“No,” Holloway said.

“So it’s possible you could have tampered with it,” Meyer said.

“I’m perfectly willing to file an affidavit with the court that the video is unaltered and unedited, and to testify so on the matter in open court,” Holloway said.

“Later,” Soltan said. “For now, show me the video.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Holloway said. He started the video. It unspooled in the monitor: The skimmer landing at Holloway’s compound, the man stepping out of the skimmer, him trying the door and window, and him meeting the fuzzys, stomping Baby, and fighting with Pinto. Holloway glanced over at Meyer, who looked horrified at what the man had done to Baby, and then at DeLise, who sat there motionless.

“Pause this,” Soltan said, suddenly. Holloway paused the video. The judge turned to him. “Is this a joke, Mr. Holloway?” “In what sense, Your Honor?” Holloway asked.

“This video has yet to show anything related to arson,” Soltan said. “Instead I’m watching some man fight and kill small animals. It’s sickening, but it doesn’t have anything to do with your claim.” “First, I would note to Your Honor that we’re in the process of determining whether the fuzzys which you see being killed here are animals or if they’re people,” Holloway said. “And if they do turn out to be people, then whoever it is setting fire to my house—I am claiming Mr. DeLise—will also have at least one count of murder to contend with.” “Mr. Holloway,” Soltan began.

“However, that is neither here nor there to my claim, and I am not alleging murder,” Holloway said, quickly. “Nevertheless the man’s actions with the fuzzys are relevant, as you are about to see.” “I had better,” Soltan said.

“Yes, Your Honor. In fact, it’s just about to happen.” Holloway resumed the playback. The man threw Pinto to the ground and shot the fuzzy. “There’s the gun. Now, you see the fuzzy runs away, in the direction of my cabin. The man keeps firing. And there, a bullet enters my cabin. This I suspect is what initially started the fire. If you wait a minute, you’ll start to see smoke.” The courtroom waited for the smoke to arrive, and as it did so watched the man kick and shoot Baby, and throw the corpse into the burning cabin. Meyer looked like she was about to be sick. Good, thought Holloway.

Holloway stopped the playback when the camera failed.

“Ms. Meyer,” Soltan said, after a minute. “Any rebuttal?”

Meyer blinked and then coughed to hide the fact she was trying to get her focus back. “The video shows that a man accidentally set fire to Mr. Holloway’s cabin, but it doesn’t show that it was Mr. DeLise,” she said.

“The man set fire to the cabin after trying to break into it, which means it was an action associated with a crime,” Holloway said. “By Colonial law, that’s third-degree arson.” “The man in question could have been there for another reason,” Meyer said.

“In a ski mask,” Holloway said. “In a jungle. On a sweltering day. Besides that, look. The first thing this guy does on encountering someone else—human or not—is to stomp and shoot them to death. If the fuzzys were people, that would be murder. He’s not there for a social call, Your Honor. And now you can see why I think my murder was one of the goals of the visit.” “Attempted murder’s not coming back in on the basis of this video,” Soltan said. “But I agree that there’s reasonable claim for an arson charge, as well as destruction of property.” “Nothing on the video proves that the man in it is my client, however,” Meyer said. “And in point of fact, there’s something in it that points against it. Mr. Holloway?” Meyer held out her hand, requesting the infopanel. Holloway gave it. Meyer ran the video back to the beginning, to the skimmer landing. “There,” she said. “The skimmer.” “What about it?” Soltan said.

Meyer pointed. “Look at the serial numbers on the side,” she said. “That’s a Zarathustra corporate number. This isn’t a security skimmer, which is the sort my client usually has access to. It’s a model given to ZaraCorp’s contractor representatives so they can visit their contractors out in the field.” “So run the number through the ZaraCorp database, and tell me whose skimmer it is,” Soltan said.

“We don’t have to,” Meyer said. “We already know. He’s outside the courtroom right now, waiting to be a rebuttal witness.”

“You understand you are under oath,” Soltan said.

“I do,” said Chad Bourne.

“Your name and occupation, please,” Soltan said.

“Chad Bourne, Contractor Representative for Zarathustra Corporation,” he said.

“You’re up,” Soltan said, to Meyer.

“Mr. Bourne, are you Mr. Holloway’s contractor representative?” Meyer asked.

“Yes, I am,” Bourne said.

“And you have been so for how long?” Meyer asked.

“I’ve been his rep for as long as I’ve been here on Zara Twenty-three,” Bourne said. “That’d be about seven years now.” “What’s your general opinion of Mr. Holloway?” Meyer asked.

“Am I allowed to use profanity?” Bourne asked.

“No,” Soltan said.

“Then it’s best to say that our relationship has been a tense one,” Bourne said.

“Any particular reason?” Meyer asked.

“How much time do you have?” Bourne said.

“Just hit the highlights,” Meyer said.

“He’s lax with CEPA and ZaraCorp regulations, he’s argumentative, he tries to lawyer everything, he ignores me when I tell him he can’t do things, and he’s just all-around a jerk,” Bourne said, looking at Holloway.

“Any positive qualities?” Meyer asked, slightly bemused.

“I like his dog,” Bourne said.

“Have you ever said that you hate Mr. Holloway?” Meyer asked.

“On a regular basis,” Bourne said.

“Mr. Bourne, are you aware that your skimmer may have been used in the furtherance of a crime?” Meyer asked.

“I guessed that when my skimmer was impounded the other day,” Bourne said.

“Yes,” Meyer said. “We found fire suppressant residue on the skimmer. The same brand that Mr. Holloway used to keep his compound from burning down.” “Okay,” Bourne said.

“We’ve also now seen a video where your skimmer’s number is visible,” Meyer said.

“All right,” Bourne said.

“Mr. Bourne, can you account for your whereabouts the day Mr. Holloway’s cabin burned down?” Meyer asked.

“I was at home sick most of the day,” Bourne said.

“So you didn’t see any one, and no one saw you,” Meyer said.

“No,” Bourne said.

Meyer turned to Soltan and prepared to introduce an alternate theory of the crime.

“Oh, wait, that’s not quite right,” Bourne said. “I did see someone.”

Meyer swallowed her intended speech. “How is that again?” she said.

“I did see someone,” Bourne said.

“Who?” Meyer asked.

“Him,” Bourne said, pointing at Holloway. “I needed to tell him I had made a small error regarding that sunstone find of his. Turns out ZaraCorp doesn’t own it. He does.” “What?” Meyer said.

“What?” Soltan said.

“Yep,” Bourne said. “Just before he discovered it, I terminated his contract. For cause, I might add. But when he told me about his find, I guess in all the excitement, I forgot to reactivate his contract, which would have ceded the find back to ZaraCorp. While I was at home, I was reviewing contracts and I noticed his was missing. So I did a little digging. Turns out that by both Butters versus Wayland and Buchheit versus Zarathustra Corporation, he’s the actual owner of the seam. I thought maybe ZaraCorp could try to take it from him, but then we’d be running up against Greene versus Winston, and given what happened the last time ZaraCorp went up against that, I didn’t want to risk it. So I felt obliged to inform him. I knew he was in Aubreytown that day, so I went and told him about it. I figured he might want to know he’s worth one-point-two trillion credits. I would. Who wouldn’t?” There was dead silence in the courtroom.