Paul Hardy - The Last Man on Earth Club

“Yes.”

“Typical,” said Olivia. “Don’t do a bloody thing to help us but as soon as someone punches them in the nose they get all hoity-toity about it.”

“It’s starting,” said Pew, already intent on the screen.

The graphic cut to a shot of a distant table on a stage, with hundreds of journalists from every species waiting before it. The camera zoomed in on the stage as the IU insignia shimmered into life behind the table, along with the logo of the Interversal Criminal Tribunal.

“What happened to the newsreaders?” asked Liss.

“This is a direct feed,” I said. “It’s what gets sent to the media before they add all their bits and pieces.”

I turned up the sound. Sudden shouts came from the press as the camera swept to the left to track the entry of three people, blattered by camera flashes: I recognised Jary Conel, chief spokesman for the IU directorate, familiar from a thousand broadcasts; Ovile Dalass, shadow director of the ICT, a woman with a piercing police gaze, and Eremis Ai, who was plainly more important than I knew.

They took their places at the table, and the image cut to a tight shot of Jary Conel. “Good morning,” he said. “Thank you all for coming. We’re here to make an announcement, followed by questions. Let me start with the main announcement.” The camera flashes intensified. “From today at twelve noon, the Interversal Union will formally activate the Interversal Criminal Tribunal. This decision has not been taken lightly, nor has it been taken as an act of revenge against those who attacked Hub. This is a recognition that the Interversal Union, as the only organisation with the ability to do so, has a responsibility to deal with criminal acts that take place between universes.

“I’ll hand you over now to Ms. Ovile Dalass, the shadow director of the ICT, and shortly to be the first director.”

The camera swung to find a shot of her. “Thank you. First of all I’d like to thank the General Director of the IU for placing his confidence in me and my organisation. Secondly, please do not imagine we will be an interversal police force looking over everyone’s shoulders. Our remit will be to investigate the very worst abuses of one universe upon another, and bring to light offences that shame every species of humanity.”

The group watched as further details were given: the ICT would be hiring investigators from a wide variety of IU member species. It would have powers of arrest on universes that permitted it. It could not impose or seek a death penalty. Then the session was opened up to questions.

“If I may put to you a hypothetical case…” said a journalist.

“Certainly,” said Eremis Ai.

“If you discovered an act of genocide committed by one universe upon another, but you didn’t have the co-operation of the authorities in the universe that was guilty, how is it possible you could bring anyone to justice? Isn’t this just an academic exercise?”

“I think it’s much more than that,” said Eremis. “I think it’s about letting people know not only that these things happen, but who actually commits these crimes. People must know that if they abuse people on another universe, they cannot expect to do so without interversal scrutiny. We’re not just going to be trying the guilty. Our reports are going to be made public so people can make up their own minds about who they’re dealing with.”

“Goddamn politician…” said Liss.

“Liss?” I asked.

“He didn’t answer the question!”

“Let’s discuss it once the conference is over, okay?”

She settled back down and the questions and answers went on. No, the IU would not be creating an interversal police force. Nor would it create a military. It reserved the right to enact sanctions upon member species but these were never to be taken lightly. A question was directed to Ovile Dalass.

“Could the director tell us how the activation of the ICT is related to the recent discovery of a planet on which every single person had committed suicide?”

Iokan looked up at the screen.

“We’re looking at a number of instances of genocide,” said Ovile. “I can’t go into specific cases.”

“That’s all we have time for,” said Jary Conel. “I’m sure you have many more questions but we have an appointment with the General Director at noon. There’ll be further announcements later in the day.”

Questions followed them as they went, and I switched off the screen.

“Well, that’s it. I do have a few words to say about how this affects you…”

“When did… they tell you?” asked Iokan.

“Yesterday. I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything earlier, but obviously this affects you all. The ICT would be happy to hear from any of you who would like a formal investigation launched—”

“What good’s that going to do me?” demanded Olivia. “Are they going to investigate my world? Are they going to ask why my species is dead? Of course they bloody aren’t. And you know why? It’s because you lot were late! If you hadn’t been so bloody scared of a couple of revenants I wouldn’t be the last one left! Who’s going to prosecute anyone about that?”

I took a breath; but this was an issue I’d foreseen. “That’s a good point. They’re still deciding whether or not they can deal with cases of negligence—”

“Like they’ll ever bloody do anything. How are they going to bring a prosecution against themselves?”

“I don’t know. As I said, they haven’t decided. Would you like to make the representation so they can at least consider it?”

“For all the good it’ll do…”

“Anyone else?” I asked.

Iokan spoke up. “I think… this is a very positive step… I think this will help… many of us to…”

“Do you need to use a pad?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I think… it will help us… to know who … and how… and why… it…” He pulled up his mask and gasped more oxygen.

“Just use a pad, for heaven’s sake,” said Liss. After a moment more of huffing, Iokan gave up and did so, transferring the words to the wall in letters half a metre high.

I think it will help us all if we knew who attacked our worlds. & how it was done and why. & that there is justice.

The words floated on the wall while the others read them. Kwame in particular seemed nervous. Olivia tutted in disgust.

Liss looked at Iokan. “Let me just ask one question.”

Of course.

“How exactly do you arrest an energy field?”

Iokan looked confused.

“Your Antewhatevers. What do you think’s going to happen to them?”

Iokan tapped at his pad. Antecessors not for prosecution. I provided info on people who attacked world previ

Liss cut in before he could finish typing. “Which crime do you think they’re going to deal with first? A few attacks or a genocide? They brought it up in the press conference! How are they not going to go after them?”

Iokan seemed hurt. I asked them not to.

“Do you think that’s going to matter? They’re not going to ask for your permission. They found a crime scene, they’ve got the go ahead to do something about it. Right?” She looked to me for support. Iokan did too.

“She’s right,” I said. “They can proceed by themselves if they have clear evidence of genocide.”

Why ask us then?

“You are the only witness. And what happened isn’t obvious. So they’ll need your help.”

“Hah. They might find out who actually did it instead of this antethingummy nonsense,” said Olivia.

I will refuse to co-operate.

“Won’t matter. They’ll go ahead anyway,” said Liss.

Iokan gave her a hard, angry look, and stabbed at his pad.