Carnifex

piracy.

Gedo, Xamar

The village had not been close enough for the people to hear the gunfire and the explosions coming from the ambush of the column. Thus, it came as a complete surprise to them when suddenly a half dozen aircraft swooped in to rocket their small fishing fleet into so many disassociated splinters. Even as the Finches were destroying the place's livelihood, helicopters landed on the three landward sides and began disgorging heavily armed and armored men. Most of the men were dark, if not so dark as the villagers of Gedo. Mixed in among them were some light enough to have been Taurans, and others, very black and usually as tall and slender at the villagers themselves.

The villagers didn't even consider resistance. Most of the young men and most of the town's arms had disappeared at sea recently—no one knew why—and so there were few even to offer resistance. Loudspeakers directed them to move to the seashore and this they did.

Saldanas directed the men to separate out the women and children from the men. While this was going on, three Cricket Bs landed nearby on a short strip marked out on the sand. One of these disgorged some audio-visual equipment and what appeared to be a laptop computer, along with a couple of operators. From the other two emerged six men in naval dress uniform, six folding metal chairs, six small field tables and one gavel.

At the Cazadors' gestured directions, the men of Gedo, such as remained, stood up and faced a camera held by one of the men from the first Cricket. This was connected to the laptop held by another. The camera swept along the row of faces. All the prisoners were then faced left for another sweep of the camera, and right for a final set of shots. The Cazadors then ordered them, still with hand gestures, to sit while keeping the same positions. Sitting down on the sand, with hands bound, was no mean achievement. Several fell over and had to be righted by the Cazadors.

The laptop operator pressed a button. The laptop whirred as it analyzed the faces just fed into it with the images recorded previously, as the village had cheered its young men to sea. Circles began to appear around faces as the computer matched distances between eyes and noses, lengths of noses, distance from nose to the corners of mouths, and each of about fifty different features that combine to make each face unique. When it had finished, and the words, 'analisis completo,' appeared on screen, the laptop operators went down the line of men, separating out those who had not appeared previously, cheering on the pirates.

The rest were marched, one by one, before the four member court. The defense, for one of the six naval officers landed by the second and third Crickets was indeed the counsel for the defense, had a very tough time of it. No one spoke the local language and Arabic, a form of which was widely understood here, was quite a bit different in Xamar than in Sumer. Instead, a local was found who spoke English, as did most of the naval officers. Thus, charges were read off in Spanish, the defense counsel (not a lawyer, just a naval officer detailed for the purpose) translated those to English, and the Xamari translated that for the accused.

Typically, the trials went something like this:

Judge Puente-Pequeno: 'You are accused of being an accessory before the fact to the act of piracy at sea. How do you plead?'

Defense Counsel, after translation: 'Not guilty.'

Judge: 'Let the record show that the accused has entered a plea of Not Guilty. Prosecutor?'

Prosecutor, pointing to the laptop which showed the accused cheering the pirates: 'That's him there.'

Defense: Eloquent shrug.

Judge: 'Has the accused anything to say in his own defense?'

Defense, after translation: 'He has four wives and seventeen children to support, Your Honor. Besides, this is on land. Piracy law runs only at sea. Moreover, the defendant claims ignorance of the purpose of the column we engaged while it was moving here and of the boats that left and never returned.'

Prosecutor, very wearily: 'The former nation of Xamar has dissolved, Your Honor. It lacks sovereignty. It has become a ward of the World League, which also lacks sovereignty. Piracy law runs at sea because no one can hold sovereignty there. It also runs here, because no one does hold sovereignty here. As far back as the time of Julius Caesar, on Old Earth, it has been proper to try for crimes committed at sea people caught on land but otherwise under the sovereign protection of no one and acknowledging the sovereignty of nothing. As for the ignorance claim, Your Honor, frankly, in a area which has fallen under control of piracy, where national sovereignty is extinguished, where the Big Bad Motherfucker in Charge is the chief pirate, where the relief column is led by his son, and where everyone knows what the family business is, I think that the 'I didn't know' defense is fairly weak.'

Judge, even more wearily than the counsel for the defense: 'This is the thirty-seventh trial in which the defense has made the same lack of jurisdiction argument and the thirty-seventh—word for word—rebuttal by the prosecution. It is also the thirty-seventh attempt at claiming innocence through ignorance, likewise thirty-seven times rebutted. Gentlemen, cease. The court has already found it has jurisdiction, that the members of the column understood the business upon which they were engaged, and that this village understood the purpose of sending armed men to sea.'

Judge, picking up gavel: 'The accused is found guilty.' Tap. 'He will be shot following termination of these proceedings.' Tap. 'Next case.'

Defense: 'But Judge, what about the women and children? We're leaving them with nothing.'

Judge: 'We're leaving them—' the judge pausing briefly as a Cazador sergeant leading a squad shouted, 'A punta  . . .  Fuego!' and a fusillade rang out '—with their eyes to weep with, and their tongues to spread the word. For our purposes, that's all they need. Next case.' Tap.

Interlude

Turtle Bay, New York, 18 November, 2105

The news had come in from Terra Nova and that news was grim: substantial parts of the new world torn apart in rebellion and the former secretary general's great-great-grandson, Kotek Annan, butchered by barbarians. Hardly an eye was dry, at UN Headquarters, with the thought of that brilliant boy done to death—without the slightest provocation; it could not be doubted—by regressives. The Secretary General, Eduoard Simoua, was beside himself with grief.

Unfortunately, though Simoua wanted to make the gesture of sending yet another Annan to govern the new world, none were suitable. This was the judgment of the clan's patriarch, and to that judgment Simoua had to bow.

Briefly, Simoua thought about sending one of the retired officers from the various national armed forces that worked for the Department of Peacekeeping out to take charge. But no, none of those with the requisite experience and ability is really to be trusted. Most certainly, are they not to be trusted unsupervised.

Well, in a sense it's a disarmament problem. Why don't we send off one of those people? They've all got the right attitude. And they can be relied upon. But who, specifically?

* * *

'Bernard Chanet is here to see you Mr. Secretary.'

'Send him right in, Irene,' said Simoua, rising from his seat to warmly greet his proposed new governor for the world of Terra Nova.

Warm and fulsome greeting or not, Chanet seemed, at best, disinterested. Rather, his interest was made manifest when he asked, 'What's in it for me and mine?'

Oh, so that's how it's going to be, thought Simoua, with a mental shrug. No problem.

'What do you want?'

Oh, so they want a patsy that desperately, do they? Thought Chanet. Things there are worse than I thought. My price just went up.

'Amnesty?'

'Amnesty for what? What have you done?' Simoua asked.

'No, no,' Chanet said, explaining, 'I want you to have my son put in charge of Amnesty, Interplanetary.'

'But they're . . . '

Chanet's uplifted eyebrow stopped Simoua before he could say 'independent.' Not that the organization was a wholly owned or