Innocence Found Guilty

Arroyo Schmidt Carlos

Description

The cooperative, altruistic citizens of the Confederation are appalled at the dark, contentious, murderous changes wrought upon the galactic society since the inclusion of the Terrans. Human paragons of virtue and courage did, indeed, spare the Confederation devastation and genocide by the galactic reavers known only as 'the enemy', but human aggression and martial prowess influence bio-field energies among the many species comprising the Confederation. How did humanity survive their blood-soaked past and how could a sentient species arise on the red, roaring tempest that is Earth? Here is a mystery begging solution before it is too late for all the galactic citizenry. All must change, albeit each species has its own genesis limiting how much change they can accept.

Sujets

• Science fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 31 janvier 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528961134
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

I nnocence F ound G uilty
Carlos Arroyo Schmidt
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-01-31
Innocence Found Guilty About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgement Nowhere to Go But… Innocence Found Guilty Best Intentions Irresistible Shades of Black So Much Blood Slash and Burn Sacrifice Sirne Thinking of Better Times What Goes Around Nutter’s Education Learning Curve
About the Author
The author is a construction worker, lab tech, anthropologist, and scuba diver possessing sundry interests, none more important than an observer of humanity’s many institutions, habits, and foibles.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the finest woman on this planet or any other, my best friend, wife, bucket baby—Noski.
Copyright Information ©
Carlos Arroyo Schmidt 2020
The right of Carlos Arroyo Schmidt to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528915168 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528961134 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published 2020
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd ®
1 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5AA
Acknowledgement
The author thanks the talented artists, Phylicia and Ryan, for their cover-art concept sketches.
Nowhere to Go But…
It was all a haphazard affair. Lurching starts and stops, veering imperatives, dangerous wills at odds with anything not written and a glaringly obvious dearth of agreement characterized humanity’s response to events now recognized of a galactic scale. Glorified stovepipes comprised our mighty fleet, the only image not laughingly absurd the figures of thinking human warriors, our kind’s bane and deliverance. The figures were disappointingly familiar, yet different, less reactionary, more deliberate, evolved, but still deadly.
Incumbent in ancient atavistic memories resides our best means of survival: Putting to rest the value judgments of the modern conscious mind. Contemporaneous Man still relies on myths, therefore, knives and hunting rifles fairly flew off vendors’ shelves. Imaginary confrontations, all meting a violent chastisement upon galactic enemies, preoccupied most minds still contending with daily subsistence and a universe suddenly enlarged, changed beyond recognition. It was a familiar human milieu.
Ask any randomly chosen subject anywhere on Planet Earth what just happened and answers would range from, “nuthin’ much,” to, “we was invaded and now serve the Plashfunk masters,” to, “what the hell are you talking about?” And the most common American response, “Yea, I heard something, but I’ve been so busy with work and driving the kids around and shopping and, you know, no time…”
Delivery trucks still made their daily rounds, weather forecasters still issued barely useful digital models, lawn tractors noisily shredded empty yards’ grass to the prescribed height, yuppy parents still demanded A’s for their lazy, petulant spawn and, of course, murder out of boredom, crimes of passion, carjackings, drunk driving accidents, rapes, collateral damage, political pontificating, religion’s hatred, murder for financial gain, racism, gay-bashing, outsourcing, government incompetence, mercenary research, acquisitiveness, murder by temporary insanity, depredations of the wealthy, obese children dying of malnutrition, schools learned them children’s tests good, governmental lies, news for the highest bidder. Well, all the normal activities in which we civilized primates engage were unaffected by the momentous events still transpiring above them, among them, barely impinging upon the consciousness of those that do not think in terms of species survival at any rate, thinking only of the common, complacent acceptance of humanity’s fateful foibles.
Then there were the lights: new constellations of hopeful, optimistic, cooperative clarity lightening through sheer exuberance the dim beige to mauve to pitch corona normal to this purgatory planet. Pinpoints of color pierce the dolor and coalesce in radiant reefs and ranges, harkening a time and place of imagination’s idyll, where the energy leaching darkness dares not abide Eos’ splendor, and no life force is isolated, brooding upon aching loneliness.
To be sure, humanity’s contribution to the miasmic metallic verdigris of Earth’s howling halo continued, and as ever, though now in increasing numbers, soaring spirits flashed like the high-energy sprites of the upper atmosphere, piercing the darkness, striving joyfully to connect, binding destinies to the universal field. The organized energies comprising Planet Earth brightened somewhat in recognition of its place in the stellar web and weave. Simplistic dualities finally and forever receded before the welcome prominence of evolution’s promise of cooperative peace.
Reality demanded a species response. Homo sapiens, long inured to change, drew upon adaptation, our common successful heritage. It is never pretty or completely correct, but it is our real strength.
Slowly superseding Spencerian social evolution’s comfortable, predictable status quo was the uneasy acceptance, after many million rails of panicked denial, of unselfish, shared enlightenment. Marvelous discovery once again motivated Man’s cooperative efforts to understand (quite a few people at any rate). Ancient memories, released of their bonds of consciousness, resurfaced, refreshing the means to understanding become obvious.
The new, the different, the vision of universal inclusion of all terrestrial life in a common destiny, all inculcated their obverse complementary pith in millions of frustrated, mistrustful, religious, political, proprietary votaries. Stasis, uniformity, ownership, myopic exclusion of all things not described in ancient, frequently edited theistic tomes and apocryphal prophesy, the hard-wired and learned phobia of deviation in any form for any function continued despite reality’s best efforts to educate.
Contemplating the carnage wrought upon Man’s most recent foes did not result in hubris (only the subterranean religious, business or political manifesto-pounding propagandists cockily referred to Man’s manifest missionary/business destiny through violent means), rather, caution refocused eyes often too idealistic. Do we venture armed into the unknown? Of course. Do we needlessly frighten most of creation? Unavoidable. Will we always be pariah? As obnoxious business-class tourists, yes. Will selfish opportunists take advantage? They will try. Are we predators or prey?
There is another way. But not today. Sometimes laboring in their luxury retreat for two or even three hours per day, the legislative, judicial and executive martyrs of the government of the United States (and most other governing bodies worldwide) were deep in negotiations (with whom is not clear). Tax cuts for themselves and their friends now, or a symbolic waiting period while garnering support for the war effort and necessary post-combat economic re-structuring? Embedded TV news talking heads pounded out sound-bite stories, the dearth of factual content dismissed and replaced by emotional appeal (like any good banana republic’s government owned media outlet), while political pundits sleazed about their respective bunkers dispensing vacuous, irrelevant advice whether sought or not. Campaign managers (yes, they were considered vital personnel) and their staffs (these bunkers were huge, but apparently not big enough for the surface constituency beyond menial laborers) cloistered themselves to hammer out fresh new strategies and sound-bite platitudes. Chief Justices were approachable after the supplicant wended through secretaries, clerks and scheduling restrictions to hear dollops of Olympian jurisprudence of sublime irrelevance. The president’s chef broke out his wartime ’mergency menu which cut daily caloric intake to 2,800 calories per male (except the president, of course) and 2,400 per female. This severe sacrifice was maintainable for nine months or so when recommendations called for additional voluntary rationing.
General Loni Friendly went on a sacking rampage, remotely canning the entire Joint Chiefs and all service branches’ operations chiefs. He saved the most satisfying firing, that of General Sosnowieski, until he reckoned the general was up to his ears in prosecuting his failing campaign and his entire staff, which he estimated to be at least one hundred and sixty—Loni’s staff would be larger, but then, he was the president’s general. Ha! Live that down you, you disrespectful upstart you!
“Was that a strong enough message?” Slocombe hopefully inquired of his fellow internee, the Secretary of Defense. Representatives of the State Department gave up days ago begging for invitations to these impromptu conferences. Instead, they kept a low profile, coming only when called and whiling their time eating and playing a geography game: first to get ten correct answers at any skill level received a raise, a bonus check and their opponents’ desserts for a week; no winners yet. Looking over his glasses while glancing at a clipboard with a bored air, the Secretary responded, looking every bit the pompous, slicked back lawyer, “We’re still picking up irregular garbled transmissions that my boys tell me indicate continued combat against isolated pockets of alien resistance.”
“Have them boys localized the local locations or should we prepare and prep to get ready to commence for another general strike?”
“We’re modeling sc