“Ah,” Sansar said, nodding. “So you admit to using them on Asbaran. That’s great, because those were delivered via banshee bombs, which are outlawed. Thanks for admitting it. I’m sure the tribunal will be very happy to discuss that with you.”
“I admitted nothing! I mean, I—”
“Humans are the ones on trial here,” Leeto interrupted his spluttering smoothly, “not the Besquith.” She cast a stern glance to her right, and the Besquith shut its mouth with an audible snap. “Let’s talk about the other bomb.”
“I’d be happy to. Humans didn’t use that one, either.”
“Of course you did. Nigel Shirazi did it to cover up the fact he stole all the red diamonds from the Caroon mine there, which is especially heinous and violates the good name of the Mercenary Guild, as the Caroons were his employers.”
“Actually, no, there’s no reason for Colonel Shirazi to have done so. There was a reparations clause in his contract with the Caroons; as they failed to tell him there were MinSha on the planet, he had all the authority required to take them as payment for his losses, which he did. He freed the Caroons from the MinSha, who’d been holding them hostage, then he left the planet. I can’t prove, but I suspect, the MinSha came back and nuked the Caroons so they could cover up what they’d been doing to them. Since they were probably unaware of the reparations clause, the MinSha probably thought they could get away with blaming Asbaran for it. Let’s face it, neither of us has any evidence for who nuked the Caroons, but only one group has any sort of motive, and that’s the MinSha.”
“Oh?” Leeto asked. “Well what do you say about the Winged Hussars and their use of artificial intelligence?”
“I’d have to ask what evidence you had of that, because nothing I’ve ever seen or heard has given me any indication the Winged Hussars has an operable AI. Where are they keeping this AI you’re accusing them of?”
“Probably on their hidden planet.”
“Hidden planet?” Sansar asked. “I guess you’ve now given up any sort of evidentiary procedure, and you’re happy just to make shit up? Are you hoping that if you throw enough of it against the wall, eventually something will stick?”
“So, you’re saying the Hussars don’t have a hidden planet somewhere that they go to?”
Sansar shrugged. “I wasn’t saying anything about a planet, I was asking about rules under which this procedure is being conducted. It seems to me that this is nothing more than a kangaroo court.”
“I don’t understand this word—kangaroo. What do you mean by that?”
“A kangaroo court is one where a group of people try someone for a crime without having any evidence, because they know the case would get thrown out of any self-respecting court that actually cares about things like, you know…evidence and procedure…minor little details like that.”
“We’ve brought plenty of facts against you.”
“You’ve brought plenty of accusations and circumstantial evidence, most of which I’ve disproved. What do you have that shows the Hussars have an operational AI?”
“We have a number of accounts where their ships and drones have acted strangely during battle. They were too far out from their controllers onboard ship to act in such a coordinated manner.”
“So, you’re talking about the fleet action that occurred recently, where you sent a grand armada against the Hussars, and the various members of the fleet started shooting at each other? Is that what you’re talking about?”
“Admiral Omega was in charge of that fleet—he’s never been beaten, in hundreds of years! He couldn’t have been beaten by such an inferior force without some advantage like AI!”
“Admiral Omega? Is that who was commanding the battleship that ended up getting hit by a giant asteroid? That’s some excellent leadership right there. One of the first things we teach our navigators at the Golden Horde—and we don’t have many—is to watch out for asteroids and other planetary bodies. Because, apparently, running into them with your ship is bad. I guess Admiral Omega was never trained on little things like that at any time during his lengthy lifespan. I think that kind of incompetence also calls into question his abilities in general…not whether the force attacking him had some sort of mythological artificial intelligence.”
Leeto stared into the camera, her mouth slightly ajar and her body quivering, and Sansar knew she’d hit home there. “Is there anything else I can answer for you, or are we done here?” Sansar asked.
Leeto looked at her for a moment longer, then closed her mouth and shook out her arms. “No, I think we’re about done for today, although we’re not finished. No, not by a long way.” Her lips pulled back from her teeth in an approximation of a Human smile. “Tomorrow, I’m very much looking forward to seeing how you explain this.”
The monitor lit up to show three CASPers surrounded by a large group of MinSha and two anti-aircraft vehicles. Two MinSha appeared to be dead—they were unmoving on the ground—and there was smoke coming from the AA vehicles, but the fight appeared to be a standoff. Without warning, one of the suits yelled, “Incoming!” and the group scattered before some sort of fighter crashed where the biggest concentration of MinSha had been standing. A fireball blanked out the screens for a couple of moments, then it cleared, and the cockpit of the fighter floated down under a triple-canopy parachute.
The cockpit hit the ground, the canopy flew off, and a huge amount of water spilled from inside it. Once the flow of water stopped, Thorb crawled out of the cockpit. He walked over to the CASPers, who were rounding up what was left of the MinSha, and said, “That was fun. Can I do it again after I’ve had a little more training?” The sound quality wasn’t very good, and the picture had obviously been shot from a long way away, but it was obvious the SalSha had been piloting the combat fighter.
Sansar’s heart sank. She had additional evidence she hadn’t shown yet that would help refute the Merc Guild’s claims, but it was for the other charges. With regard to the unauthorized uplifting of a race—which there was no doubt this was—she had…nothing.
* * *
Four Horsemen Tribunal, Capital Planet
Sansar watched as the video played again the next day. The quality hadn’t gotten any better, but it really didn’t matter. Walker’s group had missed a MinSha at the facility, who’d taped Thorb, and she was screwed.
Leeto stopped the video, focused in on Thorb, and had the system automatically clean up the video as best it could. At the end, she had a picture that was an excellent representation of the saucy little otter. “As you can see,” Leeto said, “this individual is obviously an intelligent species, and it was flying a MinSha fighter plane. I’m not aware that any of the mercenary races look like this species. Are any of the tribunal members? Does anyone even recognize this race?”
Leeto looked to both sides. “Let the record reflect that none of the other members recognizes this race, and it’s definitely not one of the 37 mercenary races.” She looked back to the camera. “Failing that, I’m forced to conclude Sansar Enkh and the Golden Horde took a non-sentient race and uplifted them while under the strictures of a contract, to help themselves successfully complete said contract, thereby breaking the law to gain an advantage they shouldn’t have had. Not only is this a death sentence for everyone involved, it will also result in reparations to the MinSha mercenary unit involved, their employer, the Golden Horde’s employer, and to the Mercenary Guild. Finally, it will also result in the decertification of the Golden Horde as an approved mercenary organization.”
The Speaker paused, staring into the camera as if looking into Sansar’s soul. “So,” Leeto finally said, “how do you plead to this charge?”
“Before I plead, I’d like to explain the situation the Golden Horde was in at the time.”
“Come now,” Leeto said with a touch of scorn, “it’s an easy question—a yes or no question—and we all know what the answer’s going to be. Did you uplift this race or not?”
“If you won’t allow
me to explain, then I’ll have to say, ‘Not guilty.’”
“And how, exactly are we supposed to find you not guilty, when the evidence is on the screen before us?”
“To answer that, I need to explain what was happening at the time.”
“And as I have already said, we have no interest in listen—”
“I do,” the Goltar rep said.
“I’m sorry,” Leeto said. “What was that?”
“I’m interested in hearing what the Human has to say before we strip her of her company and kill her. I think she deserves at least that much.”
“I, too, would like to hear her story,” the Selroth said.
“I’d like to hear it as well,” the Flatar rep added. “I hope to never be in her seat, and I’m curious what would drive someone to do such a thing.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Leeto exclaimed. “It only matters whether she did it or not. Did she use outlawed technology to perform an outlawed modification? I want to know other things, like where she got the technology to do it—but it simply doesn’t matter. All that matters is whether she’s guilty or not.”
“As a member of the race that was wronged in this, I’m curious as to her rationale,” the MinSha rep announced. “I would hear her story.”
“Well, that’s only four, and doesn’t meet the majority rule.”
“C’mon, Zzelban,” the Flatar said, looking to the side. “You know you want to know.”
“No,” the Tortantula said, “I’m more interested in what’s for lunch.”
“Aw, c’mon,” the Flatar implored. “I want to hear this.”
“All right,” the Tortantula agreed. “One of my daughters did a mission one time with Humans, and she said they were interesting to be around. Let her talk.”
The Oogar sighed. Once again, so close, only to be delayed…again.
“Fine,” Leeto said. “What’s so important that you must tell us about it?”
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for allowing me to speak, as I think it’s important to see what was happening at the time before you judge me. When we got to Trigar-2A, we were hit by MinSha fighters from the binary planet of Trigar 2-B. During the attacks, we shot down one of the craft, but it wasn’t so damaged that it couldn’t be made to fly again, and one of our officers knew how to fly that model. We planned for him to lead an attack on the MinSha base on 2-B. Before we could do that, though, we realized the paint on our CASPers had been laced with nanobots holding a variety of diseases. Not just things like a cold or flu, but truly horrific diseases like Ebola, hemorrhagic smallpox, and anthrax. All of these are horrific Human diseases that will kill the host in great pain.
“What we also discerned was the nanobots were mobile—they’d not only attack the CASPer drivers, but the maintainers as well. When those people went home and hugged their husbands and wives and kids, some of the nanobots would transfer over to them. Nearly everyone that had anything to do with a mercenary company, including millions of women and children, had been infected. Here’s the kicker, though—all the nanobots were set to open and infect their hosts at the same time. If we didn’t get back to Earth, and back to Earth immediately, the nanobots would infect innocent children, and that was something I couldn’t allow. I authorized the uplift of a couple of the Salusian race on the planet to fly the fighter we had, so we could use it to acquire transportation home.”
“Wait,” the Selroth said. “You have an uplift machine? Those are illegal.”
“No, we don’t have one; we found it on the planet. We found it in an abandoned C’Natt research facility—”
“Who or what are the C’Natt?” the MinSha rep asked.
“They were a client race of the Kahraman,” the Goltar rep replied. “They were research scientists who sought to develop new and better ways to slaughter people.”
“Yes,” Sansar agreed. She decided not to mention they’d recovered the equipment and taken it back to Earth with them. “The C’Natt were on Trigar 2-A millennia ago, trying to develop an aquatic analogue to the Canavar. They also experimented on the Salusians and brought them from a non-sentient state to the semi-sentient state they were in when we found them. I think this is important to note—the C’Natt had already partially uplifted them prior to our arrival.
“In the ruins of the research facility, we found an uplift machine we used to uplift one of the Salusians so he could fly the fighter we’d acquired. We needed someone who could take the 20 G’s required; our trooper couldn’t. I weighed the possible outcomes in my mind…uplift one Salusian or allow millions of innocents to suffer and die. It would’ve been genocide for our race. When faced with that kind of a choice, there really was no choice. I had to uplift the Salusian to save all those people.”
“I don’t understand,” the Oogar said. “Why did you paint your machines with this substance in the first place?”
“One of our logistics personnel was tricked into purchasing it. He didn’t realize it had been infected.”
“Where did the paint come from?” Leeto asked. “Who did you purchase it from?”
“We tracked the source of the paint to Chitaa, the home world of the MinSha.”
“That’s not what I asked,” the Speaker said. “I asked who it was that sold you the contaminated paint.”
“It was a Human importer working for Nicholas Imports and Exports, I believe,” Sansar said.
“If it was a Human who sold you the material,” Leeto said, her eyes surveying the tribunal’s members, “then I submit to the members of the tribunal that the disease aspect of her story is an intra-species act—probably one faction of Humans trying to gain an edge over another faction—which makes it irrelevant to this board of inquisition. Who cares what they do to each other? If anything, it shows the inherent untrustworthy nature of Humans; if they’d do this to themselves, there’s no telling what they’d do to other races. One need only look at Cartwright’s Raknar incident to see what little respect the Humans have for our lives.”
She paused as her eyes swept the panel members again. Obviously seeing what she was looking for, she pressed on. “Do I have agreement to strike any mitigating circumstances from this charge?”
“Second,” the Goka rep said.
“Third,” the Besquith rep added.
“All in favor?” Leeto asked. The MinSha, Tortantula, and Oogar each raised an appendage, along with the Goka and Besquith.
“Opposed?”
Only the Goltar’s tentacle went up. “I find the circumstances incredibly important to the decision,” he noted.
“Your opposition is noted,” Leeto replied. “Any abstentions?”
The Flatar and Selroth raised their hands.
“Wonderful,” Leeto said. “All mitigating factors have been struck from the record. The charge of negligent uplifting stands, as does Sansar Enkh’s statement that the unauthorized uplift of a semi-sentient race did occur as charged.”
“But wait,” Sansar said, seeing Leeto gaining momentum with her first clear “win” of the proceedings. “The actual paint came from the MinSha home world. That’s not intra-species at all!”
“I’m sorry,” Leeto replied, her tone conveying no sorrow whatsoever, “but a majority of the board members believe it is, and that’s all that really matters.”
“But—”
“No more interruptions will be tolerated,” Leeto said. “It’s time for us to vote. As to the charge of unauthorized uplift, what do you say?”
“Guilty,” the Goka replied. The rest of the members voted the same way, although the Goltar sounded pained to say it.
“I also say ‘guilty,’” the Speaker added, “making it unanimous.” She annotated the result on her slate. “With regard to a punishment, I’m forced to look at the body of evidence presented here. While the Golden Horde representative refuted some of the claims, by no means did she have an answer for all of them.”
Sansar raised her hand, but Leeto pressed a button on the table and the �
�Mute” light came on in Sansar’s room.
“As there was a confirmed violation,” Leeto continued, “and several non-refuted other charges, I submit that the Human race wasn’t ready—wasn’t mature enough—to follow the rules of the Mercenary Guild specifically or the Galactic Union in general. As such, I recommend the Mercenary Guild provide a caretaker government to run Earth, as well as any colonies that exist, for at least a period of 100 galactic standard years, and for however many additional years are necessary to verify they’re mature enough to govern themselves.” She paused.
“I disagree,” the Goka rep interjected into the silence.
“With what?” the Speaker asked.
She doesn’t appear surprised, Sansar thought. Rather, it looks as if she expected it. That can’t be good.
“I disagree that the Humans aren’t currently mature enough to govern themselves,” the Goka continued.
“So you think they are able to govern themselves?”
“Far from it. I don’t believe the issue is that humanity isn’t mature enough to govern itself; I think the problem is they’re psychologically incapable of rational interaction with others. Throughout their history, they’ve never done what’s best for the group or the species as a whole; instead, their leaders have always done what’s best for themselves or what was expedient, exactly as the charges against them in this tribunal reflect.”
Sansar could see where the line of questioning was going, and her stomach fell. Several counter-arguments and examples came to mind, but with the “Mute” light on, there was nothing she could say or do. She wanted to scream, to rage—to do anything but be forced to watch impotently—but there was nothing she could do, and she slumped in her seat as the script played out.
“The events certainly substantiate your insight into the Human race,” Leeto agreed. “What are you suggesting?”
“I think the Humans are sociopaths and psychologically incapable of governing themselves. In the interests of the Galactic Union, I believe the Mercenary Guild should govern their worlds, in perpetuity, forever.”
A Fiery Sunset Page 32
