As they approached LAX, Sam saw the huge white cylinders that circled the air traffic control tower. They were lit from within, though the colors were faint in the daylight. Blue, purple, green, red, and blue again. The faint shading reminded him of Spo skin. The Spo seemed blatant in a lot of ways, but Sam was learning how subtle they could be.
Greg was talking into his phone, organizing the shuttles that would take him and the remaining cadets to the orbiting Spo space station. Most of the cadets had already gone up.
“I want Claudia to come with me,” Sam said.
Greg put his phone down. “No. She’s not one of the sample, she hasn’t been cleared to be at the trial.”
“I don’t care. She needs to be there. Call it intuition.”
Greg frowned. Sam knew Greg hated the human claim to intuition, but with their undeniable subconscious construct, he couldn’t deny it either.
“Her boyfriend should come too… Chris, right?” Sam asked them in the back seat.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Claudia said. “I mean, not that it matters. Never mind. I do want him to come.”
“Well, that’s progress,” Chris said. “Would you believe I had to twist her arm to go out with me at all?”
“Be quiet,” Claudia said, but with a smile.
“Fine,” Greg said. “They come.”
At Terminal 3, which had been taken over by the Spo, and no longer housed Delta or United Airways, they piled out of the packed car. The second car pulled up behind, and Downy climbed out with General Gustav who they’d picked up in L.A. Downy pulled Shara roughly from the back, and Nebbie climbed out inches behind her, growling continuously.
“Cool it, Nebbie,” Sam said. “We don’t have long and we need her.”
“You’re right, you do need me!” Shara said. “Just don’t leave me alone with Downy. He threatened to kill me. He – ”
Downy hit her across the face with the back of his clawed hand. She slammed into the car, her face bounced off the door. Blood dripped from her lip, and a purple shadow appeared on her cheek.
Claudia gasped and turned her face away. Sam gasped too, surprised by Downy’s violence. He was usually so laid back.
“What is wrong with you?” Greg demanded. “There is no need for that.”
“She’s Rik,” Downy said. “I’m certain of it. There’s something about her that’s just – ”
“I don’t care if she’s the Rik overlord, we don’t have time,” Sam said. He gestured for Shara to precede him towards the gate.
He walked her briskly to Gate 12, where the last shuttle waited. Shara rubbed her neck gingerly.
It probably hurt, but Sam wasn’t feeling very compassionate. If Downy was right and she was Rik, then she’d probably passed Nat and Akemi to them. Worse, she’d killed Oh Li. She was despicable.
There were two cabins with separate seating areas on the shuttle. Sam put Shara in his own section, and Claudia, Greg and Downy. He needed Greg’s expertise and he hoped Claudia, as Shara’s (somewhat) friend, might be able to read her well. Downy, much to Sam’s surprise, would be good for intimidation.
He left Chris, Gustav, and Nebbie to take the front cabin with the pilot. He knew Chris couldn’t stand Nebbie, but he would cope.
As soon as they were strapped in, before the first boosters kicked in, Sam began questioning Shara.
***
Nat sat cross-legged in the dark hallway, in front of the airlock; the airlock that would kill her in a matter of minutes. The only illumination was the green glow from the control screen and the tiny lights along the floor.
Her inner arm wouldn’t stop itching. She scratched again and again, from the crook of her elbow to her wrist. The handcuffs still dangled off her left hand.
When the screen blinked on and off, she wasn’t looking at it, but she saw the light flicker on her arm. She looked up, but the screen looked the same.
Another scratch, another screen blink.
This time the screen stayed black. The hallway was almost completely black without that light.
NAT
NAT
Small white caps printed slowly on the screen, and then more quickly.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE AIRLOCK?
NAT?
IT IS AKEMI
Nat looked at the words on the screen in disbelief. Was it a message from the Rik? Did they think to log into the airlock subsystem and see what she’d done? How sick would they be to use Akemi’s name?
NAT I’M ALIVE
COME BACK TO THE CONTROL ROOM
I NEED TO SHOW YOU SOME THINGS
Nat got slowly to her feet, staring at the words. Then she ran back to the control room. The computer was no longer locked, as it had been before. It was dark, with the same white letters talking to her.
TOUCH THE SCREEN IF YOU’RE HERE
Nat punched the screen. If this was a trick…
GOOD
GOOD GOODGOOD
LOOK AT THIS
The computer went dark. Nat wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists on the computer and demand to know if her sister was really in there, but she couldn’t do anything.
Pictures flashed on the screen. The first showed a huge metal hallway, curving gradually in an unbroken arc. Next was an aerial shot of a circular building, nearly half a mile long. She recognized these pictures. This was the Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland that the terrorists sabotaged seven years ago. The resulting explosion had destroyed most of northern Europe and toxified a large part of western Russia. The environment went to pieces, the Spo came, etc. etc. Why was Akemi showing her this? She knew it all.
The Hadron explosion brought the Spo down on them. Because of the Hadron terrorists, the galactic council wasn’t sure if humanity deserved sentient status. Hence the trial, hence the Spo, hence the cadets getting jerked away from their families for six years. This was where it all started.
The pictures kept coming. First the standard Hadron collider photos, the ones that still played over the news occasionally. Then a short video clip. It was the Hadron collider from space. The camera got closer and closer to the earth, then zoomed in on the collider.
A view from a spaceship, Nat wondered. A weather satellite maybe?
For a moment the video was obscured by a red circular object. Then the red package fell away from the camera and zoomed toward the ground. It got smaller and smaller in the view, until it disappeared. Two seconds later, the ground erupted in a giant firework explosion. The ground rippled away from the blast like cut elastic. Debris mushroomed into the atmosphere. The camera started to shake violently and then the video cut off and the screen went dark again.
Nat recognized the infamous Hadron explosion, though she’d never seen it from this angle. As far as she knew, no human spacecraft had captured the explosion on video.
DO YOU SEE?
THE HADRON COLLIDER WAS BOMBED FROM SPACE
NOT TERRORISTS AT ALL
The computer continued to talk at Nat. Her hands felt icy and she rubbed her eyes to uncloud them.
DO YOU SEE?
I FOUND THIS VIDEO IN THE RIK ARCHIVES
THEY CAUSED THE HADRON EXPLOSION
THERE’S MORE
Nat was still taking in the first crazy revelation. The Rik were behind the Hadron explosion? It was crazy. Humanity hadn’t known aliens existed when that happened. They certainly hadn’t known the Rik. The terrorists who caused the explosion had claimed credit. They were apprehended and executed before the dust storm reached India. With northern Europe a crumpled wasteland and toxic rain spreading into the Urals, Earth was in an uproar. Radiation poisoning spread towards the Atlantic, and huge chunks of arctic ice melted.
Then the Spo arrived. The galactic council had given Spo the opportunity to be Earth’s sponsors, and wardens, until the time of their trial.
During Nat’s training, the Spo had always come back to the Hadron explosion. “Survival is sanity,” that was their mantra. And humanity had proved itself capable of the grossest insanity by nearly destroying their planet.
Only now, Akemi was saying humanity hadn’t done that. The Rik had done it. Humanity’s trial was a set up. Oh god. Nat had to tell someone. She had to get back and tell Greg and Sam.
The computer was showing more pictures now. Ships, lots of ships, grouped around a ringed planet.
“What now?” Nat said, though she knew the computer (was it really Akemi?) couldn’t hear her.
The ships in the video began moving, coming around the dark side of the ringed planet as a slow moving flotilla. They’d been grouped closely, but now they began to spread out. As they went into black space, she got a glimpse of another planet in the distance. It was orange, with swirling red spots.
Then the screen went black again.
THEY’VE BEEN HIDING BEHIND JUPITER
THE RIK FLEET OF SHIPS
THEY’RE PASSING MARS, GOING TO EARTH
“What?” Nat asked. “What are they doing there?”
I’M MONITORING THEIR COMMUNICATIONS
THE TRIAL IS STARTING
RIK ARE VERY CONFIDENT
“WHAT?” Nat exclaimed. “The trial isn’t for three days! And the galactic council won’t let them invade Earth.”
But of course, the computer, or Akemi, if it was really her, still couldn’t hear her. Nat punched the screen in frustration and the dangling cuffs scratched its smooth finish.
SOMETHING IS HAPPENING TO ME.
THEY ARE INITIATING JUMP
Pause.
HANG ON A SEC
The engines started, speeding the ship into the correct velocity for jump.
Nat blinked at the screen.
The airlock was still programmed to open. It would kill them both.
***
Shara’s face felt broken. She wished she had a mirror to see if her cheekbone looked as swollen as it felt.
Downy was determined to keep her quiet. That much was certain. She could probably blurt out enough to incriminate him before he could silence her for good, but would that help her?
She wouldn’t be ashamed to betray her species. The Rik future might be at stake, but they weren’t here. She was here, and when it came down to it, her first priority was herself. How could it be otherwise?
Getting caught was bad, though. If she revealed the Rik plot to the humans, that could be worse. If her boss ever got a hold of her after such a betrayal, the results would be horrific. One of the only imaginative areas of the Rik psyche was punishment.
On the other hand, if she betrayed her people and helped Sam, and the humans won… would they allow her to stay? Could she bargain for that?
Or, if she tried to help the humans, would Downy kill her anyway?
Shara felt stuck. Sam and Greg pelted her with questions as the shuttle took off. She remained silent, pressing a hand over her burning face. Occasionally she dabbed the blood from her split lip. She wiped it on her shirt, for lack of other options, though it bothered her, even now, to soil her new turquoise blouse.
“If you don’t respond,” Sam said. “We have to assume you’re a Rik operative. As such, you will be executed immediately after the trial.”
She was silent. Looking at the floor, and Downy’s clawed feet.
“Shara,” Claudia said, the first time she’d spoken, “They say you didn’t kill one of the cadets you took, Jonathan. Why not? Can you tell us that, at least?”
Shara looked at Claudia. Claudia still wanted to help her, even though she’d nearly been shot when Shara tried to kill Sam. That was sweet.
“I kind of liked him,” Shara said, no harm in giving that away. “The first dose of sasoikeo might have killed him, but it didn’t, and I didn’t want to give him anymore.”
Downy shifted uneasily. He liked her silence, wasn’t comfortable with her talking, even if it wasn’t related to him.
“Then, you can understand,” Claudia said. “You know what it’s like to want to save someone. We want to save Akemi and Nat, if they’re still alive. We want to save us. Do you understand that?”
“I do.” Shara said. “But – ”
“Sam tells me you’re Rik. He says you want to destroy us. But I don’t believe him. Look at that shirt you’re wearing. Those boots. When we talked last week you asked me to go shopping with you. You don’t hate Earth, don’t you?”
Now Shara’s eyes were burning, and she was surprised to feel a tear running down her cheek.
“I don’t,” she said, thinking of the beautiful outlet store she shopped at only yesterday. She pictured Jonathan stealing a kiss at the Hollywood Bowl; she remembered talking with Akemi for hours on the airplane.
“I like humans, for the most part. But I don’t have a choice. They’ll kill me if I talk to you.” Her eyes flickered to Downy.
Claudia caught the look. “They’ll kill you? Or he will?” she said.
“One or the other.”
“This is useless!” Downy said. “You’re not going to talk a Rik into a guilty confession. They don’t feel guilt. Do you remember Oh Li’s body?”
Sam and Greg grimaced. The shuttle jolted as the secondary thrusters kicked in, pushing them out past Earth’s atmosphere.
“Downy might have a point,” Sam said. “You slaughtered Oh Li. You nearly killed Jonathan. Nat and Akemi are gone.” He paused. “The sheep you slaughtered by the tower were revolting, but I should have known then that the artwork was alien.”
Shara was caught off guard. “What sheep?”
“The sheep, the ones you sliced up just like Oh Li.”
“I’m not… I didn’t kill any sheep,” Shara said. Was this a trick?
“She sounds honest,” Claudia said.
“Oh please,” Downy said. “She’s a Rik, she’s a liar.”
“He could be right,” Greg said. “But why would she deny this, and not the others?”
Sam ran a hand through his hair.
“What if – what if she didn’t kill them?” he said.
“What are you thinking?” Greg asked.
“Oh Li, Jia, and the sheep are linked by style. Jonathan was totally different. Nat and Akemi disappeared, but there was no sign of violence. What if we’ve got two people at work here?” Sam asked.
“She shot at us!” Downy exclaimed. “That’s plenty violent.”
“With a gun,” Sam replied. “She tried to kill us with a gun. I think the person who killed Oh Li likes to be close.” He thought for a minute, and then leaned toward Shara. “How about a deal?”
With a loud clang, the shuttle docked with the orbiting spacecraft.
***
Nat ran for the airlock. Only seconds until they jumped. Maybe Akemi fixed what she did to the airlock, but maybe not. Nat had to turn off the command before the ship entered jump, or she and Akemi would die, again. And they had so much to do. They had to get back to Earth and warn Sam. They had to get their evidence to the trial.
The lights lining the hallway floor blinked red, warning passengers of the approaching jump. Nat felt like she was in a nightmare. She had to move. FAST. But in her panic she tripped over her own feet. Her sense of balance was all off, probably from that last weapon blast, and she crashed to the floor.
The flashing lights were inches from her eyes now. The blinking red seemed like an audible scream in her ears. She stumbled up and lunged the last few feet to the airlock.
The screen was still black, with Akemi’s last words on there.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE AIRLOCK?
Nat touched the screen, resetting it. She only need a few more seconds, but any moment could be too late.
The screen returned to its usual green, with four selections available. As Nat thumped the security icon, the screen turned into a blur. She felt her body shift, like an elevator taking off sideways, and she cried out. The Jump. She was too late.
***
“How about a deal?” Sam asked Shara.
Downy unbuckled and got out of his seat. “We’re here. And unless I’m much mistaken, you don’t have the authority to make a deal with the Rik. Humans are not a sentient race. Yet.”
Sam stared at Downy.
Greg was looking at Downy too, obviously surprised.
“As a matter of fact, he’s right,” Greg said. “Humans don’t have the authority to pardon a prisoner of war from an alien species. As your sponsors, only we can make a deal.”
“Seriously?” Sam demanded. “You’re going to get all legal on me now? We’ve got to find out what she knows before the trial.”
“Considering we’re going into a galactic trial, I’m afraid this is exactly the time to get legal,” Greg said.
“You’d rather go into trial not knowing what she knows?” Sam asked.
“There will be time for witnesses,” Greg said. He included Shara, Downy, and even Claudia in his gaze. “I can call anyone during the trial.”
Sam snorted. “I can’t believe this.”
They boarded the space station, and Greg led them to the same room where Sam’s personal trial had been, after he exposed the truth on TV. There were chairs set out this time. Obviously this was going to be a longer trial than last time.
“What about the other cadets?” Sam said. “Aren’t we all witnesses for the trial? Technically?”
“They represent Earth. You’ll represent them. They are in the adjoining rooms, watching the proceedings live. I can call them to answer questions as needed.”
Sam nodded. “What about her?” He gestured at Shara. “We can’t leave her alone.”
“The containment room. We’ll lock her up in an empty trouncer cage until we need her,” Greg said. “Downy, Claudia, Chris – all of you must go wait with the cadets. Only the defense and the primary witness, Sam and I, are to be in the room with the prosecutor and the Council.”
“They’re here?” Sam asked. “I thought they would be communicating on screen.”
Greg shook his head. “The Council will be on screen, but the prosecutor is here.”
Chris and Claudia left the room, Claudia hugging Sam one more time.
“Get Shara to talk to you,” Claudia said. “She’s ready to break. You can do it.” Then they were gone.
Two minutes later a big, black man entered the room, bowing to Greg.
“Who are you?” Greg asked. “We are expecting the Rik prosecutor.
The black guy smiled. “Don’t you recognize me, Greg? My name is Tishing. We met some years ago.”
***
Akemi didn’t feel like a computer. Except that she indisputably was a computer, so now she knew what they felt like, and it wasn’t all that different from being a teenage girl. She had more multitasking complexity now, but it was a lot like watching TV while texting a friend, talking to her mother, and typing a term paper. Which she’d done.
The real difference was the sheer amount of information available to her. The computational part of the computer was boring, but the video archives it held were fascinating. Photos, videos, transcripts of secret communications – it was like finding the MySpace page of the Rik people. All their dirty secrets on display.
She’d shown Nat the biggest bits – the Hadron explosion, the invasion fleet heading past Mars – but now she couldn’t think about that.
Part of the computer, the part that wasn’t her (and yet was, at the same time) had been activated remotely. That part of the computer was gearing up for a small jump in hyperspace. It was doing the calculations to enter jump at the correct angle and velocity (so that it would exit at the correct angle and velocity, which was very important), and it really didn’t care that she didn’t want to go. It was like having a song stuck in her head. The computer was calculating and recalculating in her mind, and she couldn’t turn the stupid thing off.
Oh, and as if that wasn’t enough to worry about, she’d noticed Nat doing something funny with the airlock before she’d gotten her attention. She should figure out what that was. This jump thing was stressful. Plus, she had the distinct feeling that in a few minutes, when the jump started, the whole mess would be in her hands. She could swear the computational computer was feeling a little smug about it, too.
Well, first things first. She didn’t want Nat sucked into limbo by a faulty airlock. Akemi started to undo that mess, while another part of her tried to figure out what she needed to do during the jump. The computational computer wasn’t being really forthcoming.
And then, as fast as Akemi’s new computer brain could blink, they were in the jump, and she had no more time to think.
Her brain flooded with data. Not the kind of flood you get from a faulty bathtub faucet. The Pacific Ocean sloshed and landed in her lap. Their ship didn’t exist, and it did. It only existed in her mind, and her mind was the ship. Where it would re-exist was up to her. The possibilities dumped on her were infinite. Actually infinite, which was a concept her maths teacher had never explained very well.
So many places. In the first instant she ruled out half of the infinity that was not in her space-time continuum. But half of infinity was still infinite. So instead of ruling out, she selected the ones near planetary bodies. Hundreds of thousands choices still remained. But not infinite.
Then the computational computer gave its vote. It told her where she was supposed to go, which still included three hundred possible configurations of existence.
Couldn’t you have told me that before? Akemi thought fleetingly.
But an instantaneous review of those few hundred didn’t please her. She could practically count them on her fingers. They weren’t any good.
No, she told the computational computer. She opened up the possibilities again. Let’s go to Earth. Um… but avoiding the fleet.
Her velocity was all wrong to go in there. The closest place to Earth with her current velocity vector… that was a simple calculation. From Mars to Earth’s moon was a small jump indeed. With a thump of satisfaction that made the computational computer scream, Akemi chose the jump.
As she did so, she noticed a warning signal that had gotten lost in the ocean of numbers.
“Airlock breach,” it said. “Depressurization.”
“Oh shoot,” Akemi thought. She slammed the airlock door shut and the ship emerged in uneasy orbit around the moon. How much oxygen had they lost? She did a quick diagnostic. The air was thin, but still life sustaining. As long as Nat hadn’t been right next to the door…
NAT?
TOUCH THE SCREEN IF YOU’RE ALIVE
PLEASE
PLEASE
PLEASE
***
Tishing smiled urbanely at Greg and Sam.
Greg turned a rich orange with anger.
“You come here, like that?” he demanded. “As a human?”
“Confidence is not a crime,” Tishing said. “And I’m not the one on trial here.”
“I don’t get it,” Sam said. “I thought the prosecutor was a Rik?”
“He is a Rik,” Greg bit out. “He stole that body and inhabited it.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “Can he do that?”
“Technically, no. But if he wins the trial, it won’t matter anymore,” Greg said.
Tishing smiled. “Nat says hello.”
Sam lunged out of his chair, but Greg stopped him with an arm to the chest.
“He wants you to attack him. It will make his case stronger.”
Sam glared. “But if he has Nat – he’s broken the law! He should be thrown out!”
Greg held him back. “The trial has started. No other matters, criminal or civil, will be considered until this trial is complete. He knows it.”
Sam backed down. Galactic justice wasn’t the same as human justice, but he had to bow to their authority for now. He sat back in his chair.
“When humans are on the Galactic Council,” he said, looking at Tishing, “Things will be handled a little differently.”
Laughter from the screen surprised Sam. He turned forward to see that the huge holoscreen had flickered on while he was distracted. Twenty four members of the Council sat in a double semi-circle facing him. The Crosspoint and the Merith in the council were laughing.
“Very bold, this one,” said a Crosspoint. “I like them excessively.” Sam noticed that the body paint on that Crosspoint formed a star of David and wondered briefly if the little alien knew what that was.
The Merith who had laughed became quiet and raised his muscled arms for silence. He sat behind a personal screen, and the reflected light from it lit up his one moist eye.
“The Councilors who comprise the sub-committee of Sentient Acceptance and Dispute will now hear the case of humanity, for planet Earth. I am Faal, Merith representative and spokesperson of the Councilors. Make yourselves known to the Council.”
Greg bow/crouched in the formal way of his race, and recited, “I present myself for inspection to the representatives of the Galactic Council. I am Greg, representing the Spo, the sponsors of humanity. I offer my experience, knowledge, and character in defense of humanity’s sentience and sanity.” He rose from his bow.
Tishing bowed next, in a clipped, military style. “I present myself for inspection to the representatives of the Galactic Council. I am Tishing, representing the Rik, the prosecutors of humanity. I offer my experience, knowledge, and character in denial of humanity’s sentience and sanity.” He added a few more sentences to his formula than Greg. “As a member of a species in probation, I recognize that should my case fail, my species will remain in probation for the duration of four generations.”
Sam glared at Greg. Never had he mentioned that the prosecutors, the Rik, were also on probation. Apparently, if humanity won, that would be a direct loss to the Rik, they would remain on probation another four generations. Talk about motivation.
Tishing began to sit, but Greg halted him. “A point, Councilors. This man, representing the Rik, is clearly using a human body. There is no precedent for taking a specimen before the trial. His action is illegal.”
None of the Council looked surprised. The Merith spokesperson nodded. “That is an illegal action. It will be addressed following the trial. However, this trial has begun and will not be paused or ended until humanity’s sentience status has been determined. The prosecutor’s actions are not in question.”
Greg nodded, and they both sat. Greg squatted over a Spo couch, but Tishing leaned back in a comfortable chair and crossed one leg over the other.
“Please present the human sample,” the Merith said.
Greg was still angry, but Sam could see him force it away.
“This is Sam, of the human species,” he said calmly. “As you see in my report, genetically he is within .02 deviations of the planetary standard. Racially he is descended of the Tran Siberian indigenous peoples, or Native Americans.”
Sam blinked at that. His dad was from El Salvador…his mother was Pueblo Indian. Tran Siberian… that sounded more impressive.
“His progress in Spo training was exemplary. He can speak Spo and Standard with moderate facility. With further training, he could be advanced. The rest of the human sample, over two hundred, performed similarly, or within a very small margin. They represent ninety-eight percent of humanity’s genetic diversity.”
Another councilor raised a limb at that point. “You say ninety-eight percent, despite the fact that nearly a fifth of the population was killed or injured in the event known as the Hadron explosion?”
Greg nodded. “Their genetic spread can be verified in the documents we’ve already submitted. The European genotypes were amply represented throughout the rest of the world, particularly the continent of North America. You can refer to the planetary map, in section 23 of our report.”
Sam saw several of the councilors flip on their personal screens, checking Greg’s work as he spoke.
“I would also point out,” Greg continued, “that the dispersion of peoples through Earth’s arable lands demonstrates that they have attained the sociological and technological level equal to a level 3 culture. Artistic, culinary, and linguistic output would make them equal to the highest level 7 culture. Indeed, there has been some talk that an entirely new level of cultural output would need to be defined for Earth, should humanity be declared sentient.”
The Merith stopped Greg.
“Most of these things we know. The issue at stake in this trial is not culture, but sentiency status. The Hadron explosion is an event of such destruction that it alone could condemn humanity as a malignant animal life form. Intelligent, but not sentient according to the standards of this council. If the Spo had not chosen to sponsor them, they would have been declared so already. How do you answer this charge?”
Greg took a deep breath. Before he could speak, Tishing rose smoothly from his chair.
“I have something to add to the charge.”
Greg expelled his breath. “The trial has started. The Hadron explosion is the sole context of the malignancy charge. There can be no addition at this time.”
Tishing smiled, but addressed only the council. “The charge of malignancy and non-sentience stands. I merely enlarge the context. In addition to the high level destruction of the Hadron explosion, humanity has exhibited specific malignancy in the killing of the human witness pool. Twelve of the human cadets have been murdered or seriously injured during their brief re-acclimation to Earth. One cadet family was held captive by terrorists. Several family members have disappeared. The cadets, the representatives of humanity and only possible salvation of the species, were reduced by nearly ten percent in only three weeks. I wish to add this to the context of the malignancy charge, extending both the scope and brutality of the original indictment.”
Greg looked ready to spring on Tishing and rend him limb from limb.
The Merith frowned, “Greg, is it true that twelve cadets were killed in the last three weeks?”
“Only five that we know of. One is missing,” he glared at Tishing, “one has had his prefrontal cortex severely damaged. The other five were injured during a fire.”
“A fire started by a mob of humans, intent on killing,” Tishing added.
The council stirred slightly.
“This is extremely serious,” the Merith said. “It adds great weight to the prosecution.” He paused and looked down. Sam could see that something was flicking on his personal screen and the white of the Merith’s large eye shone like milk in the light. Perhaps he was adding the new data into the record.
“Would the Spo prefer to step down as sponsors of humanity at this time?”
“No!” Greg exclaimed. “Absolutely not.”
The Merith looked up. “I was not asking you. I am speaking to the Spo Emperor.”
On the wall next to Sam, another screen lit up, this one showing the Spo emperor, sitting before his priceless deathglass table.
The emperor was unhappy. “The Spo must consider that sponsoring humanity is no longer worthwhile.”
Greg bowed very low to his emperor.
“We have invested many years in this species. We should not abandon them now.”
“Should not?” asked the emperor in a quiet voice. “You do not tell me what the Spo should do.”
***
Armen watched the trial from the waiting room with the other cadets. He bit his tongue painfully, thinking. There was something… something on the edge of his mind. He had to figure out what it was. Something about Sam, or maybe something about Greg… something that would help Sam win the trial.
They all knew it was up to Sam now. He was the best of those left. They were all smart, all capable. They’d survived the training, the loss of their families, and they’d thrived. They were strong, but Sam was something special. Not the smartest (that was probably Nat), not the best debater (probably Jonathan), or the quickest learner, or the most assured…but he was the one who got things done.
On Spo, so many times, Sam was the one who distracted the homesick or warned off the bully. He started the games that reminded them of Earth. He talked to Greg, when somebody needed a break. He helped the little ones tough it out.
And now, Armen knew there was something he needed to tell Sam, but he couldn’t quite pull it to mind. Armen tried to use the memory technique the Spo taught him, but it wouldn’t come together. He was rushing it.
Armen centered himself in the chair and breathed deeply. He pictured a red wall, red brick. He tried to picture a gate in the wall, but it wouldn’t resolve.
Fine. He solidified the brick wall in his mind. Behind the wall was the thing he needed to remember. Behind the wall was the memory. Deliberately, with each slow exhalation, he removed a single brick.