Strega's Landing

June 2 - Strega's Landing

I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country. - Nathan Hale

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Strega's Landing was a small riverside settlement on Constance, a watery planet orbiting the star Kalidasa.

A collection of wooden buildings and Quonset huts, the site was dominated by the wreck of the Strega, a Firefly class ship, from which the settlement had gotten its name.

There was a hotel, a bar, a mechanic's shop, all catering to the locals and to the river traffic. Sometimes a riverboat would dock here lending the place grace and beauty, before moving on and allowing the settlement to sink back into the soggy mud.

The bar itself was an open affair, more of a porch in front of the small hotel. A tin roof to shelter patrons from the rain. The two sides formed by the walls of the adjacent buildings. A neon sign buzzed overhead.

Recently, on Bihar, Tillery had mentioned that Sentry Swashbuckler was going by the name of Nathan Hale. That information made him easy to find.

Sentry sat drinking a shot of tequila. I could hear him cursing the rain.

Before he could speak, I began.

"Nathan Hale?" I asked, "Mr. Hale... I don't believe we have met. My name is Major Siamendes. I'm with SIU."

I removed my cap, keeping my face calm.

I was actually impressed with his disguise. Subtle alterations to appearance. Not theatrical at all. Just enough to deflect attention, but not so much as to draw interest.

He smiled. He touched his throat in a natural manner. "Well, hello," he said, "Good to meet you, Major."

A different voice. Some sort of voice alteration device.

"May I join you?" I asked.

He indicated a chair, "Please do. Tequila? Or would you happen to be on duty?"

"No thank you," I answered politely, "I am on duty."

I settled onto the stool at the end of the bar. I had a clear view down the street. The door to the hotel to my left. A wall of a corrugated steel hut behind me.

"I am glad to finally meet with you," I began, "I believe you are representing a number of clients that are of concern. If you don't mind perhaps we can take the opportunity to review these cases."

"Of course," he smiled, "Well, I do what I can. Which clients should we be talking about?" He seemed a bit nervous.

"Unless you wanted to go somewhere drier?" I offered.

He looked around the dingy bar, "Completely up to you... there's something to be said about the rhythm of the rain, you know? Cleaning the atmosphere, as it is."

I looked around wistfully. "The last time I was here there was a lovely riverboat. It is a shame but it appears to have moved on...."

"Really," he remarked, "this is my first trip. Welcome change from Al Raqis... so dry there, and water is so scarce. Here, as there, people live because of the water, literally."

I watched the rain as it played upon the surface of the muddy river.

"Just in varying ways," he continued, "but still the same."

"I believe you are representing Svetlana Pleides," I began.

He nodded, "As of my last conversation with her, yes. However, I believe Mr Woodhen intends to replace me in that position."

I hesitated a moment. "...and Sentry Swashbuckler," I added.

He tighten his lips a bit. "Mr. Swashbuckler... I am familiar with the story, but do not represent anyone by that name."

He took another shot of tequila.

I reached into my coat and pulled out my notepad. I set it on the bar.

"That is unfortunate," I said, "Perhaps, being a lawyer... you could find his lawyer and relay a message."

I told him the news.

"There is a Stay of Execution of Judgment order being issued for Sentry and Mikie Rhiadra. The Aberdeen bombing investigation has been reopened."

His eyes widen. "Is there? Interesting that there is a Stay for someone that was officially dead... or did that declaration never happen?"

"They were never declared officially dead," I explained, "Up to now if apprehended the original sentencing would have been carried out."

I continued, "For this conviction to be overturned we need to prove one of two things: one, that it was a matter of judicial impropriety, or two, overwhelming evidence of innocence. We can prove neither of these things at the moment although there has been enough to merit staying the judgment so these two people can be free to make their statements. It is the first step."

"Their first steps..." he watched me carefully, listening intently.

"Yes, to having their convictions overturned and if exonerated they can, of course, pursue civil actions against the state for damages. It is their right under the law."

"Of course," he nodded. "Let me ask something, Major."

"Yes please."

"You have mentioned two possibilities: either the judge or trial was flawed, or there is evidence to prove innocence. This is what you have just said, correct?"

"There are other ways," I answered, "those are the main ones."

"Is the judicial system not still based upon the presumption of innocence... that there needs to be overwhelming evidence of guilt, not evidence of innocence per se?" He looked at me hard, as if to make sure I understood the challenge here.

"Not once a conviction has been made," I admitted, "which makes it difficult for the wrongly convicted. It is a flawed system, with room for reform."

But it was the system we had.

He listened, picking up the tequila bottle, looking at it for a long moment, and recapping it. "So, this Stay... means they can come forward and talk to the authorities, and not expect to be bound by law immediately?"

"Yes," I said, "they may wish to use the services of legal council of course and due to the nature of the original crime there are those who will assume they are guilty regardless."

The fact was they had to come forward now. The appeal process depended upon it.

"And what is to keep the corruption from becoming a problem in this case again," he asked, "assuming, of course, that there was something wrong in the last attempt at justice?"

"The judge in their case has disappeared while being under investigation himself."

He blinked in surprise. "Oh really? A judge doesn't just disappear."

"Indeed," I acknowledged.

The rain pounded on the tin roof.

I continued. "Can you also tell Sentry, if he hasn't already, to contact his Aunt Linnea?"

He looked worried, then tried to cover his expression. "Is there an issue?"

I explained, "When I last spoke with her, she believed he had been killed. At that time, to tell anyone anything different would have put him at risk."

The rain trickled off the roof.

"So, you believe this Sentry Swashbuckler to be alive... you never did say if he was or not, when I asked earlier.... only that he was not officially declared dead."

I said nothing.

He continued, "If you are sure he's alive... why not tell Linnea yourself, Major?"

"I can now, of course," I answered finally, "but it would mean more....coming from ...you."

The rain was getting heavier. He did not reply.

"How... has he been?" I struggled with how to phrase that question.

He sighed once, and touched his throat again, removing something small.

"I've been fine."

It was Sentry's voice again.

"I'll take that drink now," I said.

He passed me the bottle, and picking up a small napkin from the table wiped his makeup away.

"Small bar," he remarked, "not much choice here." He talked with a finality that seemed to speak more about his thoughts than the actual selection.

I examined the label, shrugged and went on to pour a small quantity in a glass. Not the most dangerous thing I've done this week.

"Faith is missing too," I remarked almost absently.

"Yeah, I know," he answered, "tracked him into the Core, then lost him."

His words started to flow, "I was following him and his family for a while, trying to find out what he was up to, what made him lose his mind."

I sipped my drink.

"I have to say," he continued, "money and power will help on the Rim, but it's everything in the Core."

"Why did they target you for Aberdeen?" I asked. I have wanted an answer to that question for months.

Sentry shrugged, "I wish I knew. I have some mechanical skills, so I guess I would be a good target. Plus, being the closest person to Brooke when Tee and Brooke were becoming closer... maybe I was too close, even being on the outside?"

"That was the only thing I could come up with too," I added. "Hard to prove... but it is likely we won't need to."

"What are you trying to prove though?" he asked.

"There are two investigations....either should help you: SIU Londinium is investigating Judge Wirefly. SIU Zenobia has been given the go ahead to reopen the Aberdeen bombing file. One proves the judge is dirty... the other finds the people responsible for the bombing. Either way you get your conviction overturned."

It sounded so simple.

Sentry nodded, "Makes sense to me." He then straightened slightly, "So, what do you need from me?"

"Anything about the Aberdeen incident that could help."

He shook his head, "Unfortunately, there isn't much, considering I was on Shadow at the time it actually happened."

"I've seen the evidence they had against you," I said, "It was poor at best. Your vehicle and your DNA but hey, it was your vehicle..."

"A very old vehicle, at that," he interjected, "that thing hadn't run in a long time. I didn't even recognize it at first."

"...and one would expect to find your DNA there," I added, "After all, one doesn't drive wearing latex gloves."

Sentry laughed, "Not me at least."

He continued, "What I don't get... I was raised on Persephone. Served the Alliance there. How does an old beat up vehicle of mine end up on Londinium?"

"We need to find that out," I admitted.

He scratched his head. "I can't even remember who had it when I left Persephone after the kil..." His voice trailed off quickly.

I frowned slightly, "Matthew... if you want my help on this, you need to help me."

Sentry looked at me, "What do you think I'm doing?"

"After the kil...?" I repeated.

"You're gonna take me in for that warrant." He started to get agitated. "The same thing you came to the bar for... that's why you're here, isn't it?"

"Oh Sentry," I replied, "I'm after bigger game."

"And after that? After you get your big buck, then what? Come back for the rabbit?"

I sighed.

"Tell me it's not," he demanded, "Convince me that this isn't just the way it works."

I took a number of papers from my notebook and handed them to him. It was a transcript of his last will and testament.

Sentry stopped and stared at the document.

"You're not dead," I said flatly.

Sentry began to read his own words aloud, "'I really wish we hadn't ended on such bad terms. I truly did want to talk about working with you, finding a way to help you do what you need to. Brooke convinced me that you were as straight and honest as they come in the Alliance. Reminds me of how things were before the War ended... but that doesn't help me out of my current situation, with these corrupt politicians and who knows who else using me as a pawn, making me look like some heartless ~wong ba duhn~. Maybe we could have worked together.'"

He looked up.

"You're not dead," I repeated, "That paper does not belong to me."

"I'm confused," he replied, "That was specifically addressed to you, to use against Faith."

"It contains secrets you planned to take with you to your grave. Rewrite it for me."

He placed the paper between us. "They aren't secrets any longer."

I responded with a gentle smile.

"Okay," he said after a moment, his calm returned, "I'll rewrite it."

"Write a statement about that obsidian shipment too," I prompted, "I have a feeling it is connected."

He nodded and scribbled a note on the bottom of the transcript.

I looked out into the rain and sipped my drink.

"We will be protecting you too," I remarked.

Sentry nodded, though his bravado showed through. "Don't know that I need protecting..."

"Of course," I said tolerantly.

He grinned.

"You mentioned Al Raqis..." I remarked.

"Yes, Al Raqis... what do you need to know?"

"Well, not so much need to know... Zenobia has House status there. You can now use it as a safehouse."

"I've met a few people there, while visiting as Nathan."

"Good," I replied.

The rain showed no signs of letting up.

"I have to go," I said as I climbed off my bar stool.

Sentry nodded, holding up the paper. "I will have this resent to you and notarized as soon as I can."

He stood up from his seat. We stood face to face.

"You may not be in the free and clear," I said, "but there is no longer a noose around your neck."

"I do appreciate that, Major," he said.

"Pepper," I replied, "Call me Pepper."