Veda sat back against her bench as a new line of people approached the adjutant to be assigned to witness or plaintiff boxes for the next trial. One of them approached, and Veda saw to her shock that it was Colonel Ames. The human man spoke to the adjutant before stepping into a booth right next to Veda. He raised a hand to her. She waved back in reply.

"Colonel Ames says hello,” Hal'Rhee relayed. "He also says he's sorry about the debt slavery and welcome to the club."

Veda had nothing to say to that. She sat back down and crossed her arms in frustration.

The judges returned, the same five as before. Veda noted that the audience had swollen. Clearly, this was the main event.

"All rise," the adjutant said. "The case of various interested parties versus Alabaster Sky commences. The interested parties will now enter their accusations and proof."

Three different lawyers lined up next to Hal'Rhee to begin presenting evidence. Veda was a bit surprised. She hadn’t realized how many others were involved in this suit. She’d know about the Order of the Progenitors, but how many others were there?

As the lawyers made their entries, a tall orc woman from Alabaster Sky's legal team stood and approached the bench.

"Your Honors," she said, "we would like to enter a motion to dismiss."

"Hold," the adjutant said to the other lawyers. "On what grounds?"

"On the grounds that none of these have the standing to protest. This is a contract matter and should be settled by arbitration, not adjudication.”

“The concerned parties here are alleging that what you are doing has gone beyond the bounds of the contract into actual criminal law," the Grignarian judge said.

"That's nonsense. We have done nothing except what our contracts say we may do.”

The judges whispered. The orc judge gesticulated a lot, while the lizardfolk man seemed to disagree harshly. Then the Grignarian shook his head. "Denied. The case goes forward."

The lawyers stepped back up until at last, all the evidence was entered. The orc judge, Malander, spoke.

"The plaintiffs in this case are asking for a restraining action preventing Alabaster Sky from relocating any of the Earthling miners from the system until the conclusion of this reality engine exploit. They're further requesting that, should Alabaster Sky refuse to adhere to the usual custom of writing off said assets and allowing them to remain in their home system, that they put them up for auction at the price of their unpaid contracts."

It was, Veda knew, a reasonable request. Most of the time, the big companies didn't bother taking their contracted miners to other systems. Usually, there wasn't really enough left on their contracts to make it worthwhile. Shipping people between reality engines was expensive, even if you froze them and moved them in giant batches, the way it would be done to populate a newly opened reality engine. But most exploits didn't produce such a wealth of useful miners. Besides that, the big three companies were pissed off at what Shad and the other humans had done. They weren't looking for profit. They were looking for revenge.

Malander looked down. "I don't see where the plaintiffs have any grounds to request this. Alabaster Sky is acting within their contracted rights."

"Yes," said the lizardfolk judge, "but certainly they're acting against custom, and we must ask why."

"Does it matter why?" the humanoid woman, Estoni, asked. "They have the legal right to do so."

"But perhaps not the moral," said the judge at the far end of the table. She hadn't spoken much at all during Veda’s trial, but now she leaned in, seemindly engaged. Lathlen was a catwoman with tawny stripes and brilliant green eyes. "I call your attention to the brief entered by the Society for the Rights of Indigenous. They point out that our customs for reality engine exploits are cruel to the inhabitants of a system and remind us that we are all the progenitor's children."

She shot a glance at the Grignarian in the center of the table, but if he cared, he didn't seem to show it. "It might be wise of Alabaster Sky to show some mercy in this case."

Bluehaven cleared his throat, his face tentacles flapping. "It is perhaps unavoidable that there would be dissension in our ranks. I understand the pleading of both sides, of Alabaster Sky, who wishes to make use of its lawful property, and of the Earthlings, who are desperate not to let their kin be taken from them. I have here," he held up a document, "a petition from Colonel Ames that he be allowed to speak. I would like very much to hear from him."

Malander asked, "Where's this Colonel Ames?"

Ames rose. From mere feet away, Veda studied him. His face was impassive. "I'm Colonel Ames."

"This is a military title, yes?" the Orc asked.

"That's correct. I'm a commissioned officer in the Army of the United States of America, Planet Earth."

"You are not one united world," Malander pressed.

"No, sir, we are not. Though, perhaps, now that we are faced with a common enemy, we shall become more so. My country is not the largest on our planet. By some metrics, we may be the most powerful. By other metrics, perhaps not. I do not make these claims. I will put the United States Army favorably up against any other army on the planet, if that's what you're asking."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Then you are the leader of the humans here?”

"Certainly not," Ames replied crisply. "You'll find us Earthlings are a notoriously ungovernable lot. Especially those of us from my own country. We rather pride ourselves on it. You'll note that of your troublemakers, a good 60% of them come from the U.S. of A."

"This is an accurate statement," Judge Estoni replied. "Colonel Ames, it does not appear that you have a contract with anyone."

Now, that was interesting. Veda perked up as Estoni continued. "Is that so?"

Ames's expression gave nothing away.

"State, for the record, please, who your contract was with and how it was fulfilled."

Ames hesitated. "My contract," he said at last, "was with the reality engine itself. As to how it was fulfilled, well, it hasn't been."

The room around them exploded into noise as the audience went wild, turning to each other, shouting, exclaiming, leaping to their feet, waving their limbs.

"Order! Order!" the adjutant shouted.

The Grignarian judge peered closely at Ames.

"With the engine itself, you say?"

"I do, your honor."

"You have some proof of this?"

"What would you like me to do to prove it?"

"Show a copy of your contract, perhaps."

Ames hesitated, and then shrugged and said, "I don't think you know what you're asking for."

A burst of light flared above them, illuminating the whole room. A voice boomed out.

"Contract between Colonel Jefferson Ames, U.S. Army, and Kronos, last scion of this reality engine.”

An image appeared. Veda stared. It was Colonel Ames, standing in front of an eight-foot-tall being made of pure light. Their hands were clasped together.

"I don't rightly understand what all you're asking or offering," the colonel was saying.

"To do your best for your people and for me," the being of light said. "To put an end to this exploit before they are able to put an end to me. In return, I will watch over those of your people who are unable to fight. I will arm those who are in ways that their enemies do not expect. They'll have a fighting chance. But you must recruit. You must incite. You must push and drive."

Veda noticed, dimly, the scenery surrounding the two men. A piece of what looked like an office with a woman in the background, holding a pot of coffee and cowering, and two uniformed bodies lying on the carpeted floor behind Ames.

Ames in the image spoke up again. "That's asking a lot and not telling very much.”

“It is all I have the power to do at this time. You'll have to do the rest.”

“One condition.”

“Speak it, and if I can, I will.”

“The ten million here, they aren't all of us, not by a long shot.”

“I know. Your people have been fruitful beyond our dreams."

“Then —”

The image faded away and the Ames in the booth next to Veda said. "That next part of the contract was covered confidentially. My lawyer said so."

The judges turned to Hal'Rhee. She shrugged. "Not me."

"No, him." Ames pointed at one of the orcs standing with Proximus' delegation.

The orc looked deeply uncomfortable. "It was a small matter of employment law," he grunted. "I did disclose it in my conflicts of interest. I didn't think it would be relevant."

"You came before us representing both sides in a dispute," the lizardfolk judge asked, looking disgusted. "We will be issuing you a censure for that." He sighed and leaned forward. "Very well. We have an evidence that you, Colonel Ames, are in a contract with the reality engine Kronos itself. I am not convinced that Kronos has the standing to issue said contracts."

"The soul coins were paid," the Grignarian judge said.

"You knew about this?"

"I have been digging into the financial dealings here for the last five minutes since this matter was disclosed. The cost was paid. There is a shell company entered into phase one of this exploit, referred to as Illyria. It is listed as the contract owner of over three million human contracts."

"Wait, what?" The other judges looked confused. "The reality engine itself? How?"

"I'll tell you how," Colonel Ames said. "When we started having defectors, lotus eaters, those who went AWOL, most of y'all assumed they'd been killed, but you didn't want to write them off as bad debts, so you assigned a monetary value to their contract, and you sold them to debt collection agencies. Well, my friend Kronos pulled a few strings and bought out their contracts."

"How does Kronos have the funds?" the orc asked.

"Where the hell do you think all your soul coins come from in the first place?" Ames asked, shrugging. "You've just never had a reality engine awake enough before to siphon off some of its soul coins on its own. It's been heck keeping all this from you, but you lot are so arrogant and so sure of yourselves you never even thought to check the books. So yes, Kronos owns three million contracts for the ones that my people call lotus eaters. The folk who couldn't adjust, or went catatonic, or disappeared. We’ve been trying to buy up the dead weight that Alabaster Sky's planning to carry off, but I think they smelled a rat because they stopped selling off their bad contracts a couple months back. Hence we're here.”

Veda couldn't help feeling a stab of pride in the humans and their bizarre reality engine.

She'd never heard of an exploit like this before, and neither, apparently, had the judges. They were conferring angrily amongst themselves.

The Grignarian emerged from the huddle and pointed over at Patriarch Kvaltash.

"Patriarch, you wish to speak?"

From a witness booth across the room, Kvaltash rose. His voice boomed out across the crowd.

"Thank you. Your honors. I am privileged to speak here before you, and I trust that millions more will hear my words sooner or later. Remember, we are all children of the progenitors. We have learned from their wisdom, followed in their paths, reaped the rewards that they left behind for us. It is not wise to go against their wishes."

Veda couldn’t read Judge Bluehaven’s expression at being called child of the progenitors. His tentacles twitched a bit.

“Patriarch," the Orc judge said, leaning forward. "What wishes? The progenitors have been gone for millions of years."

"Or have they? Have they not left behind the soul of their own people, divided between the reality engines and the children of diverse worlds? When the two halves of one progenitor soul are reunited as clearly as are the inhabitants of this system with this engine, we would do well to learn and listen from them. Do not take the children of Earth from their home unwilling. We do not know what may befall those who do."

The judges were clearly uncomfortable with all of this. "Thank you, patriarch," Lathlen said. "Anything else?"

The Patriarch’s voice echoed out once again. “Yes. I declare,” he said, "that this has become a sacred mystery."

A hush fell over the room. Veda recognized the term. Though she wasn't a member of the Order of the Progenitors herself, she had spent time as a child in their chapels and learned some of their doctrine. She also knew that when push came to shove, they did have some real political power.

“For the record, Patriarch, please state what that means,” Judge Malander said.

“The Order of the Progenitors is placing the system under the interdict until the conclusion of this Reality Engine exploit. This matter has become a sacred mystery. This is not just with my authority. The Ecumenical Council of Sacred Orders has a signed treaty with the Reality Engine Exploitation Committee allowing any high-ranking delegate - that would be myself - to declare a sacred mystery. I conclude that the events taking place here must be allowed to play out. If they do, we all stand a significant chance of learning something important about the Progenitors and their causes. This will be of great benefit to all of us and lead to possible advancements in Reality Engine exploits. In addition, it is my judgment that this Reality Engine may have a soul.”

And if Veda thought that the uproar had been loud before, well, she hadn't heard anything yet.