Goddess of the Galacticide Episode 9 - Worse Than Death

Episode 9

The tribunal found everyone guilty.

Treason.

Cha Dzeeny listened as the judges called each marine of his unit, telling them how they had betrayed all the people of all the worlds represented by the galactic government. He could not tell if the accusations, the disappointment, or the prospect of execution triggered the various reactions: anger, fear, denial. No one had pleaded for their life. Cha knew many were tempted to try, and he could not blame them. These were no battle-hardened Royal Guards, these were youngsters who had faced death maybe once during an airlock training incident.

Cha Dzeeny had saved the young marine then, but had failed him in the courtroom. How much of that anger targeted him? He deserved all of it. He glanced left. His unit sat in two long rows of chairs, some buried their faces in their hands, others stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with their comrades, or—more likely—with Cha.

Once the shock wore off, the long-lasting pain of shame would set in. Shame they had brought on their families, sullying their ancestral lines with one of the worst crimes one could commit in Aloo Dashaad society. Most of them would not only die, they would be dead to their families. No mourners, no friends in tears, nobody speaking about them, staring anyone down who hushed their name. As if they never existed.

There was no afterlife. Remembrance of one’s name was the only eternity. They had lost it.

There was movement behind the tribunal desk. The civilian judges had left after the guilty verdicts. Some court clerk had gathered the two admirals and attempted to usher them to follow their civilian counterparts. They looked annoyed, and an inaudible discussion followed.

“What’s happening now?” asked Private Yots, seated next to Cha Dzeeny.

Yots sounded matter-of-fact, but she opened her eyes wide to prevent tears from forming.

Cha Dzeeny didn’t understand the procedures of this mixed court or why the judges hadn’t left together for deliberations.

“They’re discussing the sentence,” he said.

An officer always knew what was happening. And if not, he pretended as best he could.

His unit’s defense council seemed even less in the loop. The incompetent mpets sat slumped in his chair, looking disinterested and bored, like someone just wanting to go home. He ignored the life-or-death discussions concerning these young people who signed up to defend the galaxy.

Maybe he knew the proceedings were a done deal before the first hearings start. The two admirals remained at the tribunal desk. Cha concluded the military was not part of the decision-making or actively avoided it. Or, the two admirals just exchanged some mural drawings by their children before they joined the other judges.

The court wasn’t a pure military court, but the final stretch of the proceedings felt like purest essential military. Few moments of frantic activity paired with terror, intermittent by long periods of boredom. Cha shifted in his chair. The courtroom’s transparent overhead dome had shown the gas giant Omech Chaa Sok giving way to two of the three stars in this system. It had been bright during the verdicts, but now light outright flooded the room. He clenched his fist. Soon, it would be dark for him—forever. Maybe that’s why people fear death. The uncertainty was scary, not the dark that followed. Cha Dzeeny was certain he would feel better once his execution was scheduled. A crazy thought?

“All rise.”

The judges returned. Instead of taking their seat, they presented something on a digiscroll to the admirals. Head-shaking. Finger-pointing. The scroll had a whisper-sphere as nothing could be overheard from the discussion turning argument. Even without a sound, curse words, Old and New Galactic were readable from the judges’ lips.

“Dvo magiimuus,” said Yots. “Can we get this over with?”

Cha was relieved he wasn’t the only one with irrational impatience to receive his death penalty.

They pulled a court clerk into the sound-proofing bubble of the whisper-sphere. He pointed at the cameras hovering overhead. Yes, you pufkiipak, everything you do next will be recorded.

The presiding judged closed the scroll, and the sphere dropped. A comment about embarrassment was made; then the judges regained their composure and fell silent.

“All rise,” said the court clerk, then realized everyone had been standing for a few passes already. “Be seated.”

Murmur filled the room. The selected spectators had been almost as disciplined as Cha Dzeeny’s unit for several spins now, but this strange behavior made them speculate.

The presiding judge activated his audio. “The accused and guilty will be addressed as a unit. Detachment Leader, have your unit stand at attention.”

These people did not deserve protocol and respect. But Cha knew nothing but military service and reacted the only way he could.

He rose to his feet and yelled, “Ga-Gamuu!”

This was going to be the last time he ordered anyone to do anything. The traditional ‘attention’ command of the former Ancestrate seemed appropriate. His unit rose in unison. He was a Royal Guard. He’d die feeling like one.

The murmur stopped. Had they dropped that whisper-sphere into the entire room, it wouldn’t have been quieter.

“This court has found the accused guilty of the charge of treason to the letter of the law. The facts of this case were sufficient to meet the charge. However, pursuant to an Assembly vote and order, this court is barred from enacting capital punishment in this case due to…”

Murmur gave way to open chatter. The prosecutor rose to his feet, and the civilian judges looked stone-faced. The Assembly intervened? They had sent them here. The government pushed for treason charges. Now they pulled them back?

“Boss?” asked Yots. “What is this?”

“I don’t know,” said Cha. And that was the truth.

“Order!” said the clerk. “Be silent!”

“Due to” continued the presiding judge, “unique operational circumstances.”

He read from the scroll. These were not his words, not his judgment. Someone had handed it to him to read aloud, and he did, but without conviction or any attempt to appear convincing. He only raised his voice so he could talk over the crowd, who had not followed the clerk’s orders.

“The accused and guilty’s deed will require punishment, and they will be sent for the duration of ten orbits to a penal unit, continuing to serve the Levy Fleet of the Galactic Assembly. They are hereby sentenced to report for duty with the 2nd Experimental Warfare Unit beginning the next rotation.”

Yots exhaled. “That’s not so bad. We’re not even discharged.”

Others in the unit agreed, some smiled, having dodged death, seeing a path for redemption even. Hope spread amongst the youngsters—like a virus.

“Shut up,” said Cha. “Have you ever seen an experimental unit deployed anywhere?”

Yots and her peers stared at their leader.

“No?” asked Cha Dzeeny. “It’s because they never make it to deployment. I’ve heard of these units. It’s not like they make you test experimental weapons or gear. In an experimental unit, YOU are the experiment.”

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