The Trial of the Hermigon
The Trial of the Hermigon is a short story set on Khaolr, in Mavuzog Sector.
- Khaolr is a preindustrial water world.
- It is the homeworld of the Iluk'uu, a minor sophont species.
- The author is Alex Treacher.
Description (Specifications)[edit]
They had apparently built this chamber, and the ones connected, especially for us. This might have been more flattering had I not been looking at the possibility that I and the rest of the crew may never see beyond its confines again.
Standing in a more-or-less orderly line we faced the glass partition, taking up practically the whole wall that separated us from the Iluk’uu on the other side of the ‘room’. The glass was thick, bulging slightly away from us, which added a distortion to the view. I figured that it probably needed to be like that to withstand the massive pressure of water on the other side.
A wide display screen below the window flickered as it sprang to life, displaying just the time and date in one corner. Beyond the window, in the water, ranks of the large fishlike beings stared at us, hardly moving more than the occasional beat of a fin, or a gesture with the manipulator barbels below what I thought of as their ‘chin’. Though most of the colour was muted through the water and glass, I could see some of them bore flashes of red and yellow, something like a sash or belt. Signifiers of rank or station, it had been explained to us.
Without any apparent cause, there was a brief quiver of movement from the watching Iluk’uu, then an eerie stillness. After the pause one of them spoke; the lipless mouth opened and closed and a few bubbles floated upwards. Through the glass we could hear the voice, muted and completely meaningless to us. Close to the window another Iluk’uu wearing a white harness quickly and deftly manipulated a piece of equipment mounted on a plinth with its barbels.
The screen changed; the chronometer vanished to be replaced by Galanglic words.
“YOU REPRESENT HERE ACCUSED…”
Seems there wasn't a word for ‘stand’ in the Iluk'uu language, and the translator was struggling against the limit of their knowledge of Galanglic.
“…OF ACTS OF PISCICIDE AND ASSAULT WITH A DEADLY WEAPON, CURRENTLY TOO NUMEROUS TO FULLY ENCOMPASS.”
Piscicide; the translator valiantly attempted to create a word equivalent to the ancient Solomani-rooted word ‘homicide’.
“... MAY NEVER ENTIRELY KNOW THE PRECISE EXTENT OF YOUR CRIMES. SIXTEEN THOUSAND, FOUR HUNDRED AND EIGHTY TWO CASES HAVE BEEN ACCOUNTED SO FAR, AND DETAILS OF FURTHER CASES ARE STILL BEING COLLATED.”
A pause. The cursor on the screen blinked impassively. I tried to determine an expression on the face of the Iluk’uu who was presiding over the court, but I had no clue, frankly. Two pairs of eyes showed nothing I could interpret, and the gestures of the manipulators while it spoke presumably emphasised points, but again, not in any way I could follow.
“IT IS ONLY BY THE EXTREMELY DILIGENT EFFORTS OF YOUR DEFENCE ADVOCATE THAT YOU ARE NOT FACING A SINGLE CHARGE OF ATTEMPTED GENOCIDE.”
Tarik, the ship’s medic stood silently, breathing in short sharp breaths which narrowed his nostrils with each inhalation. When we had found out, he had taken the news very badly, turning inwards on himself after the initial shock. I hadn't heard more than ten words from him in the past few days.
“... AS IT IS ACKNOWLEDGED THAT THE OFFENCE OF WHICH YOU REPRESENT ACCUSED WAS NOT MOTIVATED BY SUCH AN INTENT.”
It had been a mistake. A horrible, huge mistake. We’d easily evaded Aslan sensors in our descent, then practically skimmed the waves as we headed for the rendezvous, before landing in the shallows. The ship was half submerged partly to make it harder to detect and partly to make unloading the cargo easier, flooding the hold and moving the drums and crates out on the hydrosleds.
Some people called it smuggling, but we didn't like to get too technical. The Iluk'uu were fighting a war and they needed high-tech weapons components and materials which we were able to supply. For a reasonable fee.
Then suddenly they were in the water all around us while we were still unloading, and we hadn't seen them coming. Hundreds of them it seemed, holding weapons, some with their muscular prehensile tails, others in the smaller whisker-like manipulators below their mouths. Though discerning any expression was beyond me, there was a sense of tension and anger. This was their element, their ocean, and they were fast and graceful in it. We had no chance. We were captured, those with weapons were disarmed, and that was the last we saw of our ship, or the surface.
We had landed in the wrong place. Khaolr is almost completely covered in water, and has no GPS grid; we thought we’d landed where the supplied coordinates instructed. But we got it wrong. While we were unloading the cargo, the fuel scoops were pumping water into our fuel tanks, the fuel processors refining it into liquid hydrogen, ready for the return journey. We’d landed in one of the Iluk’uu spawning grounds, and as every second passed hundreds, thousands perhaps, of their unborn, their eggs were being drawn in to the tanks and processors. ‘Purifying’ them. Killing them.
“CAPTAIN MELLISA GANN, ON BEHALF OF YOU AND THE OTHER MEMBERS OF THE CREW OF THE HERMIGON; DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE CHARGES?”
I glanced at the other crewmembers lined up with me. There were nods from left and right. We’d spent long hours discussing everything with the Iluk’uu assigned as our defence, and amongst ourselves.
"We do." My voice barely shook.
“HOW DO YOU PLEAD?”
History & Background (Dossier)[edit]
A cautionary tale, providing color and background for the Iluk'uu.
References & Contributors (Sources)[edit]
- Author & Contributor: Alex Treacher