Chapter 11
"Next! State your name."
Two guards pushed Staff a out into the courtroom. He braced his legs, glaring up defiantly at the court officers. Before him, a Judicial Magistrate and several clerks sat behind a tall hardwood podium. Galleries full of curious
people lined the upper walls. Above the galleries, a groined ceiling rose. Light pods and security monitors nestled in the high niches. The whole place had been painted a pale green and an odor of unwashed bodies filled the air. He felt ludicrous wrapped in the towel they had given him.
"Staffa kar Therma, Lord Commander of Companions," his stentorian tones rolled out over the room. A tittering of voices broke the sudden silence. The endless nightmares had given way to this, a differen kind of hell — but one with hope. It would be only a matter of time now.
"Oh, yes," the Judicial Magistrate nodded, staring down at his monitor, "the madman." He looked up, a bored expression on his face. "You are charged with the deaths of two citizens. You are charged with assault on a public official. You are charged with vagrancy — being present in Etarus with no visible means of support other then preying upon the Emperor's citizens. I ask, have you an address, or proof of occupation?"
"Five years ago, I could have burned this planet to slag. I should have done so," Staffa growled. "I would suggest in the meantime Magistrate, that you contact Wing Commander Skyla Lyma in the Itreatic Asteroids to verify—"
"Enough!" the Magistrate thundered, his gavel slapping the room to silence. He worked his lips as he entered a notation into the comm. "I suppose you have an explana-
tion as to why you murdered two citizens and why you were naked in a public place?"
"They bbed me. I killed two before I lost consciou ness." Anger raged in a vortex under his throat; the inferno threatened to engulf him. His arms trembled as he waited before the elevated sandwood bench. He took time to glare his hatred at the hooting crowds in the galleries. They made a spectacle of him, Staffa kar Therma He imagined burning them all where they sat — vengeance against the ghosts that had begun to haunt his dreams.
"Yes, so you say," the Magistrate ventured cynically. "But Civil Security only received reports that a madman was running naked and killing people. Who is your master?"
"/ have no master!" Staffa roared. A violent stab of pain scorched his spine and left him bent and contorted, his mind numb as he struggled to keep from falling. He groaned as a bailiff stepped back, the stun rod hanging easily from his hand.
The Magistrate pointed a long white finger and added calmly, "This is a court of law. I will brook no further outrageous statements, madman. You are a slave. Your body is covered with scars. I suppose you would have us believe those are your battle wounds?"
Laughter and jeers rolled down from the galleries.
Staffa pulled himself up to his full height and threw his head back, loose black hair in an unruly tangle. "Among my people, scars are a symbol of honor — of pride in service to the Companions."
More screeches of amusement from above. Humiliation twined with anger; Staffa ground his teeth and his breathing went short.
"And the Companions murder innocent citizens, I suppose?" The Magistrate scratched his head and sighed. "Yes, I know the reputation the Star Butcher has, madman. That he commits atrocities in the name of the Empire is not the concern of this court, however. From your appearance, it is obvious that you are an escaped slave. During your medical treatment for concussion, you broke a physician's arm and incapacitated two interns. That, madman, is assault of a public official. Since then, you have demonstrated uncontrollable rages and delusions, all of which make you — in
the eyes of this court — a hazard to the Emperor's citizens. Further, you have admitted to the murder of two of those citizens. Have you a statement?"
Staffa's anger surged as he knotted his fists, the muscles popping on his shoulders and arms. "You will pay, all of you."
The judge continued, voice somnolent, "Be it known, therefore, Staffa kar Therma, that this court finds you guilty on all counts. Further, it is the option of the court to sentence you to death or slavery."
Staffa stiffened, fear running white where anger had previously dominated. He began to tremble as he sensed the bailiffs stepping forward, stun rods ready.
The Magistrate laced his fingers together and leaned forward. "Something tells me I should just execute you. However, you have absorbed a great deal of the court's time and the Emperor's resources. We kept you in stasis until your health improved. Perhaps a poor investment. I think it only fair that the people get something in return. I therefore sentence you to a lifetime of labor for the state. You will be remanded into the custody of the Warden of City Projects and fitted with a stasis collar. Are you familiar with a stasis collar?"
Staffa's lip jerked as he nodded, eyes slitted.
"You will repeat for the record of the court that you know what a stasis collar is and how it works."
Rotted Gods, he knew how the system worked. The damned stasis collars were manufactured by his own labs in the Itreatic Asteroids
He forced himself to say: "The stasis collar works on the principle of damping neural and physical activity at the molecular level. In effect, it stops nerve impulses and blood flow in a man's neck while the collar field is activated. Too long a stasis leads to nerve damage, suffocation, or potential embolism, heart failure and brain deterioration through oxygen starvation. The field generation comes through a directional gravitational—"
"Let the record show the defendant understands the stasis collar." The Magistrate made an entry into the record and called, "Next!"
Staffa bellowed, "Is there no justice here? You will not even check to see if I am who I say I am? What sort of—"
He screamed as two stun rods brought him to his knees and left his muscles contorting in agony, his brain seared with pain.
The Magistrate looked down, mildly annoyed. "Let me give you one last thought, madman. I was present in the temple five years ago when your namesake, the Lord Commander, conquered this world for the Emperor. I will recall until the day I die the words he uttered to the Etarian High Priests. He said, 'Don't come to me calling for justice. Your claims of fairness and humanity mean nothing, nor do I care for your precious conventions or beliefs. Your very existence teeters at my whim. Anger me not Priest, and speak not of right, or justice, or grievances. If you have complaints, take them to the Emperor! "
The beard! If he saw me, he knows what I look like. Is the beard! He raised trembling fingers to the thick growth on his cheeks and found it matted with filth.
The Magistrate shook his head at Staffa's obvious shock then he waved. "Bailiffs, take him out and deliver him to the Warden. Next!
What followed became a nightmare of pain and rage as he made attempt after attempt to reach the bailiffs. Each time they stunned him into shivering meat until he finally walked where they wished him to, staggering with exhaustion. His teetering mind turned one threat over another as he swore his vengeance on this planet of human putrefaction.
Spears of pain shot through him again as they shocked him half-unconscious. His body bounced hollowly off the filthy floor and his head smacked loudly on the concrete. Lights shot through his vision. He could not physically resist as the cold alloy of the collar fastened around his neck.
"Get up." The order barely penetrated his abused mind.
"I said, get up! A foot smashed his kidney.
Fury — rather than compliance — brought him weaving to his feet. His lungs burned as they heaved. The two bailiffs stood back, out of his reach, stun rods ready. As if they needed them. He realized with a shock that his legs were totally absorbed with the effort to simply hold him up. They could have pushed him over with one hand.