Downy pulled Sam to his feet, his claws sinking in to Sam’s upper arm. “YOU are pathetic. You think you’re a great leader but you haven’t made a single decision of your own. You escaped the execution by luck; you escaped the Rik by luck. YOU are pathetic.”
Sam gasped, the pain in his arm hard to ignore. “But you couldn’t kill me.”
Downy screamed and Sam flinched in anticipation of the pain. But then the pressure was gone, and Downy was flailing through the air on a wave of orange energy. The edge of the field caught Sam and spun him around, into the wall. Greg kept the energy device in his hand as he stood over Downy.
Sam shook his head, small trickles of blood running down his arm and chest.
“I would consider that a confession,” Sam said. He dropped back into his chair.
The Spo emperor had turned off his view screen, making himself invisible to them.
His colorless voice emanated from a blank white screen. “Take him away until the conclusion of the trial. The Spo will remain the sponsors of Earth. In... true debt.”
Downy didn’t struggle as they carried him away, but gave growled as he passed Tishing.
The Council was in noisy disorder, members standing and yelling at one another. Their screen went blank also.
Sam sighed. “Downy and the Rik… we didn’t see it.”
Greg nodded. “How would we? He hates the Rik. I didn’t realize he hated the humans more.”
Shara sat silently against the wall. Probably trying to blend in and disappear. When the screen flickered on, Tishing rose to his feet. Sam had almost forgotten him. He looked unruffled, amused.
“This theatrical discovery does not change the crux of the trial. The humans have no defense for the Hadron explosion or the millennia of violence preceding it.”
“Violence is not the issue,” Greg said. “Malignancy of animal form, which is not proved.”
“What does the witness have to say?” Tishing said, talking to Sam.
“I – ”
Someone knocked on the door.
Tishing frowned and jerked the door open impatiently. The captain of the space station, Sam had met him during his own trial, pushed past Tishing into the room. Gustav entered behind him, with Nat in his arms.
Sam surged to his feet. Nat’s face showed flecks of blood, like somebody had hastily wiped her face clean. Her eyes had the droopy look of anesthesia. Her neck was limp and her eyes wobbled around the room, disoriented.
“Nat, look at me,” Sam said, “focus. Be here.” He held her limp hand as her eyes rolled past him.
“Hey,” she said finally focusing on the Rik prosecutor. “Tishing. What’s up?"
Tishing stepped back from her, grabbing for the door. Then he forced calm on himself and let go of the door.
“Nat, I’m not…you look – it makes no difference,” Tishing said. He visibly collected himself and turned to the Council. “These people have interrupted the trial.”
Sam held Nat’s hand as Gustav settled her into Sam’s chair. She smiled at him, making the dried blood around her nose crack. She really looked awful. He squeezed her hand.
The captain of the ship was speaking to Greg. Tishing tried to intervene, and Gustav barred his way.
Greg turned to the Council view screen. The Council was calm again, watching the proceedings carefully. “The captain of this space station has new information about the Hadron explosion.”
“I have a video, from a Rik ship. It shows an atom digger bomb, of Rik signature, causing the Hadron explosion,” the captain said.
“Absolutely not!” Tishing exploded. “They have nothing.”
Nat smiled again. “They don’t yet, but Akemi has everything.”
Tishing glared at her, and the look Nat gave him made Sam flinch.
The captain connected their screen to the Rik ship, and Akemi (after a brief introduction) played the Hadron footage for them. The Council members watched on their personal screens, and the Spo emperor on his table.
The Rik on the Council committee were clearly uneasy. Akemi played it twice. Then she segued right into footage of the Rik fleet, coming toward Earth. She put a time stamp in the corner, which Sam thought was a nice touch.
“Wait. What is this?” the Spo emperor said. It was the first thing he’d said since Downy was dragged out. “The Rik are invading our sponsored territory, real time? The Earth solar system is a protected Spo enclave!”
He glared at Tishing, and Tishing’s shoulders moved uneasily under his well-fitted suit.
“This is not how a trial is finished,” the emperor said.
The Merith councilor began to speak again. “As many of you know, this trial shall have a dual verdict. Both the Humans and the Rik are on probation, and both desire to join the Council as a sentient species, non-malignant and sane. Let us address the Rik probation.
“The Rik have been on probationary status for some generations,” he continued. “Their questionable invasion of the Rik planet, and subsequent adoption of Rik culture, have placed them in a tenuous position.
“It seems they have proved themselves malignant yet again, if this video is accurate. This subterfuge has cost the human race incalculable loss of life and cultural capital. As senior councilmember of this subcommittee, pending the confirmation of this video, I move to deny the Rik entry to the Galactic Council. With loss of all rights, property, and trade entailed on them.
“Any opposed?”
The stillness held.
Shara began to cry and put her face in her hands. Tishing sat slowly, a look of blank surprise on his face.
“You cannot!” he said, finally. “The Rik – ”
The Merith interrupted. “You do not speak. You are no longer a recognized race."
He paused. “The dual trial of Rik and humanity was agreed upon by all the Council representatives. As two species, linked by their malignant behavior, yet divergent in their cultural brain, we agreed that this would be a good test for both. The test has been taken, and the result measured. There is no discussion needed. You cannot speak. If another race desires to sponsor you, which I doubt, they may speak on your behalf.”
Silence, except for Shara crying.
Sam cleared his throat. “Uh, if I may speak, what will happen to them?”
“Nothing immediate, but without the right to own property the Rik planet will not remain long under their control. They have some technological advances, so they will have some value as expert slaves.” He paused, looking at Sam in a focused way, for the first time. “If it comforts you, Human, you may know that many will die as a result of this judgment. Your species may not have the capability to exact vengeance, but the Rik will pay heavily. They are not…liked…by any in the galaxy.”
Sam shuddered slightly. “That’s not what I meant.”
The Merith shrugged, and Sam wondered where he learned that human expression. “Whether you would have them suffer or not, it does not signify. They are no longer of the Council.”
“Unless someone speaks for them?”
“Yes.”
“Then – I believe I have something to say.”
He stepped away from Nat to stand in front of the Council.
Even the Merith seemed taken aback. No one told him to shut up. Sam wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he felt compelled to do something. He had no reason to like the Rik or trust them, quite the opposite, but it didn’t seem right to just stand by and let them be decimated.
But what did he want? Clearly they were unsafe: they stole human bodies and they’d bombed the Hadron Collider and caused this whole mess in the first place. They’d wronged humanity, that was true. But was this going to make things better? Surely not all the Rik were evil body-snatchers.
Sam tried to think clearly, but his brain was whirling and everyone was watching him. If the Rik were human and they’d done this crime, how would they be treated? Sam was no political scientist, but he knew what little he’d been taught about war reparations and wh
at happened when the losing side was handled badly.
“You have something to say, Human?”
“Um. As I understand it, humanity has just been declared sentient, or we’re about to, therefore I have the right to speak. Right?”
“What can you have to say on the Rik’s behalf?” the Merith asked.
“It’s too much – and it’s not enough,” Sam said, trying to think his way through. “It’s not enough for them to be demoted or revoked or even to die. They owe us. They owe us a… a blood debt.” Sam glanced at the Spo emperor. “A true debt. The Hadron explosion killed millions of my species and nearly destroyed our planet. Demoting them does not pay the debt,” Sam said.
“What then?” the Merith said. “If your people desire debt payment, you may attack the Rik without hindrance in the future. They have no status.”
“You don’t pay a blood debt with death,” Sam said. “At least, we humans have not found that to be effective.”
Sam paused. What did he want? The Merith was right that many humans would want the Rik to suffer for what they did. But all those humans weren’t here right now. Sam was here, and he could make a choice.
“We have an old word… wergild. Payment that benefits the clan of the victim; it is not satisfied with the death of the killer.”
“Then what?”
“I… suggest that the Rik maintain their status, on probation. So that they can be held responsible for their debt and as a sentient species begin to repay us. That fleet coming towards us now, for instance, would be extremely helpful in human hands. Our own space travel is not to the level of Spo or Rik craftsmanship.” That was a gross understatement and flattery all in one. Sam smiled.
“Also, I understand the Rik are rather expert traders in culture. As part of their debt, they may be required to teach their expertise to us. A sort of… apprenticeship.”
“You would trust them? You would let them on your planet?” the Merith said.
“I rather think that the Rik are already on our planet, whether I want them to or not,” Sam said, gesturing at Tishing. “Punishing them wouldn’t take away that threat, it would only make them more determined to destroy us.
“That makes me uncomfortable. Perhaps, if the Rik in turn were given apprenticeships – to some of our painters, moviemakers, chefs, people of that type – they would have a vested interest in helping us.”
Shara inhaled sharply, and Sam grinned for a second, before smoothing his face over. He was onto something, he knew it. If he could leverage the Rik right… this could be humanity’s gateway to the galaxy. The Merith looked grim at this idea, but Sam didn’t care.
“As a carefully watched ally, the Rik have the opportunity to repay their debt and eventually, perhaps, to gain true status, and maybe even true culture. I believe this would be in everyone’s best interest,” Sam finished.
“This is a large request,” the Merith said. “You are risking your own species, Sam.”
Sam shuddered imperceptibly. It was the first time the Merith or any of the Council members had used his name. What was he doing? The Rik as allies? He must be nuts. But he knew the Earth needed help to get started in galactic culture, and who better than the Rik, who had no culture of their own and so knew how to market any other culture so well? And maybe, if they had the hope of human apprenticeships, there could be an actual alliance…
The Merith continued. “The Rik have already shown that they will kill and steal human bodies. There is that risk. Also, if they are allowed to grow, they may in the future try to claim Earth in war. If you choose this, you risk your entire planet. Is that your choice?”
Sam’s vision doubled for a moment, and cleared. It was the interview all over again. Making choices for others. Taking risks for his family. Taking risks for the cadets, and his species in general. Only that time he’d been manipulated into it, and this time his eyes were wide open.
This was what the Spo trained him for. This was who he was, and he was willing to risk everything.
Sam wanted to look at Greg, as he had on that first day in the Crystal Cathedral when questioned by the media, but now he was strong enough to resist.
“I make this choice,” Sam said. “The humans demand a wergild of the Rik. And all that that entails.”
The Merith silenced everyone. “The humans have passed the sentience and sanity test. As one has taken voice for his species, the species is no longer a malignancy, but a culture in growth, in control.
“Let us vote,” said the Crosspoint. “Because I’m getting hungry. I move that humanity be granted full sentiency status.”
The vote was quick, and almost anticlimactic. Every one of the subcommittee voted yes.
Sam breathed deep, hardly able to grasp that this doom, which had been hanging over their heads for years, was finally past. Was this was what they wanted all along? How did the Merith phrase it – someone to ‘take a voice” for their species? From the waiting room, he could hear yells and whoops and cheering from the other cadets.
Sam cleared his throat and rubbed his bald head. He would deal with the ramifications of his choice later, for now it was enough that the trial was nearly over.
Nat had tears in her eyes. She was looking at the time stamp on the video, which had a small smiley face next to it, but she smiled at him when he came back to her side.
The Merith continued. “As a sentient species of the Council, Humanity undertakes to sponsor the Rik in their probation. On the condition that the Rik pay wergild (he stumbled over the word) for their crimes.”
“Let us vote.”
Another vote, and the thing was done.
Sam knelt next to Nat and wrapped an arm around her. “It’s going to be alright. It really is.”
Postlogue
Akemi zoomed through the space station, virtually of course, blending the view of each security camera in make-believe flight. She could almost feel the ship’s atmo brushing past her cheeks. The Spo had installed her into their space station, and she had access to all systems.
She monitored four ships docking with the station and gave one of them a stern warning about adjusting the atmo in their airlock before pressurizing with the space station. She sealed their dock until they confirmed. The Tergre were funny little aliens. They seemed to regularly forget that not everyone (in fact, nobody but them) breathed a mixture of helium and selenium. It was a deadly combination and made humans squeak in rage before they died, which wasn’t a pleasant or dignified way to go. And if somebody didn’t watch the little buggers, they would open-dock their ship to the space station and let it all dump into her clean hallways.
Akemi finished her indoor flight and unslaved the cameras to continue their normal rotations. She could still see every viewpoint, if she focused on it, but there was no need. Instead, she began composing her next fashion blog.
Her blog followers didn’t know she wasn’t human anymore, because she wasn’t allowed to reveal her AI existence. But since she didn’t know more than a handful of them in person, nobody missed her yet.
Today’s fashion post would be about the new cadet uniforms designed by Shara (specifically made less itchy, by Sam’s request). In the past, Akemi generally followed Japanese fashion, like the fantastic 19th century retro look, but now she had new worlds to explore. Literally. She was the computerized hub of the Spo space station, and lots of species were starting to visit Earth. Some were curious, lots were greedy, and some were dangerous, but they all wore interesting clothes. Well, except for the weird Crosspoint, who dressed in fluorescent body paint.
Akemi finished up her blog with some pictures of the cadets in their new, ‘spacy’ attire.
The space station was a safe place for Akemi, or her brain, since it wasn’t built for space jump. She’d suggested to Sam that she be moved aboard, and the Spo had been surprisingly happy to oblige. Akemi guessed that, despite publishing a statement condemning the Rik scientists who killed her, they were still terribly excited by the potential of th
e human brain in a spaceship.
Akemi answered a few blog comments while sending another message to Nat and Sam. She had become Sam’s personal secretary/translator for all his alien communication. When Earth’s trial went public, many species seemed to assume that Sam was sort of a king. It was causing more than a few disgruntled conversations in high places, which amused Akemi to no end. Now the ambassador from Merith wanted to visit Earth, and he insisted on seeing Sam.
Sam thought the royalty misunderstanding was funny too, until an alien prince sent him twenty slaves of a species they’d never heard of before. As far as Akemi knew, the ‘slaves’ were being temporarily housed on a small island in Indonesia. They seemed to enjoy the warmth and even the Spo didn’t know how to communicate with them or if they were sentient.
Nat and Sam were in huge demand, both on Earth and abroad, but Nat still made time to come to the space station regularly, to ‘visit’ Akemi.
There were huge celebrations on Earth, in the week after the trial was aired, but already the good will was beginning to fade and Sam and Nat were busy. Akemi gave a virtual shrug, making the Spo captain jump as the lights in the engine room dimmed. Just for fun, she’d linked some of the station’s non-vital systems to the peripheral nervous system of her brain. It was hysterical when she got the hiccups.
Regardless, with the ambassador’s message passed on, Akemi had more work to do. That morning she’d downloaded the newest footage from the documentary that Shara and a couple of her Rik friends were putting together. Sam had hooked them up with a Hollywood producer named Apple who didn’t seem to mind (or even notice) that she was working with aliens. The culture of Earth was in high demand, as the newest species on the Council, and Apple’s video (with the help of the Rik) would showcase the culture of Earth from a trade perspective. It would be a digital catalog, Apple explained, and who didn’t love a good catalog? Akemi already had requests from eight species to see the video when it was finished.
Manipulate (Alien Cadets) Page 25
