“Why do they put faces on cookies?” Hannah said, frowning seriously at her bear-shaped cookie. It was so very happy.

“Because faces are delicious,” Elliot replied. He bit the face off his cookie, which was shaped like a fish.

“Help me, help me, I have no face even though it was delicious!” he mimed the fish as now saying, crumbs tumbling from the corners of his mouth.

“Ew, that’s gross!” Hannaha shot back, perturbed. “I don’t want to eat faces.”

“Even though they’re delicious?” Elliot replied, chewing with his mouth open. “Look how much I’m enjoying his!”

“Faces are not delicious! Cookies are delicious, and these are just cookies.”

“They could be some weird kind of alien,” Elliot ventured. “That just live a super-slow life and so we don’t even know. We just think they’re cookies, and then we eat their faces!”

He had dropped his decapitated fish cookie and taken out another one, in the shape of a cat. “Your face is miiiiine,” he said, biting it off.

But it was the last of his cookies. He looked at her bear.

“You can’t have my cookie,” Hannah said defensively.

“I just want his FACE,” Elliot replied, reaching greedily for it.

“No!”

“Just a nibble?”

“You can’t eat his face because I’m going to eat his face!” Hannah yelled, jumping back, out of her seat.

The room fell silent, and Hannah realized everyone was looking at her.

She sat back down. “Why do you have two cookies, anyway? We always get one.”

“I guess I just deserve more cookies,” Elliot replied, smiling lazily and letting his head loll to the side.

“You usually have one,” Hannah noted.

“What, do you keep track of my cookies?” he shot back, mockingly.

“I have a memory,” she said with an annoyed sound. “So why do you have two?”

“Guess my dad just wanted me to have two,” Elliot replied, suddenly seeming uncomfortable.

Hannah glared at him for a moment before taking a bite out of her cookie. But not the face.

Elliot still faked a little shriek of pain.

“Why are you being so messed up?” she asked him, after she had chewed it up and swallowed it.

“I’m just joking,” Elliot said.

“Yeah, you joke a lot,” she said. “But this is meaner.”

“They’re just cookies,” he snapped with a bitterness that surprised her.

“Fine,” she said, turning away and letting it drop.

Elliot did not eat the rest of his headless cookies, just fiddled with them until lunch time was over.

The call came for them to clean up, and she put hers away, but Elliot dawdled.

“Elliot, it’s time to put that away,” she told him. He ignored her, instead making his headless cat dance.

Frowning, Hannah walked away from the table.

“Professor Browning,” she said. The man smiled and turned to her.

“Yes, Hannah?”

“I think Elliot is upset,” she said.

The teacher looked past her, to the boy, who was now making his cookies smash into each other, sending crumbs flying.

“He looks fine to me, but I’ll go to talk to him, okay?”

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Hannah nodded, looking back to Elliot again, before leaving the lunch room.

----------------------------------------

Apollonia had been instructed to wait, and found herself sitting in a room whose entire wall was either a very well-made screen or an actual window into the proceedings.

The courtroom was fairly large, but surprisingly sedate. Aside from a large seal on the far wall, there was no decoration, just tables and chairs. With how the entryway to the station had looked, she had expected something much more ostentatious.

People began to enter. First the Tribunal, who moved to their seats but did not actually sit yet, standing behind them and talking to each other. They were immediately beneath her window, though she realized that the window blurred data on the screens in front of them. Clever way to keep privacy, though it made her wonder what else they could alter.

A large box of seats across from her window began to fill up. Her tablet told her they were People’s Assessors, elected overseers to be sure that all was fair. Since it was a fleet trial, they were mostly from the fleet – she saw that many were not even officers or non-coms. Yet they all regarded the hearing with a calm seriousness and total attention.

Holding her tablet up, she saw their identities; most were not from glamorous roles, like bridge officers. Only one was from a security field. Two were fleet dock workers, another was an engineer whose hands were still stained with oil.

It struck her as strange.

The in-room gallery had a trickle of people going to sit down in it, including Kell and his Shoggoth . . . aides? Attendants? Guards, even? They sat in a far corner, and Kell looked up – directly at her. She scowled.

Finally, Brooks entered. The Admiral was walking next to him, and they went to a table that was directly across from the tribunal, but likewise merely stood behind their chairs.

Director Freeman entered, and then the old man she’d seen from earlier. She could have sworn he looked like he’d gotten even older, and she wondered just what he was supposed to do. He seemed likely to forget where he was, let alone contribute something important.

Before sitting, Brooks gave a bow to the Tribunal and then the Assessors and old man. To her surprise, they all bowed back. Freeman did the same.

The Tribunal sat first, then everyone else followed suit.

The old man rose, and a digital voice chimed in, filling the room; “Chairman Chung will now initiate proceedings.”

“This Tribunal,” the ancient man began. His voice was surprisingly clear and strong. “Is brought together today to discuss the conduct of Captain Ian Brooks on dates-” the sound cut out. “-taking place at-” it cut again. “-and whether or not he intentionally failed to carry out commands as ordered, resulting in-” it cut again, and she began to think it was not some glitch. “-The charges are brought by Olnos Freeman, Director of Tenkionic Research.”

“Why couldn’t I hear those words?” she asked quietly to her tablet.

“You are not cleared for certain information in the proceedings,” it told her.

“But I was there!” she said loudly, then sucked in a breath, glancing up.

But no, they could not hear her in the courtroom. Perhaps if she yelled, but she wasn’t about to do that. Unless they did something really stupid.

“In this case,” the ancient man continued. “The use of legal AIs must not occur. Matters of the case pertaining to science that is known to be disruptive of such devices means that this case must be judged by organic minds alone.”

Just who was this old coot, anyway, she wondered. On her tablet she looked him up.

“Master Esmon Chung. Born 2602 . . .” it said.

“2602?!” she snapped. “That would make him . . . like . . .” she started counting.

“His age is 351 standard Earth years,” her system said.

“Yeah,” she replied lamely. “That old. Dark, how is he still alive?”

The system did not answer that. “Deeply involved in the Law Reform of 2657, Chung was granted the title ‘Master of Law’ and has served as Chairman for numerous high-profile or important court cases ever since. His other accomplishments include-“

Apollonia stopped the stream. She didn’t need to know more. The man was ancient, alive somehow, and apparently some kind of highly-respected genius. It was . . . enough to know about him.

She saw him turn his eyes to Brooks, unable to shake the thought that Chung was over a dozen times her own age. “Captain, are you ready to face these charges?”

“I am,” Brooks said.

“Are you ready to accept any punishment this trial shall deem worthy, within the bounds of law?”

“Yes,” he said. “I am ready.”

“Even if it means relinquishing your command and being expelled from the fleet?”

Brooks nodded. “Yes.”

The Chairman gave a half-bow in return. “So noted. We may begin. I yield the floor to the Honorable Davij Kernos. What have you to say?”

As the Chairman sat back down, the man at the end of the Tribunal table stood up.

“Thank you, Chairman,” Kernos said. He looked to Brooks, then Freeman. “First I must introduce the others who will be on this panel. Next to me is Karlina Cressin, Chief Director of the Research Bureau. To her left is Advisor Nuuan, of the Dessei Republic Fleet. They each represent the relevant bureau, and I will act as the impartial member. To our right, the People’s Assessors will guard against injustice and contribute their own insight to this matter.”

One of those men stood and said something, but Apollonia was starting to find her mind wandering. For something so dramatic, this was . . . very boring.

She’d seen dramas taking place in the courtroom. They were much more interesting than this, and yet she had still found them tedious.

“If the defendant has any preliminary statements to make, he may do so,” Kernos said, gesturing.

Brooks spoke to the Admiral for a second, and then the older man stood.

“I would first like to say that I object, most vociferously, to this inquiry. This matter was taken through unusual channels, avoiding entirely the Fleet and its own internal review systems – superseding the authority of the fleet itself! I move for an immediate dismissal of all charges, with prejudice.”

That did not seem to go over very well. The Chairman looked a little surprised, Apollonia thought, and the Tribunal spoke quietly to each other.

“While we understand your reservations on some of the bureaucratic matters, System Admiral, the charges were filed through acceptable channels. I am afraid we must deny your request.”

“Please note for the record my continued objection,” Vandoss grunted.

“Very well, Admiral. It will be so noted.”