Tagar Trial

Prologue

Tired and filthy Reeser’s mule train clumped along in a less than orderly fashion. The periodical curses that escaped these burly men’s mouths were never mistaken for prayers. Profanity had become more frequent after an all too common landslide cancelled the companies plans for a speedy delivery. The Gap at Lesslanck was now effectively closed off. Their new trail was little more than a dried up streambed. Tanner Rod had no doubt the journey would add at least three more days to the already late shipment of heather.
He had signed on to this particular indenture as a way of rediscovering his ancestral past. He knew that many of them had crossed the North American plains in search of prosperity and inner peace. In a way he was looking for the same. But Tanner had sorely misjudged this expedition as a therapeutic retreat. Rubbing saddle sore inner thighs, he wondered if physical therapy would be needed to recover from this adventure.
A male quarter horse bashed into Tanner’s left leg as the company moved through a narrowing gorge. He added his own misdirected prayer to the others.
“Oh, don’t be upsettin Nathan. He only bein’ friendly. We got but one man harse on dis train and the mules been rude enough to him as it is,” spoke up Caden. He was the camp cook officially, but Tanner suspected he dallied in the company’s politics. Namely, finances.
“How be you, Cade?” slipping into the same accent he welcomed the man a bit more politely than his horse. Tanner wondered how Caden had angled the captain into letting Nathan join the trek. The mule’s inability to breed did not seem to diminish their attempts much.
“I be as I be,” he announced evasively. “But I be better soon as I knows you lot were out of there hills before the more of that white stuff melts up north.”
Cade flapped open his heavy coat to cool his bulky body. So doing he let out a pungent stench of perspiration. Tan pretended not to notice the unflattering smell, though the mule beneath him spitefully snuffed with distaste.
“You’re going back into these mountains then?” Tanner’s own hopes of returning to civilization halted at the others statement.
“Why should’tint I? I’ve got no use for your cyber do-hickeys and electrical what-knots. God dint build um, man did. He gave tis beautiful planet…” he stretched his arm out to take in the stark ravine wall and accompanying horizon. “And I plan ta enjoy what’s left o’ it.”
The apparent majesty the cook saw in their surroundings was wasted on the youth. Tanner’s mind was again fixed on the comforts of his vacant home. Programming intelligence units wasn’t a bad paying job, but nothing in the field had really challenged him since adolescence. That evening while the camp was winding down he pondered what he intended to do after this little adventure was done. Alliance Industries would have him back in a wink. But he knew he would not go back to that. The infinite boredom of creating those idiotic artificial mind centers was like envisioning purgatory with a fairly decent pension. That wasn’t for him, not now. He could, Heaven forbid, return to Earth. No, that was useless too. Besides Beltia was the world of opportunity. He just needed something that would appeal to him. Closing his eyes Tanner tried half-heartedly to devise what that could be.
*
“…and I’ve got proof besides. I’m not being paranoid, sir. He’s been informing someone inside Tagar for at least to the last two years. Why he’s waited this long to bring the Boeland authorities down on our heads is beyond me. He needs to be eliminated before we reach the….”
There was a brief sound of scuffling and harsh shushing noise. Tanner’s eyes snapped open to night-time whisperings. He often slept apart from the other men, preferring his own company, so hearing supposedly discrete conversations from his supervisors was near ritualistic. It was becoming annoying. Cranky with the early morning wakeup call Tanner crawled out of his bedroll ready to give the whisperers a substantial piece of his mind.
“Caden swore to keep his mouth shut. He is in this as much as the rest of us. He’d not help himself any by loosening his word. And even if he did, what could I do about it? We’re in Tagar country.”
A sinister sweet masculine voice answered, “Have him removed. And do it before we reach Masclene. If it’s done in Boeland jurisdiction things will get decidedly messy. Their forensics team would be all over it with tweezers and DNA scanners before the body hits the ground. He’s not worth the risk.”
Tanner fell silent. The implications were obvious. He was not meant to hear this.
“And the risk of killing on Tagar land is any less? They don’t need evidence to convict, or had you forgotten that?” This voice was just as harsh if not pleading.
“The nearest Tagar village is forty-eight kilometers away. They don’t have guard-beamers or patrol routes like a decent country. By the time they find the body, if they find a body, we’ll be out of reach. Not even suspects. Really Reeser, sometimes you dismiss the simplest solutions.”
“Hump,” was the only answer for a moment. The voices were distinct now. Tanner could tell the cargo captain did not like the suggestions he was receiving from his second. Neither was Tan. The thought of anyone wanting to knock of that grizzled old man was preposterous. His cooking wasn’t that bad!
“And how do you suppose I hire an assassin out here? It’s not as if I had a com-phone and number book handy. Maybe if I look under a stone I’ll find an advertisement for a woodland hit-man. Or better yet, I should hire the cook to do it himself!” Captain Reeser’s thick sarcasm was a message to his second. He was expected to do more than twiddle his thumbs.
“Open your eyes, man. Do your really think I’d let anyone carry this cargo? Every member was handpicked by me. All are professionals in one trade or another. Anyone of them would do as he’s paid to without complaint. Just pick one.”
Good Heavens! Tanner Rod was in camp full of mercenaries! He was consorting with criminals, what people would say. Thinking back upon the last month of the trek, he could not remember a time when any of his companions had seemed particularly murderous. They may have been a little rough around the edges, but once they had gotten used to him each man had opened up to him in a different way. Mitch Drake had even asked him for advice on one of his lady friends. No, this couldn’t be happening.
“They all have extensive résumés,” Haymond casually informed the Captain. “The Earth kid had some interesting ideas for hobbies, plus he boasts he has never been caught.”
What on Beltia was this guy talking about! With a considering murmur Captain Reeser raised the question, “What’s his specialty? And was his record correct?”
“He calls himself a ‘hacker’. I thought it best not to get too many details. You know how his type can get. Personally it sounds rather messy to me, but it also implies a certain permanence. As for his record, you would think a man with such homicidal tendencies would have more than a few unpaid parking tickets.”
Hacker? Oh no! This couldn’t be happening. He’d made a joke on the resume about his computer skills, because they would obviously be of no use here. Hacking was an old earth term for breaking into other people’s cyber files, just some good humor to work his way in with boss. The secretary had laughed anyway. Tanner became very suspicious of what kind of criminal record the pretty brunette had before joining this bunch.











CHAPTER 1
Tanner Rod had picked up several new curses from the periodic references to various deities that the men in his train had supplied. No, not men, Tanner thought forcing down his own guilt. No, they are something far worse. Instead of relenting to the sobs inside him Tanner added his own familiar curses to the list. Nathan seemed to notice the inflection in his voice and galloped faster.
He scanned through his memories, brandishing away the infecting one of Caden’s dead body. Quitting his job in Masclene had seemed like such good idea. He had thought that joining a trek with a leather company would give him a chance to rediscover his roots. Like the pioneers of the nineteenth century; crossing a wilderness, living off the land, everything done by the sweat of the brow. It was to be his own brand of therapy to fight off the high pace competition of the intelligence industry. He would come back to the universe of commerce with a sharper edge and new ideas.
Tanner Rod certainly needed therapy now. But he did not have time for such trivial niceties like sanity. He heeled Nathan in the flanks and the quarter horse ran faster. Night descended. Tanner’s sense of direction waned. He finally slid off Nathan’s back and walked alongside him. They plodded east together for several hours, in a dazed exhaustion. As false dawn played across the sky the horse commented to his companion but Tanner did not pay attention to his neighs. Nathan had to lead him toward the scent of a stream and it wasn’t until he was ankle deep in the cool runoff water that Tanner became aware of their surroundings.
The trees on each bank stood a good ten feet higher than most would on Earth. Betlia’s gravity was slightly less restricting than his home planet’s. The foliage was definitely foreign to him. Once again he cursed himself for not learning enough about this rustic countryside, if only he knew what was edible. Nathan was gulping up water greedily. That wouldn’t do. Until Tanner could find a Tagar and confess, he would not be safe, and a hot horse drinking cool water would get him nowhere. After a deal of arguing the comrades came away from the creek with only a small taste of the fresh liquid.
“You’ll thank me for it later, I promise.” That was all the consoling he could give the horse.
The sky was growing light enough to distinguish a trail off to the left of the creek. How long had it been since he had began running? Less than two days. How far away from Masclene’s border was the train? Had Captain Reeser told the Justices his story yet? Would they believe him? Of course they would. He had all the proof he needed. Caden’s body. I deserve what they would do to me, if only for my own stupidity. Tanner fought off dry heaves. I’m a coward and betrayer and…and… He couldn’t finish the thought even in his own mind. Why was he racing to the Tagars? If he was guilty he should accept it. Only the need for survival drove him on. Or was this an inward plea that he would fail this people’s test, that they would find him false, and that he would die.
The trail crested a hill to look down on a fair sized valley completely devoted to one large farm. As the sunlight topped the ridge across from him the outlines of three buildings became clear. A well-made forge stood parallel with the sturdy barn. A huge farm house of green granite and a stately pasture completed the rectangle shaped yard. All the while there echoed a metered whack of a woodman’s ax.
Finally! Not ten feet from the house’s backdoor the woodcutter continued the morning’s chore. Trotting Nathan toward the figure, Tanner nearly fell out of his saddle once sure the other’s hair had the two-toned stripes of the Tagar. Without bothering to get off his knees he crawled to the woodcutter who had paused to gaze down at him. I can’t do this. Nothing can help now. I’m not worthy. And yet he did it anyway. With all his heart the young man wept out his sins to the stranger.
The sun rose higher. When he lifted his head to face his judge, hyperventilation set in. A tall woman stood over him holding an ax leisurely in her left hand. She glanced from him to the tool and raised a questioning eyebrow. With a disgruntled sigh she hefted it to a two-handed battle stance. She swung. Steel touched exposed neck.
Tanner opened his eyes, expecting to see his thrashing body in a pool of blood, or maybe angels descending to escort him to the afterlife. Devil’s, more likely. He turned his head to identify which and was relieved to discover he still had a head to turn.
By this time the female Tagar was lying on the ground next to her discarded ax laughing madly. Now it was his turn to stare. Briefly, Tanner wondered what he had gotten himself into. If all the residents here were this warped, he would be better off in Masclene.
~*~
She continued to roll around on the dirt ground, vocalizing something between a girlish giggle and an outright cackle. One of the house doors banged opened against the green brick.
“Leslie! Are you fine? Did you hit yourself with the ax again? You’ll scare Nanny Migris right out of her skirts the way you’re going on.”
Another considerably more feminine Tagar strode out toward them. She acted only slightly taken aback by the sight of him kneeling puffy-eyed by her convulsing peer. ‘Leslie’ had stopped laughing, apparently bored with it. Her now rosy cheeks were accented by a crooked smile.
“Carina, do be a love and tell everyone we have a guest.”
Unconsciously Tanner noticed the younger woman’s hair was a paler hue than Leslie’s. The near white and black stripes complimented her emerald eyes perfectly. Catching his look, Carina turned on her heels and slipped back into the house. She did close the door more politely this time.
“What’s your name boy?” Leslie jerked him back to reality. She was standing now, waiting for him to follow.
He did so sluggishly. “Tanner Rod,” was his reply. Privately his mind screamed that after twenty-two years and the devastation he had created he was not a boy.
“No, you’re not a boy. Not anymore. Square with that Mr. Rod, it’s all we’ve got to work with.”
Her statement took him off his meager balance. Taking in his exhausted state, she planned out his day before they reach the door. “Why don’t you wash up and then we’ll get some breakfast down your gullet? After that it’s strait to bed for you.”
Tanner was dumbfounded. He expected swift justice from these people. It had never occurred to him that they might invite him to breakfast. It was unreal. It was preposterous. She may be female and inclined to give mercy, but after all she now knew about him how could she invite him into her home? When he told her so, she merrily laughed and pointed him in the direction of the bathroom.
~*~
Tanner climbed out of the stone tiled guest shower on the farm house’s main floor. Covering himself with a fluffy blue towel, he cautiously walked into the adjoining room. A clean set of clothes were laid out for him on a generous bed. He supposed if the Tagars planned to kill him, they probably would have done it while he was vulnerable and naked. But aside from a creaking door when the clothes were left, he had neither seen nor heard anything. These were strange people. The wool pants fit him quite snuggly, but the gray cotton shirt had room to spare. As he sat on the bed to pull on the matching socks, there came a rap at the door.
“Well, you look surprisingly presentable. I forgot to ask if you had any breakfast preferences. You’re not a vegetarian or of any theology of a particular abstinence are you? I would hate for you to feel guilty just because I cooked dairy in the same pan as meat.”
This woman had a knack for throwing Tanner off guard.
“Guilty! Don’t you realize I’ve just killed a man? I stole the life of a friend to save my own,” tears started to well in his eyes, “I’m a disgraceful, murderous, bastard that needs to be beaten! NOT FED!”
She blinked, “Whatever is wrong with being fatherless? Some of my favorite people didn’t get to choose their parents, including myself. And I’ll ask you not to use such language in front of Asper and Carina. My husband seems to think swearing is not prudent to their education. Now if you’ll follow me, we’ll go to the kitchen and get you fed.”
What was this woman trying to do to him? Perhaps, he thought, driving the accused to insanity is part of Tagar torture. This odd idea made him feel more accepting of his surroundings; after all, he did deserve torture. Leslie’s orange and black stripes waggled as she shook her head at him. The kitchen was not empty.
One man and two women waited around a well polished wood table. A child sat idly swinging his legs off the kitchen counter.
“Mr. Tanner Rod, allow me to introduce my revered mother-in-law, Migris Felidae,” she indicated the old woman with a yellow and gray striped mane. Aged as she was, Migris still managed a girlish giggle as she tugged on his outstretched hand.
“My husband, Nessis Felidae,” the strikingly pale man dislodged his mothers firm grip to take a turn shaking Tanner’s hand. Crisp black and white stripes were pulled flawlessly back in a perfect ponytail. Dangerous blue eyes spoke volumes.
“You’ve already met his daughter Carina, of course, but make it formal.”
Turning to the girl he had seen in the farmyard, Tanner Rod felt his pulse quicken. Oh Lord, he thought, is that what woman is supposed to look like! Some of his awe must have made it to his face for Carina flushed and her gaze glossed over him.
“Moving on, that little sprout is Asper. Child if you don’t jump down off that counter right now I can assure you that I’ll make you regret it. Honestly boy, we cook on that thing.”
Out of all the Felidaes, Asper was certainly the oddest looking. Trying not to stare at the child was a chore, after all what does one say to a ten year old with a shock of green hair? He looked nothing like the Tagar’s except for the general humanoid form. His exposed skin was a paler pigment of green with many protruding veins. Tanner knew there were a few races that had adapted their bodies for chloroplast epidermis, but he had never seen one. He wished the meeting could have taken place under different circumstances.
Tanner was ushered around the elliptical table to sit by Nanny Migris. Recoiling from his wife’s meaningful glare Nessis rose out of his chair and headed toward the waiting stove. His expression didn’t lighten with the prospect of serving a meal.
“I don’t doubt this is a very unique experience for you, young man,” piped in the old woman. “After all, it isn’t everyday that one commits murder. It is murder, isn’t it?”
Leslie answered for him. “Manslaughter,” she shrugged, “but here it makes little difference.”
“Yes, it would have to be. How much have you told him about our customs? What does he expect?”
“Not much of either, I suppose. You better fill him in Migris, or have your son do it. Legal jargon bores me.”
Between the two of them, Nanny Migris and Nessis patiently pointed out the key facets in the Preservation Treaty. Some of it he had already known on coming to Tagar, most of it was new to him. To protect their reservation, one of six left in Bettia’s solar system, the Tagar people had been given a great political power. Any citizen within the borders could grant any person complete pardon of any and all crimes, as long as they lived through the trial. The benefit for other countries was that less than forty percent of all criminals that crossed the Tagar border lived past their initial confession. No prisons were needed for the dead. If a criminal could convince their First Judge that they had repented of their transgressions, a trial date would be set. The offender would then be given a year parole under the custody of his First Judge. If he proved himself worthy to contribute to the gene pool his life was spared and he was assimilated into the community. If he did not…
“You’re so lucky you aren’t a rapist,” Nanny bubbled on. “Did you know Leslie’s castrated the last two rapists that have confessed to her, right there on the spot? It really is a very nasty habit. Nessis, you shouldn’t let her take confessions at all.”
Her son became noticeably paler, and Tanner felt the blood drain from his face as well. He became immediately aware of how attached he was to certain parts of his anatomy. Looking at his First Judge, Tanner understood why Nessis would not forbid his wife anything. It would not be a healthy decision. Not for the last time did he believe he may have mistakenly walked into a mad house. The women of the household didn’t seem to notice their cold reaction, except for Leslie. But then Leslie noticed everything.
“You’re straying Nanny,” commented the pretty girl named Carina. She hadn’t spoken until now, however Tanner was grateful for her intervention.
“Right you are dear. Well I suppose the simplest way to put it would be that you're under the charge of my daughter-in-law. And since this is her house, you will live with the rest of the family right here for at least a year. Unless, you plan to kill him after you’ve fed him? Or perhaps you will have him sleep outside with the mules to catch cold?”
“Mother, I believe you have made your point. I ask you not to forget that Leslie is his First Judge, not you. Tanner Rod is a guest in our home to all others but her. He will be treated like one,” his eyes narrowed at Tanner, “and he will act like one. Now, if no one has any objections, I’m going into town to register Mr. Rod before we have the Electives breathing down our necks. Could you imagine the implications of an unregistered probation in this house? We’d be social outcasts!”
“Oh, no,” said his wife with a sarcastic smile, “we wouldn’t want that.”
Nessis, slipped behind Mr. Rod long enough cut a lock of his hair with only a brief explanation of “Identification” then he left.
Leslie sent him to bed. With so much to aggravate and strain him, Tan (which Asper had begun to call him) fell effortlessly into a restful sleep. This place rubbed against his nerves and annoyed all his cognitive thought. However, in a subconscious way, which Tanner did not wish to admit, he felt safe and relaxed. Less guilty. Closing his eyes, the Earthling felt as if he could sleep for days.
~*~
“I was just wondering if you had planned to wake up any time this century. After all, you can’t earn your living lying in bed all day? Rise and shine Mr. Rod, before I give you a shiner to rise with!”
Hanging off the bed, Tan opened his eyes to a pair of well made leather boots. Following the connected legs all the way, for they did seem to go all the way up, his eyes rested on a pair of strong folded arms and a…
A clenched fist flew out of nowhere hitting the young man square in one of his wandering eyes. Pain shot through him and rage was quick to follow. Thrashing out of the large guest bed, he lunged for his First Judge who neatly sidestepped his uncalculated attack.
“What was that for?” he screamed. Tanner could think of half a dozen reasons why a beautiful woman might not want to be ogled at, but none seemed twisted enough for this clearly insane female.
“You killed a man, or had you forgotten?”
There was no trace of malice in her voice at all. Not even a crooked smile showed on her lips. Her brown tiger eyes spoke only of understanding and regret.
Too much, too soon, was all his jumbled mind could think as he sank to the wood floor in a weeping heap.
“Yes,” she said softly, “yes it is.”
Sitting on the floor close enough to embrace the sobbing boy, his elder whispered comfort into his ear.
“There are some things that we may not be forgiven of, my little Tanner. That is not always important. What matters to people like you and me isn’t forgiveness, its understanding. Someone always understands.”
He didn’t say anything, but his tears subsided. He curled up next to the odd woman who now could have passed for his dead mother.
“You have told me what you have done. It is time to tell me what happened.”
She listened to his tale with patience. Not with the perverted, malicious interest he had expected. No condemnation showed on that ageless face. He told her how he’d entered the company, how he’d gradually became friends with almost every man there, how Caden had taken him under his wing and was teaching him the ways of the wilderness. When he spoke of that night when he was given his damning choice, an unnatural calm washed over him.
“They weren’t just transporting leather. It had to have been a cover for something else. Caden was an informant, I guess. They found him out. He had to be disposed of outside of Masclene district. So they turned to me. They thought I was an assassin Leslie.”
“Why is that Tanner?”
“Because they all were, I was mingling with mercenaries, and I didn’t even now it. I didn’t have choice. It was kill or be killed. The old man even lunged on my knife. Oh God, what have I done.”
“You made a choice.” She wasn’t offering him retribution, he realized. All she could give him was salvation. They sat silently for a long time. Finally she cocked her head to one side and raised a trademark eyebrow.
“Altruism is a brave thing Mr. Rod; it is a shame so many do not recognize it when they see it. Think on that.”
Leslie Felidae tucked the grown man back into bed burdened by her own memories. Shutting the door quietly behind her, she left to take refuge in her husband’s thoughts. She found him in the library waiting. “Will you be fine, love?” he asked her sweetly.
“Yes, I’m strong enough for it.”
“Is he truly guilty, I mean did he have a choice?”
“We always have a choice Nessis, his was to die or survive. He survived.”
“Will he be alright?”
She wearily sighed, “I was.”