The Lotus Eaters

Ciudad Balboa Beach, Balboa, Terra Nova

The conspirators had been tried by the full Senate. For the main ones, the ones about whom there could be no doubt of their guilt, the trial hadn't taken long. The sentences had been something of a surprise.

Rocaberti was first in the procession, a wooden timber over his shoulder and iron chains about his ankles. Behind him came his own two rump vice-presidents, Pigna, his chief of police for the old city, Barletta, the entire set of teams who had captured Carrera and Parilla—such as could be taken alive, the one survivor of those who had tried to grab Muñoz-Infantes, and about three score of the remnants of Rocaberti's police force, excepting only those Rojas had bargained for. Armed men, legionaries, not Volgans, marched to either side. Closer in, still other legionaries used cattle prods liberally.

Along the beach nearly one hundred stout posts had been driven into the sand and wedged in securely. The posts had U-shaped, steel fixtures attached. Unsurprisingly, these were of a shape and size to accommodate the beams carried by the condemned.

Pigna was almost unique in the party in that he didn't weep along the short march from the prison to the beach. For this reason, Carrera, seated on a wheel chair, pointed to him and said, "This traitor first."

Pigna was seized, striped down to shorts, and his arms were bound together at the wrists. His beam was placed in the U-shaped fixture. Then he was hoisted up, his bound hands hooked over the upright, and allowed to drop. This hurt, but not enough to raise a cry. Indeed, he said not a word until his ankles were pulled into position and first steel spike was driven through into the wood below.

After that, Pigna cried more than had most of the others. At least until their turns came to be hooked over and nailed up.

The TV cameras caught all of it.

* * *

Rocaberti's turn came last. "Why?" was all the ex-president could come up with.

Carrera had healed enough, and had enough dental work done, to speak easily.

"You know," he said, to Rocaberti, "I don't think your nephew ever got to rape my wife. She killed him, you see. That much is certain. And she denies having been raped. Now, is it possible he raped her beforehand and that she's lying about it? Sure; it's possible. And that's one reason why you're going up on that cross, just in case she needs to feel thoroughly avenged. As important, I want anyone who might even think about siding with the TU to realize that they can't be relied upon at all and that the penalty for doing so is extreme. Lastly, I just hate your guts.

"Take him."