The following day, the courtroom was sparsely populated. Nevertheless, it seemed as though the hot and collective breath of Terazed's entire population was dampening the dark skin of her neck beneath the heavy judicial robes. As Judge Maya Caran announced the sentence, former First Triumvir Rakel Ben-Tzion's large brown eyes widened in stricken surprise.
"The death sentence?" she repeated incredulously, running both hands through her short, dark hair. "I've brought to light the flawed seriousness of our planetary philosophy to remain in isolation, forced the political echelon to acknowledge our need for the backing of a strong military force directed by a central united government…and rather than be praised for my efforts, I'm being put to death? This is a moral outrage! I demand an appeal."
Judge Caran stared down at the woman and smiled graciously. "That is out of the question. The decision of the triumvirate council and the jury is irrevocable. That fact notwithstanding, there is no higher court to which you may make application for an appeal. The sentence stands: twelve hours hence, you, Rakel Ben-Tzion will be put to death by lethal injection for crimes against your homeworld. I suggest you spend that time making peace with whatever Creator you believe may claim you."
With that final mandate, the images faded to the conference room containing a team of sharply dressed political commentators who immediately began dissecting the various aspects and implications of the trial. Telemachus raised the remote control and silenced the vid unit.
Wordlessly, he dug Stasia's long fingernails out of his arm where she had buried them in silent outrage during Ben-Tzion's protest. "The only morally outrageous element I see is that the woman still breathes," she had hissed venomously.
He nodded. "That will be remedied soon enough, my love," he reminded her, kissing her hand.
That thought seemed to calm her ire as he had intended it to do. Lost momentarily in her thoughts, she didn't notice him quickly wipe the smudges of blood onto his pants leg as he stood.
The comm unit bleeped for attention and Telemachus sighed. Just once, he'd like to have a quiet evening at home. He crossed the room and accepted the signal.
Jetring's refined features filled the viewscreen. "The package from Dr. Theros' lab has been delivered," he reported.
"Good. And the other package?" he asked, taking a quick look over his shoulder at Stasia who had absently picked up a flexi to review.
"In solitary confinement, as ordered."
"Very good." He terminated the connection and gave himself over to his own thoughts. This ordeal had been very trying for both of them, opening wounds in their souls that had slowly begun to heal over time.
"So, she's all locked up, is she?" Stasia asked casually, trading the flexi in her hand for another.
"You never miss much, do you?"
"I never miss anything," she corrected. "I'd have thought you would have learned that by now, dear 'Lemachus."
"One would certainly have thought so," he smiled ruefully as he sat beside her on the sofa.
