A/N: Thanks for your reviews - I wanted to give Wash a good send-off, as this was the only way I could get her into the story. Sadly the loose ends are starting to get tied up - but you do at least get to enjoy Tom Jackson's trial, and the resolution of an inevitable dilemma. What to do with a murderer?

Chapter Twenty-Six

Succession

The house is sparsely decorated, as its occupant had nothing much to put in it, but as small cuddly toy dog sits resplendent upon a shelf, a few other knick-knacks set here and there following their removal from the plastic box that had contained them.

Janet is sitting quietly on the sofa, nursing a cup of mint tea, and looking rather pensive as Elisabeth checks her medical results on a plex, "So, am I okay?"

Elisabeth nods, "Yes - there's nothing to suggest that the travel through the portal did any damage to your system. Being inside the boat, I think, helped with that. Other than Mr Romero's broken leg, you were all remarkably unscathed by the ordeal."

"Thanks."

"How do you feel, other than physically?" Elisabeth ventures, quietly, "It's a bit of a transition for people who came here by choice, but you were snatched by a natural portal."

She shrugs, "It's difficult to say. I didn't have much going on in Florida - my Mom died when I was very young, and my Dad took off when I turned sixteen. I didn't have anyone really - except for Diego, and he's here. The things that matter the most to me came here too: so it's not like I've left much of a life behind. Besides," she adds, "It looks like the planet was going downhill anyway."

"Malcolm's hoping you'll join his science team. You're an environmental scientist aren't you?"

She nods, "Just looking at that screen you've got - I know that I won't get half of what's going on in there. It looks pretty sophisticated."

"We all came here to learn, Janet. That was what sent a lot of the scientists here - even though they knew they couldn't go back afterwards. Just think of it like that - they came to learn, and now you're doing the same."

"Bryce would be fascinated." She sighs, "Or, at least, he would've once. Maybe this might've got him back on track again."

Elisabeth knows about Falker now, "Perhaps. It's a shame - we'll never know."

"Has Malcolm got the laptop working again?" she asks, suddenly, "Bryce was so intent on that - I always wondered if there was a breakthrough on it that might've vindicated him."

"I don't know. It wouldn't surprise me if he's already tried to build a power cable. The technology's pretty old, so he's going to have to research it before he does. Why don't we go over to the labs and see? You haven't been there yet, have you?"

Sure enough, Malcolm is poring over specs on his plex when Elisabeth delivers Janet to his office, "Hi Elisabeth - ah, you've brought my hoped-for new recruit, too. Hello Janet, come in - take a seat."

"I'll leave you to it." Elisabeth smiles at him, "I do human circuitry."

He smiles and waves as she departs, then turns to Janet, "Sorry, this is taking longer than I thought - the records I have tend to cover machines from the 2010s, so it's a bit of guesswork. I don't want to frazzle the thing."

She sits alongside him, "Have you really read all of Bryce's books?"

He nods, still perusing the schematic, "When they came out, they caused something of a stir, as they seemed really prescient; a man from the early 2000s predicting exactly what had happened a century later. It seemed that he'd predicted everything - the atmospheric deterioration, the need for rebreathers - the disparity between rich and poor; the wealthy living in domes, while the poor had to make do with thick windows and barely functioning air conditioning."

Janet frowns, "He never mentioned anything like that. He was more a 'the world is going to burn' sort of guy."

"I was beginning to wonder after he started behaving like I was a nefarious conspirator." Malcolm admits, "He sounded a bit too extreme for the measured tones of those books, which started me on that thought about someone else using them as a cover to put his own work out instead. Those reissues caused a sensation and made him a lot of money."

"Poor Bryce - he only earned a great heap of ridicule."

"Sometimes it's hard to tell between pseudoscience and a real breakthrough, Janet." Malcolm advises, "The best way is to publish and go through peer review - which is hard; believe me, I know from personal experience - otherwise people just assume that you've published a book because your evidence is poor and you don't want your bad methodology to be shown up."

Once he's got his head around the setup, it doesn't take Malcolm long to assemble some components and form them into something that'll at least fit into the power port of the computer, "I'm going to have to leave it in your hands now, Janet. This thing is far too archaic for me to use - I'll probably make a complete dog's dinner of booting it up."

She smiles at him, and lifts the thick screen up from the equally thick processor. Then she presses the power button and sighs with relief as the machine starts up.

Their interest lasts about ten minutes, until they find a huge directory of files, and start working through them. Even to a trained eye, it's clear that, whatever results Falker had, he was so heavily invested in confirmation bias that he couldn't see anything other than what he wanted to see.

"Look at this - this result is a direct contradiction of his interpretation," Janet says, sadly, "it's like he saw it didn't agree with his view - but he just decided that it was incorrect."

Malcolm nods. He's seen it before - a lot of people are guilty of this, and he's done it himself before now, "It's just good, old-fashioned theory-based evidence making." He sighs, "I fell into that trap when I was at Trinity, and tried to publish a paper that made me look an utter idiot. It got shot down in flames before I could even approach an academic journal to accept it. My professors were a hell of a lot wiser than I was - but it taught me a good lesson about accepting evidence for what it is, not what I want it to be."

The stupid thing is that, in spite of his wild assertions and interpretations, his data's pretty solid. Had he treated it more objectively, then the outcome could have been very different - but it's not something that they'll ever know now. Besides, the man's dead, so they can't even talk him down from his heights of obsession and convince him that he's actually got some good stuff, if only he'd interpret it more sensibly.

"Do you want me to work through this?" Janet asks, after a few more minutes' silent perusal, "It might not be in line with the world we're in now - but it's worth recording, isn't it?"

"Definitely." Malcolm agrees, "The interpretations of the data are way off - but the data's sound. It should be recorded - I'll show you how to do it; we have a central repository that stores all our records. It should be possible to rig up something that'll transmit it from the laptop to a plex, and then it's a simple matter to get it into the Eye."

"The Eye?"

"That central repository I was telling you about."

"Right." She nods, "So, does that mean I have a job?"

He nods, "Welcome to the team."

It's been a long day of questioning: five men, each seen one after the other, and forced to endure the stony glare of the Commander as they attempt to justify their behaviour.

Butch Thackeray, of course, is the most forthright - and the most sensible. His eyes are not defiant, but not submissive either, and he looks back at them with an attitude of 'well, that's just the way it is' that suggests that he's not going to be tiresome about it.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." He admits, "Tom was convinced that we were all being royally shafted by the senior team; but he couldn't persuade people - he wasn't a good talker. He tried painting slogans - but they didn't make any real impact."

"It might've helped if he could spell." Jim advises, sagely.

"Joe…"

"Joe Peck?" Taylor clarifies.

"Yeah - Joe. He knew Bob Parker - they were old drinking pals. He was pretty pissed off as well, because he'd just been passed over for promotion to Orchard Manager. He was a bit of a politico - always coming out with stuff from Das Kapital and State and Revolution. You name it, he had it - and he could talk it, too. People listened to him, and Tom got him to hold meetings - we even started sending these papers out - Bob dictated them and Tom wrote them."

"We could tell." Jim says, sagely.

"Once Bob got involved, it started to take off." Butch admits, "People really started listening, and suddenly we were at the forefront of a political movement. I just thought we were a griping club - but suddenly we were getting people riled up, and Tom and Bob really thought we could take over. Once you left, Commander, that really did it."

"What happened to Bob?" Taylor asks, quietly.

"What I thought would happen. Once he had power, it went to his head - we had a lot of people in the marketplace when he gave that speech that got people so wound up and demanding he take over. He was pretty much preaching to the converted, and once everyone got going, the people in the market place were too scared to do anything else but go with it."

"Max kinda noticed that." Jim murmurs.

"In what way?" Taylor asks, bemused.

"She's German, isn't she?"

"Ah." Taylor looks back at Butch, "Please continue."

"We found out pretty damn quick that there was a good reason why Chris didn't give him the manager job - he was a completely rubbish leader. He took over your desk, Commander, and said he was in charge - and that we should get back to work. Tom didn't like that very much - but he wasn't the one who swayed the people to demand that he take over; and he wasn't the one who picked up a bunch of strongmen to protect him. They made us leave."

"And we all know how it went from there." Jim finishes.

"Oh, he let us into the Command Centre; but when it came to actual authority, he kept it all for himself. I s'pose I saw it coming, so I just went with it. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I did."

"And then?" Taylor prompts.

"Tom had a massive argument with Bob - telling him that he was only there because we asked him - but Bob said that we wouldn't be here at all without him either. They were both right, of course - but Bob was the one who had the power, and he wasn't giving it up to anyone." He looks a little uncomfortable, "The last I saw, Tom was suggesting that they should settle their differences, and Bob agreed - asking him over for a drink."

"I take it that was the last time anyone saw Bob alive?"

Butch nods.

"Tom didn't say anything about it - but he wasn't the same when he took over. There was something weird about him - like he'd found out something about himself that he liked. We were all pretty damn wary of him after that - because he made it clear that we were there because he'd decided that he was going to let us."

"What about his behaviour with Max?" Jim asks, causing Taylor to turn and look at him in surprise.

"He didn't talk about her specifically." Butch is clearly trying to recall conversations, "But he was starting to get paranoid, and vicious. He was convinced that everyone was out to get him, so he decided to put the senior staff under house arrest. Then he had all the children confined in the school and nursery; though we didn't know why at the time."

Taylor frowns, "Why did he do it?"

"Partly because he wanted to increase working hours but not wages, but also so he could hide the fact that he wanted to make Doctor Wallace's wife sleep with him. She cut him with a sword when he tried to make her the first time, so he wanted to have a hold over her so she wouldn't do it again."

"But why her? She wasn't the only single woman in the Colony." Jim presses.

"Simple - she cut him with that sword. He was picking on most of the single women, but because of that, he wanted to make her submit to him, and that was the best way as far as he was concerned. He knew she'd do anything to protect her daughter." Even he looks revolted at that.

They sit in silence for a while, until Butch looks up at them, "So. What's it to be? Sewage duty? Demotion? Garbage disposal? Whatever - It's not like we don't deserve it, is it?"

Taylor looks at him, and shakes his head, "You're the only one who's been straight with us; the rest of your crew were trying to justify themselves and make out that they were only following orders."

"Like hell we were. We were in it because we thought we could live it easy while everyone else did the work. It went south once Bob and Tom started fighting with each other for overall power - but none of us went into it blindly."

"We can't afford to start throwing people out of here. No matter what happens; there aren't any more pilgrims coming, so capital punishment isn't an option."

"Believe me, if it had been - Tom would've used it." Butch says, "It's a precedent that we don't need."

"It's one we're not getting." Jim agrees.

"Like I said, you've been completely up-front with us - and no one's reported any bad stuff on your part. We need your skills as a ploughman, so you go back to that. Your cronies'll have to do a bit of garbage disposal, but then they'll go back to their jobs as well."

"And Tom?" Butch asks, rather incisively.

"I'm still working on that one."

"This needs to be done properly," Taylor muses, "If we're not going to be accused of being a dictatorship."

Jim nods. They might've been able to enact discipline in a more military fashion when Ken Foster was murdered - but that was back in a time when no one commented over the military command structure of the colony. After all that's happened, regardless of the outcome, people are still very much thinking that it's time to move to a more civilian mode of government. It was always there - Malcolm's griping was the most overt evidence of its presence - but the ease with which Bob Parker talked everyone round to his way of thinking is proof enough that to go back to the old ways isn't going to cut it this time around.

It'll be hard to have a proper jury trial, though - there are too many people who were adversely affected by Jackson's punitive measures involving their children. The best thing to do would be to look to the people who weren't in the colony when it the takeover happened, but a fairly large portion of them belong to the Security teams, which just sets a militaristic cast over the entire business.

"We can't have Malcolm on it either - not when Max came close to being used by Jackson as a 'comfort woman'." Jim adds, "But we do need a group of people to oversee the process. Should we ask for nominations?"

Taylor shakes his head, "No - we just pick a random selection of people, and weed out the ones who are most likely to lose their objectivity. As long as we have a rounded selection, and everyone knows that this is a decision that'll be made by the colony as a whole through a representative jury, then Jackson won't have a leg to stand on if he tries to make out that I'm acting like a dictator."

He turns to his plex and calls up the Colony manifest, then sets it to extract a random selection of fifty individuals between the ages of eighteen and eighty. No one in the Colony's that old - but at least that means none of the adults get left out of the long-list.

"Once we have a basic list of thirty, we can get them together and weed out the people who know Jackson, the ones who have an axe to grind with him, and the ones who got hurt by him while he was in charge." He says, "Hopefully that'll get us down to something akin to a jury."

Jim nods, "We can meet in the assembly hall. Tomorrow?"

Taylor looks up at him, "The sooner, the better."

While Terra Nova has no lawyers; nonetheless, Jackson has been offered someone to help with his defence - but he's declined it. Instead, he sits at a table and glares at the assembled people who are present to judge him. It's set up like the courtrooms that Jim remembers from his days as a cop - though there's no judge. Instead, Taylor and Mira have been jointly given that function: Taylor because he's the commander, and Mira because she wasn't present during the incident, and thus has no subjective motives. They'd have asked Elisabeth to sit with them on the basis of her known honesty; but she's giving medical evidence, so she can't be a judge as well.

Being the man in charge before the takeover, Jim has the rather unenviable task of being a prosecutor - though his primary intention is to present the evidence that they have against Jackson, and leave the decisions over his guilt, or otherwise, to the group of twelve people sitting nearby.

Behind him, half the colony is crammed into the room, and he knows that Malcolm and Yseult are sitting close to the front - Yseult clasping her husband's hand very tightly. His expression is hostile, as he looks at the back of the head of a man who used his daughter as a bargaining chip against his wife, but he remains silent. They didn't have to tell him he couldn't sit at that table with the Commander - he knew it and recused himself before Jim mentioned the subject.

"Mr Jackson." Taylor rises to his feet to address the accused, "While you're known to have committed numerous offences, the offences that you're to be tried for are the murder of Bob Parker, and the forcible imprisonment of the Colony's children. How do you plead. Guilty, or not guilty?"

Jackson shrugs, "No comment."

Jim rolls his eyes. It's going to be like that then. Fair enough - the evidence he has is pretty extensive, and Butch has already agreed to give evidence. As he's not been backward in coming forward about his involvement, no one is viewing him as a 'snitch'. In spite of all that's happened, he's still respected for his honesty.

"Shannon - present your evidence." Taylor says, and sits again as Jim rises.

"I'd be lying if it was all cast iron, Commander." He advises, "A lot of it's circumstantial, but the rest is based on first hand testimony."

He ignores Jackson's smirk.

Elisabeth is, as expected, the first to give evidence, "No. Bob Parker's death wasn't an accident." She says, as Jim asks her to clarify the manner of death, "I wasn't able to undertake a full post-mortem, as we were sent away. What I can say is that the evidence I was able to assess pointed to smothering. Mr Parker was on his bed, supine, and there was significant bruising and discolouration around his mouth. There was also some blood and bruising around his nostrils, which leads me to conclude that he was suffocated by someone who placed their hand over his mouth, and pinched his nose shut. The presence of damage also indicates that he was conscious at the time, and attempted to free himself."

"Who sent you away?" Jim asks.

"Tom Jackson." She answers, calmly, "He demanded that we leave, and insisted that Parker had died in his sleep overnight."

He knows it's a question she can't answer - but in the interests of proving that the procedure's transparent, he looks at her, "Is it possible to determine who actually killed him?"

"No." She says, "I was prevented from carrying out a post mortem, so it wasn't possible to look for more detailed forensic evidence that might have identified the killer."

"But you're satisfied that he was killed, rather than just died?"

"Yes. I'm completely satisfied that his death was a killing, not a natural event."

"Your witness." Jim turns to Jackson, to leave him to cross examine - only for him to sit and ignore them both.

They sit for a moment, then Taylor turns to Elisabeth, I guess you can step down, Doctor."

The court is transfixed as Butch takes the stand, but Jackson ignores him, too. Even though his former colleague reiterates his entire conversation with Jim and the Commander for all to hear, and it's pretty damning stuff, he doesn't move. But then, didn't Butch say that Jackson is no orator? What can he say that's going to overturn this tidal wave of evidence?

"Aren't you going to cross examine?" Taylor asks, as Jim hands over.

Silence.

"Suit yourself. You can step down, Mr Thackeray."

For the sake of appearances, Jim calls the others - Zack Drummond, Joe Peck, Andy Packer and Paul Thatcher; but their evidence is pretty awful in comparison to Butch's - purely because they are only interested in covering their own asses; and that comes through pretty loud and clear to everyone in the room. Thus they're not on the stand for long.

The last witness is Sharon, who can comment on the forcible removal of the children from their homes, "I wasn't given any warning, Mr Shannon," she says, "We'd been closed down and the children who were old enough were told to report to the fields, while the youngest ones were left at home with their mothers. I'd been out in the fields myself for about two weeks."

"What changed?" Jim asks.

"I don't know - but Mr Jackson arrived on my doorstep before dawn and made me get up and go to Max's house to get Erin. He sent two of his hangers-on with me, to make sure I did it. Max was still asleep when we arrived, but I was expected to take Erin straightaway - with a bag of clothes for her - and take her back to the nursery. Then I had to do the same to Maddy Shannon, and then on to everyone else who had young children. They were threatening to have the children board there, so I had to arrange to get them fed, and find beds for them to sleep on." She shudders, "It was horrible - the children were screaming, and I wasn't allowed to take them - the two men did it."

Given how many people ended up as 'hangers on' for Jackson, Jim isn't interested in identifying them - the colonists know who they were, and the outbreak of broken noses and black eyes suggests that some form of justice has already been meted out on that score.

"Do you know why you were asked to collect all the young children?" Taylor asks.

Sharon shakes her head, "No - I wasn't told why. Just told to do it." She doesn't need to give an explanation - Butch has already done that - but it's worth making the point.

"Your witness?" Jim offers, though Jackson ignores him again. It's weird - perhaps now that all the evidence is being set out before him, he's truly lost for words and can't think of anything to say. So he's trying to ignore it in the hope that it'll all go away. He's seen it before when people have faced trial for serious crimes.

Taylor shakes his head, "Anyone else?"

"No, Commander. I think we'd just get into a long round of accusations and angry stuff. Unless you have any witnesses you'd like to present?" Jim asks Jackson. Who continues to ignore him. He could ask Yseult to come to the stand, of course, but why put her through that? The evidence of the others has been enough.

"In that case, the prosecution rests. Mr Jackson, perhaps you'd like to begin your defence?"

Jackson shrugs and looks off into the distance. How do you defend the indefensible, after all?

"So, you're not going to offer any defence against these accusations?" Taylor asks, more firmly, "This is your opportunity to put your side of things over. Don't you want to do that?"

"This isn't justice. It's a show trial." He says, "You're just doing this so people won't think that you're a dictator."

Taylor raises his eyebrows, "So you're going to comment after all. Fair enough. Get it off your chest." He sits back and folds his arms, expectantly. There's no point in explaining that the jury was selected at random, and then carefully winnowed through to extract anyone whose presence might be clouded by extensive bias. Nor is there any point in advising that he'll abide by the verdict of the jury - what ever it is. They've had the colony's first proper trial, so Jackson can hardly complain that he's been unfairly treated. God - even when he gets something that he wants, he's still not happy. Some people just can't be helped, it seems.

"You think what you want. That's your right as a citizen; but if you don't say anything in your defence, then you're in no position to complain at the jury's verdict. So: last chance. Are you going to call any defence witnesses?"

Jackson's response is an expletive.

"Fine. Have it your way." Rising to his feet, Taylor turns to the jurors, "You've heard the evidence presented to you in this courtroom. What follows now is up to you. While we are using the standard of reasonable doubt over absolute proof, I won't accept anything other than a unanimous decision from you. It must be either guilty, or not guilty. That said, if you can't come to a decision, I will consider a majority verdict only if you have voted at least three times - but it must be a majority of at least ten, no less. You have as long as you need to reach a decision - but make sure you consider only the evidence that's been set before you. You must not use conjecture, sentiment, personal antipathy or supposition to make this decision. If you need more time, then you have it. If you need to break for a drink or something to eat, ask. Just make sure that the decision you reach is the one that you consider to be right - not the one that you think you want the colony to hear."

He watches as they rise and file out to one of the side rooms nearby.

"What now?" Mira asks, as he sits again.

"Now? We wait."

The weather is balmy, and people are content to mill around in the marketplace for the time being. The only folks who aren't there are the ones who are obliged by work commitments to be elsewhere - but this is, for the colonists at least, history in the making. The last time someone killed a fellow colonist, no one stood trial like this.

Yseult is sitting very close to her husband, who holds her hand tightly in both of his, "Are you alright?"

"Yes. I'm glad I didn't have to be a witness, and I'm not feeling sick. So we're okay on both fronts." She smiles at him, but then her expression falters slightly, "What if they find him not guilty?"

"On the basis of that evidence? I don't think it's likely - nor his claim that it was just a show-trial for Taylor's personal benefit."

"But what if they think that a guilty verdict will mean that Jackson gets thrown out? I remember the atmosphere when the Commander exiled Howard Milner. No one wants to see that happen again. Even when they found out it was Officer Curran, and he was kicked out, the Commander rehabilitated him. It's such a dread sanction that they might find him not guilty just to make sure that he isn't exiled."

"I don't think he'll do it." Malcolm muses, "What he'll do instead is anyone's guess - but exile just isn't an option anymore. The moment we set a precedent with it, it becomes a usable punishment, and sometime in the future, it might be abused. I don't doubt for a moment that Jackson would've abused it if he hadn't been overthrown by circumstances."

Yseult shudders, "He might've thrown me out." Unnerved at the idea, she cuddles into him, and he rests his arm about her shoulders.

"We don't have to find out if that would've happened." He says to her, softly, "You made sure of that. You're a pretty resourceful person when you put your mind to it."

"Thanks. I try." She smiles again, "Come on - it looks like the jury are really thinking this over. Let's go and see if Sal's got anything on the grill. Despite my comprehensive puking this morning, I'm feeling rather peckish."

It takes another two hours before the jury send word that they've reached a verdict, and everyone assembles rather nervously in the hall, wondering what'll happen if it's guilty verdict, and what'll happen if it isn't.

Jackson seems impassive - but tense. The sanction of expulsion is still a spectre at the back of everyone's minds; though most wonder if it really would go that far. It's possible that that was one of the reasons why the jurors took so long to come to their verdict.

They've appointed Alfredo Costa, one of the construction team whose wife has gained a reputation as the Colony's foremost wedding dress maker, to be their foreman, and he rises to his feet at Taylor's prompt, "Have you reached a verdict?"

"Yes, Commander."

"And you've all agreed?"

"Yes, Commander."

There seems little point in asking Jackson to rise to his feet to hear the verdict. He sits impassively, slumped in his chair as though bored with the whole business. Instead, Taylor takes a deep breath, "So, how do you find the defendant: Guilty, or not Guilty?"

There's a pregnant pause; everyone seems to lean forward slightly. Except Jackson.

"Guilty, Commander."

While hardly unexpected, it still sends something of a shockwave through the assembly. For the first time, a colonist has been judged by a jury of his peers; and they've accepted that he might end up being kicked out - but taken that risk anyway.

"Thank you." Taylor nods, and Alfredo sits again. "Tom Jackson, you have been found guilty of murder and forcible imprisonment by a jury of your peers. You refused to defend yourself - but I ask you again. Have you anything to say?"

Nothing.

"I imagine people are expecting me to throw the ultimate sanction at you, aren't they? Well - you'll be pleased to hear that I don't intend to do that. Given what you got up to in my absence, it's a precedent that I definitely don't want to set. I did it once, and it tore my conscience into little tiny bits - but I imagine that there'll be others in the future who won't find that to be such a problem.

"You're not going to be getting away with it. You took a life, and you used this colony's youngest members as personal pawns for your own sick reasons. That demands punishment, and that's what you'll get. I'm well aware that the maintenance crews have a particular job that they find particularly revolting, so much so that they have to take turns to do it so that no one has to deal with the matter more than once or twice a year. I'm sure they'll be pleased to know that none of them are ever going to have to clean out the sewer pipes at the treatment plant ever again. You've always wanted to be in charge of something - and now you are. You're the new sewage treatment operative. You start work on Monday."

The sounds of amusement in the courtroom are quite heartening. While the sewage treatment protocols in the colony are based on a wetlands processing system, the delivery of the blackwater requires maintenance even if the reed-beds don't. Given the vile, smelly nature of the process, and the requirement to undertake a thorough clean down every six weeks, they've never been able to find a volunteer to do the job full time. If Jackson was looking for martyrdom, then he's certainly found it - but not in the way that he expected.

Jim turns to look at Yseult, who is smiling cheerfully, "If they were looking for a crap job to give him, then they couldn't have been more literal, could they?"

"Nope." Jim grins back, "Best of all, he's an even worse politician than I am - so he's got no hope of getting anyone to rise up and set him free of those shackles of oppression."

"Perhaps we can move on now." She says, hopefully.

"That's my view. Just need to convince Taylor."

"Do you think we can?" Malcolm asks, quietly.

"Only one way to find out."