Star Blaze (37 page)

No sooner had the trio re-entered the studio when the Judge boomed, “Court is in session.”

As the audience cheered, Z'habar Z'habar Estagog rose into the air off six spindly legs and began again. “The defense returns from their scheming.
What fiendish plan have they concocted to prevent justice being done, when the Terran's guilt is clear?
”

The huge brain was continuing with the proceedings, and asked “Does the defense wish to question the witness?” Colonel Hartman stood in front of the vat beside Alf, glaring at the bowler-hat wearing android.

“No questions, your Honor,” replied Alf.

“What?” hissed Johnny from his chair. “What about the fake footage?”

“Kovac assures me it is genuine.” Alf had tried to whisper, but his reply was so loud the whole courtroom must have heard.

“Well it's not—ask him to check again.”

“I … I cannot, Master Johnny. The
Spirit of London
has now taken off.”

“Oh,” said Johnny. He wilted in his chair. Even with the android nearby, he couldn't remember ever feeling quite so alone. There was nothing for it, but to warn Colonel Hartman. “Bobbi!” Johnny shouted. “Earth's in danger—you've …”

“Silence in court,” boomed the Judge, and the metal gag once again slid across Johnny's mouth. The startled colonel stared at Johnny as she was led away, while the brain continued, “I call the next witness.”

“The moment has come,” whispered Z'habar Z'habar
Estagog. “The time to hammer the final nail into the traitor's coffin—
to bury him alive
(metaphorically speaking).”

Into the courtroom slithered one of the largest, most grotesque creatures Johnny had ever seen. It was like a giant, brown slug, as big as a tractor, with dark liver spots along its body. The thing slid across the studio to the foot of the stone stairs, leaving a trail of silvery slime behind it. At the ends of two long stalks, giant eyeballs swiveled first to Captain Valdour, then to Johnny and then straight upward toward the roof of the chamber. A crane began moving along the ceiling. Once in position, a harness was lowered and the huge slug was hoisted into the air. The jib groaned, but didn't buckle as it swung the creature across the courtroom, showering Johnny with slime, and then lowered it onto the hexagonal platform. The whole studio was buzzing with excitement. Once settled, its eyes turned and lowered to face the giant brain.

“You are Limax Maximus VII, Chief of Defense Staff, are you not?” asked the Judge.

“I am, your Honor.” As the alien replied, saliva spat from its mouth, spraying the stage.

“Proceed,” said the giant brain.

“Thank you,” replied the creature. “And might I add what an honor it is to be here addressing the court on this historic day.”

“Limax Maximus VII captures the feelings of all of us,” whispered Z'habar Z'habar Estagog. “
We are indeed witnessing history in the making
.”

“While the Terran, Johnny Mackintosh, is quite rightly on trial for treason, I would like to draw attention to the role played by his Second, and accomplice, Captain Valdour of the Imperial Navy.” The giant slug paused for effect while a wave of murmuring swept across the audience and Z'habar Z'habar Estagog flew in for a closeup. “If it pleases the court, I would draw your attention to the events of Galactic Standard Date
8.854 187 817. Every lifeform in this courtroom knows the significance of 187/817—we all watched the Vermalcasts with horror, however magnificently produced they were.”

The slug's eyes swiveled upward to the hovering presenter, who whispered, “Winner of five Galactrons for best current affairs Vermalcast—
including best presenter
.”

Limax Maximus VII went on, “It was the day a star in the galaxy's Orion Spiral Arm went unexpectedly Star Blaze, thought at the time to be solely the work of General Nymac and his invading Andromedan hordes. It was the day our own Fourth Fleet was totally destroyed.” Apart from the voice of the Chief of Defense Staff, the studio was now deathly quiet. “Captain Valdour—can you tell the court where you were that fateful day?”

“You know very well where I was,” said Valdour. “Fighting with the Fourth.”

“Aha! So you see,” the slug replied, turning to face the audience. “Not all the Fourth Fleet was destroyed. Perhaps the reports were misleading?” Z'habar Z'habar Estagog buzzed away in the background as the eyes of the slug pointed forward, straining toward Captain Valdour. “Tell me, Captain. How many other ships from your fleet survived that attack?”

“None,” replied Valdour in a whisper. He looked haunted, being forced to remember the deaths of his fellow soldiers.

“I didn't quite catch that,” Limax Maximus VII replied. “For the benefit of the court, could you repeat it a little louder?”

“None,” bellowed Captain Valdour. “It was the most terrible thing I have ever witnessed.”

“Yes, I suppose you would have to say that, wouldn't you,” spat the alien. Slime began dripping from the witness platform onto the guards in the moat. “So how do you explain your own survival?”

“I almost died. Had it not been for Johnny Mackintosh here, I
would have. He revived me—my ship avoided the full force of the Star Blaze as we were already en route to rendezvous with him. I was all but dead, but
Cheybora
folded close to the agreed coordinates and we were saved.”

“Condemned by his own words,” said the creature, its stalks swiveling to the audience. “Captain Valdour clearly didn't suffer the fate of his brave comrades because he was running away—running away from the ambush he had planted with Johnny Mackintosh. How else can we explain such a fortuitously timed rendezvous?” Limax Maximus VII stretched its brown body forward, out of the harness toward the bound captain. “I put it to you that you are both in league with General Nymac!”

With his one eye, Captain Valdour stared at the giant slug as though it were the vilest creature in the galaxy. “How dare you, sir?” he snarled.

Johnny watched, amazed, as the metal bonds holding the captain began to lose their shape. There was a sharp crack as the one around his massive chest broke, followed by another and another. Captain Valdour forced his way out of the chair and staggered to his feet. He howled with rage and lurched toward the raised platform as the creature shrank back. Several aliens in the audience screamed and then four lightning-like bolts converged at the center of Valdour's chest, fired from the security guards' blasters.

For a moment, it looked as if the captain might keep going forward, but then the combined force of the blasters lifted him off his feet and sent him flying backward, landing with a loud thud on the stone floor of the stage. Johnny bit down on his metal gag in horror, as he stared, eyes wide, at the motionless body. He could feel the blood trickling from the roof of his mouth.

“Oh my goodness,” said Alf as he ran toward the prone figure.

“Counsel,” boomed the Judge. “You will control your defendants or, the next time, the blasts will prove fatal.”

“Your Honor,” said Alf, who was now leaning over Captain Valdour's body. “It appears they already have,” he added bitterly.

Johnny couldn't let this happen. He felt the anger welling up inside him and, before he knew what was happening, two bolts of electricity zapped out of his bound hands all the way across the stage, linking him to the hearts underneath each of Valdour's arms. The captain's body twitched and he coughed. There was uproar in the courtroom, with the Judge calling for order but being ignored. Aliens were running in all directions, but Johnny was losing focus. All the energy seemed to have drained out of his body. From somewhere, a heavy red blanket had been thrown over him and it felt as if he was suffocating, impossible to breathe let alone keep his eyes open.

“We have completed our examination of the hyperspatial device.” Several voices were speaking the words at once, not quite in sync with each other.

“Have transmissions been sent?” The voice sounded familiar—Johnny thought it was probably the Regent, but he didn't want anyone to know he was awake and his eyelids felt almost too heavy to open anyway.

“They have, frequently,” the many voices replied.

“Can you determine the recipient?”

“Without doubt it was General Nymac.”

There were gasps. Johnny decided he must still be in the courtroom cum studio. He didn't feel he'd been unconscious for long, but it was impossible to know. Had Clara followed orders and taken the
Spirit of London
back to Earth? Was there still time? Vaguely he could hear Z'habar Z'habar Estagog adding some extra commentary.

“Have you been able to reconstruct any of the transmissions?” It was definitely the Regent speaking.

“Some,” replied the voices.

“Then show the court,” said the Regent.

Slowly, Johnny opened one eye. Captain Valdour was bound to a floating stretcher nearby, with Alf standing over him anxiously. The collective voices came from four Owlessan Monks, floating beside one of Johnny's giant heads near the
Judge's tank. New images were being projected in the air above the big brain—they had an odd, dreamlike quality to them, but Johnny instantly identified the location as Pluto Base. The little Tolimi were saying farewells to Johnny and Clara, while the dwarf planet's massive moon, Charon, hung against a sky full of brilliant stars.

“I would not have thought it possible,” said the Regent. “This image would have provided enough information for Nymac to wipe out the few remaining Tolimi who escaped him. A grand prize indeed.”

There were murmurs of disgust from the audience.

Turning toward the Monks, it added, “Show the court what else there is.” The images changed to the insides of the
Calida Lucia
, followed by a view of Saturn and then Titan. “Yes,” said the Regent. “I am certain General Nymac would find the layout and capabilities of the Imperial Starcruiser most useful, as well as the locations His Divine Imperial Majesty visits. Treachery against our noble Emperor himself.”

Johnny wanted to shout out that it wasn't true—it wasn't his fault. He'd never spy against Bram—he wouldn't even spy against the Regent.

“Is there more?” the Phasmeer asked the four Monks. Again the images changed—this time they showed the Regent's bunker deep beneath the Senate. The giant alien was ordering ship movements, eager to encircle the Andromedan fleet by moving “the First Fleet to the Keyhole Nebula and the Third behind the great star Carinae itself.”

“Right at the heart of government,” said the Regent. “I welcomed him to our most secret place, and my battle plans were laid bare. How he must have laughed.” The Phasmeer looked up and saw Johnny stirring. Walking across, it asked, “Was it sending Toliman Star Blaze that gave you the idea for this, even more deadly, ambush?”

Johnny could taste the metal of his gag—he tried to speak but no words could pass the barrier.

“Do you know how much energy is released when a hypergiant explodes?”

Johnny simply shook his head, numbed not only by the thought of one of the biggest explosions the galaxy had ever seen, but also by the way his own brother had used him to kill so many people. He'd been the unwitting pawn in Nymac's game of chess with the Empire, sending a constant stream of information through the wristcom all this time. Although he'd known nothing about it, the destruction of those Imperial fleets had been his fault. It was him who'd given their position away to his brother. He tried to summon the strength to free himself from the bonds of the chair, but he had none.

“Attempting to escape, Johnny Mackintosh?” asked the Regent, who stooped and peered into Johnny's eyes.

“After the Terran's last outburst,” said Z'habar Z'habar Estagog overhead, “he was wrapped in a most unusual fabric. Woven into the fibers is a particularly useful mineral—
we call it orichalcum
. In certain configurations it might enhance the strange abilities we witnessed earlier.
But here, asymmetric and heaped chaotically over him, they are deadened
.”

“You cannot free yourself,” the large Phasmeer went on. “You will sit and listen to the verdict. Then you shall be executed for being the dirty little traitor you are.”

“Objection,” said Alf, but the android's voice carried little conviction. “The Regent is leading the jury.”

“Objection overruled,” said the Judge, without hesitation. “The defendant's guilt is clear for all to see. It is time for the verdict.”

Johnny couldn't believe it. He'd not had the chance to speak and Alf hadn't questioned anyone yet. Lights fell on the audience of aliens, all looking forward, eager and alert, and on
Z'habar Z'habar Estagog, who once more was taking center stage.

“It's almost over,” said the double-headed commentator, speaking directly to the rows of aliens on the stone steps. “You've heard the evidence—
and seen the drama
. Secret dealings with the Andromedans—
the mysterious sole survivor of the 187/817 attack
. Sparks have flown—
literally as well as metaphorically
. And you saw, with your own eyes, transmissions sent by the Terran, Johnny Mackintosh, that led to the destruction of over half our ships—and the deaths of their crews. Now you must decide. Are the defendants guilty—
or are they guilty?
” The first head swiveled to look at the second as though it had made a mistake, but then a smile spread across both faces. “The evidence is compelling as you weigh the fate of the accused and his Second. It is time for you,
members of this exclusive Milky Way News Network Vermalcast jury
, to vote.”

Lights flashed everywhere as dramatic music was broadcast into the courtroom. The central focus switched to Johnny's two massive heads, projected either side of the Judge's tank. The one on the black disc was swelling and looked lower down than the one on the white which, in turn, was shrinking as it rose higher into the air. The black disc hit the floor of the courtroom with a loud clang while, at the same time, the head projected above the white disc shrank to nothing and disappeared with a faint plop.