Metal Swarm - Kevin J. Anderson [126]
Seventy-eight
Patrick Fitzpatrick III
On the day Patrick was to face the clan judgement council, the Roamers held him under tight security. With the Gypsy impounded, the young man didn't know what Del Kellum thought he might do or where he might go. Maybe the Roamers were afraid he would sabotage the ekti reactor, destroy the anti-grav systems, and cause the whole skymine to crash into the clouds? He couldn't figure out why they would be suspicious of him, since he had searched for months to find this place - to see Zhett and to make amends, not to cause further harm. -
'Your track record speaks for itself,' said a surly skymine worker who brought him a plate of spicy meat and hydroponic vegetables over rice. 'Look at the damage you've already caused. We wouldn't put anything past you.'
'No, I don't suppose you would.' He thanked the man and gratefully accepted the meal. The flavours brought back pleasant memories. Though his stomach was in knots, he scraped every last speck of the food from the dish.
If his grandmother knew what he was doing right now, she would probably laugh at him for his lack of planning and his failure to manipulate the situation to his own advantage. He had never been good at manipulation like the old Battleaxe Maureen Fitzpatrick. And for that he was glad. He didn't need to manipulate, just to be honest. Of course, he had taken her spaceship when he needed it… Someday, he'd find a way to repay her.
Zhett hadn't come to see him, and he was still burdened by so much that he wanted to get off his chest. Confessing about Raven Kamarov was the most difficult thing he'd ever done, and he suspected that he might never get the chance now to open his heart to Zhett. That was even harder for him. Why wouldn't she at least let him say how sorry he was? He had forgotten how maddening she could be.
His metal-walled quarters felt cramped and claustrophobic. Here in a huge skymine high above the clouds, couldn't they have found him a room with a window? They had plenty of sky to go around. He thought about what he should say to the judgement council, though he didn't know what questions he would be asked. So he sat and waited… and thought about Zhett.
The door slid open, letting in a breath of industrial smells from the outer corridor. Del Kellum stood there in a tight, dressy shirt with his clan crest embroidered on the breast, it was so fancy and clean, Patrick guessed he didn't wear the shirt often. Kellum's grey-speckled hair was neatly combed. 'Ready for this, boy? I hope you've used your solitude to find your Guiding Star.'
'I didn't know I was supposed to be looking for one.'
'Every man needs to find his Guiding Star. Come on.' Patrick dutifully followed him.
The clan judgement council consisted of Kellum and four other skymine chiefs meeting in a domed room on the topmost deck. The curved ceiling was transparent, showing the curls of pastel mists that rose all around them. As Patrick entered, the skymine chiefs eyed him with withering scorn.
Zhett sat at the head of the table beside her father. She was beautiful in a dark work uniform that fit her body far too perfectly. The only thing wrong, he thought, was that her face needed a '- smile. He flashed a hopeful glance in her direction, but her dark eyes were locked in the distance. He wished she would even scowl at him, yell, or snap accusations. If she would just listen to him for five minutes…
Kellum called the meeting to order, his normally friendly expression absent. Patrick Fitzpatrick III, please stand.'
He glanced down at himself. 'I am standing.'
Kellum seemed to be going through a script. 'Tell us again the crimes that you informally confessed before us. State them for the record.' “
'I bet he changes his story, now that he's on trial,' Bing Palmer muttered.
'I'm not changing my story. I came here to atone for what I did, to seek forgiveness, if you're willing to offer it - or take my punishment if you won't. I came to say I'm sorry.' He hoped for some kind of reaction from Zhett,