Evidence

Ushton opened the door of his apartment to see his nephew standing in the hall.

"Roj? What are you doing here?"

The boy shrugged. "I wanted to see you and Inga – I've missed you." Father hardly allowed Roj and his siblings to go anywhere these days, except to school and back, because of the curfew. Feeling fed up with this virtual house arrest, Roj sneaked out that afternoon and took public transport to the section of the dome where his uncle lived. It took him almost an hour to get there.

Ushton cast a nervous glance down the hall. He seemed reluctant to let the boy in. Roj entered the apartment awkwardly, confused by his uncle's behaviour. He had never seen Ushton so tense.

Then again, he thought, everybody was tense these days. It was due to the Mellanby uprising. You couldn't hear anything meaningful about it in the newscasts – all they said was that there was a group of vicious terrorists committing crimes against innocent Federation citizens. But Roj had two friends at school with whom he shared secret rumours about Mellanby. They believed that he was really a hero, the leader of a revolt against the corrupt government. There was discontent with the administration everywhere: Roj was sure that many people secretly rooted for Mellanby, just like he and his friends did.

Still, he couldn't understand why his uncle was so upset. He looked around, taking in the familiar objects in the anteroom. "Where is Inga?" he asked.

"She is..." Ushton didn't finish the sentence. "I took her somewhere safe." He walked to the window and pushed the curtain slightly to peep outside. Then he turned again towards the boy. "Look, Roj, I'm sorry. I can't explain. There is no time. Just do as I say. You have to leave right away, go straight home. Do you understand?"

Suddenly, there was a sound of a vehicle trundling loudly in the street outside, getting closer. This time both Roj and Ushton looked through the window. It was a security transporter, carrying six Federation guards.

Too late! Cursing, Ushton pushed the perplexed Roj into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him, in a vain attempt to protect him. He closed his eyes and leaned against the door, his heart pounding. All he could hope for was that they wouldn't hurt the boy.

Alone in the bedroom, Roj listened nervously. There was an eerie quiet in the entire apartment. Soon, he knew, there would be an echo of boots in the hall, black-clad men with masks and rifles breaking in. The Federation Security were coming for his uncle; that much he realized. But why? What had Ushton done? Looking for anything in the room that would give him a clue, he spotted a folded piece of paper on the bedside cabinet. That was unusual. Hardly anyone in the domes used paper. But perhaps, Roj thought, you'd use it to pass a secret message? Especially if you knew the authorities were spying on the electronic ones...

He picked up the paper and unfolded it. It was a message, just as he expected.

MELLANBY SURRENDERED. RUN.

Suddenly, it all started making sense, even to a teenager. There had been a raid, probably very recently; Hal Mellanby had surrendered; and his uncle Ushton must have been involved in the revolt, too, because he'd got this note of warning and now they were coming for him as well.

Then why hadn't Ushton run? The message must have come too late, Roj surmised.

At that moment, the anticipated noise broke out. On the other side of the bedroom door Roj heard the stamping of boots, angry voices yelling, blows and grunts and the breaking of furniture. He looked at the piece of paper in his hand. It was evidence, he realized. Ushton should have destroyed it. They will come in here any moment. I have to get rid of it, somehow...

The next second a guard kicked the bedroom door open and strode in. Without hesitation, Roj crumpled up the paper and stuffed it in his mouth.

Several more guards entered, pointing their paraguns at him. "Please don't hurt my nephew, he's just a boy, he hasn't done anything wrong!" he heard his uncle pleading. Then he saw Ushton in the doorway. There was a large purple welt on the side of his face and blood on his torn lip. His hands were bound and two guards dragged him by the arms. Roj clenched his fists, anger surging up inside him at the sight of his uncle's injuries. But then their eyes met and he saw Ushton shaking his head desperately. It meant, Don't. Don't resist. Don't try to fight back.

"What are you chewing?" one of the guards snarled at him.

Roj swallowed the last bits of paper, looking at the guard unflinchingly. Then he grinned insolently.

"My tongue."

A punch in the gut came so abruptly, Roj hardly knew what had happened. He bent over, coughing, gasping for breath. He had never felt like this before, angry and humiliated. If it hadn't been for Ushton's silent pleading, he would have given in to anger and made a suicidal attack on the armed guards...

They looked everywhere, opening and emptying out every closet and cabinet in his uncle's apartment – searching, Roj realized, for evidence, for anything that would prove that Ushton was involved in the rebellion. They searched Roj thoroughly, too, examining every item of his clothes.

They found nothing.

Several months later, Roj was watching a vis-recording from Exbar. It was a message from Ushton. The authorities hadn't been able to find any proof of his connection with Mellanby's rebellion; in spite of this, they had marked him down as a troublemaker, and pinned some false charges on him in order to sentence him to exile. Inga had gone with him. The surface conditions on the planet were harsh, his uncle explained, but they had freedom of movement, and they were allowed visitors.

Roj switched off the recording, absorbed in thought. Space journeys were expensive, but surely his parents would save money – and eventually, when they managed to obtain travel permits, he would be able to see Ushton and Inga again.

He thought again about that piece of paper, a piece of evidence that would have doomed his uncle if the guards had found it. By destroying it, Roj had probably saved Ushton's life. Still, he didn't feel pleased with himself. What he had done was really so little, he thought, when measured against all the injustice and oppression that people suffered under the Federation. When he grew up, he would have to do much more.