“You see,” Officer Atikan said, “you’re being commended.”

“You’re in deep shit,” the older officer said. “Neck deep. Eyeball deep. You’ll be wearing shit for mascara.”

Rogers pointed at the younger officer. “He just said—”

“Don’t talk back to me!” The older man slammed his hand down on the table. “I ought to bust you right on the lips if I could find them behind those dog shavings on your face. What kind of glue did you use to get that stuck on there?”

“You watch your god-damn mouth,” Rogers said, pointing at the police officer, but before he could defend his facial hair any further, Atikan waved a hand in the air.

“The Meridan judicial system is in a bit of a pickle,” Atikan said.

“And you’re in hot water.” Brooks snorted.

“The intelligence gathered from where you were picked up showed that both the Purveyors of Vitriol and the Garliali Mercenaries were nearly totally obliterated in a space battle at which you were the center. The records on your ship filled in only some of the remaining details.”

“Dealing with pirates,” Brooks said. “Despicable.”

“Hang on a second,” Rogers said. “I thought I was picked up for littering!”

“Littering, too?” Brooks said. “On top of the rest, you’re an eco-terrorist! I’ve got your number, Rogers. I’ve got it right here.”

Brooks slid a piece of paper across the table with “40R” scrawled on it.

“What the hell does this have to do with anything?” Rogers asked.

“I found it in your personal effects. What do you have to say about that?”

“It’s my coat size?”

“It’s your number!” Brooks said, a smug smile blossoming across his face. “And I’ve got it!”

“But, on the other hand,” Atikan said, not at all moved by the mood of his compatriot, “you did rid the system of two very dangerous groups of people that had been plaguing the Meridan fleet for some time. Really, brilliant work. Just stupendous.”

“I don’t understand,” Rogers said.

“Like hell you don’t!” Brooks leaned over the table, the intensity in his eyes so fierce, Rogers thought he might be set ablaze. “Talk!”

“You haven’t asked me any questions!” Rogers squealed.

“We’re having a difficult time, as you can see,” Atikan said. “It’s not fully clear what your motives were; they don’t know whether to prosecute you or reward you.” A wide grin split his face and he put both palms out in a gift-giving gesture. “So, until we figure this out, we’re doing both!” Atikan looked absolutely thrilled.

“This is your number!” Brooks said, pointing at the tag again. “I’ve got it!”

Rogers shook his head. “Wait a minute. So, you’re not going to prosecute me for littering. You’re going to prosecute me for dealing with pirates and then give me a medal for destroying them?”

“Now you’ve got it!” Atikan said.

“The gallows,” Brooks muttered.

Leaning forward in his chair, Rogers looked between the two officers helplessly. “But that doesn’t make any sense! Don’t I get a trial or something? What about my due process?” He paused. “And how am I going to wear a medal on a prison uniform?” He turned to Brooks. “Did you say gallows?”