Chapter 22: Board of Inquiry 2

Junior Engineer Travis Breckenridge, only survivor of the engineering crew of the SS Bucyrus, took the stand. There was a certain arrogance about the man, and Mike found himself instinctively disliking the rail-thin, dark-haired man.

"For the record, please state your name and occupation."

"I am Travis Breckenridge, Junior Engineer on the SS Bucyrus."

For the next hour, as a sceptical Board drew his story out, Travis displayed a disdain for the Board, a dislike for the ship and crew (incompetent crew, filthy ship), contempt for both the Solaris Federation and (especially) Spica, and an utter hatred for the passengers she carried on her fatal last run. He clearly couldn't get back to Arcturus – and clothes – fast enough.

No, he explained repeatedly, he was off-shift and asleep in his bunk when the casualty occurred. No, he didn't know the cause. No, he wasn't going to speculate as to the cause.

It was with obvious relief on the part of the junior engineer and frustration on the part of the Board that he was dismissed. Mike shared the opinions of the others, communicated through the data pads in front of them, that this witness was hiding a great deal.

The Board quickly called another witness. A surprise witness.

"For the record, please state your name and occupation."

"I am Agatha Reed. I'm the Chief Registrar of the Space Guild of Deneb Algenib." She was a tad nervous, buck naked aside from sandals, and clearly not a naturist – tan lines. She was also obviously competent, concentrating on the issue at hand and settling down quickly.

"And what brings you before this Board today?"

"At the request of ... well, high-ranking persons ... I was asked to come here and examine the bona fides of the crew of SS Bucyrus, a Deneb Algenib-registered passenger-carrying freighter."

"And what were the results of your enquiries?"

"All but one of the surviving crew of SS Bucyrus are who they claim to be."

Travis made a move to leap from his chair and attack the registrar. A pair of Spican Defence Force soldiers proved they were not decoration, and very effectively restrained the lanky Arcturan and secured him to the chair. The restraints did not allow him to move his arms at all – even Houdini would have found them inescapable. The room quickly settled back down after that excitement.

With masterful understatement, Mike mildly asked, "Can I assume that would be the junior engineer?" The room filled with chuckles, from all but the gagged Travis.

"Yes, you would be correct." She shot a nervous look at the heavily bound Travis, to reassure herself that he could do her no harm. "This Travis Breckenridge is not the real Travis Breckenridge. The real Travis Breckenridge passed away in a training accident five years ago."

The crowd erupted, and Vice-Admiral Delacroix had to bang his gavel several times to quiet the room.

"What evidence do you have that this is not the real Travis Breckenridge?" demanded Chief Justice Joanne Windemere. Travis spared some of the effort he was expending staring daggers at Agatha to glare at Joanne as well.

"Aside from the evidence provided by the death record, and the records of the Court of Inquiry into his death, the real Travis Breckenridge was in his forties, this man is listed as 28 years old and by appearance is not in his forties. In addition, look at this photo of the real Travis Breckenridge."

The photo was that of a black man; the "Travis" sitting in mute, livid fury in this room was clearly white.

"In addition, Spican security on this island were able to secure his fingerprints for me this morning. I watched the glass from the moment it was delivered to me until after the fingerprints had been lifted by a forensics technician the Ambassador's quarters. We got the subject's palm print and all four fingers plus thumb. I have the official records of Mr. Breckenridge and the Spican Bureau of Investigation's chief fingerprint expert, who is quite willing to testify to that, in a court of law if necessary." She indicated an older gentleman, greying at the temples, sitting in the audience on the far side from "Travis". The gentleman nodded in confirmation.

The "Perry Mason Moments" were not over yet, though.

"The Board calls Professor Sharpe to the stand."

A man in his mid 60's sat down in the witness chair. Like Agatha Reed, it was clear that Professor Sharpe had spent most of his life wearing clothing. "Travis" continued to indicate his extreme displeasure.

"I am Isadore Sharpe, tenured professor of structural engineering and spaceship design at the University of Olympus Mons, Mars, Solaria Federation."

"And what brings you here today?"

"SFS Hollyhock." The crowd laughed. "Actually, I was sent records from the computers on board the Bucyrus, plus pieces of physical evidence. I led a team that analyzed that data and generated a recreation of events."

He pointed to the large display screen to the Board's left. In response to the cue, Corinne brought up the professor's exhibit.

"The initial failure was caused by a bomb, mounted behind the control panel of the starboard engine's reactor. A second explosion took place on the primary coolant pipe for that reactor. Fortunately it did not immediately dump its fluid into the compartment. I presume that the intention was to breach the hull and allow the vacuum of space to drain the coolant, but the bomb in the engineering compartment was a shaped charge, and its force was used up cutting the wiring trunk rather than the hull.