembly to be guided by the prophets citing the Brethrens belief that all must be called to judgement for their actions and that those who are deemed worthy will be protected and provided for.”
The camera flashed back to Sarah outside the assembly microphone in right-hand, left forefinger pressed against her ear-piece as she cocked her head to one side. “Sensational news John. I’m hearing the assembly has reached a decision. It’s a split vote but the majority have voted to support the call for extradition with the proviso that the tribunal is held on a neutral planet. We’ll be right back after this commercial break.”
Sarah faded out to be replaced by an advert for the channels lurid weekly shockumentary show, Hidden Terrors of the Galaxy. “Don’t miss tonight’s show, twenty hundred hours galactic standard time.” boomed an eerie voice over grainy images of a black shadow lurking somewhere in hyperspace. “Tonight we investigate the Black Angel of Death. The mysterious ship that prowls hyperspace waiting to strike the unwary. Urban myth, pirate raider, or the fabled lost ship of the Malstrom battle fleet, Fury?”
The broadcast was brought to an abrupt end by an incoming call on a secure channel as a haggard and unshaven Chancellor Ocoto appear on screen. “I take it you’ve seen the news?” his brown eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, dark lines etched under them. His short black hair ruffled and unkempt. Shirt and jacket badly creased.
Ford nodded. “Typical, takes us over three years to put the Federation together and less than six months for them to betray us.”
“Don’t be too hard on them. We can barley hold our own as it is. We’ve only got this far because Vesperon, Haldyne and Zodan are too busy fighting each other over Malstrom’s key assets to bother us. The general view of the assembly is that we can’t risk doing anything that would unite our enemies against us. That includes inviting a second front by giving the Talmari and their allies an excuse to combine their forces and attack. Even if that means sacrificing you.”
Ford sighed. “We both knew this day was coming. So how long have I got?”
“Twenty-four hours, I‘ve been instructed to place you under immediate house arrest pending transfer.”
“Well I guess we both know what we have to do next then.” said Ford as he pushed his chair back and stood up.
Ocoto nodded. “May the solar winds bring you good fortune my friend.” there was a brief paused and then he added before terminating the transmission. “And don’t forget the package I gave you before I left for the assembly.”