"Judgement decided, all trial participants are to return to the Hall of Adjudication as quickly as is reasonably possible," a wide, flat panel on the screen told us. It was red and black, to grab notice, and had a flashing red dot in the corner of the screen.

"Is that good for us or bad for us?" I asked, raising my wine glass to gulp what remained.

"Neither. It means only that the case was easy to decide. All three adjudicators likely share opinions on the final outcome," Tazha replied.

I scooped the last of my coleslaw into my mouth and stood. The vending machine had a receptacle for dirty dishes, so I placed mine in it as we left the room. The same squad of hobb guards escorted us back to the primary hall, and we all reclaimed our former positions. In my absence, my chair had been removed, so I stood with my hands clasped lightly behind my back.

The adjudicator panel filed back in and took their places behind the bench. Lead adjudicator Blary tapped her gavel and opened a thin file folder. She began reading from the single sheet of paper it held.

"Adjudication is complete in the threat assessment of Tyson Dawes, founding CEO and warlord of Silken Sands affiliate. Adjudicators Hart and May are in alignment with Lead Adjudicator Blary, myself. This panel finds that Tyson Dawes is no more threat than any of the other starfish suit capable members of the affiliate. Being a public figure, his activities will be monitored and reported on as a matter of course by the free press. This is sufficient long-term risk management, in the court’s opinion. Remunerations for damages is sufficient consequence of the individual’s actions. BlueCleave will handle their own repairs, however. Only the gift shop chain is to be remunerated for the stolen shirt."

Blary paused and took a breath. "These are the official recommendations of the Knowle Institute of History to the Knowle Leadership council. Mr. Dawes will be released immediately, with an expectation of integration into Silken Sands greater society, and a peaceful coexistence with those who currently reside within said society."

The adjudicator leaned forward and pierced me with her gaze. "Mr. Dawes, do you understand and agree to this court’s ruling?"

I nodded once. "Yes, thank you, adjudicator Blary."

"What can you tell us of your plans for the future?" the Knowle woman asked. "I think everyone listening here and abroad would like to know what you intend to do next."

My eyebrows raised and I shook my head. "Find a life to live. Maybe try to help some people in Storage. I’m hoping to reconnect with anyone still around from my own time as well."

"No more destruction of property or violence, for clarity's sake?" she asked.

"No more of either," I replied. "Except in defense of myself or others, of course."

"With this ruling, and an expectation of non-destructive behavior from the accused, we adjourn." Blary tapped her gavel and the courtroom burst into noise.

Press hurled questions at me, and my own team worked to bustle me away from the growing commotion. All three adjudicators vanished through a door at the back of their benches. I followed Terna and my guards, and they led me out of the courtroom. More press verbally assaulted us in the hallway, and I was escorted ungently through a security checkpoint.

BlueCleave guards handed Terna and myself off to local Terna’s World guards. The uniform differences were stark, with the Terna’s World militants wearing a mishmash of thick work clothing, and patchwork armor. BlueCleave’s signature colors and designer-quality officer uniforms provided an immediate contrast.

I descended through the structure into the ever-present maintenance tunnels beneath the specialized hab block, then boarded a cargo tram and was whisked away from the commotion at our backs. With a heavy sigh, I sat down across from Terna on the tram.

The single remaining guard presented Terna with a tablet device, from which I could hear the tinny sounds of a newscast. Terna stared at it impassively.

"As expected," she said, turning the device and handing it to me.

I focused my attention on the broadcast. The host of the program was a white Conda Nah’gh woman, and for a moment my heart wrenched in my chest. She sat behind a broad, glass desk covered by a giant emblem of the news network, SSN. In the background, a giant still frame of the tower in Prescott was featured, with a slowly waving Nu-Earth flag.

"Silken Sands News Network reporting on the only story anyone is paying attention to, the trial of returned warlord Tyson Dawes!" the Nah’gh woman exclaimed. "I’m your host Hris C’aze, and I’ll be running you through the consequential verdict that was just handed down."

Her outfit was revealing, and her scales were lightly flushed with purple. I handed the tablet back.

"I don’t care," I told Terna, looking out the tram window at a passing hab unit. Unfortunately for me, the screen wall in the hab unit was showing the same news broadcast.

"Warlord of BuyMort returns, freed of all wrong-doing!" ran across the bottom of the screen on a chiron. I rolled my eyes.

"Should have stayed incognito. Being famous was never really my thing," I said.

"Unfortunate. Being the CEO of any major affiliate means a certain amount of fame in the BuyMort today. Or infamy. It's all part of the game those at the top play, using the public’s consciousness," Terna said. She stared out the window too. "We push and pull, always keeping an eye toward influence above all else. Other than the morties of course."

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"Of course," I said, suddenly paying attention to Terna. "But go on. I need to understand this game of yours, if I’m to win it."

She snorted a single laugh without any humor in her tone. "Ha. You’re not wrong, but it’s not that simple. There are no rules, only objectives. Power, control, income. Each major player approaches these objectives in a different manner."

"You’re a revolutionary," I said. "That’s how you play it."

"A revolutionary to a fifty year revolution that makes no progress, yes," she replied. "My world ship is worse now than it was when I opposed Axle’s hostile take-over all those decades ago. Of course, I was a different hobb then. I was younger, though not young. I had hope. I was naïve."

"What’s Axle’s take on this game?" I asked.

"He pretends to be above it all. Aloof, the king on the top of the pile. Which, of course, he actually is. Helps his persona. The Knowle makes occasional public appearances, some speeches, public financial statements, military events. Typical strong-man nonsense, but with him it bears a special kind of weight. His name is never attached to any atrocities, they’re always rouge elements of BlueCleave, or an associated affiliate gone off on their own," Terna spat.

"But he sits like a spider in its web," I added.

"Yes, exactly. He is at the center of it all. From the slavers in Storage you hate so much to the BlueCleave boot on my world ship’s throat," she said. "His one weakness is that public persona. He presents as a benevolent business-Knowle. Nothing flashy or wild, he sticks to business, and the wealthy elite of Nu-Earth adore him for it."

"Let me guess, Nu-Earth is the only voting block for his elections," I said.

"Good guess. Although, being fair to him, most affiliates that participate in democratic shows use planets as their borders." Terna looked down at her device momentarily, then back up to me.

"While their reaches far exceed just one planet," I added.

"Yes indeed. I didn’t say it was representative democracy. Only a show of it," Terna said.

"Sounds like our first avenue of attack," I replied.

Terna raised an eyebrow. "I am not so certain of that. Many of the primary voting block are unlikely to support your goblin inclusion initiative, for example."

"Oh don’t call them that, they hate that word," I said.

"I use it to make a point. That is how it will be perceived on Nu-Earth. How it will be spoken of. None of them will want gobbs in their backyards," Terna said.

"Well, it's not an initiative yet," I grumbled. "I can keep that for after I win the election."

"You had better. Keep it between us, preferably. We have enough hurdles to overcome without adding gobbs to the mix," she said, staring up at the silent, stiff guard in the tram car with us.

I frowned, then smiled and chuckled. "Hang on, is this our first campaign meeting?"

Terna laughed back. "I suppose it is. Pay attention."

I laughed with her for a short moment, then the hab unit blinked past and machinery took its place on the wall to our side. It served to break the levity.

"Thank you, though. I’ll need your help if this has any chance of working," I told her.

"What will you do if it does not?" she asked.

I blinked a few times and shrugged. "Wait until the next election and try again, I suppose. Not ideal, all those I want to help will continue to suffer while I sit idle."

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Terna and I shared a look.

"You got that ad?" I asked.

She nodded.

"Maybe we should just use that one?" I asked, grinning. "Sounds like a hell of a deal."

Terna scowled, looking around for something to throw.

"Joking. Just joking." I swiped away the ad.

"Your last statement to the adjudicators was important. Helping people in need is always a good public image I think, if this campaign fails, we can use that persona of public aid to our advantage. Keep you famous, keep your reputation growing in the public’s eye," she replied.

"We should use that right away," I said. "How much relief work can you fund?" I asked.

Terna puffed out her cheeks comically. "Honestly not that much," she replied. "Most of what I gave you for your gobbs was from my own personal morties. We could likely put together a relief effort, using Nu-Earth donors to fund it, but otherwise our options there will be quite limited. Small scale only."

I nodded, then looked down at my lap. After a moment of thought, I raised an eyebrow. "Any monsters I could slay? Cosmic BuyMort bugs to clean up?"

"Now there you may have something," she said, leaning forward. The tram hummed along, taking us further and further from the commotion at our backs. "There are a handful of major issues you might be capable of publicly handling. Things the press may pay attention to."

I rubbed my hands together. "Hit me," I said.

"No, I think I will simply tell you instead, hitting you seems rather pointless. Besides, I don’t want to hurt my hand. The latest rumors out of Storage say you allowed yourself to be shot in the head at point blank range to make a point," Terna said, her eyes narrowed at me.

"It’s a saying. It just means tell me what you’re thinking," I clarified, shaking my head. "But also yes, I may have done that. Hopefully the rumors don’t lead back to Nozzle and his tribe."

"In the future I suggest you avoid mixing your human and gobb outreach on Storage, for more than one reason. Any publicity around the gobb efforts would be deeply harmful to your campaign," she reminded me.

I nodded. "Yeah, I know. I’ll be more careful in the future. Now, what kind of monsters are there for me to slay?"

"I actually think we should start with something smaller. Well, less violence-oriented, I should say. I have a connection in the ‘save the Cubes’ non-profit. They’ve been at a standstill for years, your connection to the most famous Cube in BuyMort history might be just the thing to boost your profile," Terna explained. "Establish that sense of philanthropy you wish to be famous for."

"Wait, what happened to Cube?" I asked. It was becoming a tiresome thing, finding out all the horrid ways in which my friends had been changed by my absence, but it was all necessary if I was going to put my life back together.