A Fiery Sunset

by Chris Kennedy

  Sansar kept a secret smile to herself at the thought. Leeto must have promised him a speedy trial, and the Oogar was more and more agitated with each passing day; maybe it was better she wasn’t in the same room as the tribunal—there was no telling what a truly pissed off Oogar was capable of.

  Instead of interrupting, Sansar had spent most of her time researching guild law and everything related to the charges she was facing, while listening to the evidence with only half her mind. She’d found some interesting discrepancies.

  “Does the Defense have anything to present regarding the charges to Cartwright’s Cavaliers?” Leeto asked.

  “I do indeed,” Sansar replied. “I’d like to go back to the video of the Raknar you presented.”

  “Please tell me we don’t need to see it again,” the Selroth representative complained. “I wasn’t able to eat for two days after we saw it the first time.”

  “No, Guild Master,” Sansar replied. “That’s not necessary. I, too, found it…disturbing. No, what I wanted to bring into evidence is that there were two voices you heard emanating from the machine, but neither of them were Jim Cartwright’s voice.” She mentally emailed several files to the group.

  “The first of these is what the Raknar said first—‘Leroy Jenkins’—the second is the song that the Raknar played, and the third is an example of his speech from a Tri-V presentation, so you can see that it’s him. Voice print analysis will show that neither of the things the Raknar said were in Jim Cartwright’s voice.”

  “So?” the Goka asked.

  “So, the Speaker has yet to show that Jim Cartwright was actually the person inside the Raknar.”

  “I have multiple sources where he admits to using the Raknar,” Leeto said. “I can call them up as evidence.”

  “That’s fine,” Sansar replied, “but it still doesn’t prove he was actually in the Raknar when it was used. There’s no categorical proof he was in the Raknar when the unfortunate events we witnessed occurred.” The Goltar nodded its head; perhaps Sansar had scored a point, at least with one of the guild masters.

  “Furthermore, while shocking, there are no statutes against using the Raknar in the first place.”

  “Ah, that is where you are wrong,” Leeto interjected smoothly. “There are several statutes about prohibited items and using unapproved technology. The Raknar violates these.”

  “Indeed, you’re right about the statutes,” Sansar replied. “And I took some time to look at them. You know what I found? I found that all the weapons of mass destruction used during the Great War were outlawed after the war. Everything, that is, except the Raknar.” She pushed the pertinent rules to the tribunal members. “I’m going over it again…Canavar…antimatter weaponry…several other things, but Raknars aren’t on the list.”

  “That’s because the Dusman disappeared after the war,” Leeto noted. “There was no reason to outlaw them, as there was no one to run the Raknars anymore.”

  “Still, they aren’t prohibited, so that charge is invalid.”

  Leeto stared at her for a moment, then said, “Perhaps not, but I can prove that Cartwright’s Cavaliers has possession of several Raknars, and their use constitutes a rapid advancement of technology beyond what’s approved. Our society is predicated on gradual change; the Raknar represents a massive change that unbalances combat and gives an unfair advantage to Humans over any other races.”

  “I’m sorry, Speaker, but I must disagree.” There were sharp intakes of breath from several tribunal members, and Sansar knew she was walking a fine line. “As we all know, Humans fight using metal suits called CASPers. These have been approved under guild rules.”

  “And that alone gives you an unfair advantage,” the Besquith rep noted.

  “Unfortunately, Humans don’t have your teeth,” Sansar said, “nor do we have the Goka’s laser-reflective shell, nor the Tortantula’s size and poison, nor the Oogar’s strength, and so forth. We’re physically handicapped with regard to most of the other mercenary races. Like the Flatar did with their hypervelocity pistols, we’ve used technology to level the playing field. The CASPers allow us to go toe-to-toe with the other races.”

  “The early models leveled the playing field,” the Flatar rep said. “I’d submit the newer models give you an unfair advantage.”

  “That’s an argument for another time and place,” Sansar said. “To date, no one has brought that up to the guild hierarchy for resolution. In the interim, CASPers are authorized to be used. I can quote the guild authorization number, if any of you would like.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Leeto said. “We’re aware that, at least for the moment, CASPers are authorized. There is, however, no such authorization for the re-integration of Raknars into mercenary companies.”

  “Ah, but there is. The Raknar is nothing more than an upgraded and larger CASPer. As such, it represents a gradual change to a weapons system, which, as you already noted, is approved under guild law.”

  “I see what you’re doing, Human,” the MinSha representative said. “You’re trying to play word games. I’ve seen your CASPers in action, and I know they’re less than three meters tall, while the Raknar, as described, is over 30 meters tall. Gradual change, as defined by the rules, is not allowed to be more than 10 times more powerful or greater in size. The Raknar fails that test. It’s more than ten times larger than your CASPers.”

  Sansar smiled. “Thank you for making that distinction, Guild Master Gravayl, and I know you’re very familiar with them, because I’ve looked at you across the battlefield from my CASPer on at least two occasions I can remember. While you’re absolutely correct that the latest model—the Mk 8—is less than three meters tall, the original CASPer—the one that’s approved under guild law—is 3.1 meters tall. The Raknar stands 30.5 meters tall which is just less than 10 times the approved CASPer’s size. While it’s a small distinction, perhaps, it’s enough to be within the rules as they’re written.”

  The MinSha rep cocked her head for a few moments, then nodded. “Your calculations are correct,” she finally said. “As such, the Raknar would fit under that definition.”

  “But it’s not a new technology!” Leeto exclaimed in a louder-than-normal voice. “The Raknar have been around for thousands of years!”

  “And no one used them, for a variety of reasons,” Sansar said. “However, those reasons no longer apply, and Cartwright’s Cavaliers has reintroduced them into its inventory.” She shrugged. “I guess the other races can use them, too, now that they’ve been brought back as a viable weapons system.” She chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

  Leeto paused for a few seconds, staring her hatred through the camera at Sansar, then looked at her slate. “Let’s move on,” she said, conceding the point. “There still remains the matter of Cartwright’s Cavaliers genetically engineering a viable Canavar. As you’ve already acknowledged, Cartwright’s Cavaliers is the only company to operate the Raknar. As such, the pictures of the Cavaliers’ Raknar, in company with a Canavar, is damning.”

  “And it would be,” Sansar said, watching as several sets of eyes popped up at her, “but that isn’t what happened. Can you please play the entire Tri-V video from which those pictures were taken?”

  “I don’t have a video,” Leeto replied.

  “Well, that’s disappointing,” Sansar said, and Leeto smiled at her. “Happily,” Sansar continued, “I have the original video those stills are taken from.” She sent a file to the monitor, and it began playing.

  “This video was taken by one of the other members of Cartwright’s Cavaliers. I think you will find it…informational.” The video started, showing a Raknar fighting what looked like a giant Jeha. It was centipede-like, although it was at least 200 feet long. The first 100 feet rose into the air, and it snapped its two sets of enormous, serrated claws, while glaring at the Raknar with red eyestalks. The creature was covered in thick brown armor plates, and a soul-scraping scream issued from its segmented mouthparts.


  “This, ladies and gentlemen of the tribunal, is what a real Canavar looks like in action. I hope I never have to face one on the battlefield.” The Raknar and Canavar began fighting near a ship, then a second Canavar charged into the mix, slamming into the Raknar and knocking it from its feet. The view shifted away from the battle. “As you can see, the Raknar’s not ‘with’ the Canavar; instead, it’s fighting the Canavar. The Cavaliers didn’t have the Canavar; someone else did.”

  “Who?” the Goltar asked.

  “I’m glad you asked. Just a second, and you’ll see.”

  The video moved as the CASPer taking the video jumped to the top of a ramp protruding from the ship’s cargo bay. The ship’s interior was a gigantic pen, with four stalls for the enormous creatures fighting outside. That much was obvious, as there was one of the creatures in the last stall. The view shifted as the CASPer approached the stall, and the tribunal could see at least six different races standing on a gantry that crossed over the back of the monster. Sansar paused the video. “I think it’s pretty obvious that the Canavar is not a Human creation—none of the people working with it are Human.” She indicated a Besquith in the center of the group. As they watched, it gave orders to the other scientists and technicians.

  “I think it’s pretty apparent that the Besquith is in charge,” Sansar said.

  The camera approached the monster, and the view zoomed in on the restraints, spaced every twenty-five feet or so, that held the creature in place, then shifted as a figure climbed down into a hole dug just behind the beast’s “head.” At this point, rockets lashed out from the trooper filming the creature, and the screen went blank.

  “The Tri-V camera was damaged by shrapnel at this point,” Sansar noted, “so this is where the video ends, but I think it’s pretty apparent that it wasn’t Humans who are developing Canavar, but the Besquith at a minimum, with the potential assistance of several other races. Of note, there were four of the beasts at Chimsa, and the Cavaliers killed all four of them. Jim Cartwright reported all of this in a chip he sent to the guild headquarters several months ago, but he never received an answer.”

  “Obviously, that’s because we never received it,” Leeto said. “Had we received it, we’d have followed up on the report.” She made a show of looking at the chronometer on the wall. “I think this is as good a time for a recess as any. Why don’t we adjourn until tomorrow?”

  “Second,” the Goka representative said.

  “Wait!” Sansar called. “Aren’t we going to adjudicate the charges?”

  “Third,” the Besquith rep said.

  Leeto smiled into the camera at Sansar. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but we’re adjourned. We’ll discuss that another day.”

  * * *

  Four Horsemen Tribunal, Capital Planet

  “What’s even more shocking than what Cartwright’s Cavaliers did,” Leeto announced the next morning, “is what the Humans of Asbaran Solutions did on Planet Moorhouse.”

  Sansar raised her hand.

  “The Human wishes to express herself,” the Goltar rep noted, drawing an angry look from Leeto.

  “Yes?” Leeto asked, turning back to the camera.

  “I’m surprised at your use of the word ‘shocking’ to refer to Cartwright’s Cavaliers. It was my understanding that yesterday we proved they did nothing wrong.”

  “Nothing was proven or disproven,” Leeto replied. “You used a lot of legal frippery to confuse the issue, even though we know Jim Cartwright was in the Raknar outside Chimsa and that it’s a violation of the rules. Rather than get bogged down in legalities, though, I decided to press forward with the other charges. Does that make sense?”

  “Well—”

  “Makes sense to me,” the Goka rep replied.

  “Seems like a good way to proceed,” the Besquith rep added, probably happy to not have to defend the presence of a Besquith directing the actions of the Canavar.

  “But—” Sansar tried again.

  “Excellent,” Leeto said, talking over Sansar. “Let’s move on and try to make some real progress today.”

  “That would be appreciated,” the Oogar rep muttered in a gruff tone.

  “So, as I was saying,” Leeto continued, “it was shocking what Asbaran Solutions did on Moorhouse.” She tapped her slate and several charts appeared on the Tri-V monitor. “As you can see here, the concentration of zinc-65 in the atmosphere after the Humans left is much higher than normal, clearly indicating the use of an enhanced radiation weapon.”

  Sansar raised her hand but Leeto ignored her. After a few minutes, she put it back down and went back to searching the GalNet for pertinent information.

  “The tribunal may not be aware, but in the assault on Moorhouse, a small number of Asbaran Solutions forces were able to evict an emplaced force of Besquith much larger than they were. Their ability to do so didn’t make much sense at the time, until the atmospheric sampling was conducted. The readings are consistent with the use of a banshee bomb.”

  “Or maybe they were just smarter than the Besquith,” Sansar said, having heard the story of how Asbaran Solutions broke into the defenses—with huge casualties—from Nigel Shirazi. Her interruption earned a growl and a glare from the Besquith rep and a chuckle from the Flatar.

  Leeto continued without acknowledging her, “We’ve also taken some samples of the fallout from the bomb that was used to destroy the Caroon mine—”

  Sansar raised her hand. “You took fallout samples from Moorhouse?”

  “Yes, we sent in drones to take samples when the Caroons filed a complaint. As I’m sure the tribunal is aware, a reasonable amount of the fissile material in a nuclear bomb doesn’t actually undergo fission; instead, it gets blown away in tiny fragments before fission can occur. These tiny pieces can be collected and identified, and the radioactive output of the sample can be used to identify the source of the material used in the bomb. In this case, the bomb was made with plutonium from Earth.”

  Sansar raised her hand. “Can you be more specific on what part of Earth it came from?”

  Leeto consulted her slate. “It appears to be from an area known as Russia.”

  Well, that made sense.

  Leeto looked into the camera. “As I understand it, that area is fairly close to the headquarters of The Golden Horde. It’s possible…no, I’d say probable, that Golden Horde personnel acquired it for them.”

  “That’s stupid—”

  Leeto jabbed a claw at her slate. “That’s it!” she exclaimed. “I’ve lost my patience with your continued interruptions and have put you on mute. You’ll be given a chance to speak when it’s your turn.” She looked to her left and right. “Now, as I was saying, I believe it’s probable that Golden Horde personnel acquired and passed on the fissile material to their comrades in Asbaran Solutions, allowing them to wipe out the town of Caroons…”

  * * *

  Four Horsemen Tribunal, Capital Planet

  “You may now speak,” Leeto said, several days later, “but don’t abuse the privilege, or I’ll mute you again.

  “Very well,” Sansar said. She sat up straight and looked at the camera. “You’ve said that nukes were used on Moorhouse, and you’ve accused us of doing it. I’m going to have to agree with you on part of that.”

  Several of the tribunal members’ heads snapped up from the slates where they had—probably, based on their lack of attention to the proceedings—been playing games.

  “Now we’re finally getting somewhere,” the Oogar rep exclaimed.

  “Sorry,” Sansar said, “I’m only agreeing that they were used. I’m not saying we were the ones to use them. We weren’t.”

  The Oogar growled, realizing he’d been tricked.

  “Out of curiosity, how is it possible that nuclear weapons were used, if they weren’t used by Humans?” Leeto asked.

  “There were two separate nuclear events,” Sansar said, “and they need to be looked at separately.”

  “Okay,” Le
eto replied, “let’s look at the one you used on the Besquith first.”

  “We weren’t the ones to use it.”

  “Prove it!” the Besquith rep exclaimed.

  “I’d be happy to,” Sansar replied. “If we’d nuked you, would this have been necessary?”

  She mentally pushed a video to the monitor, and the screen lit up to show a battle in progress between a Besquith armored force and a group of white CASPers. The melee became a free-for-all when another group of Besquith on foot arrived at the same time a platoon of silver CASPers ran into the fight from almost the same bearing. The Besquith armor solved the identification problem by indiscriminately opening fire on the Besquith troopers and CASPers alike, resulting in a giant slaughterfest. While the Besquith armor dealt with the silver CASPers, the white CASPers destroyed most of the armor, and the Humans were ultimately successful.

  “As you can see,” Sansar noted, “the Besquith weren’t nuked. They were out-fought…when they weren’t killing their own troops.”

  The Besquith rep growled, deep in its throat, and Sansar thanked her gods for not being in the room with the alien. She doubted the Besquith would’ve been able to keep from attacking her.

  Sansar smiled at the camera. “That video was taken by then-First Sergeant Paolo Valenti. The environmental data pulled from his suit indicates the presence of zinc-65. The way you get zinc-65 is by using an enhanced radiation weapon with a shell of neutron-activated zinc-64. The resulting zinc-65 scattered about is a gamma emitter that will keep Humans out…but can be endured by Besquith. The level is consistent with the use of such a weapon several months prior…at the time the Besquith arrived and took control of the base from Asbaran Solutions. I personally wondered how this was possible, and now we know—the Besquith nuked them.”

  “That’s not illegal,” the Besquith rep grumbled. “The use of nuclear weapons is bad for business, as having to reconstitute units and equipment eats into profits, but it’s never been illegal to use them.”