THEY WALKED TOGETHER, Frederic and Claudette Pendarvis, down
through the roof garden toward the landing stage, and, as she
always did, Claudette stopped and cut a flower and fastened it in
his lapel.
“Will the Fuzzies be in court?” she asked.
“Oh, they’ll have to be. I don’t know about
this morning; it’ll be mostly formalities.” He made a
grimace that was half a frown and half a smile. “I really
don’t know whether to consider them as witnesses or as
exhibits, and I hope I’m not called on to rule on that, at
least at the start. Either way, Coombes or Brannhard would accuse
me of showing prejudice.”
“I want to see them. I’ve seen them on screen, but I
want to see them for real.”
“You haven’t been in one of my courts for a long
time, Claudette. If I find that they’ll be brought in today,
I’ll call you. I’ll even abuse my position to the
extent of arranging for you to see them outside the courtroom.
Would you like that?”
She’d love it. Claudette had a limitless capacity for
delight in things like that. They kissed good-bye, and he went to
where his driver was holding open the door of the aircar and got
in. At a thousand feet he looked back; she was still standing at
the edge of the roof garden, looking up.
He’d have to find out whether it would be safe for her to
come in. Max Fane was worried about the possibility of trouble, and
so was Ian Ferguson, and neither was given to timorous imaginings.
As the car began to descend toward the Central Courts buildings, he
saw that there were guards on the roof, and they weren’t just
carrying pistols—he caught the glint of rifle barrels, and the
twinkle of steel helmets. Then, as he came in, he saw that their
uniforms were a lighter shade of blue that the constabulary wore.
Ankle boots and red-striped trousers; Space Marines in dress blues.
So Ian Ferguson had pushed the button. It occurred to him that
Claudette might be safer here than at home.
A sergeant and a couple of men came up as he got out; the
sergeant touched the beak of his helmet in the nearest thing to a
salute a Marine ever gave anybody in civilian clothes.
“Judge Pendarvis? Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, sergeant. Just why are Federation Marines
guarding the court building?”
“Standing by, sir. Orders of Commodore Napier.
You’ll find that Marshal Fane’s people are in charge
below-decks, but Marine Captain Casagra and Navy Captain
Greibenfeld are waiting to see you in your office.”
As he started toward the elevators, a big Zarathustra Company
car was coming in. The sergeant turned quickly, beckoned a couple
of his men and went toward it on the double. He wondered what
Leslie Coombes would think about those Marines.
The two officers in his private chambers were both wearing
sidearms. So, also, was Marshal Fane, who was with them. They all
rose to greet him, sitting down when he was at his desk. He asked
the same question he had of the sergeant above.
“Well, Constabulary Colonel Ferguson called Commodore
Napier last evening and requested armed assistance, your
Honor,” the officer in Space Navy black said. “He
suspected, he said, that the city had been infiltrated. In that,
your Honor, he was perfectly correct; beginning Wednesday
afternoon, Marine Captain Casagra, here, on Commodore
Napier’s orders, began landing a Marine infiltration force,
preparatory to taking over the Residency. That’s been
accomplished now; Commodore Napier is there, and both Resident
General Emmert and Attorney General O’Brien are under arrest,
on a variety of malfeasance and corrupt-practice charges, but that
won’t come into your Honor’s court. They’ll be
sent back to Terra for trial.”
“Then Commodore Napier’s taken over the civil
government?”
“Well, say he’s assumed control of it, pending the
outcome of this trial. We want to know whether the present
administration’s legal or not.”
“Then you won’t interfere with the trial
itself?”
“That depends, your Honor. We are certainly going to
participate.” He looked at this watch. “You won’t
convene court for another hour? Then perhaps I’ll have time
to explain.”
MAX FANE MET them at the courtroom door with a pleasant
greeting. Then he saw Baby Fuzzy on Jack’s shoulder and
looked dubious.
“I don’t know about him, Jack. I don’t think
he’ll be allowed in the courtroom.”
“Nonsense!” Gus Brannhard told him. “I admit,
he is both a minor child and an incompetent aborigine, but he is
the only surviving member of the family of the decedent Jane Doe
alias Goldilocks, and as such has an indisputable right to be
present.”
“Well, just as long as you keep him from sitting on
people’s heads. Gus, you and Jack sit over there; Ben, you
and Gerd find seats in the witness section.”
It would be half an hour till court would convene, but already
the spectators’ seats were full, and so was the balcony. The
jury box, on the left of the bench, was occupied by a number of
officers in Navy black and Marine blue. Since there would be no
jury, they had apparently appropriated it for themselves. The press
box was jammed and bristling with equipment.
Baby was looking up interestedly at the big screen behind the
judges’ seats; while transmitting the court scene to the
public, it also showed, like a nonreversing mirror, the same view
to the spectators. Baby wasn’t long in identifying himself in
it, and waved his arms excitedly. At that moment, there was a
bustle at the door by which they had entered, and Leslie Coombes
came in, followed by Ernst Mallin and a couple of his assistants,
Ruth Ortheris, Juan Jimenez and Leonard Kellogg. The last time he
had seen Kellogg had been at George Lunt’s complaint court,
his face bandaged and his feet in a pair of borrowed moccasins
because his shoes, stained with the blood of Goldilocks, had been
impounded as evidence.
Coombes glanced toward the table where he and Brannhard were
sitting, caught sight of Baby waving to himself in the big screen
and turned to Fane with an indignant protest. Fane shook his head.
Coombes protested again, and drew another headshake. Finally he
shrugged and led Kellogg to the table reserved for them, where they
sat down.
Once Pendarvis and his two associates—a short, round-faced man
on his right, a tall, slender man with white hair and a black
mustache on his left—were seated, the trial got underway briskly.
The charges were read, and then Brannhard, as the Kellogg
prosecutor, addressed the court “being known as Goldilocks . . . sapient member of a sapient race . . . willful and deliberate act
of the said Leonard Kellogg . . . brutal and unprovoked
murder.” He backed away, sat on the edge of the table and
picked up Baby Fuzzy, fondling him while Leslie Coombes accused
Jack Holloway of brutally assaulting the said Leonard Kellogg and
ruthlessly shooting down Kurt Borch.
“Well, gentlemen, I believe we can now begin hearing the
witnesses,” the Chief Justice said. “Who will start
prosecuting whom?”
Gus handed Baby to Jack and went forward; Coombes stepped up
beside him.
“Your Honor, this entire trial hinges upon the question of
whether a member of the species Fuzzy fuzzy holloway zarathustra
is or is not a sapient being,” Gus said. “However,
before any attempt is made to determine this question, we should
first establish, by testimony, just what happened at
Holloway’s Camp, in Cold Creek Valley, on the afternoon of
June 19, Atomic Era Six Fifty-Four, and once this is established,
we can then proceed to the question of whether or not the said
Goldilocks was truly a sapient being.”
“I agree,” Coombes said equably. “Most of
these witnesses will have to be recalled to the stand later, but in
general I think Mr. Brannhard’s suggestion will be economical
of the court’s time.”
“Will Mr. Coombes agree to stipulate that any evidence
tending to prove or disprove the sapience of Fuzzies in general be
accepted as proving or disproving the sapience of the being
referred to as Goldilocks?”
Coombes looked that over carefully, decided that it wasn’t
booby-trapped and agreed. A deputy marshal went over to the witness
stand, made some adjustments and snapped on a switch at the back of
the chair. Immediately the two-foot globe in a standard behind it
lit, a clear blue. George Lunt’s name was called; the
lieutenant took his seat and the bright helmet was let down over
his head and the electrodes attached.
The globe stayed a calm, untroubled blue while he stated his
name and rank. Then he waited while Coombes and Brannhard
conferred. Finally Brannhard took a silver half-sol piece from his
pocket, shook it between cupped palms and slapped it onto his
wrist. Coombes said, “Heads,” and Brannhard uncovered
it, bowed slightly and stepped back.
“Now, Lieutenant Lunt,” Coombes began, “when
you arrived at the temporary camp across the run from
Holloway’s camp, what did you find there?”
“Two dead people,” Lunt said. “A Terran human,
who had been shot three times through the chest, and a Fuzzy, who
had been kicked or trampled to death.”
“Your Honors!” Coombes expostulated, “I must
ask that the witness be requested to rephrase his answer, and that
the answer he has just made be stricken from the record. The
witness, under the circumstances, has no right to refer to the
Fuzzies as people.”
“Your Honors,” Brannhard caught it up, “Mr.
Coombes’s objection is no less prejudicial. He has no right,
under the circumstances, to deny that the Fuzzies be referred to as
‘people.’ This is tantamount to insisting that the
witness speak of them as nonsapient animals.”
It went on like that for five minutes. Jack began doodling on a
notepad. Baby picked up a pencil with both hands and began making
doodles too. They looked rather like the knots he had been learning
to tie. Finally, the court intervened and told Lunt to tell, in his
own words, why he went to Holloway’s camp, what he found
there, what he was told and what he did. There was some argument
between Coombes and Brannhard, at one point, about the difference
between hearsay and res gestae. When he was through, Coombes said,
“No questions.”
“Lieutenant, you placed Leonard Kellogg under arrest on a
complaint of homicide by Jack Holloway. I take it that you
considered this complaint a valid one?”
“Yes, sir. I believed that Leonard Kellogg had killed a
sapient being. Only sapient beings bury their dead.”
Ahmed Khadra testified. The two troopers who had come in the
other car, and the men who had brought the investigative equipment
and done the photographing at the scene testified. Brannhard called
Ruth Ortheris to the stand, and, after some futile objections by
Coombes, she was allowed to tell her own story of the killing of
Goldilocks, the beating of Kellogg and the shooting of Borch. When
she had finished, the Chief Justice rapped with his gavel.
“I believe that this testimony is sufficient to establish
the fact that the being referred to as Jane Doe alias Goldilocks
was in fact kicked and trampled to death by the defendant Leonard
Kellogg, and that the Terran human known as Kurt Borch was in fact
shot to death by Jack Holloway. This being the case, we may now
consider whether or not either or both of these killings constitute
murder within the meaning of the law. It is now eleven forty. We
will adjourn for lunch, and court will reconvene at fourteen
hundred. There are a number of things, including some alterations
to the courtroom, which must be done before the afternoon session
. . . Yes, Mr. Brannhard?”
“Your Honors, there is only one member of the species
Fuzzy fuzzy holloway zarathustra at present in court, an immature
and hence nonrepresentative individual.” He picked up Baby
and exhibited him. “If we are to take up the question of the
sapience of this species, or race, would it not be well to send for
the Fuzzies now saying at the Hotel Mallory and have them on
hand?”
“Well, Mr. Brannhard,” Pendarvis said, “we
will certainly want Fuzzies in court, but let me suggest that we
wait until after court reconvenes before sending for them. It may
be that they will not be needed this afternoon. Anything
else?” He tapped with his gavel. “Then court is
adjourned until fourteen hundred.”
SOME ALTERATIONS IN the courtroom had been a conservative way of
putting it. Four rows of spectators’ seats had been
abolished, and the dividing rail moved back. The witness chair,
originally at the side of the bench, had been moved to the dividing
rail and now faced the bench, and a large number of tables had been
brought in and arranged in an arc with the witness chair in the
middle of it. Everybody at the tables could face the judges, and
also see everybody else by looking into the big screen. A witness
on the chair could also see the veridicator in the same way.
Gus Brannhard looked around, when he entered with Jack, and
swore softly.
“No wonder they gave us two hours for lunch. I wonder what
the idea is.” Then he gave a short laugh. “Look at
Coombes; he doesn’t like it a bit.”
A deputy with a seating diagram came up to them.
“Mr. Brannhard, you and Mr. Holloway over here, at this
table.” He pointed to one a little apart from the others, at
the extreme right facing the bench. “And Dr. van Riebeek, and
Dr. Rainsford over here, please.”
The court crier’s loud-speaker, overhead, gave two sharp
whistles and began:
“Now hear this! Now hear this! Court will convene in five
minutes—”
Brannhard’s head jerked around instantly, and Jack’s
eyes followed his. The court crier was a Space Navy petty
officer.
“What the devil is this?” Brannhard demanded.
“A Navy court-martial?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering, Mr.
Brannhard,” the deputy said. “They’ve taken over
the whole planet, you know.”
“Maybe we’re in luck, Gus. I’ve always heard
that if you’re innocent you’re better off before a
court-martial and if you’re guilty you’re better off in
a civil court.”
He saw Leslie Coombes and Leonard Kellogg being seated at a
similar table at the opposite side of the bench. Apparently Coombes
had also heard that. The seating arrangements at the other tables
seemed a little odd too. Gerd van Riebeek was next to Ruth
Ortheris, and Ernst Mallin was next to Ben Rainsford, with Juan
Jimenez on his other side. Gus was looking up at the balcony.
“I’ll bet every lawyer on the planet’s taking
this in,” he said. “Oh-oh! See the white-haired lady in
the blue dress, Jack? That’s the Chief Justice’s wife.
This is the first time she’s been in court for
years.”
“Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye! Rise for the Honorable
Court!”
Somebody must have given the petty officer a quick briefing on
courtroom phraseology. He stood up, holding Baby Fuzzy, while the
three judges filed in and took their seats. As soon as they sat
down, the Chief Justice rapped briskly with his gavel.
“In order to forestall a spate of objections, I want to
say that these present arrangements are temporary, and so will be
the procedures which will be followed. We are not, at the moment,
trying Jack Holloway or Leonard Kellogg. For the rest of this day,
and, I fear, for a good many days to come, we will be concerned
exclusively with determining the level of mentation of Fuzzy fuzzy
holloway zarathustra.
“For this purpose, we are temporarily abandoning some of
the traditional trial procedures. We will call witnesses;
statements of purported fact will be made under veridication as
usual. We will also have a general discussion, in which all of you
at these tables will be free to participate. I and my associates
will preside; as we can’t have everybody shouting
disputations at once, anyone wishing to speak will have to be
recognized. At least, I hope we will be able to conduct the
discussion in this manner.
“You will all have noticed the presence of a number of
officers from Xerxes Naval Base, and I suppose you have all heard
that Commodore Napier has assumed control of the civil government.
Captain Greibenfeld, will you please rise and be seen? He is here
participating as amicus curiae, and I have given him the right to
question witnesses and to delegate that right to any of his
officers he may deem proper. Mr. Coombes and Mr. Brannhard may also
delegate that right as they see fit.”
Coombes was on his feet at once. “Your Honors, if we are
now to discuss the sapience question, I would suggest that the
first item on our order of business be the presentation of some
acceptable definition of sapience. I should, for my part, very much
like to know what it is that the Kellogg prosecution and the
Holloway defense mean when they use that term.”
That’s it. They want us to define it. Gerd van Riebeek was
looking chagrined; Ernst Mallin was smirking. Gus Brannhard,
however, was pleased.
“Jack, they haven’t any more damn definition than we
do,” he whispered.
Captain Greibenfeld, who had seated himself after rising at the
request of the court, was on his feet again.
“Your Honors, during the past month we at Xerxes Naval
Base have been working on exactly that problem. We have a very
considerable interest in having the classification of this planet
established, and we also feel that this may not be the last time a
question of disputable sapience may arise. I believe, your Honors,
that we have approached such a definition. However, before we begin
discussing it, I would like the court’s permission to present
a demonstration which may be of help in understanding the problems
involved.”
“Captain Greibenfeld has already discussed this
demonstration with me, and it has my approval. Will you please
proceed, Captain,” the Chief Justice said.
Greibenfeld nodded, and a deputy marshal opened the door on the
right of the bench. Two spacemen came in, carrying cartons. One
went up to the bench: the other started around in front of the
tables, distributing small battery-powered hearing aids.
“Please put them in your ears and turn them on,” he
said. “Thank you.”
Baby Fuzzy tried to get Jack’s. He put the plug in his ear
and switched on the power. Instantly he began hearing a number of
small sounds he had never heard before, and Baby was saying to him:
“He-inta sa-wa’aka; igga sa geeda?”
“Muhgawd, Gus, he’s talking!”
“Yes, I hear him; what do you suppose—?”
“Ultrasonic; God, why didn’t we think of that long
ago?”
He snapped off the hearing aid. Baby Fuzzy was saying,
“Yeeek.” When he turned it on again, Baby was saying,
“Kukk-ina za zeeva.”
“No, Baby, Pappy Jack doesn’t understand.
We’ll have to be awfully patient, and learn each
other’s language.”
“Pa-pee Jaaak!” Baby cried. “Ba-bee za-hinga;
Pa pee Jaak za zag ga he-izza!”
“That yeeking is just the audible edge of their speech;
bet we have a lot of transsonic tones in our voices,
too.”
“Well, he can hear what we say; he’s picked up his
name and yours.”
“Mr. Brannhard, Mr. Holloway,” Judge Pendarvis was
saying, “may we please have your attention? Now, have you all
your earplugs in and turned on? Very well; carry on,
Captain.”
This time, an ensign went out and came back with a crowd of
enlisted men, who had six Fuzzies with them. They set them down in
the open space between the bench and the arc of tables and backed
away. The Fuzzies drew together into a clump and stared around
them, and he stared, unbelievingly, at them. They couldn’t
be; they didn’t exist any more. But they were Little Fuzzy
and Mamma Fuzzy and Mike and Mitzi and Ko-Ko and Cinderella. Baby
whooped something and leaped from the table, and Mamma came
stumbling to meet him, clasping him in her arms. Then they all saw
him and began clamoring: “Pa-pee Jaaak! Pa-pee Jaaak!
“
He wasn’t aware of rising and leaving the table; the next
thing he realized, he was sitting on the floor, his family mobbing
him and hugging him, gabbling with joy. Dimly he heard the gavel
hammering, and the voice of Chief Justice Pendarvis: “Court
is recessed for ten minutes!” By that time, Gus was with him;
gathering the family up, they carried them over to their table.
They stumbled and staggered when they moved, and that frightened
him for a moment. Then he realized that they weren’t sick or
drugged. They’d just been in low-G for a while and
hadn’t become reaccustomed to normal weight. Now he knew why
he hadn’t been able to find any trace of them. He noticed
that each of them was wearing a little shoulder bag—a Marine Corps
first-aid pouch, slung from a webbing strap. Why the devil
hadn’t he thought of making them something like that? He
touched one and commented, trying to pitch his voice as nearly like
theirs as he could. They all babbled in reply and began opening the
little bags and showing him what they had in them—little knives and
miniature tools and bits of bright or colored junk they had picked
up. Little Fuzzy produced a tiny pipe with a hardwood bowl, and
little pouch of tobacco from which he filled it. Finally, he got
out a small lighter.
“Your Honors!” Gus shouted, “I know court is
recessed, but please observe what Little Fuzzy is doing.”
While they watched, Little Fuzzy snapped the lighter and held
the flame to the pipe bowl, puffing.
Across on the other side, Leslie Coombes swallowed once or twice
and closed his eyes.
When Pendarvis rapped for attention and declared court
reconvened, he said:
“Ladies and gentlemen, you have all seen and heard this
demostration of Captain Greibenfeld’s. You have heard these
Fuzzies uttering what certainly sounds like meaningful speech, and
you have seen one of them light a pipe and smoke. Incidentally,
while smoking in court is discountenanced, we are going to make an
exception, during this trial, in favor of Fuzzies. Other people
will please not feel themselves discriminated against.”
That brought Coombes to his feet with a rush. He started around
the table and then remembered that under the new rules he
didn’t have to.
“Your Honors, I objected strongly to the use of that term
by a witness this morning; I must object even more emphatically to
its employment from the bench. I have indeed heard these Fuzzies
make sounds which might be mistaken for words, but I must deny that
this is true speech. As to this trick of using a lighter, I will
undertake, in not more than thirty days, to teach it to any Terran
primate or Freyan kholph.”
Greibenfeld rose immediately. “Your Honors, in the past
thirty days, while these Fuzzies were at Xerxes Naval Base, we have
compiled a vocabulary of a hundred-odd Fuzzy words, for all of
which definite meanings have been established, and a great many
more for which we have not as yet learned the meanings. We even
have the beginning of a Fuzzy grammar. As for this so-called trick
of using a lighter, Little Fuzzy—we didn’t know his name then
and referred to him as M2—learned that for himself, by observation.
We didn’t teach him to smoke a pipe either; he knew that
before we had anything to do with him.”
Jack rose while Greibenfeld was still speaking. As soon as the
Space Navy captain had finished, he said:
“Captain Greibenfeld, I want to thank you and your people
for taking care of the Fuzzies, and I’m very glad you learned
how to hear what they’re saying, and thank you for all the
nice things you gave them, but why couldn’t you have let me
know they were safe? I haven’t been very happy the last
month, you know.”
“I know that, Mr. Holloway, and if it’s any comfort
to you, we were all very sorry for you, but we could not take the
risk of compromising our secret intelligence agent in the
Company’s Science Center, the one who smuggled the Fuzzies
out the morning after their escape.” He looked quickly across
in front of the bench to the table at the other end of the arc.
Kellogg was sitting with his face in his hands, oblivious to
everything that was going on, but Leslie Coombes’s
well-disciplined face had broken, briefly, into a look of
consternation. “By the time you and Mr. Brannhard and Marshal
Fane arrived with an order of the court for the Fuzzies’
recovery, they had already been taken from Science Center and were
on a Navy landing craft for Xerxes. We couldn’t do anything
without exposing our agent. That, I am glad to say, is no longer a
consideration.”
“Well, Captain Greibenfeld,” the Chief Justice said,
“I assume you mean to introduce further testimony about the
observations and studies made by your people on Xerxes. For the
record, we’d like to have it established that they were
actually taken there, and when, and how.”
“Yes, your Honor. If you will call the fourth name on the
list I gave you, and allow me to do the questioning, we can
establish that.”
The Chief Justice picked up a paper. “Lieutenant j.g. Ruth
Ortheris, TFN Reserve,” he called out.
This time, Jack Holloway looked up into the big screen, in which
he could see everybody. Gerd van Riebeek, who had been trying to
ignore the existence of the woman beside him, had turned to stare
at her in amazement. Coombes’s face was ghastly for an
instant, then froze into corpselike immobility: Ernst Mallin was
dithering in incredulous anger; beside him Ben Rainsford was
grinning in just as incredulous delight. As Ruth came around in
front of the bench, the Fuzzies gave her an ovation; they
remembered and liked her. Gus Brannhard was gripping his arm and
saying: “Oh, brother! This is it, Jack; it’s all over
but shooting the cripples!”
Lieutenant j.g. Ortheris, under a calmly blue globe, testified
to coming to Zarathustra as a Federation Naval Reserve officer
recalled to duty with Intelligence, and taking a position with the
Company.
“As a regularly qualified doctor of psychology, I worked
under Dr. Mallin in the scientific division, and also with the
school department and the juvenile court. At the same time I was
regularly transmitting reports to Commander Aelborg, the Chief of
Intelligence on Xerxes. The object of this surveillance was to make
sure that the Zarathustra Company was not violating the provisions
of their charter or Federation law. Until the middle of last month,
I had nothing to report beyond some rather irregular financial
transactions involving Resident General Emmert. Then, on the
evening of June fifteen—”
That was when Ben had transmitted the tape to Juan Jimenez; she
described how it had come to her attention.
“As soon as possible, I transmitted a copy of this tape to
Commander Aelborg. The next night, I called Xerxes from the screen
on Dr. van Riebeek’s boat and reported what I’d learned
about the Fuzzies. I was then informed that Leonard Kellogg had
gotten hold of copy of the Holloway-Rainsford tape and had alerted
Victor Grego; that Kellogg and Ernst Mallin were being sent to Beta
Continent with instructions to prevent publication of any report
claiming sapience for the Fuzzies and to fabricate evidence to
support an accusation that Dr. Rainsford and Mr. Holloway were
perpetrating a deliberate scientific hoax.”
“Here, I’ll have to object to this, your
Honor,” Coombes said, rising. “This is nothing but
hearsay.”
“This is part of a Navy Intelligence situation estimate
given to Lieutenant Ortheris, based on reports we had received from
other agents,” Captain Greibenfeld said. “She
isn’t the only one we have on Zarathustra, you know. Mr.
Coombes, if I hear another word of objection to this
officer’s testimony from you, I am going to ask Mr. Brannhard
to subpoena Victor Grego and question him under veridication about
it.”
“Mr. Brannhard will be more than happy to oblige,
Commander,” Gus said loudly and distinctly.
Coombes sat down hastily.
“Well, Lieutenant Ortheris, this is most interesting, but
at the moment, what we’re trying to establish is how these
Fuzzies got to Xerxes Naval Base,” the chubby associate
justice, Ruiz, put in.
“I’ll try to get them there as quickly as possible,
your Honor,” she said. “On the night of Friday the
twenty-second, the Fuzzies were taken from Mr. Holloway and brought
into Mallorysport; they were turned over by Mohammed Ali
O’Brien to Juan Jimenez, who took them to Science Center and
put them in cages in a room back of his office. They immediately
escaped. I found them, the next morning, and was able to get them
out of the building, and to turn them over to Commander Aelborg,
who had come down from Xerxes to take personal charge of the Fuzzy
operation. I will not testify as to how I was able to do this. I am
at present and was then an officer of the Terran Federation Armed
Forces; the courts have no power to compel a Federation officer to
give testimony involving breach of military security. I was
informed, through my contact in Mallorysport, from time to time, of
the progress of the work of measuring the Fuzzies’ mental
level there; I was able to pass on suggestions occasionally. Any
time any of these suggestions was based on ideas originating with
Dr. Mallin, I was careful to give him full credit.”
Mallin looked singularly unappreciative.
Brannhard got up. “Before this witness is excused,
I’d like to ask if she knows anything about four other
Fuzzies, the ones found by Jack Holloway up Ferny Creek on
Friday.”
“Why, yes; they’re my Fuzzies, and I was worried
about them. Their names are Complex, Syndrome, Id and
Superego.”
“Your Fuzzies, Lieutenant?”
“Well, I took care of them and worked with them; Juan
Jimenez and some Company hunters caught them over on Beta
Continent. They were kept at a farm center about five hundred miles
north of here, which had been vacated for the purpose. I spent all
my time with them, and Dr. Mallin was with them most of the time.
Then, on Monday night, Mr. Coombes came and got them.”
“Mr. Coombes, did you say?” Gus Brannhard asked.
“Mr. Leslie Coombes, the Company attorney. He said they
were needed in Mallorysport. It wasn’t till the next day that
I found out what they were needed for. They’d been turned
loose in front of that Fuzzy hunt, in the hope that they would be
killed.”
She looked across at Coombes; if looks were bullets, he’d
have been deader than Kurt Borch.
“Why would they sacrifice four Fuzzies merely to support a
story that was bound to come apart anyhow?” Brannhard
asked.
“That was no sacrifice. They had to get rid of those
Fuzzies, and they were afraid to kill them themselves for fear
they’d be charged with murder along with Leonard Kellogg.
Everybody, from Ernst Mallin down, who had anything to do with them
was convinced of their sapience. For one thing, we’d been
using those hearing aids ourselves; I suggested it, after getting
the idea from Xerxes. Ask Dr. Mallin about it, under verdication.
Ask him about the multiordinal polyencephalograph experiments,
too.”
“Well, we have the Holloway Fuzzies placed on
Xerxes,” the Chief Justice said. “We can hear the
testimony of the people who worked with them there at any time.
Now, I want to hear from Dr. Ernst Mallin.”
Coombes was on his feet again. “Your Honors, before any
further testimony is heard, I would like to confer with my client
privately.”
“I fail to see any reason why we should interrupt
proceedings for that purpose, Mr. Coombes. You can confer as much
as you wish with your client after this session, and I can assure
you that you will be called upon to do nothing on his behalf until
then.” He gave a light tap with his gavel and then said:
“Dr. Ernst Mallin will please take the stand.”
THEY WALKED TOGETHER, Frederic and Claudette Pendarvis, down
through the roof garden toward the landing stage, and, as she
always did, Claudette stopped and cut a flower and fastened it in
his lapel.
“Will the Fuzzies be in court?” she asked.
“Oh, they’ll have to be. I don’t know about
this morning; it’ll be mostly formalities.” He made a
grimace that was half a frown and half a smile. “I really
don’t know whether to consider them as witnesses or as
exhibits, and I hope I’m not called on to rule on that, at
least at the start. Either way, Coombes or Brannhard would accuse
me of showing prejudice.”
“I want to see them. I’ve seen them on screen, but I
want to see them for real.”
“You haven’t been in one of my courts for a long
time, Claudette. If I find that they’ll be brought in today,
I’ll call you. I’ll even abuse my position to the
extent of arranging for you to see them outside the courtroom.
Would you like that?”
She’d love it. Claudette had a limitless capacity for
delight in things like that. They kissed good-bye, and he went to
where his driver was holding open the door of the aircar and got
in. At a thousand feet he looked back; she was still standing at
the edge of the roof garden, looking up.
He’d have to find out whether it would be safe for her to
come in. Max Fane was worried about the possibility of trouble, and
so was Ian Ferguson, and neither was given to timorous imaginings.
As the car began to descend toward the Central Courts buildings, he
saw that there were guards on the roof, and they weren’t just
carrying pistols—he caught the glint of rifle barrels, and the
twinkle of steel helmets. Then, as he came in, he saw that their
uniforms were a lighter shade of blue that the constabulary wore.
Ankle boots and red-striped trousers; Space Marines in dress blues.
So Ian Ferguson had pushed the button. It occurred to him that
Claudette might be safer here than at home.
A sergeant and a couple of men came up as he got out; the
sergeant touched the beak of his helmet in the nearest thing to a
salute a Marine ever gave anybody in civilian clothes.
“Judge Pendarvis? Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, sergeant. Just why are Federation Marines
guarding the court building?”
“Standing by, sir. Orders of Commodore Napier.
You’ll find that Marshal Fane’s people are in charge
below-decks, but Marine Captain Casagra and Navy Captain
Greibenfeld are waiting to see you in your office.”
As he started toward the elevators, a big Zarathustra Company
car was coming in. The sergeant turned quickly, beckoned a couple
of his men and went toward it on the double. He wondered what
Leslie Coombes would think about those Marines.
The two officers in his private chambers were both wearing
sidearms. So, also, was Marshal Fane, who was with them. They all
rose to greet him, sitting down when he was at his desk. He asked
the same question he had of the sergeant above.
“Well, Constabulary Colonel Ferguson called Commodore
Napier last evening and requested armed assistance, your
Honor,” the officer in Space Navy black said. “He
suspected, he said, that the city had been infiltrated. In that,
your Honor, he was perfectly correct; beginning Wednesday
afternoon, Marine Captain Casagra, here, on Commodore
Napier’s orders, began landing a Marine infiltration force,
preparatory to taking over the Residency. That’s been
accomplished now; Commodore Napier is there, and both Resident
General Emmert and Attorney General O’Brien are under arrest,
on a variety of malfeasance and corrupt-practice charges, but that
won’t come into your Honor’s court. They’ll be
sent back to Terra for trial.”
“Then Commodore Napier’s taken over the civil
government?”
“Well, say he’s assumed control of it, pending the
outcome of this trial. We want to know whether the present
administration’s legal or not.”
“Then you won’t interfere with the trial
itself?”
“That depends, your Honor. We are certainly going to
participate.” He looked at this watch. “You won’t
convene court for another hour? Then perhaps I’ll have time
to explain.”
MAX FANE MET them at the courtroom door with a pleasant
greeting. Then he saw Baby Fuzzy on Jack’s shoulder and
looked dubious.
“I don’t know about him, Jack. I don’t think
he’ll be allowed in the courtroom.”
“Nonsense!” Gus Brannhard told him. “I admit,
he is both a minor child and an incompetent aborigine, but he is
the only surviving member of the family of the decedent Jane Doe
alias Goldilocks, and as such has an indisputable right to be
present.”
“Well, just as long as you keep him from sitting on
people’s heads. Gus, you and Jack sit over there; Ben, you
and Gerd find seats in the witness section.”
It would be half an hour till court would convene, but already
the spectators’ seats were full, and so was the balcony. The
jury box, on the left of the bench, was occupied by a number of
officers in Navy black and Marine blue. Since there would be no
jury, they had apparently appropriated it for themselves. The press
box was jammed and bristling with equipment.
Baby was looking up interestedly at the big screen behind the
judges’ seats; while transmitting the court scene to the
public, it also showed, like a nonreversing mirror, the same view
to the spectators. Baby wasn’t long in identifying himself in
it, and waved his arms excitedly. At that moment, there was a
bustle at the door by which they had entered, and Leslie Coombes
came in, followed by Ernst Mallin and a couple of his assistants,
Ruth Ortheris, Juan Jimenez and Leonard Kellogg. The last time he
had seen Kellogg had been at George Lunt’s complaint court,
his face bandaged and his feet in a pair of borrowed moccasins
because his shoes, stained with the blood of Goldilocks, had been
impounded as evidence.
Coombes glanced toward the table where he and Brannhard were
sitting, caught sight of Baby waving to himself in the big screen
and turned to Fane with an indignant protest. Fane shook his head.
Coombes protested again, and drew another headshake. Finally he
shrugged and led Kellogg to the table reserved for them, where they
sat down.
Once Pendarvis and his two associates—a short, round-faced man
on his right, a tall, slender man with white hair and a black
mustache on his left—were seated, the trial got underway briskly.
The charges were read, and then Brannhard, as the Kellogg
prosecutor, addressed the court “being known as Goldilocks . . . sapient member of a sapient race . . . willful and deliberate act
of the said Leonard Kellogg . . . brutal and unprovoked
murder.” He backed away, sat on the edge of the table and
picked up Baby Fuzzy, fondling him while Leslie Coombes accused
Jack Holloway of brutally assaulting the said Leonard Kellogg and
ruthlessly shooting down Kurt Borch.
“Well, gentlemen, I believe we can now begin hearing the
witnesses,” the Chief Justice said. “Who will start
prosecuting whom?”
Gus handed Baby to Jack and went forward; Coombes stepped up
beside him.
“Your Honor, this entire trial hinges upon the question of
whether a member of the species Fuzzy fuzzy holloway zarathustra
is or is not a sapient being,” Gus said. “However,
before any attempt is made to determine this question, we should
first establish, by testimony, just what happened at
Holloway’s Camp, in Cold Creek Valley, on the afternoon of
June 19, Atomic Era Six Fifty-Four, and once this is established,
we can then proceed to the question of whether or not the said
Goldilocks was truly a sapient being.”
“I agree,” Coombes said equably. “Most of
these witnesses will have to be recalled to the stand later, but in
general I think Mr. Brannhard’s suggestion will be economical
of the court’s time.”
“Will Mr. Coombes agree to stipulate that any evidence
tending to prove or disprove the sapience of Fuzzies in general be
accepted as proving or disproving the sapience of the being
referred to as Goldilocks?”
Coombes looked that over carefully, decided that it wasn’t
booby-trapped and agreed. A deputy marshal went over to the witness
stand, made some adjustments and snapped on a switch at the back of
the chair. Immediately the two-foot globe in a standard behind it
lit, a clear blue. George Lunt’s name was called; the
lieutenant took his seat and the bright helmet was let down over
his head and the electrodes attached.
The globe stayed a calm, untroubled blue while he stated his
name and rank. Then he waited while Coombes and Brannhard
conferred. Finally Brannhard took a silver half-sol piece from his
pocket, shook it between cupped palms and slapped it onto his
wrist. Coombes said, “Heads,” and Brannhard uncovered
it, bowed slightly and stepped back.
“Now, Lieutenant Lunt,” Coombes began, “when
you arrived at the temporary camp across the run from
Holloway’s camp, what did you find there?”
“Two dead people,” Lunt said. “A Terran human,
who had been shot three times through the chest, and a Fuzzy, who
had been kicked or trampled to death.”
“Your Honors!” Coombes expostulated, “I must
ask that the witness be requested to rephrase his answer, and that
the answer he has just made be stricken from the record. The
witness, under the circumstances, has no right to refer to the
Fuzzies as people.”
“Your Honors,” Brannhard caught it up, “Mr.
Coombes’s objection is no less prejudicial. He has no right,
under the circumstances, to deny that the Fuzzies be referred to as
‘people.’ This is tantamount to insisting that the
witness speak of them as nonsapient animals.”
It went on like that for five minutes. Jack began doodling on a
notepad. Baby picked up a pencil with both hands and began making
doodles too. They looked rather like the knots he had been learning
to tie. Finally, the court intervened and told Lunt to tell, in his
own words, why he went to Holloway’s camp, what he found
there, what he was told and what he did. There was some argument
between Coombes and Brannhard, at one point, about the difference
between hearsay and res gestae. When he was through, Coombes said,
“No questions.”
“Lieutenant, you placed Leonard Kellogg under arrest on a
complaint of homicide by Jack Holloway. I take it that you
considered this complaint a valid one?”
“Yes, sir. I believed that Leonard Kellogg had killed a
sapient being. Only sapient beings bury their dead.”
Ahmed Khadra testified. The two troopers who had come in the
other car, and the men who had brought the investigative equipment
and done the photographing at the scene testified. Brannhard called
Ruth Ortheris to the stand, and, after some futile objections by
Coombes, she was allowed to tell her own story of the killing of
Goldilocks, the beating of Kellogg and the shooting of Borch. When
she had finished, the Chief Justice rapped with his gavel.
“I believe that this testimony is sufficient to establish
the fact that the being referred to as Jane Doe alias Goldilocks
was in fact kicked and trampled to death by the defendant Leonard
Kellogg, and that the Terran human known as Kurt Borch was in fact
shot to death by Jack Holloway. This being the case, we may now
consider whether or not either or both of these killings constitute
murder within the meaning of the law. It is now eleven forty. We
will adjourn for lunch, and court will reconvene at fourteen
hundred. There are a number of things, including some alterations
to the courtroom, which must be done before the afternoon session
. . . Yes, Mr. Brannhard?”
“Your Honors, there is only one member of the species
Fuzzy fuzzy holloway zarathustra at present in court, an immature
and hence nonrepresentative individual.” He picked up Baby
and exhibited him. “If we are to take up the question of the
sapience of this species, or race, would it not be well to send for
the Fuzzies now saying at the Hotel Mallory and have them on
hand?”
“Well, Mr. Brannhard,” Pendarvis said, “we
will certainly want Fuzzies in court, but let me suggest that we
wait until after court reconvenes before sending for them. It may
be that they will not be needed this afternoon. Anything
else?” He tapped with his gavel. “Then court is
adjourned until fourteen hundred.”
SOME ALTERATIONS IN the courtroom had been a conservative way of
putting it. Four rows of spectators’ seats had been
abolished, and the dividing rail moved back. The witness chair,
originally at the side of the bench, had been moved to the dividing
rail and now faced the bench, and a large number of tables had been
brought in and arranged in an arc with the witness chair in the
middle of it. Everybody at the tables could face the judges, and
also see everybody else by looking into the big screen. A witness
on the chair could also see the veridicator in the same way.
Gus Brannhard looked around, when he entered with Jack, and
swore softly.
“No wonder they gave us two hours for lunch. I wonder what
the idea is.” Then he gave a short laugh. “Look at
Coombes; he doesn’t like it a bit.”
A deputy with a seating diagram came up to them.
“Mr. Brannhard, you and Mr. Holloway over here, at this
table.” He pointed to one a little apart from the others, at
the extreme right facing the bench. “And Dr. van Riebeek, and
Dr. Rainsford over here, please.”
The court crier’s loud-speaker, overhead, gave two sharp
whistles and began:
“Now hear this! Now hear this! Court will convene in five
minutes—”
Brannhard’s head jerked around instantly, and Jack’s
eyes followed his. The court crier was a Space Navy petty
officer.
“What the devil is this?” Brannhard demanded.
“A Navy court-martial?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering, Mr.
Brannhard,” the deputy said. “They’ve taken over
the whole planet, you know.”
“Maybe we’re in luck, Gus. I’ve always heard
that if you’re innocent you’re better off before a
court-martial and if you’re guilty you’re better off in
a civil court.”
He saw Leslie Coombes and Leonard Kellogg being seated at a
similar table at the opposite side of the bench. Apparently Coombes
had also heard that. The seating arrangements at the other tables
seemed a little odd too. Gerd van Riebeek was next to Ruth
Ortheris, and Ernst Mallin was next to Ben Rainsford, with Juan
Jimenez on his other side. Gus was looking up at the balcony.
“I’ll bet every lawyer on the planet’s taking
this in,” he said. “Oh-oh! See the white-haired lady in
the blue dress, Jack? That’s the Chief Justice’s wife.
This is the first time she’s been in court for
years.”
“Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye! Rise for the Honorable
Court!”
Somebody must have given the petty officer a quick briefing on
courtroom phraseology. He stood up, holding Baby Fuzzy, while the
three judges filed in and took their seats. As soon as they sat
down, the Chief Justice rapped briskly with his gavel.
“In order to forestall a spate of objections, I want to
say that these present arrangements are temporary, and so will be
the procedures which will be followed. We are not, at the moment,
trying Jack Holloway or Leonard Kellogg. For the rest of this day,
and, I fear, for a good many days to come, we will be concerned
exclusively with determining the level of mentation of Fuzzy fuzzy
holloway zarathustra.
“For this purpose, we are temporarily abandoning some of
the traditional trial procedures. We will call witnesses;
statements of purported fact will be made under veridication as
usual. We will also have a general discussion, in which all of you
at these tables will be free to participate. I and my associates
will preside; as we can’t have everybody shouting
disputations at once, anyone wishing to speak will have to be
recognized. At least, I hope we will be able to conduct the
discussion in this manner.
“You will all have noticed the presence of a number of
officers from Xerxes Naval Base, and I suppose you have all heard
that Commodore Napier has assumed control of the civil government.
Captain Greibenfeld, will you please rise and be seen? He is here
participating as amicus curiae, and I have given him the right to
question witnesses and to delegate that right to any of his
officers he may deem proper. Mr. Coombes and Mr. Brannhard may also
delegate that right as they see fit.”
Coombes was on his feet at once. “Your Honors, if we are
now to discuss the sapience question, I would suggest that the
first item on our order of business be the presentation of some
acceptable definition of sapience. I should, for my part, very much
like to know what it is that the Kellogg prosecution and the
Holloway defense mean when they use that term.”
That’s it. They want us to define it. Gerd van Riebeek was
looking chagrined; Ernst Mallin was smirking. Gus Brannhard,
however, was pleased.
“Jack, they haven’t any more damn definition than we
do,” he whispered.
Captain Greibenfeld, who had seated himself after rising at the
request of the court, was on his feet again.
“Your Honors, during the past month we at Xerxes Naval
Base have been working on exactly that problem. We have a very
considerable interest in having the classification of this planet
established, and we also feel that this may not be the last time a
question of disputable sapience may arise. I believe, your Honors,
that we have approached such a definition. However, before we begin
discussing it, I would like the court’s permission to present
a demonstration which may be of help in understanding the problems
involved.”
“Captain Greibenfeld has already discussed this
demonstration with me, and it has my approval. Will you please
proceed, Captain,” the Chief Justice said.
Greibenfeld nodded, and a deputy marshal opened the door on the
right of the bench. Two spacemen came in, carrying cartons. One
went up to the bench: the other started around in front of the
tables, distributing small battery-powered hearing aids.
“Please put them in your ears and turn them on,” he
said. “Thank you.”
Baby Fuzzy tried to get Jack’s. He put the plug in his ear
and switched on the power. Instantly he began hearing a number of
small sounds he had never heard before, and Baby was saying to him:
“He-inta sa-wa’aka; igga sa geeda?”
“Muhgawd, Gus, he’s talking!”
“Yes, I hear him; what do you suppose—?”
“Ultrasonic; God, why didn’t we think of that long
ago?”
He snapped off the hearing aid. Baby Fuzzy was saying,
“Yeeek.” When he turned it on again, Baby was saying,
“Kukk-ina za zeeva.”
“No, Baby, Pappy Jack doesn’t understand.
We’ll have to be awfully patient, and learn each
other’s language.”
“Pa-pee Jaaak!” Baby cried. “Ba-bee za-hinga;
Pa pee Jaak za zag ga he-izza!”
“That yeeking is just the audible edge of their speech;
bet we have a lot of transsonic tones in our voices,
too.”
“Well, he can hear what we say; he’s picked up his
name and yours.”
“Mr. Brannhard, Mr. Holloway,” Judge Pendarvis was
saying, “may we please have your attention? Now, have you all
your earplugs in and turned on? Very well; carry on,
Captain.”
This time, an ensign went out and came back with a crowd of
enlisted men, who had six Fuzzies with them. They set them down in
the open space between the bench and the arc of tables and backed
away. The Fuzzies drew together into a clump and stared around
them, and he stared, unbelievingly, at them. They couldn’t
be; they didn’t exist any more. But they were Little Fuzzy
and Mamma Fuzzy and Mike and Mitzi and Ko-Ko and Cinderella. Baby
whooped something and leaped from the table, and Mamma came
stumbling to meet him, clasping him in her arms. Then they all saw
him and began clamoring: “Pa-pee Jaaak! Pa-pee Jaaak!
“
He wasn’t aware of rising and leaving the table; the next
thing he realized, he was sitting on the floor, his family mobbing
him and hugging him, gabbling with joy. Dimly he heard the gavel
hammering, and the voice of Chief Justice Pendarvis: “Court
is recessed for ten minutes!” By that time, Gus was with him;
gathering the family up, they carried them over to their table.
They stumbled and staggered when they moved, and that frightened
him for a moment. Then he realized that they weren’t sick or
drugged. They’d just been in low-G for a while and
hadn’t become reaccustomed to normal weight. Now he knew why
he hadn’t been able to find any trace of them. He noticed
that each of them was wearing a little shoulder bag—a Marine Corps
first-aid pouch, slung from a webbing strap. Why the devil
hadn’t he thought of making them something like that? He
touched one and commented, trying to pitch his voice as nearly like
theirs as he could. They all babbled in reply and began opening the
little bags and showing him what they had in them—little knives and
miniature tools and bits of bright or colored junk they had picked
up. Little Fuzzy produced a tiny pipe with a hardwood bowl, and
little pouch of tobacco from which he filled it. Finally, he got
out a small lighter.
“Your Honors!” Gus shouted, “I know court is
recessed, but please observe what Little Fuzzy is doing.”
While they watched, Little Fuzzy snapped the lighter and held
the flame to the pipe bowl, puffing.
Across on the other side, Leslie Coombes swallowed once or twice
and closed his eyes.
When Pendarvis rapped for attention and declared court
reconvened, he said:
“Ladies and gentlemen, you have all seen and heard this
demostration of Captain Greibenfeld’s. You have heard these
Fuzzies uttering what certainly sounds like meaningful speech, and
you have seen one of them light a pipe and smoke. Incidentally,
while smoking in court is discountenanced, we are going to make an
exception, during this trial, in favor of Fuzzies. Other people
will please not feel themselves discriminated against.”
That brought Coombes to his feet with a rush. He started around
the table and then remembered that under the new rules he
didn’t have to.
“Your Honors, I objected strongly to the use of that term
by a witness this morning; I must object even more emphatically to
its employment from the bench. I have indeed heard these Fuzzies
make sounds which might be mistaken for words, but I must deny that
this is true speech. As to this trick of using a lighter, I will
undertake, in not more than thirty days, to teach it to any Terran
primate or Freyan kholph.”
Greibenfeld rose immediately. “Your Honors, in the past
thirty days, while these Fuzzies were at Xerxes Naval Base, we have
compiled a vocabulary of a hundred-odd Fuzzy words, for all of
which definite meanings have been established, and a great many
more for which we have not as yet learned the meanings. We even
have the beginning of a Fuzzy grammar. As for this so-called trick
of using a lighter, Little Fuzzy—we didn’t know his name then
and referred to him as M2—learned that for himself, by observation.
We didn’t teach him to smoke a pipe either; he knew that
before we had anything to do with him.”
Jack rose while Greibenfeld was still speaking. As soon as the
Space Navy captain had finished, he said:
“Captain Greibenfeld, I want to thank you and your people
for taking care of the Fuzzies, and I’m very glad you learned
how to hear what they’re saying, and thank you for all the
nice things you gave them, but why couldn’t you have let me
know they were safe? I haven’t been very happy the last
month, you know.”
“I know that, Mr. Holloway, and if it’s any comfort
to you, we were all very sorry for you, but we could not take the
risk of compromising our secret intelligence agent in the
Company’s Science Center, the one who smuggled the Fuzzies
out the morning after their escape.” He looked quickly across
in front of the bench to the table at the other end of the arc.
Kellogg was sitting with his face in his hands, oblivious to
everything that was going on, but Leslie Coombes’s
well-disciplined face had broken, briefly, into a look of
consternation. “By the time you and Mr. Brannhard and Marshal
Fane arrived with an order of the court for the Fuzzies’
recovery, they had already been taken from Science Center and were
on a Navy landing craft for Xerxes. We couldn’t do anything
without exposing our agent. That, I am glad to say, is no longer a
consideration.”
“Well, Captain Greibenfeld,” the Chief Justice said,
“I assume you mean to introduce further testimony about the
observations and studies made by your people on Xerxes. For the
record, we’d like to have it established that they were
actually taken there, and when, and how.”
“Yes, your Honor. If you will call the fourth name on the
list I gave you, and allow me to do the questioning, we can
establish that.”
The Chief Justice picked up a paper. “Lieutenant j.g. Ruth
Ortheris, TFN Reserve,” he called out.
This time, Jack Holloway looked up into the big screen, in which
he could see everybody. Gerd van Riebeek, who had been trying to
ignore the existence of the woman beside him, had turned to stare
at her in amazement. Coombes’s face was ghastly for an
instant, then froze into corpselike immobility: Ernst Mallin was
dithering in incredulous anger; beside him Ben Rainsford was
grinning in just as incredulous delight. As Ruth came around in
front of the bench, the Fuzzies gave her an ovation; they
remembered and liked her. Gus Brannhard was gripping his arm and
saying: “Oh, brother! This is it, Jack; it’s all over
but shooting the cripples!”
Lieutenant j.g. Ortheris, under a calmly blue globe, testified
to coming to Zarathustra as a Federation Naval Reserve officer
recalled to duty with Intelligence, and taking a position with the
Company.
“As a regularly qualified doctor of psychology, I worked
under Dr. Mallin in the scientific division, and also with the
school department and the juvenile court. At the same time I was
regularly transmitting reports to Commander Aelborg, the Chief of
Intelligence on Xerxes. The object of this surveillance was to make
sure that the Zarathustra Company was not violating the provisions
of their charter or Federation law. Until the middle of last month,
I had nothing to report beyond some rather irregular financial
transactions involving Resident General Emmert. Then, on the
evening of June fifteen—”
That was when Ben had transmitted the tape to Juan Jimenez; she
described how it had come to her attention.
“As soon as possible, I transmitted a copy of this tape to
Commander Aelborg. The next night, I called Xerxes from the screen
on Dr. van Riebeek’s boat and reported what I’d learned
about the Fuzzies. I was then informed that Leonard Kellogg had
gotten hold of copy of the Holloway-Rainsford tape and had alerted
Victor Grego; that Kellogg and Ernst Mallin were being sent to Beta
Continent with instructions to prevent publication of any report
claiming sapience for the Fuzzies and to fabricate evidence to
support an accusation that Dr. Rainsford and Mr. Holloway were
perpetrating a deliberate scientific hoax.”
“Here, I’ll have to object to this, your
Honor,” Coombes said, rising. “This is nothing but
hearsay.”
“This is part of a Navy Intelligence situation estimate
given to Lieutenant Ortheris, based on reports we had received from
other agents,” Captain Greibenfeld said. “She
isn’t the only one we have on Zarathustra, you know. Mr.
Coombes, if I hear another word of objection to this
officer’s testimony from you, I am going to ask Mr. Brannhard
to subpoena Victor Grego and question him under veridication about
it.”
“Mr. Brannhard will be more than happy to oblige,
Commander,” Gus said loudly and distinctly.
Coombes sat down hastily.
“Well, Lieutenant Ortheris, this is most interesting, but
at the moment, what we’re trying to establish is how these
Fuzzies got to Xerxes Naval Base,” the chubby associate
justice, Ruiz, put in.
“I’ll try to get them there as quickly as possible,
your Honor,” she said. “On the night of Friday the
twenty-second, the Fuzzies were taken from Mr. Holloway and brought
into Mallorysport; they were turned over by Mohammed Ali
O’Brien to Juan Jimenez, who took them to Science Center and
put them in cages in a room back of his office. They immediately
escaped. I found them, the next morning, and was able to get them
out of the building, and to turn them over to Commander Aelborg,
who had come down from Xerxes to take personal charge of the Fuzzy
operation. I will not testify as to how I was able to do this. I am
at present and was then an officer of the Terran Federation Armed
Forces; the courts have no power to compel a Federation officer to
give testimony involving breach of military security. I was
informed, through my contact in Mallorysport, from time to time, of
the progress of the work of measuring the Fuzzies’ mental
level there; I was able to pass on suggestions occasionally. Any
time any of these suggestions was based on ideas originating with
Dr. Mallin, I was careful to give him full credit.”
Mallin looked singularly unappreciative.
Brannhard got up. “Before this witness is excused,
I’d like to ask if she knows anything about four other
Fuzzies, the ones found by Jack Holloway up Ferny Creek on
Friday.”
“Why, yes; they’re my Fuzzies, and I was worried
about them. Their names are Complex, Syndrome, Id and
Superego.”
“Your Fuzzies, Lieutenant?”
“Well, I took care of them and worked with them; Juan
Jimenez and some Company hunters caught them over on Beta
Continent. They were kept at a farm center about five hundred miles
north of here, which had been vacated for the purpose. I spent all
my time with them, and Dr. Mallin was with them most of the time.
Then, on Monday night, Mr. Coombes came and got them.”
“Mr. Coombes, did you say?” Gus Brannhard asked.
“Mr. Leslie Coombes, the Company attorney. He said they
were needed in Mallorysport. It wasn’t till the next day that
I found out what they were needed for. They’d been turned
loose in front of that Fuzzy hunt, in the hope that they would be
killed.”
She looked across at Coombes; if looks were bullets, he’d
have been deader than Kurt Borch.
“Why would they sacrifice four Fuzzies merely to support a
story that was bound to come apart anyhow?” Brannhard
asked.
“That was no sacrifice. They had to get rid of those
Fuzzies, and they were afraid to kill them themselves for fear
they’d be charged with murder along with Leonard Kellogg.
Everybody, from Ernst Mallin down, who had anything to do with them
was convinced of their sapience. For one thing, we’d been
using those hearing aids ourselves; I suggested it, after getting
the idea from Xerxes. Ask Dr. Mallin about it, under verdication.
Ask him about the multiordinal polyencephalograph experiments,
too.”
“Well, we have the Holloway Fuzzies placed on
Xerxes,” the Chief Justice said. “We can hear the
testimony of the people who worked with them there at any time.
Now, I want to hear from Dr. Ernst Mallin.”
Coombes was on his feet again. “Your Honors, before any
further testimony is heard, I would like to confer with my client
privately.”
“I fail to see any reason why we should interrupt
proceedings for that purpose, Mr. Coombes. You can confer as much
as you wish with your client after this session, and I can assure
you that you will be called upon to do nothing on his behalf until
then.” He gave a light tap with his gavel and then said:
“Dr. Ernst Mallin will please take the stand.”