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The well-suited businessman nodded, then stepped down from the witness stand. He was quickly escorted by the bailiff to a door off to the side, who came back only moments later.

“Prosecution,” said the judge, “you may call your next witness.”

The lead prosecutor stood up and bowed his head to the judge.

“Thank you, your honor,” he said. “The People of the Sol Federation calls for Jionna Laertidus.”

The bailiff headed out through the same side door, and once again came back moments later. This time, with Jionna in tow. He led her straight towards the witness stand.

Unlike her normal down-home, raw look, Jionna looked like an utter powerhouse in court. Similar to the businessman who testified right before her, she wore a strikingly sharp and formal outfit that accentuated her grace and power and influence.

Although she wasn’t adorned with gaudy accessories like the lead defense attorney, she still wore many things that helped illustrate her position. Earrings affixed with natural polished stone, a titanium chain belt that had various feathers hanging from them, and perhaps most crucially, a plain silver wedding band.

“Will the witness please swear to give only the objective truth and plain facts surrounding your involvement in this case?” asked the bailiff. “You may say ‘I do’.”

.....

“I do,” replied Jionna.

“You may be seated.”

Jionna settled herself into the witness stand’s seat as the bailiff walked back to his post. Once everyone was in place, the lead prosecutor walked to the middle of the room and began his questioning.

And as they talked, he made sure to veer between Jionna and the jury, to subtly make her more approachable to them. In fact, every movement and every step he made was designed to influence everyone else in the courtroom.

“Can you please state your name for the court?” asked the prosecutor. “And please also state your title, then briefly elaborate on your duties.”

“I am Jionna Laertidus,” she answered, “the Chief Operating Officer of the Laertidus Family Farm. It’s my job to ensure that the farm runs at peak performance cycle after cycle. So that it can continually grow fresh produce – enough to sell to the rest of the Venusian populace, mostly to the cities.”

“Would you say that your family provides for the citizens of the Sol Federation, in a not-insignificant way?”

“Objection,” interjected the lead defense attorney, “the prosecution is leading the witness.”

“Sustained,” said the judge. “Please be careful of your wording.”

“Apologies, your honor,” said the prosecuting attorney. “Mrs Laertidus, how many tons of food does your farm provide the Federation, on an annual basis?”

“Before or after the attack?” asked Jionna. “The numbers are vastly different.”

“Please inform us of both.”

Jionna nodded quietly, and as she explained her farm’s profitability, she fidgeted with her wedding ring out of sight of everyone.

“Before the attack, while my husband was alive,” she began, “the farm provided over 50 tons of produce per hectare. And on top of that, we had been easily maintaining over 1000 hectares for many years. Our farm provided the largest supply of food on Venus – almost 24%. We were honestly at the peak of our capabilities.”

She inhaled deeply, but when she spoke again, her voice wasn’t as strong. It was a slight change, but some still noticed it.

“After the attack,” she continued, “the one that took my husband’s life, and the lives of many family members, we were forced to reduce our active hectares by half. Of those, we were able to restart the soil after some difficulties, and we’re predicting an output half as much as before. Perhaps only 25 tons per hectare for the next few years.”

“In other words,” said the prosecutor, “your annual yield is down by 75 percent? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Can you explain the reasons for such a drastic decrease?”

The faces of her husband, her family, her farmhands, all of them passed through her mind as she thought about the question. Their smiles, their tears, their sweat – all gone. All that was left was their blood in the soil, and the memories in their hearts.

But she had to put it all aside for now.

“We no longer have enough labor to maintain production,” she replied. “Everyone we lost was critical to the running of the farm. Not only that, but many of our facilities were damaged, some of our crops were burned or left to rot, and almost all of our machinery and equipment were looted or scavenged.”

“Could you please share the attack’s impact on your farm, on a financial scale?” asked the prosecutor.

“Due to our inability to meet demand, the farm lost 14 of its contracts, many of which were major. As a direct result, our income projections dropped by 82%. It’s almost a death knell, but the farm’s able to hang on, barely.”

The prosecutor walked away from Jionna, and closer to the jury. He wanted to connect with them better, to ensure that they absorbed Jionna’s testimony as best they could.

“As you’re more than likely aware, Venus is undergoing a temporary food shortage,” he said. “Would you say that the attack on your farm caused this? Or at the very least, contributed to it?”

“Objection!” shouted the lead defense attorney, “the prosecution’s question is far too speculative!”

“Overruled,” said the judge. “I wish to hear the answer, but I caution the prosecution to reword the question first.”

“Thank you, your honor,” said the lead prosecutor, “Mrs Laertidus, given your expertise on the Venusian food industry, is there a link between the attack on your farm, and the growing food shortage on the planet?”

“I do not believe the attack caused it,” replied Jionna, “but it has certainly impacted it.”

“Can you explain?”

“Much of it was due to short-sightedness. Prior to the attack, the Federation foodbanks on Venus were focused on cycling out its stock. They contracted farms such as mine to provide goods to restock their stores.

“And so, for the past few farming seasons, my husband and I decided to split our output up. For the most part, we sold one quarter directly to stores, and the rest we stored for the eventual delivery to the foodbanks.”

“And you said your market share on Venus was one quarter?” asked the prosecutor.

“That’s right,” Jionna replied. “We held the largest percentage at the time. The adjustment was necessary, so the foodbanks could empty out their stores by selling their goods to grocers, or sometimes directly to consumers. But we weren’t the only ones to do this – most other farms did the same. The planet underwent a planned food shortage, but everyone involved knew that it was temporary. Of course, things didn’t turn out that way.”

“So how did the attack impact the food shortage?”

“We stored a great deal of food – enough to refill half the foodbanks. We even prepared them, packaged them, and set them aside. They were ready to be transported whenever they were needed. But then the attack happened. Most were taken afterwards. Whatever we had left was damaged or contaminated.

“The loss of the goods meant that the Venusian foodbanks are now far short. Given the farm’s current state, it would take us a minimum of five years to fulfil that order if we devoted 100% of our production towards it. That means a minimum of five years where our foodbanks will have to operate under a shortfall.”

The prosecutor walked right up to the jury, and put a hand on the jury box itself. He turned towards Jionna, but made sure that he could easily be heard by everyone in the jury box.

“One final question, Mrs Laertidus,” he said. “Without a shadow of a doubt, is there anyone in this courtroom who was part of the attack on your farm. If so, please point to him or her.”

Jionna nodded, then pointed directly at Nightmare.

“The defendant,” she said, “I watched the defendant attack and assault my people, my family, my farm. He’s responsible for all the pain, and grief, and loss.”

“Thank you. I have no further questions.”

The prosecutor walked back to his table, and as he did so, the judge rearranged his notes on his terminal. Then he looked up and cleared his throat before speaking.

“The defense may now cross-examine the witness,” he said.

Nightmare’s lead defense attorney stood, adjusted his suit and tie, and smiled at Jionna. But she felt no warmth from him. Not in the slightest. All she felt was venom.

“Mrs Laertidus,” he said, “according to your written testimony, and from your words just now, you state that my client, and the others with him, attacked your farm, correct?”

“Yes,” she replied, “I did.”

“And in your statement, you had also written that they murdered most of the men who were captured, and proceded to physically and sexually assault many of the remaining survivors. Yourself included. Correct?”

Jionna shook from the way he said the word ‘assault’, as though it was a word bereft of emotion. As though it was a purely clinical term. She realized that he did so purposefully, to minimize her pain, even as he addressed it.

She felt tears of anger and of humiliation swell up, but she fought them back as best she could.

“Yes,” she replied, “I certainly did.”

“Now, before I continue with my line of questioning, first I must say that I am sorry for your loss. My client is sorry for your loss, and he understands he will be punished for his role in the harm he has caused you.”

Both Jionna and the lead prosecutor were set aback. Both were utterly rattled by the defense – it felt as though he was throwing his own client under the bus.

Eva was also deeply puzzled. She felt the man had gone crazy.

“But,” continued the defense attorney, “there’s a problem with your testimony. Please tell the court, Mrs Laertidus, at what point during the attack did you observe my client performing the act of murder?”

Jionna was stunned by the question, and her mouth fell agape. She quickly looked over at Nightmare, as though to remind herself what he looked like, but noticed as his mouth curled upwards into an incredibly slight smile.

She turned back towards the defense attorney as she searched her memory for any such moment. All she saw was his face as he violated her over and over, or when he violated Amal, or any of the others.

More than that, she realized it was always someone else who pulled the trigger on her people, on her family.

The tears she fought back earlier began to well up behind her eyes, and trickled out at the seams.

“It’s a simple question, Mrs Laertidus,” demanded the defense attorney. “Did you see my client kill anyone? Anyone at all?”

“Objection, your honor!” the lead prosecutor cried out, “the defense is badgering the witness!”

“Sustained,” said the judge, “the defense will cease asking, however, Mrs Laertidus, we will still need your answer. Take your time.”

Jionna could no longer help herself, as a flood of tears flowed from out of her. All that she had tamped down and pushed away had finally broken free.

Free to wreak havoc on her heart.

Not that it had much time to do so. She quickly gathered herself up, put it all aside, and wiped the tears from her eyes. Then she looked straight at the defense attorney as she replied with a stoic voice.

“No.”

“No more questions, your honor.”