Raaze gave her a sharp look. “Cute? You’ll pay for that later,” he promised in a low voice.
“Promises, promises.” She winked at him, the door sliding open in front of them.
She paused on the threshold. The chamber was smaller than she had expected. Curved panels of what she was sure was fake marble, because there was no way they’d haul actual marble all the way out to some third-rate station in the ass-end of beyond. But it looked good, and that was enough. There were three rows of tiered seats, and a raised platform in the middle of the court for the judge and the arbiters. In front of the judge were two desks; her brother, Kian, was already sitting at one with his lawyers. Three of them. She shook her head at the sight of them. Kian was always overcompensating for something.
He turned to look at her as she walked down the steps to take her seat next to her lawyer, and gave her the same smug, condescending smile he’d used most of her life.
You’ve got this, kid, Fred murmured, and she knew he was watching through her lens. She hadn’t had a choice in that. He’d threatened to hack the nearest security bot and shoot his way into the tribunal chambers if she didn’t agree to him riding shotgun. And Raaze had offered to help him. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the two men in her life ganging up on her like that.
Thanks, Fred.
Remember, if those smug bastards try anything, I’ve got three firing solutions on that pretty new ship of his. It’ll be scrap. Just say the word and the assholes are walking home, okay? Without EVA suits.
She bit back her grin at that and sat down. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kian’s smile flicker.
Their father sat in the front row just behind Kian, his back straight and his hands folded in his lap. He didn’t look at her at all, hadn’t looked at her since she’d walked in. No surprise there; being hauled into court like this must be eating him up inside.
Good.
The senior court administrator, a severe-looking man with silver threaded through his hair, stood.
“Case number seven-four-two-nine. Criminal complaint filed by Cait Rhenn, owner and operator of CR Transport, against Kian Rhenn, safety officer of Rhenn Logistics. The charge is sabotage with intent to cause death.”
Silence fell in the room as Kian’s lawyers looked at each other. One of them leaned in, but Kian waved him off. He stood up, all easy charm and confidence.
“Your Honor,” he smiled at the judge, an older woman with gray hair. “These accusations are false. My sister has always had…” he smiled indulgently in her direction. “Somewhat of a fanciful nature, shall we say? It’s the reason we only let her have one ship, with a Fred unit.”
The judge’s eyes narrowed.
Yeah, she doesn’t like the draanthic either, Raaze sent over the link.
“A Fred unit?” the judge asked, looking down at the data screens built into the desk in front of her.
“Yes, your Honor,” Kian said. “A Fred unit. It stands for Flight Response and Estimation Device. It’s a small, portable AI unit that can be attached to a ship and help a novice pilot learn how to navigate and fly. My sister has needed one since she was a kid.”
“What?” Cait surged to her feet. “That’s utter bullshit, your honor. Fred’s teaching and supervisory functions were turned off years ago. And it wasn’t in the H4-RPY. It’s my personal AI unit that I keep around for company. It’s not company property. I hold all the registrations, and the unit has been upgraded many times. In fact, if you check, that model number is no longer supported for any kind of assistive functioning.”
“Ms. Rhenn!” the judge shot her a look. “You will get your chance to speak.”
She ignored Fred’s ire in her ear, her gaze locked onto the judge. Her lawyer’s hand on her arm got her attention, and she sat back down.
“My apologies, Your Honor,” she said. “I react badly to being called a liar.”
The judge inclined her head. “As do we all, Ms. Rhenn. So, Mr. Rhenn, the FRED unit was not in the H4-RPY as per company policy, or because Ms. Rhenn required flight assistance at all?”
Kian looked down at his lawyer, who shook his head. “No, Your Honor. It was not on the ship as per company policy. But that’s because we all knew she used it, anyway.”
The judge leaned forward, her dark eyes narrowing. “But Ms. Rhenn has stated that this unit is no longer supported for flight assistance. Ms. Rhenn, can you provide the FRED unit’s model number for the court?”
“Of course, your honor,” she smiled and rattled off Fred’s model number and registration.
The judge slid a sideways glance at her administrator, who nodded and leaned over to murmur something to her.
“Confirmed. This unit is no longer supported for that function. Moreover, the unit’s registration records confirm all assistance functions were in fact removed years ago. So, Mr. Rhenn, your assertion that Ms. Rhenn required flight assistance is false.”
She turned back to Cait.
“You may present your evidence now, since Mr. Rhenn has already stated his defense.”
