Editing Bleeding Out (Warhammer High) (section)

===The Trial, Part Two===


“And have you, in your experience in the Crusade, ever encountered any attempts on the lives of those who adhered to the Imperial Creed in lieu of Divinatus Imperator?” Hane asked.

Morticia’s grandfather shrugged.  “That was rare.  Generally, by the end of the Crusade, it had been stamped out so much that it was usually the other way around.”

“Those who followed the Creed turning Emperor-worshippers over to the Arbites, or attacking them,” Hane supplied.

“Absolutely.”

“Was THAT rare?” the lawyer continued.

“Thankfully.”

Hane lifted the holos of the crime scene, rifled through them.  “What form do they take?  Emperor-worshippers?  Their appearances, their actions, their motivations?”

“Many.  But they are primarily normal-looking people.  They do not abandon their form, or anything.  They concern themselves with slavish service, which can mask their superiority complexes.  They tend to lash out at those who do not give thanks for what they have and offer up to the Imperium that which they earn.”

“And…how precisely did they make themselves a nuisance?  Surely those who worship the Emperor would be his most valued servants,” Hane said, choosing a holo.

“It made them judgmental.  Emotional.  Unable to gauge the true worth of themselves, and their works, and their actions.”

Hane showed up the holos, placing them in front of the witness.  “I have previously entered these into evidence as Article 7.  This is a holo of Sieur Keiter’s apartment in the hive.  Do you see anything here that suggests Emperor-worship, in your personal experience?”

The witness peered at the holo.  “I do.”

“What is it?” Hane asked.

“Objection, your Honor, being able to shoot Emperor-worshippers in the field does not make a man qualified to appraise the state of their personal belongings,” Felger said.

“I agree entirely, Counselor Felger.  However, if the witness has experience identifying them as well as fighting them, the question is fair,” Mako said.  “And since he does, he may answer.”

“The contents of the room seem to be indistinguishable from those of any human, save this.”  The witness pointed at a large image of the Emperor, psychic aura clearly visible, anointing a new Company of Luna Wolves at a formal ceremony.  The image was blown far out of proportion, displaying the Emperor prominently.  The image was tucked away amongst various knickknacks, in the middle of the table at the center of the main room.

“That is a holograph of the Emperor.  Is it prominent in the room?”

“Quite.”

“Is that normal for hivers?  After all, hivers in parts of the world have little beyond their employment in the Administratum,” Hane said reasonably.

“I’ve certainly never created a shrine to any boss of mine,” the man said with a snort.

“And do you, in your experience, suspect that Emperor-worshippers would be capable of the crimes of which Sieur Keiter stands accused?” Hane asked pointedly.

“I do,” the man said.

Hane glanced up at Mako.  “I have no further questions, your Honor, though I may want to call the witness again.”

“Very well.  Counselor Felger?” Mako asked.

Felger stood, mind racing.  He slowly crossed to reach the holo, still resting on the desk in front of the witness stand.  “Sieur, do you have any legal training of your own?” Felger asked.

“I do,” the witness said.

“And what is this training?” Felger asked.

“I helped co-write the changes to the Book of Judgment after the end of the Crusade, to transfer from martial to civil law,” the gentleman said, startling Felger.

“Did you?  Was Emperor-worship a serious problem on Terra at the time?” Felger asked, switching gears.

“It barely existed,” the witness admitted.

“So then, how are you qualified to speak of it in any sort of authority?  You may have encountered it many times in your military career, but surely civilian worshippers would behave and appear differently to militant cultists,” Felger pointed out.

“Does it?” the man shot back.  “Your client shot my granddaughter in the back.  That fits rather well with the patterns of behavior I would expect from a militant cultist.”

“Your Honor, I ask that the witness be registered as unresponsive,” Felger said, glancing up at Mako.

“Counselor, he did answer your question.  However, you may ask for another answer if you wish,” Mako said.

“I am qualified to speak of it because I have encountered and fought it both in the guise of military forces and in the guise of civil worship,” the man said coldly.

“Oh?  You are a member of the Adeptus Astartes, then, a gene-modded warrior, qualified and rated to invade and destroy houses of worship?” Felger said.

“Of course not,” the man said.

Felger nodded, rifling through the other holos.  “Sieur, your granddaughter was injured, certainly.  But the man who shot her was a violent criminal, someone who was gripped by an urge they could not control.  Does a loss of control, a lack of understanding of consequences, and a lack of proper judgment sound like something a person who worshipped the Emperor would suffer?”

“It does,” the witness noted reluctantly.  Hane’s knuckles turned white.

Felger nodded slowly.  “Thank you, Sieur.”

Hane shot back up to his feet.  “Redirect, your Honor?”  Mako nodded.

Hane marched back up to the witness stand.  “Sieur, have you ever seen Emperor-worshippers come to regret their actions, when said actions came to hurt bystanders?”

“I have.  Many times,” the man said.

“When I first interviewed the defendant, he was overwhelmed with the knowledge that he had harmed a member of the Royal Family.  Progeny of the Emperor.  Does that sound like something an Emperor-worshipper would do?”

“Absolutely.  Their actions are appraised internally, against a scale of earning or losing Imperial approval.”

“So the defendant’s actions are well in line with something that someone who worshipped the Emperor, but was not insane, might choose to do?” Hane pressed.

“Possibly, yes.  It wouldn’t be unprecedented.”

“Sieur, in your experience, are people who worship the Emperor still in possession of their faculties?” Hane asked.

“They are.  The Imperium is not a Chaos entity, twisting people into its worship.”

“And so, Sieur, you have no reason to think that when Ulysses Keiter shot Lady Primarch Morticia, he did so with anything other than the intent to kill SOMEONE, even if it wasn’t the girl he eventually hit?” Hane said triumphantly.

“That is the case,” the dark-haired gentleman said flatly.  Hane nodded, his heart rate returning to normal.

“Thank you, Sieur.”  He returned to his seat.

“Your Honor, I have a few more questions for the witness,” Felger said, standing back up.

“Very well,” Mako said.  Useless followed his lawyer with his eyes, desperately hoping that their defense would hold.  Morticia glared a hole in Felger’s back with every step.

“Sieur, you said that you encountered these Emperor-worshippers in force with the Army?” Felger asked.

“With the forces of the Imperium, I did battle with them many times,” the man said.

“Then why should you be able to judge their mental states?” Felger asked, his voice tone turning curious.

“I don’t understand.  Why would I not be able to?  I encountered them many times, alive and dead.  In their own homes and the homes of others they had invaded,” the man said.

“But you’re not a psyker, not a forensics officer, not a psychologist.  How could you know what they were thinking?” Felger asked.

“You are incorrect, sir.  I am indeed a psyker, of some skill,” the witness said coolly.

“Then why is your testimony admissible at all?” Felger said, thrown.  “A psyker could influence Judge Mako.”

“Not without the psy-reactive systems in the room sounding an alarm.  Arbites Courthouses are proofed against such sabotage,” the witness said calmly.  “That was a deliberate facet of their design.”

“Well…then you can not see into the soul of my client, perceive his guilt or innocence, nor determine his motives, any better or worse than any other Army officer,” Felger said, back on his verbal feet.

“If I were an Army officer, I imagine that would be the case,” the witness said, shrugging.

“Adeptus Psykana, then.  My point stands.”

“In fact, it does not.  I am also not of the Adeptus Psykana, though I did found it,” he said.  Morticia smiled smugly.

Felger stared at the witness, his words dripping with irony.  “You are a founder of the Adeptus Psykana.  You’re over three thousand years old.”

“In fact,” the Emperor said evenly, “I am a good bit older than that.”

Hane managed to keep his face straight.  Morticia didn’t even try.  Felger stared, his hands clenching unconsciously.  Keiter went white.  Mako sighed heavily.  “My Liege, I do sincerely hope that this is not an attempt to modify the outcome of this trial.”

“To what end, Judge?  One of the greatest and most vital tenets of my law is that none may hold an advantage before it,” the Emperor said calmly.  “I would have worn my armor if I wanted to make an impression.”

Felger shook himself.  The Emperor hadn’t moved an inch, hadn’t used any of his powers.  But somehow, in that instant, his presence had made itself known.  He looked the same, but his voice…

“Then, Lord, you would answer why you did not authorize a psychic interrogation of my client?” Felger asked carefully.

“Again, to what end, Counselor?  Were I to make an exception for him, I would make a martyr of him before whatever confederates he may have had, whether they shared his ideologies or lack thereof.  I spoke the truth when I said I had never met him before,” the Emperor pointed out, glancing sidelong at Keiter.  The man was turning all sorts of interesting colors now.

Felger nodded slowly.  “Then…I have no further questions.”

Hane stood.  “In that instance, your Honor, I have no more evidence to present on behalf of the Imperium.”

Felger walked quickly over to his client’s side, and whispered something in his ear.  Keiter didn’t respond, staring at the Emperor with completely undisguised horror.  Felger shook his shouder, and Keiter snapped out of it, mumbling something.  Felger glared at him for a moment, then straightened up.  “I have no further evidence to present, either, your Honor, on behalf of the accused.”

“Very well.  I shall perform, now, an examination of the transcripts presented as evidence thus far.  We shall reconvene in half an hour,” Mako said, standing and tucking her helmet under her arm.

The Emperor stood, as did the rest of the people in the court, as Mako made her way down to her office.  Morticia was smirking so broadly it threatened to strain her cheek muscles, and the Emperor paused by her side on his way back to his seat, jacket bunched under his arm.

“How are you feeling, Morticia?” he asked quietly.

“Much better, now that the good guys have won,” she said, just loud enough for Felger and Keiter to hear.

“Morticia,” the Emperor chided.  “The trial isn’t over.”

“The Judge made up her mind on the third witness, Grandpa, and you saw it as clearly as I did,” Morticia said flatly, rising to her feet with an effort.

The Emperor reached out his elbow, and she grabbed it gratefully, leaning hard on her crutch as she awkwardly scooted out from the row of seats.  Both Royal family members ignored Keiter’s desperate stares as they walked out of the courtroom.

The hall beyond was empty save for a few guards, none of whom stopped their patrols to watch as the two of them exited the room.  Morticia hobbled up to the window, looking out the tinted glass at the rows and rows of reporters beyond.  “Quite a crowd.”

“Vultures,” the Emperor said curtly, his voice back to its unassuming tone, bereft of forty four thousand years of weight.  “All of them.”

“But I guess I can’t blame them,” Morticia said dolefully.  “I’d be curious.”

The Emperor chuckled.  “You are a more patient soul than me, Morticia.”

Morticia leaned against the window, feeling the cool glass against her cheek.  “You totally should have worn the armor.”

“Ah, but then where’s the surprise value?” the Emperor asked.

Morticia turned to eye him.  “…I was kidding, were you?”

“Perhaps,” the Emperor said.


After a brief while, the Bailiff stepped out of the courtroom.  The halls were empty, save for the Emperor and his granddaughter.  “My Liege, my Lady, Her Honor Judge Mako is ready to pronounce a verdict.”

“Very well, Bailiff,” the Emperor said, turning back to the courtroom, guiding Morticia along with one hand.  Once inside, the Bailiff locked the door behind himself, sealing them back in.  Keiter and Morticia took their places behind their respective lawyers’ desks.  Morticia just looked tired, while the tendons in Keiter’s neck were rigid from the effort not to stare at the Emperor.

Mako was standing in front of her seat, atop the elevated bench.  “The case of The Imperium V Ulysses Keiter hereby concludes.  The prosecution has asserted that the defendant acted to kill someone through a means of premeditation, concealed a weapon without a permit, and discharged said weapon with the intent to kill.  On the first, and second, and third counts of this indictment, His Majesty’s Arbitrators deem Ulysses Keiter Guilty.”

Keiter sagged into his seat, hands gripping the armrests, while Morticia just nodded, relief flooding through her.  “No…” Keiter whispered hoarsely.  “I didn’t…”

“Under the circumstances of the commission of these crimes, the sentence demands a meting of demonstration.  To that end, the sentence shall be twenty years in Imperial prison.”  Mako tapped her gavel on the desk once, sharply.  “The Emperor’s Justice accounts in its balance.  This court stands adjourned.”  Mako bowed at the waist, then walked out of the courtroom to the rear.  Keiter buried his face in his hands, still mumbling.

The Emperor leaned over the divider to Hane’s table.  “Thank you, Counselor Hane.”

“My pleasure, Sire,” Hane replied, feeling a little relieved himself.  He turned to bow to Morticia, who was struggling to her feet.  “My sincerest wishes for your recovery, Lady Morticia.”

“Thanks, Sieur Hane,” Morticia said, standing and taking the Emperor’s proffered hand.  “I appreciate you doing this.”

“Just another day at the office, Madam,” Hane said wryly.  “Pass along my well-wishes to Lady Curze, would you kindly?”

“I certainly will,” Morticia said.  She and her grandfather walked out of the courtroom, allowing a few Precinct guards to fall in behind them as they made their way down to the garages.

Parked amongst the Arbites Rhinos and Land Speeders was a single, unassuming hover limo, with the gold and white chasing of the Palace.  The driver held the door open, patiently waiting for Morticia and the Emperor to climb in.  As she started to do so, however, Morticia hesitated.

“Is something wrong, Madam?” the driver asked, as the Emperor paused behind her.

Morticia tapped her lip, thinking.  “I wonder if I should actually give an interview to somebody about all this.”

“It is your right to refuse to do so,” the Emperor pointed out.

“True, but if I don’t tell my side people are just going to keep speculating,” Morticia said.  “I don’t want to have that hanging over me forever.”

“Then you can contact a news studio of your choice to notify them,” the Emperor said, “if you’re comfortable with doing so.”

“I think I will,” Morticia said, climbing into the limo and sinking into a seat.  “I want to clear the air.”


Useless leaned against the wall of the prisoner transport, shivering.  The Emperor himself.  He had been in the same room as the Emperor himself.  He had shot his granddaughter, and he had looked him in the eye, and he had been in the same room.  His lawyer had promised to meet him at the prison to help him get prepared, he didn’t even care.  He had been in the same room as the Emperor and watched the Emperor hate him.  It had been hours since the trial, and his skin was still crawling.
The Judge across the prisoner transport stared at him silently, though his opaque visor.  Useless didn’t pay him heed, either, he just sat there, trying not to die of shame.  All he could think was how he hadn’t even apologized, and now he would never get the chance.

“Harden the fuck up,” the Judge suddenly rumbled.  Useless started, staring at the Judge.  “You won’t last a minute in Mannsfried if you just sit there shaking.”

“…I was…the Emperor himself was at my trial,” Useless managed.

“I’m sure that’ll impress your cellmate,” the Judge said coldly, standing up as the transport pulled up to the dock.  He grabbed Useless by the elbow, yanked him to his feet, and shoved him out the back of the transport van, into the waiting arms of the prison guards.


Mortica shuffled nervously in the leather chair of the studio.  The Emperor had already returned to the Palace, of course, and the studio she had called had arranged for an interview the moment she had asked, of course, but that didn’t make the dress she was wearing any more comfortable.

Her father had been as relieved by the verdict as she had been, naturally enough, though she had been even more convinced of the outcome than he had been.  Now, he waited, like a green and black thundercloud, in the limousine outside the studio.  The interviewer herself was already perched on her chair like a fakir on spikes, clearly rehearsing questions in her head.  A pair of beehives and a uniformed officer were lurking behind the camera, trying not to look obtrusive in their kinetoballistic armor and slinging their assault shotguns.  The makeup people had already been waved off; Morticia didn’t particularly care how she looked at that juncture.  The cameraman waved his hand once, twice, thrice, and gave a thumbs-up.

The Interviewer turned her empty smile on the camera, beaming at the audience on the other side of the censor delay.  “I’m proud to announce that we have been given a unique opportunity today: Lady Primarch Morticia herself has arrived, to offer up her perspective on the trial of her shooter that has gripped the entire planet.  Lady Morticia, it is an honor.”

“Thank you,” Morticia said, as the little light on top of the camera directed at her blinked on.

“May I ask why you’ve decided to give this interview after refusing all comment prior to the end of the trial?” the interviewer asked.

“Because until days ago, portions of my chest were missing,” Morticia said dryly, tapping her breastbone.  “That makes it little harder to speak.”


Useless lined up with the other prisoners in the line, fed into the gigantic hive block like animals in a slaughterhouse.  The guards patrolled on catwalks overhead, watching as the prisoners were stripped and searched for concealed weapons or other contraband.  His lawyer had passed along some of his personal belongings and a card, and essentially wished him good luck.  Now he was waiting in the process line, as Arbites and Praetors took down data for each prisoner.

He stared into the floor, numb.  He was only thirty, this was hardly a death sentence, but his life was still over.  Or so it felt.

“Hey.”  Useless jerked out of his torpor, staring at the prisoner in front of him.  “Ain’t that you?” the prisoner said, gesturing up at the holoscreen in the corner, which was just playing the news to keep the prisoners occupied.  It was indeed him on the screen.  Specifically, his passport photo.  It was being shown in the corner of the screen, while in the rest…was Lady Morticia.
Useless’ throat seized.


“Heh, right, of course,” the interviewer said.  “Well, now that you’re here, we’d like your perspective.  Of course, you don’t have to answer questions that make you uncomfortable.”

Morticia nodded.  “Sure.”

“What was the last thing you remember doing before waking up in the hospital?” the interviewer asked.

Morticia raised her eyebrows.  “Wow, a fastball right at the start.  Well, I was asking Kelly if it was unseasonably cold, then I woke up on the table.  That’s it.”

“I see.  Kelly is Lady Primarch Curze?”

“She is.  And when I woke up, it was actually just before the surgery, when I was supposed to still be under.”

“That must have been quite unnerving.”

“It wasn’t, really, I was so full of sedative I couldn’t even tell what was going on,” Morticia admitted.

“When did you get out of the hospital?” the interviewer asked.

The gray-haired girl shrugged.  “Three days ago.”

“You’re well on the road to recovery, I hope?”

“Should be good to go within a week.  Good genes,” she quipped with a smile.

“I see.  What role did you play in the trial?” the interviewer asked.

Morticia shook her head.  “The one defined by the format of the trial.  I didn’t say a word the whole time.  More than that, I’m not at liberty to say.”

“How do you feel about the verdict?’ the interviewer inquired.

“The verdict?” Morticia asked incredulously.  “I think the number of years in the sentence should have a few exponents after them.  How else could I feel?”

“Have you had a chance to speak to your attacker?” the interviewer asked.

“No.  What would I say? ‘I’m glad you missed?’  Because he himself admitted he wasn’t aiming for me.  And what would he say to ME?  ‘Sorry my aim sucks?’” Morticia checked her temper before it reached her voice.

“I apologize, my Lady, I didn’t mean to offend you,” the interviewer said.

“You didn’t.  It just bothers me a bit that he got off so light.”  Morticia shrugged awkwardly.

“I understand that, Madam.  Do you have any idea what you’re going to do now?”

“Graduate high school, if I’m lucky,” Morticia said, grinning ruefully.  “This didn’t do my exam schedule any favors.  Once I’m out, I’m going to go on a bit of a recuperation trip.  Go see some of the rest of Terra.  The hives, the cities.  Explore a bit.”

“That’s wonderful.  After the events of the past few weeks, of course, I can hardly expect you to tell me where, but do drop in and give us a summary when you get back, okay?’ the interviewer said with a grin.

“Heh.  Sure, why not,” Morticia laughed.

“All right, thank you, Lady Morticia.  This is Startseite News, reporting to you live, with Lady Primarch Morticia,” the interviewer said, as the holocam fixed on the Death Guard girl cut off.


Useless’ shoulders slumped.  Mentally, he amended his previous conclusion.  NOW his life was over.

Morticia gingerly stood, unclipping the microphone.

“Again, I apologize if I was improper, my Lady,” the interviewer said, rising as well.

“You weren’t, really, I guess I just wasn’t ready for this yet,” Morticia said.  “But now it’s over, and now I can safely ignore the small army of reporters outside my house.  More to the point,” she added, grabbing the brace that had been carefully hidden from the camera, “I really needed to get this off my chest.  I didn’t actually have a chance to speak openly about it during the trial.”

“I can imagine, my Lady.  Do take care,” the interviewer said, walking back to her normal desk.  Morticia wobbled off to the greenroom to change, emerging minutes later in the clothes she had worn into the studio.  Her escort met her at the door, guiding her down the limo, where her father was still waiting.

She clambered awkwardly into the low car, accepting a proffered cup of water with gratitude.  “That was very brave of you, Morticia,” her father said, tapping on the glass at the fore of the cabin.  The car lifted off, heading back to their home.

“Thanks, Dad.  It was harder than I thought it was going to be, by a lot.”  She sighed exhaustedly, downing a few sips of water.  “I guess I wasn’t quite ready.  Oh well.  Now to not flunk,” she said, raising her fist in mock challenge.

“That’s the spirit.”