Free The Devil's Nebula by Eric Brown Page B

agitator, agent provocateur , champion of the oppressed. In reality, your actions have proved deleterious to the smooth running of the ordered, civilised society which the Expansion judiciary attempts to maintain. The list of your misdemeanours alone, without taking into account those of your accomplices Takiomar and Neffard over the course of the past ten and five years respectively, warrant the severest penalties. The crimes of Takiomar and Neffard, likewise, are such that only the most extreme sentences will serve in order to deter likeminded individuals from replicating your exploits.”
    Gorley turned and inclined his head, ever so slightly, to the man seated at the end of the table.
    This official, who had yet to speak, cleared his throat and said, “Edward Tracey Carew, formerly of the colony world Temeredes, for your crimes against the Expansion, you are hereby sentenced to death.”
    Beside him, Lania gasped. Jed made a whimpering sound, quickly suppressed. Carew felt himself grow hot, but he stared straight ahead into the dark eyes of Commander Gorley, determined not to show the slightest reaction to the death sentence.
    “Lania Tara Takiomar, formerly of the colony world Xaria, for your crimes against the Expansion, you are hereby sentenced to death.”
    A quick, indrawn breath was Lania’s only reaction. Carew wanted to reach out and take her hand, but his innate reserve stopped him.
    “Jedley Neffard, formerly of the Pederson trading station, Perseus Sector, for your crimes against the Expansion, you are hereby sentenced to death.”
    Carew turned to look at Jed, to offer a word of consolation, but the small engineer was staring straight ahead, a heartening expression of defiance on his stolid face. Carew felt pride rise in his chest.
    Commander Gorley was saying, “...sentences to be carried out at noon, station time. Session adjourned.”
    The five men and women rose as one and, without a further word, strode from the platform and passed through the triangular exit.
    The guards released the prisoners and escorted them back to the cell.
     
     
    T HREE TRAYS OF food awaited them on a ledge protruding from the cell’s wall.
    “The condemned’s last meal,” Lania said.
    Jed moved to the corner of the room and curled into a tight ball on the floor, his eyes closed. Lania picked up a tray, then sat down against the wall and stared at the food.
    Carew still retained the odd feeling, somewhere deep within him, that something was not right. He wondered if he were deluding himself – the walking dead man, dreaming of a last-minute reprieve. The entire session in the amphitheatre had about it the feeling of something staged, a theatrical event intended to maximise the terror of the accused.
    So why did he refuse to believe in the death sentences handed down? Was it merely some psychological survival mechanism, a deep-seated optimism that life was assured and death a far-off thing? But what he’d said earlier to Lania and Jed – the fact that they were still together and had been tried in a session like no other to his knowledge. Surely these facts must count for something? Or maybe he was deluding himself.
    He picked up a tray, sat down beside Lania and began eating.
    She pushed a fork through limp salad and looked at him. “For some reason, Ed, I have no appetite.” She smiled wanly.
    He said, “You were in the military, Lania? Went AWOL and stole one of their smartsuits?”
    She shrugged. “It’s a long story,” she said. “Remind me to tell you all about it when we have a little more time.”
    “We have a little time now,” he said.
    She grunted, “How long have we got? I’ve lost all track. It’s strange, being without my ’suit. I feel as if I’ve had a few vital senses removed, senses I relied on without really thinking about them.” She screwed her eyes shut and Ed watched as tears squeezed out and tracked down her brown cheeks. “Not the only senses I’ll be without, soon,” she