Fic: Spin Recovery, Part Thirty-Five B
Mar. 27th, 2008 05:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalOkay, still not done yet but I've managed to recreate a few of the missing paragraphs to bring the next part of the scene to a logical mico-climax before I finish it (again).
“What was that about having five days, Rufus?” Hazel asked, as the Master banged his cane again to calm the room down.
“I swear to you when I spoke with her last night that she was sitting in a room in orbit around a large grey moon. It must have been just a video image on a wallscreen. Damnation! I’ve been outmaneuvered.”
“Those seated in the visitors gallery are requested to remain silent while the Council is in session, please,” the Master said sternly. “Count Longear has noted an objection to Lord Ru Ofanius speaking today. Do any other Farm Lords wish to voice their opinions?”
“I want to hear what Lord Rufus has to say,” the Lady who had spoken earlier called out. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t, especially with such outrageous charges being bandied about.”
“I second the Lady’s opinion,” another voice said. Rufus looked up to see Bobbi Brightspot at his House’s desk, evidentially standing in for his mother at today’s session. “Why shouldn’t he be allowed to speak, Count Longear?”
“Such serious charges and demands by the GSA should be heard by a full, closed session of the Council, Lord Brightspot,” the Count said. “More importantly, Lord Ru Ofanius should be permitted to have legal council present before he says anything that will go on the record.”
Rufus sucked in a breath between his teeth. “It’d take at least three days to bring together all the Farm Lords for a complete session,” he said. “Which gives Commander Blake more than enough time to start dragging my good name through the mud, whether or not she wins. I can’t allow that.”
“Rufus, what are you going to do?” Aunt Dottie asked, an uncharacteristic look of worry on her face.
“I’m thinking, I’m thinking,” he growled. “With all I have done, I’ll be damned if I’m going to accused of something I didn’t do.”
“Could Count Longear be out to get you, Rufus?” Hazel asked. “He seems to be working on Commander Blakes’ behalf.”
“No, I don’t think so, dear,” Aunt Dottie answered for him. “Longear may be a stiff tail, but he’s got no particular love for humans. He’s bringing up the charge because he honestly believes whatever evidence Commander Blake brought with her. Holy Den Mother preserve us from honest males.”
“Yes,” Rufus said, grinning ferally, “there’s no telling what they’ll do.” He stood up from his seat and pressed the enunciator on his desk’s paging system. The signal sounded throughout the room and the faerie light appeared, drawing every Farm Lord’s complete attention to him. “Count Longear,” he said. “I appreciate your concern for justice and my own need for legal counsel. However, I don’t believe that I require any at the moment. At this time, however, I think it would be best if I did give those Farm Lords in Council and their representatives the benefit of hearing some initial testimony from me.”
Blake, who had been escorted from the visitor’s gallery down to the floor of the Council Hall, said loudly, “I object to that! He can’t just start giving a speech on his behalf, it’ll prejudice the Farm Lords here when they’re called to make a decision later.”
The Master rapped his cane on the floor again. “Those who aren’t Farm Lords can only speak in Council at the Lords’ indulgence.”
Blake glowered at the old male, then gave Count Longear a silent, demanding look. The Count nodded, then said, “Commander Blake has a point. It would be inappropriate for Lord Ru Ofanius to simply start speaking, outside of a Council trial.”
“I never intended to, good Count,” Rufus said. “I mean to give sworn testimony, to be recorded and reviewed by the full Council at a later date. I propose that Commander Blake write up a list of questions to ask me concerning my supposed crimes, which I shall answer to my best ability. In turn I ask that I be asked questions which I intend to write down myself. Both will be asked by the Master of the Speaker’s Circle, whose honor I think we can all assume is above reproach. When the full Council is put together, they can view it at their leisure, and ask any follow up questions they might think of.”
“That is extremely unusual, Lord Ru Ofanius,” the Count said. “What’s your reasoning behind it?”
“I believe my motivations will be come obvious as the questions are asked, Count Longear,” Rufus said. He smiled. “And just for Captain, oh sorry, Commander Blake’s peace of mind, I will agree to give my testimony under the influence of interrogation drugs.”
“You’re going to what?” Hazel demanded, as all the assembled Lords in the hall began talking excitedly. The Master had to bang his cane several times before they settled down again.
“Lord Ru Ofanius,” he said, “those who stand on the Speaker’s Stage must speak without coercion. It is one of the Council’s fundamental laws.”
“What the Master said is correct,” Count Longear confirmed. “You should know that Vulpine do not react well to interrogation chemistry. It is only used in the trials of the most heinous of crimes and never to a member of the nobility.”
“I’ve been accused of murdering five hundred people, Count Longear. If you can tell me how that is not heinous, I’d love to hear your logic. I ask, no beg, the Council to permit their use. It is the only way I know of to clear me of the accusation, fully and completely.”
Up by the Count’s desk, Blake was speaking rapidly in Longear’s face, occasionally gesturing towards the Brushtail desk. Finally the Count waved her off, looking annoyed. His faerie light lit up again and he bowed once towards the Speaker’s Stage and then once towards Rufus. “On behalf of Commander Blake and the Galactic Sapiens Alliance Ministry of Justice, I apologize for disrupting this session of the Council of Farm Lords. I have just been informed that the GSA withdraws their accusation against Viscount Ru Ofanius.”
“On behalf of myself and the honor of House Brushtail, the GSA’s withdrawal of the charges is refused,” Rufus said. “You made the accusation, Commander Blake, you’re going to have to hold to it.”
“The frell I do!” she shot back, earning a glare from the Master.
“What the frell, Rufus? What are you up to?” Hazel demanded.
“She overplayed her hand,” Rufus told her sotto voce, keeping his gaze directed at Blake. “She didn’t expect me to demand interrogation drugs. Believe me, the last thing she wants is for me to speak the absolute truth in this room.”
“Nephew, I’m all for truth and justice, but I’d rather not see you reduced to a drooling idiot in front of a room full of Farmer Lords,” Aunt Dottie said, still looking concerned.
“Drooling, babbling idiot, Auntie,” he corrected with a smile. He addressed Blake once again. “Commander, under the laws of the Vulpine Council of Farm Lords, an accusation of criminality against one of its members is also an accusation against their honor. You may withdraw your charge, but I am under no obligation to permit you. I demand to answer the accusation as I choose, and what I choose is to answer it under interrogation chemistry. Now while the Master of the Speaker’s Stage scares up a medtech to do this, I’m going to compose a list of questions to ask.”
He bowed to her and sat back at his desk, pulling out a stylus to start rapidly typing a series of questions into his palm computer. Hazel looked over his shoulder once to see what he was typing, made a strangled noise, then sat back down in her seat with a thump.
Ten minutes later the Master was at his elbow, clearing his throat politely. “The medtech has arrived, milord.”
“Thank you, good sir,” Rufus told him, handing over his palm comp. “These questions should do. Has Commander Blake offered any of her own?”
“She declined, milord. Though she did request to take her place on the Stage to observe.”
“Unsurprising. Could you be so good as to clear the visitor’s gallery? I believe what I’m going to talk about is most definitely of a classified nature.”
“As you wish, Lord Ru Ofanius. Does this apply to your guests as well?”
Hazel glared at him. “You try and kick us out for this and I’ll bite your ears off.”
“I think he’s lost enough body parts, dear,” Aunt Dottie advised.
“I believe they’ll be staying,” Rufus said. “Wish me luck, Auntie.”
“Good luck, Rufus. I just wish I knew what you’re doing.”
“I read a couple of the questions. I’m not sure I want to know what he’s doing,” Hazel said. “Good luck anyway, Rufus.”
“Thank you, Hazel.” He mounted the Speaker’s Stage as the visitor’s gallery was cleared, settling himself in a lounge chair that been hastily pulled out of a storage room, judging from the faint smell of must embedded in its cloth. The medtech, who had been pulled off his usual duties at a nearby hospital, was setting up his equipment on a table from a refrigerated carryall box.
“Almost ready, Lord Ru Ofanius,” the medtech said, setting a chilled syringe down on the table. He looked apprehensive. No doubt the center of the Vulpine government wasn’t the usual venue for his work
“Do this often?” Rufus asked him, more for the medtech’s benefit than his own.
“Two or three times a month,” the medtech said. “Usually on aliens the CP’s pick up around the spaceport. I’ve administered it vulpines maybe three times in my life.” He fished his palm comp out of his coat pocket. “I just need to link into your medical files for a moment, milord.”
Rufus nodded and gave the him his ID number. The medtech uploaded his file off the UltraNet, then started frowning. “So much for that,” he muttered, then started packing his gear up again.
“Here now, what are you doing?” Rufus demanded.
“Milord Ru Ofanius, four months ago you suffered a stroke that damaged the muscles of your heart. Interrogation chemistry involves extreme stress on the vulpine physiology, specifically it shoots your blood pressure through the roof. Even for a person in optimum health it isn’t done lightly. With your medical history you are not a viable candidate. Period.”
“A bluff. I knew it,” Commander Blake said from the edge of the stage, where she’d stood to observe.
“Hardly that,” Rufus said, growling. He addressed the medtech again. “Who is your lord?”
The medtech paused. “What’s that go to do with anything?”
“Who is your lord, medtech?” he repeated more firmly.
“Lady Firestripe,” the medtech said reluctantly.
“Thank you.” Rufus stood up again and spoke up loudly. “Is Lady Firestripe in the chamber today?”
“I am here.” The noble in question turned out to be a heavyset matron with fur once roan red, now graying, dressed in the most formal of noble styles. “How may I be of service, Lord Ru Ofanius?”
Rufus bowed deeply to her. “The medtech is under your domain and has expressed concern about my health history, which he claims is too poor to allow interrogation drugs to be used on my person. I disagree with that analysis. If you would be so kind as to override his opinion, I would be ever so grateful.”
“You can’t do that! This is a matter of medical ethics!” the medtech protested.
“This is a matter of a Farm Noble’s honor, young man,” Lady Firestripe said sternly. “You are certain of this, Lord Ru Ofanius?”
Rufus took a breath. “Yes, Milady.”
“Administer the drug, young man,” Lady Firestripe ordered.
“Milady, it could very well kill him!” the medtech said.
“Then he will at least die with honor. Give Lord Ru Ofanius the interrogation drug, or you may consider your oaths to me foresworn and remove yourself and your family from my domain.”
The medtech paused, then finally bowed his head. “As you will, milady.” He unpacked his equipment again, muttering direly under his breath. At his direction, Rufus pulled off his coat and shirt, baring his fur so the tech could strap a monitor to his chest and tie off his upper arm with a length of rubber tubing. Then he asked one final time, “Are you certain you want to do this?”
“More than you could possibly know,” Rufus replied.
The medtech nodded grimly, then slipped the syringe into the autoinjector and pressed to Rufus’ arm. The chill liquid entered his veins and oh, blessed Goddess forgive, it feels so good. For a brief moment a wave of bliss washed over him, leaving him limp in his seat. Then he let out a strangled cry as a hand grabbed his heart and squeezed.
TBC
“What was that about having five days, Rufus?” Hazel asked, as the Master banged his cane again to calm the room down.
“I swear to you when I spoke with her last night that she was sitting in a room in orbit around a large grey moon. It must have been just a video image on a wallscreen. Damnation! I’ve been outmaneuvered.”
“Those seated in the visitors gallery are requested to remain silent while the Council is in session, please,” the Master said sternly. “Count Longear has noted an objection to Lord Ru Ofanius speaking today. Do any other Farm Lords wish to voice their opinions?”
“I want to hear what Lord Rufus has to say,” the Lady who had spoken earlier called out. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t, especially with such outrageous charges being bandied about.”
“I second the Lady’s opinion,” another voice said. Rufus looked up to see Bobbi Brightspot at his House’s desk, evidentially standing in for his mother at today’s session. “Why shouldn’t he be allowed to speak, Count Longear?”
“Such serious charges and demands by the GSA should be heard by a full, closed session of the Council, Lord Brightspot,” the Count said. “More importantly, Lord Ru Ofanius should be permitted to have legal council present before he says anything that will go on the record.”
Rufus sucked in a breath between his teeth. “It’d take at least three days to bring together all the Farm Lords for a complete session,” he said. “Which gives Commander Blake more than enough time to start dragging my good name through the mud, whether or not she wins. I can’t allow that.”
“Rufus, what are you going to do?” Aunt Dottie asked, an uncharacteristic look of worry on her face.
“I’m thinking, I’m thinking,” he growled. “With all I have done, I’ll be damned if I’m going to accused of something I didn’t do.”
“Could Count Longear be out to get you, Rufus?” Hazel asked. “He seems to be working on Commander Blakes’ behalf.”
“No, I don’t think so, dear,” Aunt Dottie answered for him. “Longear may be a stiff tail, but he’s got no particular love for humans. He’s bringing up the charge because he honestly believes whatever evidence Commander Blake brought with her. Holy Den Mother preserve us from honest males.”
“Yes,” Rufus said, grinning ferally, “there’s no telling what they’ll do.” He stood up from his seat and pressed the enunciator on his desk’s paging system. The signal sounded throughout the room and the faerie light appeared, drawing every Farm Lord’s complete attention to him. “Count Longear,” he said. “I appreciate your concern for justice and my own need for legal counsel. However, I don’t believe that I require any at the moment. At this time, however, I think it would be best if I did give those Farm Lords in Council and their representatives the benefit of hearing some initial testimony from me.”
Blake, who had been escorted from the visitor’s gallery down to the floor of the Council Hall, said loudly, “I object to that! He can’t just start giving a speech on his behalf, it’ll prejudice the Farm Lords here when they’re called to make a decision later.”
The Master rapped his cane on the floor again. “Those who aren’t Farm Lords can only speak in Council at the Lords’ indulgence.”
Blake glowered at the old male, then gave Count Longear a silent, demanding look. The Count nodded, then said, “Commander Blake has a point. It would be inappropriate for Lord Ru Ofanius to simply start speaking, outside of a Council trial.”
“I never intended to, good Count,” Rufus said. “I mean to give sworn testimony, to be recorded and reviewed by the full Council at a later date. I propose that Commander Blake write up a list of questions to ask me concerning my supposed crimes, which I shall answer to my best ability. In turn I ask that I be asked questions which I intend to write down myself. Both will be asked by the Master of the Speaker’s Circle, whose honor I think we can all assume is above reproach. When the full Council is put together, they can view it at their leisure, and ask any follow up questions they might think of.”
“That is extremely unusual, Lord Ru Ofanius,” the Count said. “What’s your reasoning behind it?”
“I believe my motivations will be come obvious as the questions are asked, Count Longear,” Rufus said. He smiled. “And just for Captain, oh sorry, Commander Blake’s peace of mind, I will agree to give my testimony under the influence of interrogation drugs.”
“You’re going to what?” Hazel demanded, as all the assembled Lords in the hall began talking excitedly. The Master had to bang his cane several times before they settled down again.
“Lord Ru Ofanius,” he said, “those who stand on the Speaker’s Stage must speak without coercion. It is one of the Council’s fundamental laws.”
“What the Master said is correct,” Count Longear confirmed. “You should know that Vulpine do not react well to interrogation chemistry. It is only used in the trials of the most heinous of crimes and never to a member of the nobility.”
“I’ve been accused of murdering five hundred people, Count Longear. If you can tell me how that is not heinous, I’d love to hear your logic. I ask, no beg, the Council to permit their use. It is the only way I know of to clear me of the accusation, fully and completely.”
Up by the Count’s desk, Blake was speaking rapidly in Longear’s face, occasionally gesturing towards the Brushtail desk. Finally the Count waved her off, looking annoyed. His faerie light lit up again and he bowed once towards the Speaker’s Stage and then once towards Rufus. “On behalf of Commander Blake and the Galactic Sapiens Alliance Ministry of Justice, I apologize for disrupting this session of the Council of Farm Lords. I have just been informed that the GSA withdraws their accusation against Viscount Ru Ofanius.”
“On behalf of myself and the honor of House Brushtail, the GSA’s withdrawal of the charges is refused,” Rufus said. “You made the accusation, Commander Blake, you’re going to have to hold to it.”
“The frell I do!” she shot back, earning a glare from the Master.
“What the frell, Rufus? What are you up to?” Hazel demanded.
“She overplayed her hand,” Rufus told her sotto voce, keeping his gaze directed at Blake. “She didn’t expect me to demand interrogation drugs. Believe me, the last thing she wants is for me to speak the absolute truth in this room.”
“Nephew, I’m all for truth and justice, but I’d rather not see you reduced to a drooling idiot in front of a room full of Farmer Lords,” Aunt Dottie said, still looking concerned.
“Drooling, babbling idiot, Auntie,” he corrected with a smile. He addressed Blake once again. “Commander, under the laws of the Vulpine Council of Farm Lords, an accusation of criminality against one of its members is also an accusation against their honor. You may withdraw your charge, but I am under no obligation to permit you. I demand to answer the accusation as I choose, and what I choose is to answer it under interrogation chemistry. Now while the Master of the Speaker’s Stage scares up a medtech to do this, I’m going to compose a list of questions to ask.”
He bowed to her and sat back at his desk, pulling out a stylus to start rapidly typing a series of questions into his palm computer. Hazel looked over his shoulder once to see what he was typing, made a strangled noise, then sat back down in her seat with a thump.
Ten minutes later the Master was at his elbow, clearing his throat politely. “The medtech has arrived, milord.”
“Thank you, good sir,” Rufus told him, handing over his palm comp. “These questions should do. Has Commander Blake offered any of her own?”
“She declined, milord. Though she did request to take her place on the Stage to observe.”
“Unsurprising. Could you be so good as to clear the visitor’s gallery? I believe what I’m going to talk about is most definitely of a classified nature.”
“As you wish, Lord Ru Ofanius. Does this apply to your guests as well?”
Hazel glared at him. “You try and kick us out for this and I’ll bite your ears off.”
“I think he’s lost enough body parts, dear,” Aunt Dottie advised.
“I believe they’ll be staying,” Rufus said. “Wish me luck, Auntie.”
“Good luck, Rufus. I just wish I knew what you’re doing.”
“I read a couple of the questions. I’m not sure I want to know what he’s doing,” Hazel said. “Good luck anyway, Rufus.”
“Thank you, Hazel.” He mounted the Speaker’s Stage as the visitor’s gallery was cleared, settling himself in a lounge chair that been hastily pulled out of a storage room, judging from the faint smell of must embedded in its cloth. The medtech, who had been pulled off his usual duties at a nearby hospital, was setting up his equipment on a table from a refrigerated carryall box.
“Almost ready, Lord Ru Ofanius,” the medtech said, setting a chilled syringe down on the table. He looked apprehensive. No doubt the center of the Vulpine government wasn’t the usual venue for his work
“Do this often?” Rufus asked him, more for the medtech’s benefit than his own.
“Two or three times a month,” the medtech said. “Usually on aliens the CP’s pick up around the spaceport. I’ve administered it vulpines maybe three times in my life.” He fished his palm comp out of his coat pocket. “I just need to link into your medical files for a moment, milord.”
Rufus nodded and gave the him his ID number. The medtech uploaded his file off the UltraNet, then started frowning. “So much for that,” he muttered, then started packing his gear up again.
“Here now, what are you doing?” Rufus demanded.
“Milord Ru Ofanius, four months ago you suffered a stroke that damaged the muscles of your heart. Interrogation chemistry involves extreme stress on the vulpine physiology, specifically it shoots your blood pressure through the roof. Even for a person in optimum health it isn’t done lightly. With your medical history you are not a viable candidate. Period.”
“A bluff. I knew it,” Commander Blake said from the edge of the stage, where she’d stood to observe.
“Hardly that,” Rufus said, growling. He addressed the medtech again. “Who is your lord?”
The medtech paused. “What’s that go to do with anything?”
“Who is your lord, medtech?” he repeated more firmly.
“Lady Firestripe,” the medtech said reluctantly.
“Thank you.” Rufus stood up again and spoke up loudly. “Is Lady Firestripe in the chamber today?”
“I am here.” The noble in question turned out to be a heavyset matron with fur once roan red, now graying, dressed in the most formal of noble styles. “How may I be of service, Lord Ru Ofanius?”
Rufus bowed deeply to her. “The medtech is under your domain and has expressed concern about my health history, which he claims is too poor to allow interrogation drugs to be used on my person. I disagree with that analysis. If you would be so kind as to override his opinion, I would be ever so grateful.”
“You can’t do that! This is a matter of medical ethics!” the medtech protested.
“This is a matter of a Farm Noble’s honor, young man,” Lady Firestripe said sternly. “You are certain of this, Lord Ru Ofanius?”
Rufus took a breath. “Yes, Milady.”
“Administer the drug, young man,” Lady Firestripe ordered.
“Milady, it could very well kill him!” the medtech said.
“Then he will at least die with honor. Give Lord Ru Ofanius the interrogation drug, or you may consider your oaths to me foresworn and remove yourself and your family from my domain.”
The medtech paused, then finally bowed his head. “As you will, milady.” He unpacked his equipment again, muttering direly under his breath. At his direction, Rufus pulled off his coat and shirt, baring his fur so the tech could strap a monitor to his chest and tie off his upper arm with a length of rubber tubing. Then he asked one final time, “Are you certain you want to do this?”
“More than you could possibly know,” Rufus replied.
The medtech nodded grimly, then slipped the syringe into the autoinjector and pressed to Rufus’ arm. The chill liquid entered his veins and oh, blessed Goddess forgive, it feels so good. For a brief moment a wave of bliss washed over him, leaving him limp in his seat. Then he let out a strangled cry as a hand grabbed his heart and squeezed.
TBC
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