My judges are far more numerous than the guards. There must be seven thousand of the armed rebels, as many as the chamber will hold. They watch from the suspended cable walkways, dangle their feet from the circular jumpways that link the levels of the mine township, and perch atop landed skimmer hulls. They crowd the bottom level to either side of my route to the dais where I will be judged. They are equal parts women and men. In their ranks, I see what I recognize as Reds, Browns, Yellows, Pinks, and Oranges. All cover their sigils in black wraps.
“They are the original Daughters. All lost kin in Romulus’s purge,” Aurae says. Their faces may be soft from lifetimes spent far from the sun, but their eyes are harder than any miner’s hands.
On Luna, I strode before senators with contempt in my every step. It got me nowhere. So, I look these judges in their eyes, as humble as a seven-foot-tall man of war can be amongst those bred for service and toil. I take on their contempt, their anger, their resentment, just as I took in the love of my Free Legions. If I deserved one, I certainly deserve the other.
Most fearsome of all are the young. Callous youths who’ve never known me as a hero, puffing their burners, polishing their guns, picking their teeth, swaying their boots. They glare at me in silence from the jumpwalks that string across the cavern to link its levels. My eyes chance on a slim Brown girl above. She looks no older than Eo was when she died. Her hair is shaved, half of her pale face smeared in grease or war paint. A big weapon meant for a Gray lies in her lap. She sees me looking at her and she makes a gun of her hand, points it at me, and pulls the trigger.
“You said Athena preached forgiveness,” I say.
Aurae seems sad. “She did once. Now she carries a gun.”
I turn on Aurae as we reach the stage. She tried to take the gold cape from my shoulders when I entered, but had her hands swatted away by the Owls. Athena waits atop the stage wearing her helmet, a gun, and Pyrphoros. Behind her, Diomedes stands chained. Aurae watches him with pained eyes. “It’s love then?” I ask.
“He once told me that love which obstructs duty is not love. It is an addiction that must be denied.” She smiles, sad. “Maybe he was right.”
“No. He’s a noble idiot who was brainwashed by a military cult, and somehow still turned out to be a decent man. Aurae. Two-thirds of Europa’s population is still on the surface. If Diomedes and Athena can be brought to reason, then we could evacuate many of them down here. I think I can convince the Raa, but Athena will listen to you. If you—”
“She has listened to me. And to Sevro and Lyria. But Diomedes’s life is not in her hands. Neither is yours. It is in theirs.” She nods out to the Daughters and their sea of vengeful eyes.
Well. Shit.
She turns my head to look into her eyes. They are filled with acceptance and fierce love. “I expected you to be an arrogant tyrant. That is what they see. Show them what you showed me. Show them who you are. A traveler on a path,” she says softly.
The guards push me up the stairs to join Athena. My mind races as I ponder Aurae’s words. A few chants of Athena’s name echo through the chamber, until Athena marches up to me, yanks off the golden cloak in disgust, and hurls it off the stage. She holds up her hand. Silence falls like night, slowly then all at once. Her voice echoes through the chamber.
“Darrow of Mars! You stand accused of collaboration with the enemy, Romulus au Raa, resulting in the liquidation of thirteen thousand four hundred twelve Sons of Ares from Jupiter to Pluto. You stand accused of mass homicide in your assault upon the Dockyards of Ganymede, which resulted in the fatalities of more than one hundred and fifty thousand Reds, Greens, Browns, and Oranges.”
As she recites several more accusations, I find Sevro in the crowd. It is hard to meet his eyes. They are angry. They should be. I brought us here despite his warnings. How many times have I ignored him? Placated him? Told him I would get him home only to somehow drag him further and further away? He just wants to be a husband and father. So did I.
I remember the purity of that feeling. It was clean. To love and be loved, to guide and be guided. This is dirty, this life I lead instead. I am dirty, as Dancer promised. Sevro said he had to keep me shiny, that was his job. It’s time to tell them I haven’t done mine. It’s the only chance to complete my mission. And my mission is not to get ships, not to slay Fá, not even to save Mars, it is to make sure that the light does not go out.
When Athena has levied all her charges, she asks how I plead. Aurae nods up at me from the crowd. I see Lyria standing beside Sevro, and think of Camp 121. One of many I could not protect. Then I smile at Sevro, thinking of the time he saved Cassius’s life long ago when the Obsidians tried to hang him, and say: “Years ago, a friend stood before a court much like this one.” I lift my chin. “I plead now as he did then: I am guilty.”
The response is mixed. The Daughters murmur, some in confusion, many in vindication, others in fury that I would make a mockery of them. Sevro hangs his head. Aurae smiles. Lyria leans forward, her face open. She is my audience. Those I uplifted only to abandon.
“You know the sentence is death?” Athena asks.
“I do. I have no defense. I did sell your kin to Romulus au Raa.” I glance back at Diomedes and say to him, “I am guilty of destroying the Dockyards of Ganymede, of murdering its workers and caretakers.” I turn back to the Daughters and raise my voice so even those in the back can hear me. “I am guilty of enough crimes for a thousand men. Torture, kidnapping, blackmail, murder, bombings, Rains. All of it. I have broken nearly every oath I have taken. I have flattened cities, set fire to generations, raised oceans, broken worlds. I’ve killed men, women, children, if not with my own hands, then with ships under my command. I have betrayed mentors and friends and led them to their deaths. I have left my legions to die to save myself.
“In my name, if not by my consent or orders, prisoners have been slaughtered, populations displaced, ice caps melted, Iron Rains hurled down on the just and unjust alike. I am guilty. I reek of blood and shame. I am sorry for what I’ve done, but I will not apologize for why I did it.
“I believe in the dream of Eo, the dream of Ares, the dream of Ragnar. That we are all born with the right to choose our own destinies. To live in peace. To pass down that same freedom to our children.
“I will not apologize for that. For doing all I can to give this dream to my son. Even if in doing it I lost my right to walk the path to the Vale, to pass the Old Man who guards it, and join my father, my friends, Eo. But if I could, I would take back my crime against you. It is the great regret of my life. I did not betray you because I sought your misery. I did not turn you over to Romulus because I delighted in your suffering. I did it because I was young, blind, but most of all, I was afraid. So I strayed from the path of Fitchner, of Eo, and I took a shortcut.
“I began like many of you. Born to drill and die. I was given power, but that power never made me less afraid. That power made me desperate. Arrogant. And far too willing to sacrifice others. After the Battle of Ilium, I feared the Raa would fall upon our flanks. I was afraid that I could not save my people and your people at the same time. So I chose mine. That was the folly, pretending we were separate.