09

Martial Law

Davidson and Mira had spent at least a couple of hours in the lunar facility, gathering witness statements, ensuring that the two victims in the incident were comfortable, and questioning the suspects.

Ideally, this would be handled by trained personnel, in specific departments, with specific job roles. However, this was far from ideal.

They were all in the middle of trying to establish order among Earth's survivors, with no formal governing structure in place, and a dearth of trained people to handle these matters.

Since the core group were leaning toward martial law anyway, the most appropriate method of dealing with this situation was to hold an informal court-martial. Davidson was the only qualified and active military officer from Earth, and Mira was the highest ranking command officer among her own people within light years.

After spending the last thirty minutes hastily skimming the UCMJ in the databanks, they had enough to work with. Davidson then made the announcement to the accused, and Mira had hastily replicated some court-appropriate furniture on board Kl'Deesius before having it transported to the base.

Now, Davidson was present in the newly-appointed court-room, with hastily-assembled yet solidly-built segregation zones for criminal suspects, a witness box, the judicial panel bench, and the counselor tables for plaintiff and defendant in dealing with non-criminal disputes. There was no jury bench, since there was no civilian judiciary. Guilt or innocence would be decided by the judges sitting in on the proceedings.

In this case, Davidson, Mira and Mephecia as a representative of the Tau Cetian guard.

The trial began in earnest.

"Court-martial is in session," Davidson, as nominated judge for the hearing, announced to all attendees. "Trial is assembled to hear the case of sexual assault and battery against two women while in the jurisdiction of this base. As this location is subject to United States military forces, these proceedings fall under the Uniform Code of Military Justice. For the record, the relevant statutes are…" and Davidson reeled off the official regulations he had checked earlier. Finally, he closed with "Prosecuting this case is ISS Tau Ceti mission specialist and astronaut, John Malakhi."

Alongside Davidson and Mira, John was present, sitting at the prosecution table. Present in the room was Helen in her capacity as medic, Mephicia in her capacity as guard liaison and primary arresting officer, and Edward, as the unenviable representative of the defendants, since he was the closest they had to anyone capable of formulating an argument.

It was not a job he wanted, but someone had to represent the attackers.

Given the nature of the offences, the victims were not asked to attend the hearing, and Janet was asked to find somewhere else to be. Stephen had offered to try and keep her distracted, and the others had taken him up on it.

At Davidson's nod, John stood from his seat, consulting some written notes he had stored on his provided data slate, and began to speak.

"This case is straightforward. Today, the third day of Earth exodus, three assailants, all defendants in this case, physically assaulted and attempted to imprison two people." He began to pace around the prosecution desk as he made his case. "The evidence I will be presenting is from witness statements and a security report. This will report that the three defendants accosted the two victims, prevented them from leaving, caused physical injury to them, and attempted to force through physical coercion, sexual acts upon the victims. We will be asking for the court to find against the defendants for kidnap, physical assault and battery, and attempted rape."

John quickly stepped back to his seat at the prosecution's desk. Edward stood at the gesture from Davidson, who could see that Edward clearly did not wish to represent these defendants in any capacity.

He felt a certain degree of sympathy for the man, but hoped he would see his way past it. Earlier, he had explained to Edward the importance of making sure that the accused had someone to represent them in this setting, to avoid accusations of corruption, trial fixing or of running a show trial, to avoid rioting by people who knew no better, and to ensure that the defendants did not have the ability to declare a false trial finding and to waste more time going through this all again in the future. For his own part, Davidson wanted to make sure that the three assailants had no way to maneuver their way into a release due to technicalities, and while there was not the robust court system that used to exist before the wars that ravaged Earth, there had to be something that people could rely upon. These reasons were why he chose the court-martial system to begin with, alongside the fact that while no civilian records or texts were available for rebuilding a civilian court system, a copy of military regulations was provided in the ISS Tau Ceti's banks for the Mission Commander to use when needed. Davidson was hoping these reasons would keep Edward doing his thankless job in this instance.

He would find a workaround while they journeyed to Tau Ceti in the next two weeks.

"Your Honors, prosecutor, witnesses," Edward began in carefully enunciated tones, using them to moderate his feelings about having to defend people he clearly believed were guilty. "The defense to this case will be to demonstrate that there is no clear evidence of the accused's intentions toward the assault victims that the prosecution represents. Through questioning, it is intended by the defense, to prove that prosecution's case is at best, circumstantial and coincidental. Thank you."

With that, he sat back down. Davidson had to be satisfied with Edward's choice of words, as he had almost no time to prepare a case given how quickly Davidson himself had called this court-martial. He stood. "Prosecution will call its' first witness."

Stephen was still in his infirmary bed, waiting impatiently for his fractures to knit enough that he wouldn't need to be confined to this damned bed for so many hours each day. It didn't matter to him that it had only been three days since Jason assaulted him, causing these injuries. All that mattered was that he was stuck, unable to go anywhere without assistance.

Janet was present, pacing like a caged tiger. Helen had quickly explained the situation to Stephen earlier, giving him no details, but making it clear that Janet needed to be distracted while the court-martial was in session.

"What are you doing?" She asked him irritably. "You've been sitting there, looking at me every minute, since I got here."

Stephen was non-plussed. He received a very brief set of instructions from Helen just before the court-martial commenced. Her instructions essentially could be summed up as sit down, make no moves that could be construed as threatening, and keep your mouth closed unless asked a question that you could give a nice, safe, non-traumatising answer to.

"I…" was all he could get out.

"Well?" She snapped. "Every fuckin' one of you has been trying to keep out of my way since those two girls were attacked earlier, no-one will even look me straight in the eye, everyone is acting like I'll either fall to pieces at any moment or start stabbing everyone else with a knife, even you're doing it!"

How could Stephen possibly respond to this? Janet was clearly dumping adrenaline and cortisol because of her frighteningly obvious PTSD, and she was calling him out for wanting to avoid making things worse. "I don't know what to say…"

"Stephen, fuck this bullshit!" She barked, waving her arms and gesturing in frustration, yet her tone held a plea. "Don't do… Whatever it is you're doing! I'm trying to hold it together out there and I'm failing! I've gotta keep a lid on these crazy feelings out there while this whole… Transition thing is happening," she stopped pacing and approached him, her tone rising. "There are few I can really let myself go around. So few I feel truly safe around, Stephen. Don't keep me at arms' length and don't try to change the subject about painful things, I'm begging you-"

Impulsively, Stephen stepped right up to her, took her in his arms, and pulled her close. Before he could let her go or regret being so impulsive, she wrapped her own arms around him and squeezed as if her life depended on it.

"When you're ready to talk about it, I'll listen," Stephen said quietly.

"Now," Janet told him, her tone calmer, though she still breathed rapidly, and her heart beat fast and hard against his chest. "We have time, what those girls have gone through is making me re-live my own experience, and I need to talk it out with someone I trust. Please don't send me away-"

"Whoa," Stephen interrupted her. "I'm not going to send you away... Whatever you mean by that-"

"I mean don't make me leave you alone!" She was close to tears at this point, and it seemed as though she might lose her grip if Stephen wasn't careful. "I can't-"

"Stay," Stephen told her. It sounded like a command, but some deep instinct told him she wanted him to take a firm hand in this. "Give yourself a minute, but understand this." Stephen moved his head so that she had no choice but to look directly at him. "I will never send you away from me for this," he paused, letting that sink in. "Never."

That was what she needed, he could tell. She wrapped him in a fierce hug, and let out a shaky breath. Even though he was still in pain from his injuries, he gently but firmly manoeuvred her so that she was sitting on his infirmary cot, and sat down next to her, putting an arm over her shoulder as they both stared at the wall directly ahead. After a moment, he turned to look at her. "I'll be here when you need me," he said. "I'll always be here."

She turned to look at him, her eyes blazing in intensity. "Every time I'm reminded of what happened with that pig who... Did what he did, I feel like I wanna throw up, run as far away as I can, or kill someone. Here-" she quickly grabbed Stephen's hand before he knew what was happening, placing it inside her shirt, right where her heart was. "Feel that?"

Stephen did feel that. Mindful not to cause a misunderstanding about his promise not to abandon her, he made no move to withdraw his hand despite the first instinct being to pull back immediately, instead leaving it where he could feel her heart racing through her ribcage. Stephen knew she was malnourished, like everyone from the surface of Earth, but this was the first time he could feel it. Her skin was dry and felt like it had little elasticity despite how young she was. He could feel her ribs clearly through her chest despite not applying any amount of pressure to her ribcage. Without meaning to, he brushed the right edge of his right palm against a bump-

Janet shivered, her face registering surprise. Stephen immediately pulled his arm out. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

"What?" She asked, shocked. "You brushed me a little. What's wrong with that?!"

Stephen was rendered speechless for a second. "Well... I grazed your..."

Janet shrugged. "So?"

"Well... In my time, that wasn't normally allowed unless a woman specifically says it's OK, and given what has happened in your past, I didn't want you to think-"

"Stop," Janet interrupted him, gripping his face. "Only one other person ever came close to being so considerate... And even he never outright asked me!"

Stephen was aghast. "Janet, that's not OK. Someone touching you without you telling them it's OK is-"

"Wait, please!" Janet stopped him. "Really, I get it. Listen to me," she drew his face closer to hers. "Simon never asked me directly if it was OK for him to touch me when he did... But we had an unspoken agreement. If I ever pushed back at him, he knew to stop, and he was so far the only one who ever did that," she paused, impulsively kissing his lips. "Except you."

Stephen shook his head. "You'll always be safe with me," he told her.

"I know," she replied.

"And you'll always be safe with everyone from my ship, as well as-"

"Stephen," Janet interrupted him firmly but gently. "I know." With gentle insistence, she took his hand again, putting it back against her chest. "Feel that?"

Stephen did feel it. Her heart rate was far calmer now. "That's good," he told her. "What do you want to do now?"

Several minutes later, despite Stephen's protestations that they didn't need to go through painful reminders, at Janet's insistence, he ended up listening to her story.

When she was younger, while someone else was running the fallout shelter in Phoenix, Arizona, Janet had been kidnapped by a brute of a male. He was not the biggest, he was not the strongest, but he was very sneaky, highly intimidating, and for someone so young at the time, a dangerous threat and not someone she could have stopped initially. Over the course of three days, he took her to an abandoned area of the shelter, in a quiet room past a collapsed ceiling, and behind several curtains that deadened any sound that might otherwise escape. Multiple times, he would roughly assault her in several ways, from beating her if he didn't like what she said, or how she gazed at him or around the area, to sexual assault. Sometimes he would force himself on her violently, leaving her in no control whatsoever. Sometimes he would get under her skin with claims that what she let him do was disgusting, and the "fact" that she "gotten off on it" was vile and made her less than human.

Hearing that particular part of the story made Stephen furious. He wanted to find the guy, rip his throat out, and then tear his head off and stick it on a pike as a warning to everyone else. He said nothing, however.

Janet told him how she had been made to feel worthless, that no-one would ever believe anything she ever told them about what he was doing to her, and that if she didn't do exactly what she was told by him at all times, she would find herself dead within minutes. Stephen had to use sheer force of will to prevent his stomach from voiding all over the floor, he was so disgusted by what she was telling him, and to see her force this story out was like a vice around his heart. As she continued to tell her story, she began to shake violently, eyes leaking profusely, though she made a determined effort to keep her voice steady.

She told him how, after the three days, he had left her alone to go out scavenging with the rest of the shelter population, as he had done on the other two days. That third day, he had forgotten to tie her up against a part of the structure, so she was free to wander around the room. She picked up a sliver of glass, and used it to cut her bonds around her wrists, cutting her legs free, before making an effort to untie the rest of the ropes that had bound her. It was painful, because using broken glass was never going to leave her without injuries of her own.

Stephen gently reached out to take one of her hands, realizing that he had never noticed any scarring on her hands before. Reflexively, she yanked them out of reach, her face a mask of hurt and fear. Without a word, Stephen held his hand out to her, far enough that she did not feel he was encroaching on her space, but clearly gesturing for her to give him her hand to look at. After a moment, she did. He gently thumbed over the scar patterns on her palm, as well as gash scars on several fingers and across the area where her tendons would be that connected her thumb to her forefinger. The worst of it was in the center of her palm, where it appeared as though a sharp object had gouged deep into her skin. He looked back up at her face, noticing once again the pattern of scars across her face down one side of her cheek. Clearly, Janet had been through many violent situations and received injuries as a result. How many of these were not combat-related? How many were because some disgusting pig had no respect for her as a person and instead used her as a receptacle for their sordid activities?

Janet continued her story, forcing Stephen to pay attention again.

It was at this point the assailant had returned, and upon seeing Janet freed from her prison, he tried to grab her, threatening to kill her for trying to escape. In fear of her life, and with apparently nothing left to lose, she plunged the glass sliver into the guy's neck, pushing it deep, even though in doing so, she badly lacerated her hands further. There was no doubt more to tell about this event, but Stephen was not going to hear it today, even if Janet could force herself to continue.

As slowly and gently as he could, he pulled her down toward the infirmary cot, as she curled up into a ball and sobbed her pain out into the room. Without a word, he took a blanket and covered her with it, and turned to grab one of the seats.

"Don't go!" She blurted out. "You promised!"

Stephen turned back around, just as she seemed about to throw off the blanket. "I'm not going anywhere, but I really need to sit down. My ribs still hurt."

"No," she said weakly. "Don't. You still need to heal." With that, she uncurled slightly, and moved herself to one side of the cot. "Lie back," she said, sniffling involuntarily.

Stephen did as he was told. While the pain in his ribs was still enough to force a gasp from him at times, he managed to lie back on the cot. "I know this might be a little much to ask," he began. "But do you think you can get any rest while we're here?"

She could not speak, instead, burying her head into the pillow next to him, her hand reflexively grabbing and releasing his arm for several minutes.

"Order!" Davidson yelled to the room at large as two of the assailants continued to call out and accuse their victims of lying. This was a losing tactic, and reeked of playground bullying, which Davidson supposed was to be expected given the circumstances. "SHUT UP!"

That was enough to startle both attackers into silence long enough that Davidson could be heard. "You," he pointed at one of them. "You," he pointed at the other. "Not another word out of your mouths, or I'll have you both shot here and now."

Mira turned to the two victims in this case. "Thank you both for your testimony today. Please join the woman to your left and she will take you to a safe room until I can speak with you again." She nodded to the female Tau Cetian guard that Mephecia had recommended for this role, and she took both of them out of the room. "Prosecution, do you have any further witnessed to call?"

"Not at this time, Commander," John replied punctiliously.

"Defense counsel, do you have any witnesses to call at this time?"

"No. Err... Madam," Edward stammered.

Mira gave him what Davidson interpreted as a reassuring smile. Edward relaxed a little. "Everyone please remain seated. The evidence is straightforward enough that we can make a decision here."

This was an unusual precedent in the circumstances, and was almost unheard of in any military tribunal Davidson had ever heard of. Given the nature of the crimes, as well as the circumstances of their impending departure from the Sol system, the process needed to be expedited. Davidson and Mira looked at one another. She nodded once to affirm she was prepared to vote guilty on all counts. Davidson was in agreement. He looked to Mephicia, who was already aware of proceedings, having had a translator parse the hearing for her via her communicator.

She nodded as well.

Davidson stood, addressing all three assailants. "All three of you, guilty on all counts. Sentencing will be revealed in two weeks. Take them to a secure room and hold them there until our escort arrives. These proceedings are dismissed."

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the assailants all cried foul, accusing the court and the three judges of holding kangaroo court. This was disturbing to Davidson, for one very simple reason.

None of them were likely to have any idea what the hell that meant. Someone had obviously been speaking to them and revealing information about their past that was not common knowledge, perhaps in an effort to destabilise the situation further. They would need to talk about getting a proper surveillance apparatus in place soon, especially now that there appeared to be a subversive element playing them for fools.

"We need to talk," Davidson told both Mephecia and Mira.