Hour of Judgement Read Online Free

they are all to be reassigned and I will be well satisfied. What is your point?” Because after all they both already knew that he’d refused the offer of a second term. And if she had no news but for the denial of yet another appeal against Griers Verigson Lowden she need not have wasted time and effort telling him how carefully the Bench had considered the merits of his plea.
    “The Bench cannot afford the loss of critical skills, your Excellency. The Free Government grows more persuasive daily. Sabotage takes the lives of increasing numbers of loyal citizens, and the Bench must have the weapons it needs to fight the battle against this — one could hardly dignify the Free Government by the name of ‘enemy.’”
    Ivers’s hatred and contempt was clear in her words, regardless of how calm and level her voice was. Andrej could empathize to an extent: terrorism was terrorism, and never to be condoned. It was just that the Bench itself also practiced terrorism, and against its own, against the self-same loyal citizens it claimed to be protecting. Torture was terrorism. Andrej set his hands to the armrests and straightened his spine, decisively.
    “Then the Bench must criticize its moral self, Specialist Ivers. Fearlessly.” When would the Bench realize that the practice of institutionalized torture as an instrument of statecraft and the maintenance of civil order had just the opposite effect from that intended? “It is by the health and contentment of the body politic that one is to evaluate the rectitude of the State.”
    Skating perhaps a little close to politically questionable discourse, but nothing actionable. Ivers seemed annoyed.
    “Resources must be carefully husbanded in unsettled times, your Excellency. As you may be aware the Bench can exercise the power of annexation of critical resources. According to the provisions of the Political Stabilization Acts the Writ to Inquire is a Bench-critical resource.”
    Now of a sudden the flooring fell away from underneath his chair, and Andrej knew he dared not so much as glance into the bottomless chasm that gaped open at his feet or else he would fall in. He gripped the armrests of his chair desperately. He could feel the suction of the moiling vortex of black Hell: He had to hang on.
    “Annex critical. Resources. Name of all Saints, Specialist, what are you saying?” It had been eight years, eight years, eight years, he was done with this, he had fulfilled his term, he was free to go —
    “His Excellency declines to continue service in Fleet. That is understandable in light of his Excellency’s stated convictions and dissatisfaction with his post. The Bench cannot afford to lose your skills, sir.” She could not see the abyss that yawned hugely between them. She could not have spoken so calmly had she done. “First Secretary Verlaine offers you pride of place at Chilleau Judiciary, command of the sector’s medical resources and all the rights and emoluments accruing thereunto. The need is too great, your Excellency. The Bench must make difficult decisions for the greater good of all under the rule of Law.”
    Chilleau Judiciary.
    No.
    Andrej swallowed hard, focusing on the talk-alert on the far wall to anchor himself in the world. He had to control himself. He could not panic. There was no reason to panic. She could not mean what she seemed to be saying. It was intolerable.
    “Specialist, no one could wish me to this work a single day the longer, Judicial Order or no. Not even for my sins should it be wished on me, and you must know that they are many, and grievous.”
    Her expression was pained, almost irritated. Andrej didn’t care. The rule of Law was no excuse for torture. He had to press what advantage he had, while he could still feel that he had the advantage —
    “Say therefore to First Secretary Verlaine that I would rather sell myself to a Chigan brothel and suckle at fish than have anything to do with Chilleau Judiciary. Or the Protocols. Not