The room was packed with people from the QMB Faction, borough heads, elders, respected citizens, military. Tables were set up in court fashion with two tables, for plaintiff and defendant, set before a longer table serving as the bench. In the middle of the “bench” sat Mayor De la O. She had acted quickly on the complaint made by Major Samson, motivated by her dislike of General Coulter and his lack of concern for her authority.
Jim Coulter entered the room, followed by twenty soldiers, and took his seat at the defendant table, knowing this was a sham already. His men and women sat along the wall behind him. Samson sat at the Plaintiff table, with a smug look on his face, sure he was about to be promoted to general.
This was about as formal as the citizens knew how to proceed. There had never been cause for a military tribunal before and they weren’t sure of what they were doing. Mayor De la O banged a gavel, and looked ridiculous doing so to Coulter’s mind.
“I call these proceedings into action,” she said, not knowing what to say exactly. “Major Samson, you have brought a charge of treason against General Coulter. Please rise and give your account.”
Samson rose slowly, trying to give a sense of gravitas to the circus he had caused, and related his accusations against General Coulter. Most of the room looked bored, but a number of the borough heads, who were serving as the “judges,” looked concerned, to Jim’s dismay.
“Thank you, Major Samson,” De la O stated. “General Coulter, please rise and provide your side of the story.”
Coulter, trying to contain a belly laugh, rose and began, “Major Samson is an asshole.” The room erupted into gasps and open laughter. Mayor De la O began banging her gavel, trying to quell the commotion.
“General Coulter! This is a serious proceeding. The crime you have been accused of carries the penalty of death. Please conduct yourself properly!”
“Mayor…or your honor…whatever you fancy yourself to be, you all know that Lillian Stewart embarrassed that old boy sitting over there, " he motioned to Samson, “and he’s just been itching for a way to pay her back for it. Now here’s the real deal. The Inner Bureau has people it calls Mind Breakers that can do some of the same sorts of things that C-1s can. But these Mind Breakers are bad people, as bad as they come. One of these evil SOBs got inside Lillian Stewart’s head and made her go to the wall. That’s who was in the hovercopter. She had no control over herself. Samson knows as much, but, like I said, he’s an asshole and that is as respectfully as I can put it. We’ve got Lillian in isolation until we can figure out how to break the monster’s hold on her. That’s it.” Coulter sat back down with more authority than De la O would ever be able to muster up in a lifetime.
One of the borough heads, an old man from Queens began the questioning, “General, you say she’s under the power of this…Mind Breaker…but she has her own powers. Doesn’t that create a danger for the city?”
“No it doesn’t,” Coulter responded bluntly. “Lillian Stewart has lost her abilities. She’s just a woman being plagues by this malicious person across the river. She is in isolation and poses no threat to the city.” The people in the room were shocked upon hearing that the C-1 they had brought in to help them was now powerless.
“What about the others?” Samson interjected. “If this…Mind Breaker…can take over Ms. Stewart’s mind when she’s, when she was, the most powerful of the C-1s, he can take over the minds of the other two! I say we eject them all or terminate them. They’re too great of a liability now!”
“What do you have to say to that, General Coulter?” De la O asked directly.
“I say Major Samson is greatest liability this city has right now!” The room erupted into commotion.
“General Coulter, Major Samson is not on trial. He came to us with a concern and it is a great concern,” De la O responded.
“Mayor, borough heads, yada yada, the Mind Breaker took over Ms. Stewart’s mind after she’d lost her powers. The other two C-1s aren’t at risk. They still have their abilities and they can help us. If you lot want to throw out, or murder, one of our greatest assets on the word of this cowardly snake, you can find yourselves another general!”
De la O scowled at Coulter. “It appears we have another general sitting next to you, Mr. Coulter,” she said with open scorn. Samson sat up tall, basking in the approbation.
“You do what you want, you stuffed shirt nobody,” Jim replied, for the first time since the C-1s had arrived appearing angry. But I’ll wager, Mayor, that my troops go where I go.” At that moment, the twenty soldiers behind Coulter, including Tobias, stood in confirmation of the General’s statement.
“This is outright sedition, General!” De la O said dramatically as she stood, “I can have you hanged from the wall!”
“Mayor, sit down!” the old man from Queens commanded, with the other borough heads nodding in agreement. “You’re out of line!” He turned his attention to Coulter, “Now, General, although I don’t approve of your cavalier tone here, I don’t think we have any intention of stripping you of your command. And, I, for one, would not be in agreement with turning the command over to Major Samson if we were.” There was vocal approval from most of the room. Samson slumped in his chair.
“I move for nominations for a new mayor,” a gray-haired woman from Brooklyn interjected.
“I second the motion!” a man from Manhattan stated.
De la O took on an expression of disdain for everyone in the room. She had had every intention of removing Coulter and appointing Samson in his stead. She knew that Samson would respect her authority and she did not, secretly, like the C-1s, nor did she want them in the city. Now she found herself under fire.
“There will be time for that later,” the old man from Queens said in answer to the motion, “Right now we need to know that the city is safe. So, General Coulter, is the city safe?”
Jim Coulter rose again, “The city is as safe as it was before the C-1s came, which is to say, without knowing what the A-1s have up their sleeves, that nothing’s changed in that respect, except for one thing. Knowing now that Major Samson has aspirations to take my charge and is willing to lie to get it and knowing that the old cuss has something against the C-1s, I don’t find the man trustworthy.”
Samson rose as well, “Mayor! You can’t sit there and let this bloated frog attack my charc…”
“Major Samson, have a seat!” the old man from Queens ordered. Samson was baffled. He looked at De la O seeking help, but she sat quietly, realizing that what power she thought she had was entirely illusory and the odds of her still being mayor at the end of the week were slim to none. “Jim,” he said addressing Coulter again, “I agree with you. But the reality is that, whether or not Major Samson is stripped of his rank, he would still be a liability just by being in the city. What do you propose we do about it?”
“That’s a tough one to be sure. After this, I don’t think there’s any way to ensure the safety of the C-1s with Samson in the city.” Samson’s face went white.
The gray-haired woman from Brooklyn spoke up, “Are we all in agreement that Major Samson is a liability? Let’s take a vote.” Of the nine people on the “bench,” seven raised their hands, with De La O and one rather stodgy man from Long Island being the only abstentions. She continued, “The vote is 7 to 2. Major Samson, please rise.” He rose once more. “You know our laws, sir. Your serious accusation against the General has been found without merit and to have been made with self-serving interests in mind. If everyone is in agreement,” she said looking around the bench, “We offer you a choice. You may go to the Long Island work farm or you may opt to be covertly transported out of the city into upstate. What do you choose?”
Samson could hardly swallow, much less speak. There was a pitcher of water on his table and he unsteadily poured a glass and took a large drink. Clearing his throat, he was finally able to push out an answer. “Upsate,” he said coldly.
“Then we will have one more vote. All in favor of releasing Mr. Samson into the upstate area?” The same seven of nine agreed. “Mr. Samson. Tonight, after dark, you will be transported beyond the city wall into the upstate. You are allowed to take anything you own, after it is searched, and you will be provided with a week’s worth of rations. That is the order of this tribunal. Can two soldiers from the back of the room please take Mr. Samson into custody and isolate him? Thank you.”
Tobias and another man rose and led Samson from the makeshift court room. Tobias Blumgartner had always thought of General Jim like a dad and had never been fond of Major Samson, whom he thought was too ornery to have authority. He felt a sense of justice in what had just happened.
That night, after his belongings were searched to ensure that he wasn’t smuggling out any secrets, Samson was led to a hovercopter. The False Field was activated and the pilot flew out over the far wall of the Bronx into upstate. Samson was left on an open road and, without so much as a curse under his breath, began walking, to where was now his business.
The citizens of ONYC had always had the ability to leave the city, but it never occurred to them to do so. They knew what the world of the A-1s was like, and they were loyal to their home. They, even those like De la O, rejected the general culture of class hierarchy, crass consumerism, and sociopathy that existed over the wall and they rejected the meta-panopticon. Letting Samson go was a huge risk. Samson had knowledge of the city that the A-1s would surely seek to capitalize on. But, he was a threat either way. It wasn’t that Samson was a bad person, per se, but his blind ambition and willingness to jeopardize the city for it were too great to allow him to stay. The citizens trusted in his sense of shame and knew that, now, he was a nobody. They also knew that he was without identification, an IATD, or even a chip, and that would likely guarantee his silence, along with the fact that, as a career military man, the A-1s would consider him guilty of treason, regardless of what intel he offered them.