REDEMPTION TRAIL

The lunar surface was an important component in the overall scheme of human affairs. Unlike the four frontier planets, the moon was never divided among the nations of the world; it had been claimed by the United Nations as an international sanctuary for human life. As a result, each of the one hundred twelve lunar cities were politically unbiased and open to anyone from any nation. Although there were some heavy industries on the moon, most of the lunar economy centered around tourism and international politics.
The largest of the lunar cities was Le Monnier, which was located at the east edge of the Sea of Serenity near the foothills of the Taurus Mountains. It boasted a population of seven million and played host to the largest spaceport in existence. Other cities, such as Faith and Linne, were not nearly as large but much more eloquent. These cities were filled with luxury resorts, which catered to crowds of party-goers who sought recreation in the form of legalized gambling and prostitution. There was also the Tranquility Base Museum, the Mount Argaeus Observatory, and countless guided tours across supposedly pristine lunar landscape.
Among the tourist attractions, party-goers, and international diplomats, were the meek, who made a modest and humble living tending to the whims of the more fortunate. Many of them would have gladly left the lunar arena, but the cost of a ticket on a spaceliner was far beyond their humble means.
In amongst this quagmire of affluent and deprived, were an assortment of renegades and two-bit hoods, who tried their best to make a living by less than honorable means; drugs, theft, cons, and whatnot. Almost all of the lunar cities had the same proportional mix of wealthy, poor, and hoods; except for oneUnli.
Unli's name was actually an acronym for United Nations Lunar Installation, which was established long before the moon became a social hot spot. As a result, Unli, which is located near the Tranquility Base Museum, was not nearly as flashy and elaborate as the other lunar cities, though it did support a population of two and a half million.
Unli, however plain, was by far most prestigious place to be; it was the meeting place of world leaders and the seat of government for human affairs throughout the known realm. Representatives from Earth and the four frontier planets argued and debated at Unli on a daily basis, laws were drafted, UN missions were outlined, defined, and implemented while world media organization constantly hounded diplomats for spicy pieces of news. Everyone who was anyone had the privilege of entering Unli.
To Krey Altson, however, the privilege of being in Unli was indeed a dubious honorand one that he would have gladly foregone. He sat quiet and humble in a UN courtroom next to his attorney, Mr. Shelton, who had put forth a respectable effort in a futile attempt to save him from justice. Krey's wrists were locked in cufflets which, in turn, were locked to the arms of his chair. The cufflets had been installed on his wrists ever since he was apprehended two weeks earlier.
Krey was a young man, a kid by some standards, full of vim, vigor, and motivated by a longing for adventure. He was of average height with a build that was considerably massive. He seldom engaged in athletics, though he could have rammed flesh with the best of quarterbacks, as was evident by his triumphs in various bar-room brawls. He was considered good-looking by most and could often turn a lady's head, though his urge to roam prevented him from striking up a meaningful relationship. He had, for the most part, a carefree attitude, which was dangerously coupled with a nasty habit of procrastination. It was this combination, in part, that brought him to the UN courtroom that morning.
Krey was nervous about the outcome of the proceedings, though somewhat relieved that his long ordeal with the UN was about to come to a close. It had been nearly a week since he was convicted of his crime in a fair and honest trial, and, after spending six days in a cramped holding canister, his sentencing was finally at hand.
He looked around briefly at the dozen or so other convicts who, like him, were waiting for their turn under the gavel. The courtroom was filled to capacity, though they were hardly the international murders, spies, and assassins that drew media attention. This was the UN's lower court, which processed misdemeanors committed in UN jurisdiction, such as crimes perpetrated on the moon or in orbital zones around Earth.
The long, drawn-out proceedings had been in progress all morning and the judge was beginning to grow weary, as was evident by the increasing severity of the sentences that he hastily administered; some fines were as high as two million marks, and prison terms were beginning to exceed seven years. Krey hoped that his turn would come before the sentences became so stiff that suicide would seem like an attractive alternative.
Krey saw himself as an innocent victim of circumstancesthe UN saw him as a repeat offender. An objective bystander, on the other hand, might have assessed Krey as basically honest, though certainly guilty of being irresponsibleas well as young and foolish.
Krey's uneasiness grew when his attorney shoved a thin, plastic computer terminal in front of him. The terminal looked like a sheet of stiff, flexible, legal-sized plastic, which displayed vivid blue letters on a glossy white background. The keypad for the terminal was nothing more than a series of icons and numbers printed in the margin of the plastic sheet.
Krey immediately recognized the glowing-blue data displayed on the paper-thin terminal; it was his UN record. Mr. Shelton hammered the thin, plastic computer with a fingertip as he pointed to one of the line items on Krey's record.
"What the hell is this about?" Mr. Shelton's voice was firm, yet discreetly quiet.
Krey looked down at the computer display, which was somewhat difficult with his wrists locked to the chair by cufflets, and read the line in question: `Item 26: Pending law suitProperty damage; see record 007FC4'.
Krey swallowed hard before replying in an uneasy voice, which was hardly much louder than a whisper.
"I told you about that. A panel drifted off my craft and dented a communications reflector on a passing vehicle."
"I know that," Mr. Shelton retorted, though he prudently kept his voice down, "You said you took care of it!"
"I didI paid the repair bill."
"Then, why is it still on the record?"
Krey shrugged his shoulders then replied in a less-than-confident tone, "I guess I never got around to filling out the computerwork."
Mr. Shelton let out a sigh of disgust.
"Let me give you a quick, cruel lesson in law..."
Mr. Shelton pressed several icons and numbers at the edge of the plastic sheet; the document's lettering changed to display some obscure segment of UN law.
"...Look here." He read the law to Krey as he followed the words with his finger. "Under UN Provision 1292, an alternate sentence of exile must not be offered if one or more of the following conditions exist..."
The list of conditions was far too long to be displayed on the flexible computer screen; Mr. Shelton pressed several more icons at the edge of the plastic, then the list quickly scrolled up through several pages of text. He pointed to item ninety-eight, then continued with his informal lecture.
"...Defendant has a private or public law suit pending at the time of sentencing." Once again, he pressed several icons at the edge of the plastic sheet; the display returned to Krey's UN record. Mr. Shelton pointed to the line describing the pending law suit.
"If it's in the record, it's pending." He shook his head to emphasize his point, "I can't get you an alternate sentence, kidyou're going to jail."
"But," Krey argued hopelessly, "I paid the bill!"
Mr. Shelton made a sharp, karate-like gesture with his hand, "Never neglect your responsibilities under the law!"
The discussion was interrupted by the unmistakable, electronic gong of the gavel as it fell three time in rapid succession. Mr. Shelton looked up and realized that his words had become a little too loud; the courtroom was quiet and all eyes were focused on him.
There was an unnerving moment of silence, then the justice spoke from behind the bench; he directly addressed Mr. Shelton in a flat, calm, authoritative voice.
"With your permission, Mr Shelton, we would like to continue these proceeding without interruption."
Mr. Shelton's expression portrayed a noticeable amount of embarrassment. He knew that, although the incident could not be held against him legally, it would certainly taint the judge's opinion of his client's case. "My apologies to the court, your Honor."
There was another unnerving delay as the judge used silence to emphasize his point.
"Thank you, Mr. Shelton." The judge turned his attention to the bailiff, "Next case please."
The bailiff looked at a small, plastic computer terminal, which was about the size and thickness of an index card, then read off the next case to be sentenced.
"The United Nations verses Kreymec M. Altson."
Almost immediately, Krey's cufflets came free from the arm of the chair. He took a moment to slide the bracelet- like cufflets back from his wrists and massage the area where they had been holding him. He followed Mr. Shelton's lead as he rose to his feet.
The judge scrutinized Mr. Shelton and his client for a brief moment before proceeding.
"Kreymec M. Altson... Where have I heard that name before?" His voice carried a biased, taunting tone, which led Krey and Mr. Shelton to believe that the judge had full recollection of the last time they approached his bench.
The judge turned to the bailiff, "Proceed with the preliminaries."
The bailiff, again, turned his attention to the small, plastic computer terminal. "Kreymec M. Altson. Age 24. Nationality; United States. Occupation..." There was a slight delay as the bailiff squinted at the card in disbelief, "Salvage entrepreneur. Registered owner of tail number RQ- 773. Previous convictions as follows"
The judge held up a hand to interrupt, "Tail number RQ-733." There was an uneasy pause; Krey could clearly see that the judge was not amused. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. Altson... Isn't tail number RQ-773 that dirty, rusted, lumbering junk-heap that constantly obstructs UN space traffic?"
Mr. Shelton was quick to speak, "Objection!"
The judge let out a disgruntled sigh, "Very well... Then tell me this, Mr. AltsonWhat, exactly, is a salvage entrepreneur?"
Krey tried to sound as responsible and dignified as possible, "I recycle space junk, your Honor."
The judge settled back in his chair, "You could start with tail number RQ-733." He turned his attention to the bailiff, "How many formal complaints have been filed against tail number RQ-733?"
The bailiff pressed several icons at the edge of his card, then waited for the information to appear. "One hundred forty-three total. Ninety-five complaints by private individuals, thirty-one complaints by international representatives, seventeen by various UN agencies."
"I see," the judge smiled, "Proceed with the preliminaries."
The bailiff pressed an icon at the edge of the plastic display, then continued from the point of interruption.
"Previous convictions as follows: Twenty- seven counts of illegal mooring. Fourteen counts of obstructing space traffic. Twelve counts of illegal communications protocol. Twelve counts of flight safety violations. Nine counts of illegal orbiting maneuvers. Six counts of personal property damage. Five counts of public property damage. Two counts of illegal landings. One count of illegal breach of time barrier. One count of flying while intoxicated. One count of drunk and disorderly. Eighty- nine misdemeanor convictions in all."
The judge shook his head, "How many of these convictions do not involve tail number RQ-733?"
"One, your Honor; the drunk and disorderly conviction."
The judge looked down at one of several thin, plastic computer terminals, which were neatly laid out across the bench. After studying the document for some time, a slow, sinister smile slowly grew across his reverently aged face. He looked up at Krey.
"I am delighted, Mr. Altson." He looked down at the computer display; his voice reflected a taunting tone of delight. "I see your council has applied for exile under UN Provision 1292." He looked back up at Krey. "Am I to assume that you will be taking tail number RQ-733 with you on your journey to the frontier planets?"
"Yes, your Honor."
The judge held up his hands in a delighted gesture of relief. "Excellent! The courts won't have to pay for the demolition of your shipand I won't have to see you in front of my bench for the remainder of my days. This calls for champaign, Mr. Altson."
Mr. Shelton was quick to speak out, "Ahbegging the court's pardon, your Honor." Mr. Shelton nervously rubbed his chin as he tried to think of the best way to phrase the bad news. The judge's expression quickly changed to something that resembled a bulldog.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Shelton?"
"I sincerely regret these irregular procedures, your Honor, but I must withdraw our application for exile. It would seem that"
The judge held up a hand to interrupt. "Save it, Mr. Shelton. You've used enough of the court's time with your foolish antics."
The judge turned his attention to one of the plastic computer sheets on his bench. He pressed several icons at the edge of the sheet, then turned his attention to Krey.
"It would appear that I'm rid of you either way, Mr. Altson. Your past record of eighty nine misdemeanor convictions, in conjunction with your recent crime of failure to move an illegally moored vehicle, brings a sentence of four to twelve years. It is the judgment of this court that you serve six years in a holding canister in the UN Rehabilitation Warehouse. Furthermore, I am ordering the courts to confiscate and demolish tail number RQ-733. Do you have the funds to pay for the demolition of your ship?"
Krey lowered his head in remorse, "No, your Honor."
"According to UN law, I am authorized to extend your sentence by as much as three years to offset the cost of demolition. Since RQ-733 is an enormous craft, I'm going to impose the maximum extension of"
The judge was interrupted when Mr. Shelton's thin, plastic computer terminal began to beep. Mr. Shelton looked down at the display sheet in disbelief; there, on Krey's UN record was a message that flashed, `Item 26, Pending property damage, deleted from record. Proceed with exile under UN Provision 1292.' He could see by the transmission code that the message was sent directly from the UN's mainframe computer.
"Mr. Shelton, Please keep your personal messages out of the courtroom. If you insist on interrupting these proceeding I'll be forced to charge you with contempt of court. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Shelton?"
Mr. Shelton looked up at the judge briefly, then back down at the flashing message. This was indeed highly irregular; someone, or something, with UN connections apparently wanted Krey exiled. He looked at the big, impetuous kid next to him and wondered what kind of connections he hador what kind of people he was involved with. He had known Krey since his first conviction; he was hardly anything like an international spy and had absolutely no political pull as far as the UN was concerned. Mr. Shelton began to wonder if he should pursue the advice passed on by the mainframe, or if he would eventually regret getting mixed up in something he would rather not know about.
"Do I make myself clear!" the judge insisted.
Mr. Shelton looked at the judge then humbly replied, "My apologies to the court, your Honor. Ahif the court pleases, I would like to re-assert our application for exile under UN Provision 1292."
Numerous moans, groans, and mutterings began to fill the courtroom. The judge let out a sigh of disgust as he picked up the gavel.
"ORDER!" The electronic gong of the gavel echoed through the courtroom. "I INSIST ON ORDER!"
The judge cast a scrutinizing eye across the courtroom as silence fell on the assembly; no-one wanted to taint their case with so much as a cough or sneeze. The courtroom became so desperately quiet that Mr. Shelton could almost hear himself sweat.
"Make up your mind, Mr. Shelton; do you wish to pursue UN Provision 1292 or not!"
"Our original application stands, your Honor."
The judge beamed at Mr. Shelton for quite some time as he toyed with a decision. Krey stood nervously at Mr. Shelton's side; he didn't have a clue as to what was going on.
After what seemed like an eternity, the judge turned his attention to the bailiff. "Is Mr. Altson eligible for Provision 1292?"
The bailiff pressed several icons at the edge of his card, waited for a moment, then announced the results of the computer search.
"He is, your Honor. He qualifies on all one hundred twenty six conditions."
The judge thought about the case for a moment or two before he finally turned his attention to Krey.
"Mr. Altson. I shall resist the temptation to hold your council's conduct against you and grant you exile under UN Provision 1292. According to the guidelines set forth in 1292, you have a two hour grace period in which to get yourself and that dilapidated piece of junk out of UN jurisdiction. Should you fail to do so within the grace period, you will be in contempt of court and liable to serve the prison term previously set fort. Do you understand your responsibilities under UN Provision 1292?"
Krey did his best to suppress a triumphant smile, "I do, Your Honor."
The judge turned his attention to Mr. Shelton. He emphasized his point with an assertive finger, "Mr. Shelton. If I ever see a repeat performance of your conduct here today, I will personally do everything in my power to revoke your privilege of practicing law. Do I make myself clear?"
There was a detectable tone of animosity in Mr. Shelton's voice, "Yes, your Honor."
"So ordered." The gavel fell, then the judge pointed to the door.
"Get out of my courtboth of you."
Krey's triumphant smile finally broke for all to see as he started for the door. He was immediately followed by Mr. Shelton, who blatantly stewed with anger and contempt. Mr. Shelton had spent many years building up a respectable, unblemished practice, only to have it tainted by this unfortunate incident.
Krey was not the only one wearing a triumphant smile that morning. One of the other convicts, who was also awaiting sentencing, watched proudly as her unsuspecting mark, Krey Altson, marched out of the courtroom on his way to exile. Once again, Cassie Hempton managed to manipulate circumstances to her advantage.

Krey slammed a victorious fist into the palm of his hand as he stepped out of the courtroom; he thought for sure that he was going to do time in a holding canister.
"You're the greatest, Mr. Shelton. I'm going to recommend you to all my friends."
Mr. Shelton grabbed Krey's arm assertively and spoke in a voice soured by his disgrace in the courtroom. "Don't do me any favors."
Krey looked at Mr. Shelton and, for the first time, saw anger in his face. A look of shock and concern came over him, "What's the problem, Mr. Shelton?"
"I'm not done with you yet." He looked around the crowded lobby in search of a secluded corner.
"I paid your bill." Confusion continued to dominate Krey's face.
Mr. Shelton motioned to a corner near a political poster, then encouraged Krey with a shove. "This way."
"What!?"
The two men were silent as they marched off to the corner. Krey tried desperately to think of what he might have done to upset his attorney. He was no stranger to the courtroom and was certain that he had conducted himself properly.
When they reached the corner by the political poster, Mr. Shelton released Krey abruptly, then began with the inquisition.
"What the hell are you involved with?"
Krey shook his head emphatically as he held out his arms in a helpless gesture. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Mr. Shelton was beginning to raise his voice, "Maybe playing dumb works with your friends, but not me. Frankly, I don't care what you're involved with, so long as you keep me out of it."
Krey's look of confusion persisted, "Keep you out of what!?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out!" Mr. Shelton looked around nervously after realizing that he had raised his voice just a little too loud. He returned his attention to Krey; the huge, muscular kid was obviously shaken.
"Shit, Mr. Shelton, I wouldn't do nothin' to youI'd be locked in a can if not for you."
Mr. Shelton pointed in the general direction of the courtroom, "You made me look like a fool in thereI could lose my practice! I don't know who you have pulling strings for you, and I don't carejust leave me out of it!"
"What did I do!?"
Mr. Shelton studied Krey's face for a moment or two; he was beginning to believe that his client's disguise of ignorance was actually genuine. He knew that Krey was a little too free-wheeling at times and perhaps a little naive when it came to shams and politics. He could easily visualize someone manipulating Krey without him suspecting anything. He knew that, sooner-or- later, someone had to knock some sense into the kid's head.
"Look, you big, dumb" Mr. Shelton paused. He took a deep breath to calm down, somewhat, then proceeded with a more prudent choice of words. "Someone is trying to set you upsomeone with connections in high places"
"But I"
"Shut up! I don't want to get stung when they take you down. I'm giving you one last piece of advice as your lawyer; get your wet-behind-the-ears ass on that laser- riddled piece of junk, and get out of the solar system before you find yourself hip-deep in something you know nothing about. Next time you get your ass in a jam don't call mefind another lawyer."
With that, Mr. Shelton turned and walked off.
Krey's look of confusion had escalated to something that resembled. Once again, Krey held up his hands in a helpless gesture as he shouted to his attorney.
"What did I do!?"
Mr. Shelton did not reply or even turn around; he quietly, and prudently, disappeared into the crowd.