The End of the War

The war was over. The struggle between the two great super-states of Arktis and Nirix had left the whole world scarred, diseased, and irradiated, but the war was over. Nirix was no more, and Arktis was now the United Earth. At long last, the whole human species was united under a single banner. Never again would a son be set against his father, nor a daughter against her mother. War would never again mar the planet Earth, except perhaps in small rebellions which the United Earth would easily crush.

Peace with no end in sight had finally broken upon the world. Nobody was looking forward to it. Nobody was looking forward at all. Most of us were looking backward, at the decades of devastation we'd grown up in. The rest of us were looking to the present. There were still nuclear no-man's-lands to cordon off, bio-mines to clear, and packs of the living dead to put down. Great heaps of rubble needed to be rebuilt back into great cities. Lives needed rebuilding into a normalcy most of us were too young to have ever known. Former Nirixians needed to be integrated into the new United Earth.

The enemy commanders needed to be tried for their crimes, too. Yugrod Leistor was the last Supreme Leader of Nirix and the first to go on trial for his deeds during the war. Yugrod, the maker of a billion orphans. Yugrod, the ravager of a thousand cities. Yugrod, the brilliant but ruthless ruler whose leadership nearly broke the Arkten cause before a miracle turned back his hordes. When Yugrod was tried, he never bothered to deny or excuse his crimes. He was found guilty about ten minutes after the prosecution finished laying out his deeds before the jury. All that was left now was to sentence him.

Under a more ancient civilization, Yugrod would have hanged before I ever got a chance to see him. Under Arkten law, now Earthly law, there are legal forms to be observed to carry out an execution. If the convicted's crimes are severe enough, they hold a special sentencing hearing. The convicted's victim - or the victim's next of kin - gets a desk at that hearing. At that desk, there’s a button. The button is set into the end of a small, fist-sized rod, which is discretely connected to the underside of the desk by a wire. The victim holds that rod, under the desk and out of everyone's sight throughout the whole hearing.

The victim has the right to press the button at any point during the hearing. The victim also has the right to not press the button. Nobody ever sees what the victim does with the button. The convicted never feels the injection flowing in through the opaque tubing. When the hearing is over, the convicted goes to a holding cell. When twenty-four hours have passed, the convicted may go on to a life of hard labor in a penal colony. Or the convicted's brain may shut down, in which case the convicted will collapse without warning, dead before hitting the ground. This is when the public learns the victim's verdict.

Yugrod Leistor stood accused of more murders than anyone else in human history. Billions of victims couldn't be crammed into a sentencing, so the Supreme Council of the United Earth announced that it would choose the hearing's victim by lottery.

I don't know how or why, but they chose me.

I never signed up for any kind of lottery, but you could call me one of Yugrod's victims. The war made me an orphan when I was a child, and an only child when I was an adult. I lost my right arm holding off the Nirixians at Kashgari's Gap, doing my part for the miracle that saved Arktis. I still have the replacement arm the army gave me, all dark green from the necromantic fungus vats. It looks a lot like my old arm just before they took a plasma cutter to it.

The hearing was a pretty big deal, a real public affair. I wanted to turn it down. The war was over, and I didn't want anything to do with it now. I wanted to do the jobs program, make money, settle down, and pretend I'd never been in the army. Of all people, the government sent my old lieutenant to change my mind. Why they went through all that effort for me instead of just picking somebody else is beyond me to this day. There wasn't exactly a shortage of crippled, orphaned war vets. Maybe they were saving the others for Yugrod's henchmen. Or maybe they knew us crippled, orphaned war vets were just too smart to want to get involved with the government again.

I say that, but I guess I was dumb enough to fall for it.

You see, it wasn't the lieutenant who convinced me to go. Not directly, anyway. It's just that went the lieutenant showed up, my roommate found out. Graegor, another crippled, orphaned war vet, served in the same unit with me under the same lieutenant, and he figured out what was going on before long. The whole thing was supposed to be a secret even from him, but the army suits stopped trying to make him go away when he started arguing I should go to the hearing.

Graegor was my only living friend.

I agreed to go.

Normally they don't try to hide the victim's identity at a sentencing hearing. Normally there aren't enough victims to make that possible, and not enough publicity to make it necessary. This hearing wasn't normal. They handed me a mask and a robe before letting me into the hearing chamber. When I put them on, all anyone could see of me was my eyes and my green right arm. Then they led me to the desk, positioned my right arm on top and my left arm underneath with the button rod, adjusted my chair so nobody could tell how tall I was, and told me to stay seated and stay quiet. To the folks watching the hearing from home, I could be absolutely anyone. Any crippled, orphaned war vet, anyway. The folks at home would be told that much about me.

I got to watch them set the whole hearing up. The judge walked in with a mask and robe just like mine, except both the judge's arms were hidden. The prosecutor was a tall, stern-faced woman, and the defender was a short, round-faced man. Those two walked in without any masks or robes, since they figured being here would be good for their careers.

Last of all, Yugrod was wheeled in. He lounged in a black, cast iron cage. He glared all around the hearing chamber with his eyes, but he never bothered to move until a worker prodded him so the injector tube could be inserted at the base of his skull.

When that was done, the cameras were turned on, the counselors faced the judge, and the judge spoke through a voice changer that sounded like buzzing wasps.

“This is the sentencing hearing of Yugrod Leistor. The counselors will state their cases now, beginning with the prosecutor.”

The judge was all cool composure. Billions of people were tuning in to watch the sentencing of the world's greatest criminal, but you wouldn't know it by looking at this judge. Yugrod might as well have been a common cutthroat for all the ceremony he got out of that introduction. The prosecutor composed too, but in a different way. She drew up her shoulders and decorated her face with a dramatic expression before speaking.

“Your honor, Yugrod Leistor is responsible for the deaths of billions of innocent people. My colleague here has done something fairly honorable in ensuring that Mr. Yugrod's right to a defender is met, but I don't see what he can say to change the fact that the convicted has earned the death penalty countless times over. The convicted must not live to see the day after tomorrow, and this statement should not require justification or elaboration. I turn the floor to the defender.”

I should mention that neither the prosecutor nor the defender was speaking to me. They spoke to the judge and each other, but I – the one with the power to administer the death penalty – may as well have been a fly on the wall to them. Every Arkten schoolchild learned that sentencing hearings are done like this to minimize the counselors' ability to pressure the victim, but it did feel odd to experience it in person.

The defender stood up, pushed up his glasses, and spoke.

“My esteemed colleague asks me to change the convicted's crimes. This, I do not seek to do. The convicted's responsibility for several billion deaths was established at the conviction trial, and it is not the purpose of a sentencing hearing to overturn a conviction. Rather, it is the purpose of a sentencing hearing to determine a sentence. My colleague insists that the convicted has earned the death penalty already. While she and billions of Earth's citizens have a perfect right to feel this way, this is not what is established in the law. Whether the convicted has earned a death sentence or a life sentence, this is what we aim to establish at a sentencing hearing. While the convicted's crimes are many and severe, let us forget assumptions which go beyond the scope of the law before we proceed further with this hearing. I turn the floor to the prosecutor.”

The prosecutor's chin rose by an inch, “I repeat, the convicted has earned the death penalty countless times over. I repeat also, this statement should not require justification or elaboration. I turn the floor to the defender.”

The defender sniffed as though he had something stuck in his nose. “My esteemed colleague refuses to justify or elaborate, so I suppose I must do so instead. Very well. While the convicted is indeed responsible for a vast degree of death and destruction, I propose that what he did was not so very exceptional for one in his position. The head of state in a time of war, let alone on the losing side of it, is expected to organize a defense of that state. And not only a defense, but a counter-attack as well. That Yugrod Leistor went too far in doing this is undeniable, but to say that he did organize a counter-attack is only to say that he carried out his duty as a head of state. That Yugrod Leistor must pay for his crimes has been firmly established through due process. That he must pay with his life has not been established, and I believe this claim fails to properly account for the convicted's position at the time of his crimes. I turn the floor to the prosecutor, for justification and elaboration.”

The prosecutor shot the defender a scornful look. “The defender argues that the convicted's crimes may be explained away somewhat by his position as the Supreme Leader of Nirix. To me, this sounds as though the defender is arguing that the crimes of the powerful do not count. But I suppose the defender will deny believing this, so I'll concede the point for now. Suppose heads of state are sometimes obligated to wage war. What of it? The defender has already conceded that the convicted went too far in waging the recent war, and this means the convicted was not acting wholly within his duties as Supreme Leader. Nirixian forces unleashed nuclear weapons against civilian population centers, and biological weapons against-”

Yugrod let out a low laugh. The prosecutor wheeled to eye him coldly.

“The convicted will remain silent,” droned the judge.

“Does the convicted have something to say?” asked the prosecutor.

“The convicted may not speak,” said the judge.

“I'd only like to point out,” drawled Yugrod, “That Arktis committed its fair share of war crimes, too. Why, the bombing of Enosia was the first use of nuclear-”

“The convicted will remain silent!” boomed the judge.

Yugrod raised his hands in resignation, grinned, and relaxed on the floor of his cage.

“The convicted claims his opponents committed the same crimes he did,” growled the prosecutor, “I think I'd have heard of it if that were true, but let's concede that point as well. Suppose Arkten forces did nuke Nirixian civilians. So what? Do two wrongs make a right? Does the committing of one crime justify another crime? I think not. And what about the use of undead soldiers? What about the dead Arkten soldiers who were put into Nirixian fungus vats? Arktis didn't use undead soldiers, and I don't think the convicted will quibble with me on this point.”

She glared at Yugrod. Yugrod smirked and shook his head.

“And, without the use of undead soldiers, Arktis won the war. This, in itself, is proof the war was winnable without them. And this conclusively demonstrates that the use of undead soldiers lay far outside whatever duties the convicted may have felt he had. The victim remembers what it was like to fight the undead, I presume.”

“The prosecutor will not address the victim,” said the judge.

I do remember what it was like to fight the undead. I wish I didn't.

“No reason to speak to the victim,” interjected Yugrod, “I'm sure your victim has pressed the button already.”

“The convicted may not speak,” said the judge.

Yugrod looked at me. When our eyes met, nothing happened. He just grinned like he'd heard an absurd joke.

“Unless, perhaps, you haven't pressed the button? But why not?”

“The convicted will remain silent.”

“You're a soldier, aren't you? I can tell, even with that mask.”

“The convicted will remain silent.”

“You're a fool. When you have the enemy in your grasp, you kill! You kill! That's what you do!”

The judge pressed a button. The cage crackled. Yugrod spasmed.

“The convicted will remain silent. The victim will remain silent.”

The rest of the hearing went without any more outbursts from Yugrod. I don't remember much, except the defender seemed halfhearted in his arguments. I don't think he expected to win. I don't think he wanted to win anymore. After what felt like forever, it was over. The broadcasters turned off their cameras, the guards wheeled Yugrod to his holding cell, and the whole world waited on my decision.

The whole world except for me, anyway. I stayed away from the news the day after the hearing. I remember I picked up a book, but I don't remember what it was about. I was trying to read it when Graegor wanted to talk.

“I guess I shouldn't be surprised,” said Graegor, “But I gotta ask. You're a living piece of history now, you know?”

I set the book down. I couldn't focus on reading just then, anyway.

“Ask what?” I asked.

“Why did you, you know, choose what you chose? Yesterday, I mean.”

I had to think about it for a second. It hadn't struck me yet that I'd made any kind of decision. I wasn't sure why I made my choice until I had to think of a reason to tell Graegor.

“The war's over,” I told him, “There's been enough killing. That's all over now.”

“Huh?”

Graegor didn't seem to get it. To be fair, neither did I. I'm not sure I get it now.

“Eh, besides,” I added, “Death's too easy for him. Let him fry in the uranium mines for the next thirty years.”

“What? You realize you pressed the button, right?”

“Huh?”

“Yugrod's dead. What are you, in denial or something? After Kashgari's Gap? You've killed Nirixians before, it's okay.”

I blinked.

I never pressed that button.