The chief justice glanced at the other judges, who sat attentive and impassive, then he leafed through his notes before looking back at Stolz. "As you know, Counselor, the legal term is `full rights of residency,' not citizenship. And your client had applied for and been granted full rights of Terran residency, with the accountability that accompanies it."
Hafiz cocked an eyebrow at Stolz; she knew her plea had no grounds. She was preparing to play to the public, and within minutes of leaving would be speaking to the cameras. In his view it degraded the law, but within broad limits it was her right. If her client agreed, and if he understood what he'd agreed to. Hafiz was tempted to query the accused, but held his peace. He'd do nothing that could be used as a basis for appeal.
Instead he continued to address Stolz. "Furthermore, at the moment of his injury and death, the victim was an employee of the Commonwealth government engaged in his governmental duties. The person who actually shot the victim was also an employee of the Commonwealth government, who at the time of the shooting was engaged in his governmental duties. Thus per Article 12, Section 3, of the Commonwealth Criminal Code, the crime unquestionably comes under Commonwealth jurisdiction. The murderer, a soldier, pleaded guilty as charged, before a court martial. His plea was accepted, and he has begun his sentence. Thus it is now appropriate for this court to try your client for the crime of contributing to murder."
Stolz stood for a long moment as if disappointed-as if the court's decision was unexpected. Then she spoke again. "In that case, Your Honor, I must request a jury trial for my client."
The judges had expected that, too. Jury trials were infrequent on Terra-three-judge panels were the norm-but in certain classes of crimes they could be granted. The chief justice turned to the prosecutor. "What say you to that, Mr. Prosecutor?"
Hafiz knew the answer to that as well. The Office of the President had sent down a policy that, if requested, jury trials would be granted members of the Front for alleged Crimes of the First Category. Basically Hafiz disliked the policy. As a rule, juries came to the same conclusions as a panel of judges would have, while requiring much more time, expense, and turmoil. But he appreciated the government's situation.
The prosecutor grimaced slightly; such a trial would turn into a Peace Front circus. "If the defense wants it so," he grumped, "we will not object."
"Very well, Counselor," Hafiz said. "Your client shall have a jury trial." She had, he knew, a reputation for being very good in jury trials.
She bobbed an almost bow in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Your Honor. Meanwhile, my client will not come to trial for a week or more. Therefore I respectfully request his release on bond."
The prosecutor's exhalation was more hiss than sigh. Obviously she intended to fight over every proposed juror, eating up all the time possible, and providing a magnet for public attention. A Peace Front circus indeed.
The chief justice smiled slightly. "Counselor, your request is denied."
"On what grounds, Your Honor?"
"On the grounds that whatever the outcome of his trial for contributing to the crime of murder, he will still face charges of inciting to mutiny."
Stolz frowned. "Your Honor, I do not see what that has to do with my request. My client has complied with every order, responded to every request, without resistance." She appeared to grope for words, settling for "He is not a violent man. He decries violence, by persons as well as by governments."
"The trial should cast light on that," Hafiz answered wryly. "It is, of course, possible to contribute to the crime of murder without intending that it go that far. We'll see. Meanwhile, your client stands before this court accused of two Crimes of the First Category. In such cases, the court has full discretion with regard to bail. Mr. Switzer has much reason to fear the outcomes of his trials, and there is an entire social class who would willingly undertake to conceal him or help him flee."
Stolz's features had stiffened. "What social class, if you please, Your Honor?"
"Let me answer it this way, Counselor. Who is paying your fees?"
She answered indignantly. "The Peace Front, Your Honor. The party which more than any other decries this war and all violence."
"Exactly." She plays her role well, he thought, for someone who belongs to the Center Party instead of the Front. He'd respect her more, he told himself, if her first allegiance was to the accused. But there was little she could do for him at any rate, and if the Front wanted to use Switzer for propaganda… He hoped, though, that Switzer really understood what was going on.
She wasn't done yet. "Your Honor, I have one more request. A number of journalists have asked to interview my client." She took a small flat case from her pocket and held it out to him. "I told them to put their requests in writing, and that they might have to agree on one or two doing the interviews for all."
The chief justice declined to receive the data chips; they were irrelevant. She took you by surprise on that one, Gil, he told himself. You're slowing down. "Denied again, Counselor," he replied. "If the court granted such privileges to accused felons, activists would commit crimes simply for the pulpit they provided."
"Your Honor," Stolz said unhappily, "except for the jury trial, you have denied every request I've made for my client."
"True. In fact, it seems to me you made those requests anticipating their denial. And I have no doubt you'll make good use of them after you leave this chamber."
He was right, of course. She spent half an hour standing before cameras in the plaza outside, speaking carefully, but airing all her complaints. The court would provide the media with recordings and transcripts of the proceedings, but meanwhile, she'd put her own spin on them.
Chapter 44
Battle Master
The CWS Altai, flagship of the 1st Sol Provisional Battle Force, was in hyperspace just seven days short of the Paraiso System. Its admiral, Alvaro Soong, lay propped on a pillow in his stateroom, hands cupped behind his head, reviewing. He was not a notable worrier. His usual style was to treat things matter-of-factly. But he'd made a decision-made and implemented it-that could wipe out whatever chance humanity had for survival. At least civilized survival.
His rationale was that the chance being risked was thin. And if his decision worked out, it could substantially improve.
If it worked out. He'd approached it on a gradient: "Just how good are you at battle games, Charley? Let me write a set of opening circumstances, and see what you can do with it."
Both men-the one who occupied 210 pounds of primate body, and the one who weighed only 58 pounds, most of it a "bottle" of metal and synthetics-both knew what lay in the back of the admiral's mind. Are you good enough to direct a real battle with real warships? Are you really? Because the odds are heavily against us. I may be better at directing a space battle than any other officer in this battle force. At the Academy, my cumulative battle game score set a record. But if you can beat me decisively enough…
Basically he was praying for a true genius in war gaming. And Charley had passed the test with ease, even flair. And a second, and a third…
Soong himself was the default choice, but after extensive testing, he'd chosen Charley. For a while the choice had been reversible. Now it wasn't. Not if they were to engage the armada in the Paraiso System. They'd programmed too many changes into the Altai's battlecomp, trying to take maximum advantage of Charley's talents.