Free Redemption Protocol (Contact) by Mike Freeman Page A

hostility didn’t come naturally to her.
    “Well then more generally, Mr Havoc, what is it that you do?”
    Havoc thought it couldn’t hurt to try again, given it had all been so remarkably collegial to this point.
    “Please call me John.”
    “Mr Havoc suits me fine, thank you.”
    “Is there something you want to say to me, Miss Leveque?”
    Leveque pressed her lips tightly together while she thought about it.
    “Yes, yes there is. First it's Mrs Leveque. And I didn't volunteer for this either. I woke up in this place. I was redirected here while I was still asleep and on my way home.”
    Havoc gestured toward the meeting rooms.
    “Do you want to go somewhere and talk?”
    Leveque balled her hands into fists.
    “No, I don't mind who hears this. I’m the crew psychologist. I have a professional responsibility to treat you. And I will do that. But before that, before we get properly under way, I want to say something.”
    Havoc nodded, Leveque collected herself and Havoc braced himself accordingly.
    “I don't approve of you being here, Mr Havoc. On an Alliance vessel. Of which the Tyurin Republic is a part. You, Mr Havoc, are a terrorist and a mass murderer. I knew people on Jemlevi. You killed them. You can't justify what you did. I can't understand why you're here.”
    Leveque shook her head.
    Havoc didn’t react. He never explained or resisted any more. The more he tried to explain, the more people assumed the worst. Plus, if he was honest, he just didn't care any more.
    Leveque’s eyes flared with anger.
    “How do you justify yourself?”
    He didn’t answer. Leveque had the whole room's attention as she continued, building in volume as she went.
    “I was on my way home to see my kids for the first time in four years and they redirect me here, without even telling me , so I'm not going to see my kids for years now, five years, probably, at least.”
    Leveque’s voice cracked a bit. Hwan reached out and squeezed Leveque's arm. Leveque clasped Hwan's hand in her own as she continued.
    “But that's not enough. I find I've got to share a ship with a mass murderer. Who killed people I knew . And he’s here to do, ‘ I don’t know ’. I don't want you here, Mr Havoc; I don't want your kind of people here.” Leveque waved her arm in the direction of the security personnel, who were sitting up as attentively as meerkats. “They should lock you up, or refreeze you or something. What I don't understand most of all is doing what you did, killing all those poor people, why you didn't give yourself up?”
    Tears spilled from Leveque’s eyes as she glared at him. She dropped Hwan's hand and stood up, jabbing her finger as she shouted at him.
    “Why didn't you? Why didn't you give yourself up and let people have justice? Why?”
    Out of the corner of his eye, Havoc saw the meeting room doors were now open. Michael Abbott, Chief Ambassador to the Alliance, all nine thousand planets of it, stood watching him.
    Leveque shook her head, her bottom lip trembling.
    “Well?”
    Havoc thought Leveque seemed open and warm – the kind of person he would have enjoyed a conversation with, if he could have had that any more. Instead, he could tell she wanted to slap him, though she was too civilized to actually do it. He answered quietly.
    “There isn't a simple answer to that.”
    Leveque got hold of herself.
    “You’re scared of the outcome, that's all. You’re scared of dying yourself.”
    This was so patently ridiculous that he laughed abruptly.
    A spark of anger flared up in Leveque’s eyes. Her fury blazed for a second then extinguished. His eyes were barren and joyless. She could see it. He wasn’t laughing at her. He was laughing at the idea of what she'd said.
    She frowned. They regarded each other.
    “Yes, well, that's all I wanted to say, thank you.”
    Hwan put her arm around Leveque as they walked away.
    Havoc sighed. The diplomatic team was assembled on the raised step that ran across the front of the