---Testimony---

---Victor’s perspective---

I’m standing on a Vrakhand sized square of stone in the middle of the open air court.

I’ve just finished giving my simple, factual retelling of my time being aware of Stetter while the sassy spider boy *hmm*ed and *hah*ed thoughtfully.

“Sir Taylor…”

“Victor’s fine… I ain’t a knight(!)” I quip.

The man gives me an amused smile and says “Perhaps out of court I can call you that, Sir Taylor. Unfortunately, in court, there are certain proprieties that must be observed. I hope you understand.”

“Yeah, sure. Makes sense, I guess…” I chuckle.

Funny that I’m getting last named by a species that doesn’t even have last names themselves again(!)

Just like Cap spending 9 years calling me ‘Taylor’ out of ‘respect’ and only giving it up when I had a dormful of other Terrans insisting on first names.

“Sir Taylor, could I enquire about your perception of my client’s mental state in your last interaction with him before his capture?”

“When he attacked the peace conference? Yeah, he was out of it!”

“‘Out of it’? What was he out of?” he asks.

“He was out of his mind! It was like speakin’ to someone who’s ten beers deep or’s gone three days without sleep!”

“I’m sorry… I think the court might need clarification on what a ‘[beer]’ is? Could you enlighten us?”

“Oh… err… Right. Err…” I flounder, trying to think of how to explain deliberate selfintoxication in a way that doesn’t make Terrans sound like a bunch of rowdy barbarians “…So… beer’s a fermentation of grains which makes an alcohol called ethanol… Drinkin’ ethanol has some pleasant effects on Terrans, like… relaxation and lowerin’ of inhibitions, but overindulgin’ is generally bad! The more you drink the less coherent and selfpossessed you are.”

“And would ten [beers] be considered an overindulgence?”

“Yeah… I ain’t a lightweight but, by the time I were ten deep, I’d prob’ly have trouble walkin’ in a straight line!” I assert.

“And, three consecutive days without sleep, this would have a similar effect?” he asks, for the juries’ benefits more than his own, I know.

“Yeah… I’m losin’ my grip on reality at that point!” I state.

“So, Sir Stetter seemed as if he was losing his grip on reality to you?” asks the boy, seeming very satisfied.

“That’s definitely the impression I got, yes.”

Moving on, he asks “Would you clarify the term ‘[headcase]’ for the court?”

“‘Headcase’?” I ask, confused “Why?”

“Moments before I met with my client for the first time, I overheard you referring to him as a ‘[headcase]’? Do you recall?”

“Oh…!” my cheeks burn with embarrassment at having a petty schoolyard insult like that brought up in a court “…well, yeah… prob’ly shouldn’t’ve said that to him… It ain’t exactly civil!”

He smiles and gestures negative “Its civility is not material. Could I just have you elucidate its meaning?”

I give a prolonged puff through my lips before answering “*Pfffffff*… Well… I guess it’s someone who ain’t right in the head…! A nutter…”

“[Nutter]?” he asks, innocently.

“OK…! A crazy person! A person sufferin’ from a mental illness that makes them unstable and unpredictable!”

“I see!… And what was it that caused you to call my client a [headcase], Sir Taylor?”

“I… think it was a reaction to findin' out he thought this were a gardenworld…?”

“So, in your view, not being able to tell that Graom-Wakhkort was a [deathworld] would constitute evidence of mental instability?”

“Well… I ain’t a psychologist but… I am a man who’s seen a lot more than his share of deathworlds and gardenworlds both and, I can tell you, mistakin' one for another'd be difficult to do if you’ve got all your senses and you’re firin’ on all cylinders… So, I guess… yeah?”

He gives a satisfied minibow and says “Thank you, Sir Taylor. The defence has no further questions.”

The not-a-judge announces “Questioning will now be conducted by Prosecutor Khr’kowan.”

I hear heavy knifelegs stabbing into the sand and rapidly approaching from behind me to my left.

Where I had to look down to meet her husband’s gaze, I have to look up to meet the eight eyes of the General(/Regent/Prosecutor), glaring down at me with an intense ferocity I’ve not seen since I fought her on the Bright Plume… and with none of the fear I saw then.

“Sir Taylor. In your professional opinion as a protector and warden of safety, would the [galaxy] be a safer place without Jackson ‘Scout’ Stetter in it?” she almost snarls.

“Oh… well… I mean, I don’t wanna disparage your court system but… I was raised to believe it’s never too late for a second chance… that whether or not there are people who deserve to die, there’s no one who deserves to kill and…”

“I didn’t ask your opinion on the death penalty, Sir Taylor! I asked if you thought the [galaxy] would be safer with or without that man!” she sneers.

The question twists my insides into knots of guilt as I try and work out how to answer it.

Eventually, I decide I just have to tell the truth.

“Without…” I mutter.

“Speak up so the juries can hear you, Sir Taylor!” she demands.

“Without!” I shout “Stetter makes the galaxy a less safe place by existin’ in it!”

She gives a victorious puff and begins walking away, back to where she came from, dismissively saying “No further questions, Sir Taylor.”

I’m no lawyer… but my guess is that she’s getting frustrated because she’s losing.

---Wim’s perspective---

A thousand eyes are fixed on me!

The tail twitches fearfully behind me.

This is the most petrified I’ve ever felt!

I know that we’ve made peace with the Monsters!

I know that being the first Folk ever invited to speak at a Monster trial is progress!

I know that it would be ridiculous for them to break that peace by attacking me! That to have gone to all the effort of faking peace only to kill one random Folk from a village that doesn’t even sit inside any Monster territory would make no sense!

I know all that and, still… I can’t help imagining more than a hundred Monsters rushing forward from where they’re sitting to rip me apart!

It wasn’t so bad, sitting over with the Terrans.

They’re nice!

I got to imagine they would protect me when I was with them.

Standing here, trapped in the middle of this bowl in the earth, the same distance from the Monsters as I am from the Terrans, is absolutely terrifying!

I mean, sitting back over there also meant that they weren’t all looking at me… evaluating me… judging me…

“Lady Wim…?”

I look to the Monster boy.

He’s much less scary than the audience and much, much less scary than the Monster lady arguing to kill the metal man.

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“I’m sorry…?” I ask, stupidly.

“Could you just tell the court about your brief encounter with Sir Stetter, Lady Wim?”

“Oh… err… yes… I was sitting ona rock out in the savannah. It’s a littlebit dangerous foraFolk there becauseitsso open, so Iwaskeeping the eyes and ears open but Ididn’thearanythinguntil…”

“Lady Wim? Lady Wim?” he interrupts.

I just stare at him, blankly, afraid to say anything.

He explains “I understand that this might be a little bit of an overwhelming experience for you but I do need to ask you to speak slowly enough that the juries can understand you. Would you feel more comfortable if I asked Sir Taylor or Lady Hunter to come and stand beside you?”

I’m about to say ‘Yes! Please!’ when I stop myself.

I’m not a little girl any more!

I can’t make Folk look bad by clinging to the leg of a Terran to be brave enough to speak!

“No… that’s not necessary… I’ll try to speak slower. I’m sorry.”

“Absolutely no problem at all, Lady Wim. Take your time.” he answers with more genuine seeming kindness than I would have thought was possible from a Monster until today!

I close the eyes and take deep breaths for a few moments.

“I turned around and suddenly saw him… I don’t know how he snuck up on me when he’s so big!… He was covered in blue blood… He was speaking to me but I’d never worn one of these back then…” with a claw, I tap the coin stuck on the head “…so I didn’t know what he was saying… I ran from him. He chased me. I hid in the grass and the red eyes changed colours while he looked for me. He got very frustrated and seemed like he went away… I stayed hidden for a long time before I had the courage to go back to Polv. I told the village what had happened and some Terrans came to ask me questions… They looked for him but couldn’t find him.”

“Thank you, Lady Wim.” he smiles before turning to the audience.

I find the fear of looking at all those eight eyed faces a little nauseating so, instead, I just look at him while he speaks.

“My client tells me that the blood he was drenched in was that of an animal (unfamiliar to him and which I did not recognise the description of) which attacked him and dragged him into a river. He was able to regain the upper hand and dispatch this animal but did not think to wash the blood off of himself before continuing. He tells me that he did not intend to harm Lady Wim here and only sought to gather information from her or her community. The fact that cleaning himself of blood did not occur to him I posit to be yet further evidence of his unsoundness of mind. With that, I have no further questions for this witness and give her over to the prosecution.”

I look over my left shoulder at the most monstrous Monster woman I’ve ever even imagined and flinch when I see the stare she fixes me with.

Several long moments pass as eight eyes feel like they’re looking right through me! Like she can see through the bones in me!

I’m about to shout that I’ve thought again and actually do want one of the Terrans to come and stand with me when she speaks.

“The prosecution believes the witness’ testimony speaks for itself. No further questions at this time.” she growls.

I barely hear the other Monster woman in charge of bossing everyone around say “Lady Wim is asked to retake her seat.” as relief washes over me at the fact that I don’t have to be any closer to that woman than I am right now!

---Lhamo’s perspective---

“Your current profession is Ambassador to this planet, correct, Lady Yeshe?” asks the Regent’s husband.

“That is correct, Sir Kurkhuw.” I answer.

“Would you mind enlightening the court as to your prior professions?”

“Of course…” I nod “…my husband and I have, for most of the period since the conclusion of the War, been employed in the administration of the Office of Deathworlder Relations on Citadel. Prior to that, during the War, I was a consultant, first to the United Terran Coalition Intelligence Service then to Forward Operations and, before the War, I was a professor of theoretical xenopsychology at Lhasa Gsar University.”

“[Xenopsychology]?” he asks with an innocent flutter of eight eyelids.

“Yes. ‘Xeno-’ from the Greek ‘xenos’, originally meaning ‘stranger’ or ‘foreigner’ but, for some time now, equated with ‘alien’. ‘Psychology’, also from Greek, meaning ‘study of the mind’. It was theoretical because, when I began my career, we had no proof that there was any intelligent life in the galaxy that had not originated on Earth.”

“So, you studied minds?” he clarifies.

“That’s correct.” I answer.

“And did you ever study Human minds?”

I frown slightly “I mean, of course! My main focus was on considering the ways in which alien psychology might differ from ours but that’s only meaningful if you already have a fairly robust understanding of what you’re measuring against!… My undergraduate was simply psychology and I only specialised into xenopsychology for my postgrad.”

“So, Lady Yeshe, you would consider yourself to be a woman who’s rather expert regarding workings of the mind, including the Human mind, is that correct?” he asks.

“I would certainly say so.”

“In your professional opinion as a psychologist, does my client seem mentally healthy to you, by Human standards?”

“No.” I state, simply.

“Oh? In what ways wouldn’t you characterise him as mentally healthy?”

I shake my head “I wouldn’t like to speculate as to specific disorders he may or may not have. What I will say is that his behaviours demonstrate a severe and maladaptive lack of emotional regulation that would strongly suggest rather pronounced psychoses. His actions are very far from typical for Humans.”

Satisfied, he says “No further questions, Lady Yeshe.”

Haorken announces “Questioning will now be conducted by Prosecutor Khr’kowan.”

The boy pads away behind me to my right as his wife appears to my left, doing a bad job of hiding her fury.

“Does mental illness inherently make your people violent, Ambassador?” she demands.

“Absolutely not! In fact, those with mental health issues are inordinately more likely to be the victims of violence than its perpetrators!” I state, emphatically.

“So, is it fair to say that killing my father, attacking the peace summit, killing the Terran Representative to [Parliament]… these are choices the accused made that have little if anything to do with any derangement he may or may not have?”

“Errrrm…” I hesitate “…certainly, homicidal violence is nowhere near an inherent feature of mental illness. I could not opine as to the precise extent that, in this specific case, mental illness may or may not have played.”

“When my Aunt killed three, in my father’s youth, she was out of her mind and did not know what she was doing. Was that the case for Sir Stetter?”

“No…” I answer “…I do think that Mr Stetter has understood all of the relevant actions he’s undertaken.”

“Thank you, Lady Yeshe. Another question; if this man is returned to the custody of a Terran [prison], how long do you believe it would take for him to be cured of whatever ails him and allowed to reenter your society?”

“Oh… well… I know his sentence is… indefinite.” I answer, slightly sheepishly.

“An indefinite sentence? Is that typical for Terran criminals?”

“Certainly not!” I negate “It’s a sentence reserved for those who’ve committed serious war crimes and crimes against peace!… I believe that the total number of people serving indefinite sentences in Terran supermaxes is only in the triple digits… and around half of them aren’t Terran but particularly heinous gardenworld Generals and such, from the other side of the War.”

“So these are people that your society recognises may never be safe to release from custody?” she asks, feigning thoughtfulness.

I remain silent for a moment before answering “Yes… If they’re judged to have made legitimate improvement, a termination date for their sentence may be set but we recognise that that day may simply never come.”

“And, conditions inside your [prisons]? How are they?” she muses.

“Humane… The inmates don’t have their freedom but that’s deemed to be punishment enough… We make sure that they aren’t tortured, neglected, kept in squalor or used as slave labour, that they’re afforded sufficient medical care and receive plenty of enrichment and… we do our best to prevent it from simply turning into a criminal networking opportunity for them(!)”

“So… if the accused is found innocent and returned to one of these facilities, he would simply remain there? Indefinitely enjoying these humane accommodations while biding his time, waiting for another opportunity to regain his freedom, legitimately or illegitimately?”

“Not… not ideally. Ideally we would eventually reach some sort of breakthrough with him and he could be released.” I answer, carefully.

“But that might never happen?” she pouts, thoughtfully, splaying the three fingers of her right hand skyward.

“Yes.”

“I see. I see…” she says, bobbing her head up and down in what almost looks like a Terran nod “…and what’s to stop the same organisation that freed him before from freeing him again? Or another organisation?”

“The Revanchists won’t want me back!… That… bridge… is… burned!” speaks up Stetter from the defendant’s stand.

“The defendant will remain silent while the witness is testifying!” snarls Haorken, seeming to have beaten Khr’kowan to the punch by a fraction of a second.

Khr’kowan turns her face back to me and prompts “Please answer the question, Lady Yeshe.”

“Well… I’m not a penologist, you understand… but I do believe that prison breaks are exceptionally rare occurrences, these days, and that the one that occurred on the supermax where Mr Stetter was incarcerated was the only such to have occurred in a century and a half… I’m not saying it couldn’t happen again but I think it’s extremely unlikely.”

Khr’kowan turns to the juries and, in a booming voice, shouts “The Terrans are a deeply compassionate people and, for the most part, this quality is admirable! However, when it comes to men such as this…” she jabs her claws over my head in Stetter’s direction “…I feel that that compassion is… misplaced… That this man should be allowed to spend an indefinite amount of time continuing to pose a potential threat to life and peace while he whiles away his days in comfort is, in my view, misguided. Ladies and gentlemen of the juries, while this killer is within our power, subject to our justice, we have the opportunity to do what his own people refuse to do! To remove any threat he may ever again pose to another’s safety! I urge you to seize this opportunity by the earhorns and vote to find this man guilty!… No more questions for this witness!”

With that, she turns to go.

---Jackson’s perspective---

The sturdy wooden frame I’m crucified from is placed down on the middle platform, for the fifth time, with a weighty *thud*.

The juries are in deadlock with eachother.

The women’s jury keeps finding me guilty by a handful of votes and keep passing the verdict over to the men’s jury who keep finding me innocent by a wide majority.

If they were one and the same jury, I’d have more than enough votes to find me innocent but, each time they disagree, I get carried back to where I spent most of the trial to watch another round of arguments, then get carried back here again for another round of voting with barely anyone having changed their vote!

“23, 24, 25… by a vote of 30 to 25 the women’s jury votes to convict.” announces the seven footed judge “Would the men’s jury now raise their hands for a guilty verdict.”

Nine of them put their hands up.

“By a vote of 9 to 46 the men’s jury votes not to convict… please return the defendant to his place for another round of arguments.”

“Oh come on!” I shout, irritably “Do you seriously not have any kind of remedy for this situation?! Why don’t you just cast the deciding vote if the juries can’t decide!? Whose stupid idea was it to have two juries that can vote against eachother like this?!”

“I am not a juror, Sir Stetter, and, if I were I would get one vote and it would not change either juries’ outcome!” sneers the judge.

“You’re killing me here(!) I don’t suppose I could just invoke a trial by combat or something, could I(?)”

A look of surprise crosses her face for a moment before she announces “The defendant has requested a trial by combat… Would the women’s jury please raise their hands to accept.”

“You’re shitting me!” I laugh.

“By a vote of 51 to 4, the women’s jury accepts the defendant’s request for a trial by combat. Would the men’s jury please raise their hands to accept the defendant’s request.”

“Nooo… way!”

“By a vote of 28 to 27 the men’s jury votes to accept the defendant’s request. The defendant’s request for a trial by combat is hereby granted.” declares the judge.

“I volunteer to represent the court!” demands the spider queen prosecutor from behind me.