Read Online The Trials (The Red Trilogy Book 2) by Linda Nagata - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Linda Nagata
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reaches the last line and turns to the court. “Sixteen hours after fleeing Alaska, the C- 17 arrived in contested territory on the African continent, setting down at an airport in the city of Niamey, where Thelma Sheridan was transferred into the custody of a provisional government headed by Ahab Matugo—and there she remains.”
Captain Bowen really isn’t much of a storyteller. She’s left out all the exciting parts about our flight to Niamey. I scribble a note— What about the fighters? —and pass it to Ogawa. He looks at me like I’m a slow child who’s trying his patience.
“Defense,” the judge says, “I believe you have a response?”
Ogawa stands. “Yes, ma’am.” He signals the bailiff, and a new chart appears on the screen. This one details the incidents that occurred during our flight. “At twelve fourteen UTC—Coordinated Universal Time—two fighter jets approached the C- 17 . These planes then accompanied the C- 17 for many hours. We will be presenting evidence that these fighters belonged to the United States Air Force. Six and a half hours after they first approached, the pilot of one of the fighters ordered the C- 17 to land. When this order was ignored, the fighters began a campaign of intimidation and harassment, endangering the lives of all those aboard the C- 17 , including the three civilians. The aggressive actions of the fighters culminated at two minutes after midnight, UTC, on November twentieth, when one of the planes fired a missile in what we will show to be an attempt to shoot down the unarmed C- 17 along with the defendants and the civilian passengers. When this attempt failed, the air force fighters withdrew and the C- 17 continued to Niamey without further incident.”
I wait for him to say more, to ask the questions that are critical to our defense: Under whose command were the fighters operating? And who issued the order to shoot us down? But he’s done. He returns to his seat, and the judge calls for a half-hour recess.
• • • •
The mood as we wait in the conference room is glum. “We look guilty as hell,” Tuttle grumbles. “Shit, I’d convict us.”
“We are guilty,” Harvey snaps. “If all you’re looking at is what we did, well, we fucking did it. But that’s not what it’s about. It’s about why we had to do it.”
I add, “And we get a chance to talk about that when the prosecution is done boring us with the facts everyone already knows. So when you go back in there, Tuttle, don’t look like you’re scared and don’t look like you’re worried. If we want to pull this off, we’ve got to believe in what we’re doing.”
If Matt Ransom were still alive, this little speech would have earned me an enthusiastic Hoo-yah! But the only response I get is a sort-of apology from Tuttle. “You don’t have to worry about me, sir. I’ll do my part.”
• • • •
Back in the courtroom, lead trial counsel Fong takes over. “Your Honor,” she says, facing the judge, “I would like to enter into evidence a video deposition obtained from a witness in this case whose current circumstances do not allow her to be present.”
So our first witness is Thelma Sheridan.
I knew about the deposition, though I haven’t seen it yet. I lean over, intending to whisper to Major Ogawa, but he’s already on his feet, speaking my concerns. “Your Honor, the government has stated this deposition was recorded sevendays ago. I ask that the government read into the court record Thelma Sheridan’s current status and condition.”
Monteiro does not look like she approves of this at all. But if Sheridan is dead, it’s better if the court members hear about it now, instead of at the end of our defense. “All right,” Monteiro says. She turns to Fong. “Major, are you able to satisfy this request by the defense?”
Fong says, “I’d like to request a short recess before I respond.”
“How long will you
Captain Bowen really isn’t much of a storyteller. She’s left out all the exciting parts about our flight to Niamey. I scribble a note— What about the fighters? —and pass it to Ogawa. He looks at me like I’m a slow child who’s trying his patience.
“Defense,” the judge says, “I believe you have a response?”
Ogawa stands. “Yes, ma’am.” He signals the bailiff, and a new chart appears on the screen. This one details the incidents that occurred during our flight. “At twelve fourteen UTC—Coordinated Universal Time—two fighter jets approached the C- 17 . These planes then accompanied the C- 17 for many hours. We will be presenting evidence that these fighters belonged to the United States Air Force. Six and a half hours after they first approached, the pilot of one of the fighters ordered the C- 17 to land. When this order was ignored, the fighters began a campaign of intimidation and harassment, endangering the lives of all those aboard the C- 17 , including the three civilians. The aggressive actions of the fighters culminated at two minutes after midnight, UTC, on November twentieth, when one of the planes fired a missile in what we will show to be an attempt to shoot down the unarmed C- 17 along with the defendants and the civilian passengers. When this attempt failed, the air force fighters withdrew and the C- 17 continued to Niamey without further incident.”
I wait for him to say more, to ask the questions that are critical to our defense: Under whose command were the fighters operating? And who issued the order to shoot us down? But he’s done. He returns to his seat, and the judge calls for a half-hour recess.
• • • •
The mood as we wait in the conference room is glum. “We look guilty as hell,” Tuttle grumbles. “Shit, I’d convict us.”
“We are guilty,” Harvey snaps. “If all you’re looking at is what we did, well, we fucking did it. But that’s not what it’s about. It’s about why we had to do it.”
I add, “And we get a chance to talk about that when the prosecution is done boring us with the facts everyone already knows. So when you go back in there, Tuttle, don’t look like you’re scared and don’t look like you’re worried. If we want to pull this off, we’ve got to believe in what we’re doing.”
If Matt Ransom were still alive, this little speech would have earned me an enthusiastic Hoo-yah! But the only response I get is a sort-of apology from Tuttle. “You don’t have to worry about me, sir. I’ll do my part.”
• • • •
Back in the courtroom, lead trial counsel Fong takes over. “Your Honor,” she says, facing the judge, “I would like to enter into evidence a video deposition obtained from a witness in this case whose current circumstances do not allow her to be present.”
So our first witness is Thelma Sheridan.
I knew about the deposition, though I haven’t seen it yet. I lean over, intending to whisper to Major Ogawa, but he’s already on his feet, speaking my concerns. “Your Honor, the government has stated this deposition was recorded sevendays ago. I ask that the government read into the court record Thelma Sheridan’s current status and condition.”
Monteiro does not look like she approves of this at all. But if Sheridan is dead, it’s better if the court members hear about it now, instead of at the end of our defense. “All right,” Monteiro says. She turns to Fong. “Major, are you able to satisfy this request by the defense?”
Fong says, “I’d like to request a short recess before I respond.”
“How long will you
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