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  A little further, she encountered two families—four adults and five children—picnicking under some wireweave trees. The Sakhran momentarily grew wary, but nobody even looked at Ansah, much less recognised her. This was not surprising. Outsider officers kept low public profiles, and in any case Ansah was supposed to be already heading back to Earth for her trial.

  She genuinely didn’t care where her trial was held. Its outcome was inevitable, as inevitable as that stupid engagement where five stupid ships had stupidly believed that they could go up against Her. Those five ships had been more than just a task force, they were actually the bulk of Isis Fleet: quite a large Fleet, considering the size of Isis, but that reflected the wealth and political connections of the system’s leading citizens. Isis attracted such people.

  The Commonweath’s most characteristic state was one of orderly turbulence, in which Fleets played a central part. Its twenty-nine solar systems had all kinds of conflicts: political, religious, cultural, historical, economic. The last one tended to be the root of the other four, so that trade wars between the systems often blew up into real wars. Hence the Fleets, which were funded partly by the systems themselves and partly by Earth. Earth used its funding to dispense favours, create obligations, and play the systems against each other.

  Most of Isis 2’s wealth came from its finance houses and banks. Of the four ex-Sakhran systems in the Commonwealth, Isis had by far the highest per capita income and standard of living, if you excluded Sakhrans from the calculation. And it showed, not least in the view of De Vere which Ansah was admiring.

  The exclusion of Sakhrans from the calculation also showed in the view; unlike the other ex-Sakhran systems, Isis almost ghettoised Sakhrans in residential areas outside the cities. The irony was that Sakhrans themselves preferred living separately. The authorities had preferences of their own: they preferred that Sakhrans’ relative poverty, and their blocky functional buildings, be kept at a distance. Accusations of racism, which came regularly from other Commonwealth systems, were mainly but not entirely justified.

  Mainly But Not Entirely. Most things, Ansah reflected, were not as simple close up. Her time on the Sirhan had taught her that. When you look close up, simple issues pass out of focus, dissolving into Ifs and Buts. She even sensed that the Chairman might be realising this; there were things she had noted, detailed nuances of his voice and body language…

  No, enough of that. The outcome of this trial is inevitable.

  She suspected that the Department had already forgotten Isis and was concentrating on how to defend Horus, where She’d probably appear next. There were rumours that they were sending Foord there. It made sense; Foord was the second best of the nine. The best was Anwar Caal, who commanded the Albert Camus, leadship of the Outsider class, but they’d keep him in reserve; if Foord failed at Horus, Earth would be next.

  Ansah once had a relationship with Foord. Given their two natures it worked well, with only occasional violence on either side. Foord, despite all his obsessions and compulsions, had given her something she still valued: a quiet friendship of equals. Ansah had heard that he didn’t do relationships anymore; apparently his affections were now directed elsewhere. A shame: she could have done with some of his quiet friendship now.

  The pilot leaned out of the flier and gestured to her to return. She nodded. None of them—pilot, Sakhran, or Ansah—had said a word to each other.

  Second Voice resumed.

  “Commander, you were telling us your ship was assigned to a task force of four heavy cruisers and the battleship Thomas Cromwell. The Thomas Cromwell was destroyed, as we’ve heard. What happened to the others?”

  “They made it back, but they were all damaged and suffered casualties.”

  “Would you say heavy casualties, Commander?”

  “Compared to what?” The moment she said it, she realised where she’d been led.

  “Why, compared to your ship, Commander! But then, your ship was hardly an active participant in the events, was it?”

  Ansah did not reply, and Second Voice went on.

  “Let’s go back to those orders from the Department, Commander. They placed your ship specifically under the command of Isis Fleet, didn’t they?”

  “Yes. They were quite specific.”

  “And they said that if the unidentified ship was detected entering Isis system, the task force was to move out and engage it, directed and led by the Thomas Cromwell. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what happened when the unidentified ship was detected entering Isis system?”

  “The task force moved out and engaged it, directed and led by the Thomas Cromwell. Four hours later Faith had completed Her attack, and five Isis ships were destroyed or damaged.”

  “And what of your ship? The Sirhan?”

  “It returned undamaged, and with no casualties, after taking survivors off the Thomas Cromwell.”

  “It returned after it took survivors off, because after it took survivors off you ordered it to leave the scene of battle. You deserted, Commander! You ran away! That’s correct, isn’t it?”

  “Everything except Deserted and Ran Away.”

  “And how would you characterise what you did?”

  “I can only answer that by going back to my orders. I’d like to say something about my orders.”

  “In good time, Commander. Let’s not leave what you actually did, not just yet. I want to be clear about this. If you never Deserted, and you never Ran Away, how would you characterise what you did?”

  “A moment, please” said the Chairman, to Second Voice. “We can come back to that. Let’s hear her first. Commander, you wanted to say something about your orders?”

  She paused before answering.

  “The Department made a stupid decision. Those orders cost you most of your Fleet. All Outsiders fight best alone.” She noted the stirrings and mutterings among the silhouetted figures, and added for good measure, “We’re like Sakhrans. We don’t work in teams.”

  “Commander, if it was so stupid…”

  “Which it was. I bet it won’t be repeated at Horus.”

  “…If it was so stupid, why was the Department so insistent that you should be under Isis Fleet’s command?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe your leading citizens used their political connections.”

  Second Voice resumed.

  “You’re the one who’s on trial here, Commander. For your life. Let’s return to the issue. If you never Deserted, and you never Ran Away, how would you characterise what you did?”

  “I was protecting my ship. And giving the next Outsider, when it faces Her, a better chance than I had.”

  “Commander—”

  “No, let her go on,” the Chairman said. “I want this, for the record.”

  “During the engagement I realised that She can never be stopped by conventional people in conventional ships. She can only be stopped when an Outsider engages Her alone, without any constraints like those on me. I don’t know who She is, where She comes from, or why She’s doing this, but I know that nothing except an Outsider, alone, will be good enough to stop Her.”

  She paused, almost embarrassed: it was one of her longer speeches to the Court, and it sounded like it was turning into a defense, which she hadn’t intended.

  In front of her, Isis was starting to set. Shadows of dusky pink and dark red were settling over De Vere; evening light slanted through the great curving bay window, enriching the dark reds of the furniture. That, and the lengthening silence of those in front of her, broken only by a couple of murmurs, reminded her of the Bridge of the Sirhan.

  “We’ll return to these matters in detail tomorrow, Commander,” the Chairman said eventually. “We have much we need to ask you about the engagement.”

  “And,” Ansah said, “about what She did after the engagement.”

  The Chairman glanced up at her sharply. “That too,” he snapped. “Court is adjourned.”

  •
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  The following morning statements were taken from some of the surviving officers and crew of the Thomas Cromwell and the four cruisers. They gave detailed accounts of how the engagement had been fought, and how the Sirhan left them. They generally tallied, and Ansah placed on record her agreement that in all material respects they were accurate. The Court asked her if she wished to reserve her position in respect of any discrepancies, but she declined.

  “And that is it, is it, Commander?” This was Fourth Voice.

  “I’m sorry,” she replied, genuinely confused by the grammar. “What is what?”

  “That’s what you want to tell us about the events of the engagement, is it?”

  “Oh, I see….Well, I’ve acknowledged that those statements are substantially correct, and there’s what I said at the end of yesterday’s session. Did you want me to add something?”

  “How about, you know, something along the lines of a defense?”

  “Just questions, please,” the Chairman reminded Fourth Voice, “and not rhetoric.”

  “So you’ve agreed with the survivors’ accounts, and you’ve referred us to what you said yesterday. What you said yesterday boils down to this: your orders tied you to our ships and stopped you fighting Her properly. Is that it? You think that’s enough from you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well it isn’t, Commander. Frankly it stinks.”

  “You’ve recently acquired knowledge of things that stink.”

  There was a silence.

  “Perhaps,” the Chairman said, “you should have thought before you said that, Commander.”

  “No, Mr. Chairman,” Fourth Voice said. “That’s all right. Let her have that one, on us.”

  After the engagement with the five Isis ships, which She had won so brilliantly and shockingly, and with the Sirhan having left the scene of battle to pick up survivors, there was nothing to stop Her turning towards De Vere. She did so.

  It was a matter of record that She never attacked undefended civilian targets. This time, however, She did attack a civilian target, but in a most unexpected way.

  She went first to one of the city’s poorer southern suburbs, consisting mainly of Sakhran ghettoes, where She hovered mysteriously over one area for a few minutes, then turned and set off towards the city centre. Later it became apparent that She had scooped up some faecal waste—both human and Sakhran—from a sewage treatment plant, synthesised it in large quantities, carried it stored under high pressure back to De Vere, and released it as a spray above the city. Then She left, and passed out of the system.

  The effect was incalculable. It was, as the Chairman had described it, unprecedented and humiliating. It was also particularly apt: Isis was famously obsessive about the beauty and fragrance of its cities, and of its people. The story spread rapidly over the other twenty-eight systems. Isis, and De Vere, would forever be known as the place where She had done this.

  And the smell and stains absolutely would not go away. Sakhran faeces smelt many times worse than human faeces, and left stains on De Vere’s palladian facades and colonnades and piazzas which responded only gradually to even the most high-powered of hoses. The city’s renowned formal gardens also suffered; Sakhran faeces killed rather than fertilised.

  It was the first thing She had ever done which might, just possibly, hint at a motive. Or maybe not; nobody knew anything about Her, and She had never made or answered any communication. And yet, it was said throughout the Commonwealth, how exquisitely judged! And how exquisitely executed! Until you remembered the five Isis ships and their crews.

  “No, Mr Chairman.” Fourth Voice said. “That’s all right. Let her have that one, on us. Commander, I’m bound to say that your attitude towards this trial is at best questionable. You’ve refused to call witnesses in your defense, you’ve refused to cross-examine any witnesses we might call, you’ve refused to appoint a legal adviser or to accept our offer of one, you only answer our questions partially, and when you do it’s as if you’re doing us a favour. Either pull out of this trial altogether—and we advised you of your right to do that—or participate in it; but don’t insult us. That unidentified ship does enigmatic silences and hidden meanings much better than you do.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ansah said, “if my attitude to the trial has offended you. Frankly, the trial isn’t going the way I wanted.”

  “You’re not the first defendant to think that.”

  “No, I mean the way I wanted. It’s been concerned too much with my personal guilt or innocence.”

  “I rather thought that was the idea of a trial, Commander.”

  “No. If you find me guilty, you’re wrong. If you find me innocent, you’re wrong.”

  The hazy outlines behind the long curved table exchanged whispers and glances. Ansah could imagine their expressions, and remembered a phrase Foord sometimes used for such people: clitoris-faced and labial-lipped. She waited a while, calculating when best to speak, then said loudly “Forks.” She was gratified to see a couple of them, including Fourth Voice, actually jump.

  “What was that, Commander?”

  “Forks. A road with two forks. Sakhrans call them Binary Gates. Two alternatives, one for Guilty and one for Innocent. But I made earlier decisions at earlier forks. The fork I’m facing now, at this trial, is so far down the road that wherever I go, it won’t alter the main direction.”

  “So you’re not Guilty and you’re not Innocent. What are you?”

  “When I was sent to Isis I received sealed orders for this mission. When I decided to open them I knew that sooner or later that decision would kill me. As you know, those orders put my ship under the control of Isis Fleet if there was an engagement with Her. I could have refused to obey them, and died there and then. I could have accepted them, joined your Fleet and fought in a battle which I knew was already lost; and died then. Or I could have withdrawn my ship, knowing that I would have to stand trial; and die now.”

  “Do you mean to tell this Court that—is something amusing you, Commander?”

  Ansah had been smiling faintly. “I’m sorry. I had a bet with myself that if anyone used the phrase Do You Mean To Tell This Court, it would be you.”

  “I’ll use it again,” Fourth Voice snapped. “Do you mean to tell this Court that when a Class 101 battleship and four Class 097 heavy cruisers—let’s leave your ship out of it, shall we, since that’s what you did—when those five ships engage a single opponent, far from having even a limited expectation of success they’re inevitably going to be defeated?”

  “Yes. And they were.”

  “Commander, listen to me carefully. You’re on trial for your life. Why did you leave those ships to Her?”

  Ansah paused.

  “They didn’t have a chance, and I told them. That’s on record. I asked them to get out of my way and let me engage Her alone, and they refused. That’s on record. They couldn’t accept that they were facing an invincible opponent. They couldn’t accept that giving way to an Outsider—something completely abhorrent to them—was their only chance of survival. So they lost; and that’s on record.”

  There was a few seconds’ silence from the figures at the table. Then a new voice spoke; she called it Ninth Voice.

  “Commander Ansah, I’d like to ask you about your ship. The Sirhan, as we’ve heard, is an Outsider Class cruiser. I understand that Outsiders are believed to be capable, on present documented evidence, of at least matching the performance and firepower of this unidentified ship. Is that correct?”

  “On present documented evidence.”

  “Then wouldn’t such a ship be decisive in the engagement, especially when added to those five others? Why should it be more likely to fail with those five than without?”

  “You’ve heard me tell the Court there are nine Outsiders.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know how much each one is worth?”

  “Probably something that sounds good when you recite it: the entire cost of Isis Fleet, or
the entire annual gross product of Bast, or something similar.”

  “That will do well enough. And do you know their political status?”

  “I thought you’d already told us, Commander…and I believe that I’m supposed to be asking you questions.”

  “Then please ask that one. It’s important.”

  Pause.

  “Commander, what is the political status of the nine Outsiders?”

  “They’re Instruments of the Commonwealth, outside the normal command structures. They report directly to the Department of Administrative Affairs. They fight alone, not in a team.”

  “Yes, we know all that, you already told us. Why is it important?”

  “There are people…” Ansah paused, and began again. “There are people who say that if She can only be stopped by an Outsider, then maybe it’s better if She isn’t stopped at all.”

  “And are you familiar with that attitude, Commander?”

  “I see it wherever I go. It’s like we’re carrying a disease. Outsiders have a certain reputation. They’re accountable to nobody, at least nobody anyone would recognise, and they’re run on lines most miltary people wouldn’t understand. So people treat them as alien ships, crewed by aliens.”

  “How do you mean, Crewed By Aliens?”

  “People of unusual ability, otherwise they wouldn’t be there. But people who don’t fit into any conventional authority structure, because they’re too ambitious or unambitious, too political or apolitical, too stable or unstable. Most of them are sociopathic, many are psychopathic. Most of them have done terrible things.”

  “Is that the real reason they’re called Outsiders?”

  “Yes.”

  Some of the figures facing her glanced at each other, but said nothing. To fill the silence, Ansah added “And there will never be any more than nine. They’re expensive, but the Commonwealth could easily afford to build fifty.”

  “Then why only nine?”