The Lawyers of Mars: Three Novellas

by Pam Uphoff

  The Lawyers of Mars

  by

  Pam Uphoff

  Copyright © 2014 Pamela Uphoff

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN

  978-1-939746-83-2

  Cover Art credit

  NASA image PIA16104

  Cover design: P.A. McWhorter

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  The Lawyers of Mars

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Martian Times

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Martians In Space

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Addendum for Earthlings

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Pam Uphoff

  Excerpts from Upcoming Releases

  Of Martians and Men

  The Barton Street Gym

  Outcasts and Gods

  The Lawyers of Mars

  Chapter One

  "The jury returns a verdict of 'Not Proven', Your Honor." The jury foreman sat down with a dissatisfied huff of his neck frills.

  Xaero kept her back professionally straight, and smiled brightly at her client. Dissatisfied or not, the jury had given her the best she had dared hope for. Blozolli C'dasl puffed up and flared his spines in elation. "See? I told you they couldn't prove a thing." He gave her a hearty thump on the shoulder. She was braced for it, having spent entirely too much time in his presence over the last quarter. Handsome and strong—and a real pain in the tail. His friends, and probable Red Ever Mars co-conspirators—not that she'd ever asked—were carrying on noisily. Their celebration nearly drowned out the legal niceties from the bench, which boiled down to "get out of my courtroom". The moment the judge banged his gavel, they spilled out of the courtroom, the crowd and media following close behind.

  Now Xaero relaxed, as she shoved her paper and memory crystals back into her briefcase. The prosecutor stomped angrily up to her. "How much did that cost you?" he hissed.

  Not that she didn't understand his ire, but did he actually think he could intimidate her? "Not a rock." She showed teeth again; not a bright smile this time.

  He blinked at her lack of cringe. Did he actually think he could frighten a L'svages with a random accusation?

  "Thank you for prosecuting him as the saboteur instead of the accomplice. And your investigators? Thank them for me for their shoddy work, won't you?" She turned her back on him, and sashayed up the aisle, giving him an extra insouciant swish of her tail.

  The jury had brought in their verdict near midday, so the sunlight was still pouring down the glass covered shafts from the surface and spilling over the open plaza. Dust motes danced in the light. Probably mold spores and bacteria as well, if her sinuses were to be believed, but the city's policy of clipping all the male flowers in the public parks had dropped the pollen counts dramatically.

  She ran her claws up her coppery scaled arm, but stopped herself from actually scratching in public. Three of her grandparents had talked about the air pollution alerts that were common in their youth. The fourth grandparent had just sneered. The Old Dry Scale had had little use for the subterranean Martian culture.

  She stopped for a brief interview with the clustering newsies, emphasizing how delighted she was with the verdict, especially because she could now return to her usual patent law practice. "No, no, I wouldn't dream of changing my specialty to criminal law. Only the fact that the preponderance of the evidence was highly technical in nature qualified me to take this case." And I'd like to have a frank talk with my senior partners about why they took this case at all, let alone dumped it on me! "Of course the demonstrable fact that Mr. C'dasl didn't sabotage the South Polar Pipeline helped as well."

  Not to mention that if the Prosecutor hadn't gone overboard and very nearly accused him of every REM crime in the last decade, there wouldn't have been the carnival atmosphere. The jury had been irritated by security precautions, and lectures about who they could and couldn't talk to. When the main charge was blown to sand the first day of the defense, the jury had been a lot more skeptical about the rest of the prosecution's case than they should have been.

  Blozolli broke off his own interview and approached, trailing even more newsies. Xaero hoped he'd been watching his mouth and remembering everything she'd told him. "And I owe it all to my lawyer, the Honorable Xaero L'svages, who understood the nature of the evidence and its total misapplication."

  Xaero smiled in relief.

  One of the "Big Name" newsies from Imperial City jumped in with a question. "Miss L'svages, what is your personal opinion of the Restoration Project?"

  "While I am aware of the potential problems and drawbacks, I am generally in favor of it," she replied.

  "Why, then, did you defend the lizard accused of sabotaging it?"

  "Accusation and actuality are two different things. While a breathable surface atmosphere would be nice, our civil rights are much more important. Of course, the misapplication of science in the courtroom was something that had to be addressed." Not that she hadn't emphasized every weakness in the theories, and then exaggerated the recent changes in cavern flora to explain the pollen counts from . . . Enough, she told herself. The trial is over.

  The next questions were for Blozolli, but one of his friends had the sense to minimize the big tan lizard's live microphone time and, with some elbow nudging hints, they all migrated streetward and into a cart. Some of the more enterprising newsies tried to follow, but most of them scattered, presumably back to their various offices for formal news presentations.

  Xaero breathed a sigh of relief as she walked across the open plaza and thought wistfully about skipping the office and heading straight for the surface. She needed to get the taste of this trial out of her mouth. Badly. The caverns were getting to her nerves as well as her sinuses.

  The last thing she needed was office politics, but she wasn't going to be able to dodge them. Some of the senior partners were massively irritated that the hopeless mess they'd dumped on a junior partner had turned into a high profile case. They were going to be even less happy about her winning it, although they'd have to grin and swallow it in front of THE senior partner, their mutual however-many-greats great grandfather. But Selmi Molt L'svages of L'svages, L'svages, L'svages, L'svages, L'svages and L'svages would have been watching the live vid and, if she knew the old lizard, was probably haranguing his ultra competent secretary to instantly produce a celebratory party. Which she would.

  So it was no surprise that Xaero was flagged down and pointed toward the main conference room as soon as she stepped out of the elevator.

  Xaero opened the doors to the room, and rocked back on her tail when the combined light, noise and heat hit her. The stench of a particularly good and ancient year of intoxicant was particularly predominant. The older partners might resent that she'd won the case, but they certainly weren't going to stint on the celebration of what that win meant for
the law firm. She spied her great grandfather holding court on a central dais, but was waylaid by Raelphy, one of her more obnoxious nephews, before she could get much further than the doorway.

  “Hey, Auntie, have a trifold!” He sniggered and passed her a cookie still warm from the oven. The trifolds generally contained wise sayings of the Elder Gods. According to legend. But a brief time in a warm oven softened them enough to substitute amusing variations. Or keep an appropriate one—they were often quite amusing, unaltered.

  She cracked the cookie open and extracted the slip of paper. “I wonder how many language changes these wise sayings have gone through. ‘First we must kiss all the Lawyers’ is rather unlikely, don’t you think? Probably the original was ‘First we must pay all the Lawyers.'”

  “Pay?” Raelphy looked indignant at his joke falling flat.

  “You’ll see, when you have clients, Raelphy.” One point for Aunt Xaero. With an amused flick of her spines, she handed the cookie detritus back to her nephew, who was temporarily at a loss for words, and made her way to the edges of the crowd surrounding her great grandfather. The crowd parted in a show of respect. She knew at least half didn't mean it and that only irritated her more. "Great grandfather." She dipped her muzzle in respect.

  The old trumale dipped his in return. "Great granddaughter, I congratulate you on your successful verdict. Even though your specialty lies elsewhere, you have shown that the next generation of L'svages can hold their own and win against the Imperial Prosecutors. I am proud of you." He spoke loudly enough for the entire room to hear. He blinked his old eyes, brighter and more alert than she'd seen him in years. "I can hardly wait to see the outcome of your next assignment."

  Xaero's heart sank to the pit of her gizzard. Not another case so soon? Great grandfather was mostly retired, but occasionally he took the opportunity to play the patriarch by handing out both wet and sandy assignments.

  "Our new client is from the Southern Hemisphere Union, near the ice cap. Seems he got into a little bit of trouble just as his diplomatic immunity ran out. Of course," Great grandfather paused for effect, "he says he is innocent." The entire room roared with laughter at the firm's stock joke.

  She wasn't a criminal defense expert, and the firm generally shied away from criminal cases. What was going on? She wondered which one of her uncles-of-some-degree had conned Great grandfather into giving her the case. And why. She was the youngest partner. Did they expect her to fail to the detriment of this client? Were they out to get the client or her?

  Sbozoi, one of Great grandfather's multitude of grandsons and right-claw in the firm, the third of the L'svages in the firm's name, sidled up to Xaero's side. "You'll find the memo on your desk Firstday morning. The police are being quite spiny about this one and won't lay charges until they've used their entire five days for 'investigations'. So, go ahead and enjoy the party—you'll have a few days to recuperate." He smiled. "But don't forget to stop in tomorrow to fill out your time sheets so we can finalize the bill." He faked a turn-away-and-recollection, "Oh, I nearly forgot. My son could use a little experience with our top litigator." His particular stress made sure that Xaero knew he was according her no respect or honor with this designation. "Grandfather has been kind enough to assign him as your associate on this new case."

  Xaero almost dropped the drink someone had pressed into her hand. She was already getting bad vibes from this case. Now, on top of everything, she was going to have to babysit Raelphy as she slogged her way through it. But to show her dismay would have serious repercussions.

  "Certainly, Cousin, I'm always glad to hand out the family knowledge to the younger members." Xaero smiled at his reaction to being called Cousin instead of Uncle. Equal instead of superior. Apparently she'd just become their favorite dumping ground for nasty brats along with nasty cases. She had to be polite about it, but sand if she was going to be subservient.

  As she turned away from Sobozoi, she spotted Coureti D'flages approaching her out of the corner of her eye and started her breathing exercises. She clamped down on her emotions, and thought, I am in control, I do not respond. And when she was grabbed and her cheek flare nipped, she did not flush or show even the slightest flash of breeding response.

  Everyone was watching expectantly, however varied their desired outcome.

  "Such a pity." She heard someone whisper behind her, "The Great General's only grandchild a pseudo."

  Great General? Ha! Now that he was safely dead they could praise him. While he was alive, they'd barely mentioned him. Xaero's mother had been a child of his elder years, a surprise to everyone concerned. The old Dry Scale had lived to a fantastic age, enough to be an influence on his grand daughter. "Don't ever let these Cave Dwellers know you're a breeder," he'd told her. "They will stifle you. Be like a Dry Scale, a surface dweller, control yourself and outdo all others." He'd been the last surviving Dry Scale, captured in the Battle of Saltside Cavern, and released a generation later when no one could think of any danger he could possibly present.

  "Hey, Coureti, how is that biotech merger coming?" she asked, in her best business voice, as if she hadn't even noticed his blatantly sexual nip.

  A bit taken aback, the handsome brass and copper striped trumale mumbled "Fine, just fine." Which made her wonder if he was neck deep in a big mess. He really ought to go back and take at least some basic biology classes. He sounds like he's close to getting in over his head with an old client's acquisition of one of the top biotech research firms in Mars. Would it be deemed too aggressive if I muscled in on the patent work? I got a biology degree before law school, and I've kept up with the literature. I'd do a better job than Coureti . . .

  "Oh! Xaero!"

  Oh no. Great aunt Petua.

  Xaero was suddenly swamped by fluff, bows, ribbons and a huge soft torso, all reeking of the most expensive scent in the universe. "You were marvelous! You were so controlled! You made me so proud!" Petua backed off enough that she could be seen rather than experienced. "I could never manage to be so competent. Goodness, all those brains in a Dry Scale. But of course, you got them from our side of the family. And don't worry, lots of fems are late developers, nothing wrong with that at all!" Trust Aunt Petua to so thoroughly scramble praise and insult into one incoherent package. At least she'd thoroughly killed any lingering tendency to flash.

  "Xaero, dahling!" the Fourth L'svages' wife drawled, "I watched it all on vid, and I must say you were very smart to wear that copper scarf. The way it kept slipping and nearly exposing your neck frills to the world was brilliant! What have you been taking?"

  Ha! So Danca thought Xaero was doing hormones, and no doubt thought she was one of the minority of pseudos that were into, well, kinky "stuff." Kinky only for Pseudos, of course. Fat chance of that, even if she hadn't matured!

  "I'm not at all sure a more austere approach wouldn't have done better." Apri, or rather Apru Ders L'svages was getting very good at mimicking wise and solemn looks. Unfortunately his apparent maturation came from a bottle, rather than from true age acquired transition to a state of elder wisdom. Equally unfortunately, the majority of the public couldn't tell the difference. With his good looks enhanced by the growth of tertiary "wisdom spines" he was considered a sure winner in the next election. Xaero wasn't at all sure having her great uncle for a councilor would be an improvement over having him for a senior partner. "But then I suppose, being young and foolish, that an appeal to the baser side of Martian nature is all that occurred to you."

  "Now, father!" His daughter patted him on the arm, "I'm sure you could have gotten a verdict of innocent on all counts, but 'not proven' is quite good, considering Xaero's age and lack of experience." Pasticha was probably the prettiest of their generation of L'svages, with her delicate features, two toned gold-on-gold striping and long luxurious head spines. She was also a lawyer, an associate rather than a partner of the firm, a trufem who had never settled down to marry. A decade ago Xaero had looked up to her, but now that Xaero was competition ra
ther than fan, the Encouraging Aunt facade was fading fast. Xaero hadn't decided yet whether the budding jealousy was based on looks or ability, nor whether she should do anything one way or the other. It suddenly occurred to her that even without the burden of husband and children, Apru and Danca's daughter had never been allowed to take the hard cases. She would never have been allowed to be alone with someone like Blozolli. As a presumed pseudofem, Xaero had freedom Pasticha would never be allowed by her family.

  No wonder she has come to hate me.

  Pasticha collected her parents and they continued on as a group, headed for the dais to pay their respects to Great grandfather.

  Xaero caught a snatch of the conversation behind her, gossip about the latest rumors from the Imperial Court, specifically the Crown Prince . . .

  "I heard that the last time Imperial Security broke up one of his S&M sessions with his pet pseudos, two trufems had snuck in, making a play for him!"

  "Well, if he was all tied up, it might actually work." The fems fell all over themselves giggling. Apparently the staff had been hitting the punch early.

  Not that they didn't have a point. Since only two of the Empress's many children were breeders, and Princess Ferita had produced only pseudos so far, it was up to Crown Prince Fensteri to carry on the line. Which he seemed to have no interest in doing.

  " . . . and he's so handsome, too!" sighed one of the clerks. Well, she had that right. Shiny black and bronze scales, tall, muscular . . . Umm, time to stop thinking about that or her cheek flares would be flushing as red as the two clerks'. They were both cousins of some distant degree. There was no justice in a world where a stuffy patriarchal over-controlling family full of lawyers produced so many breeders and the Royals so few.

  Looking around, she saw she'd lost everyone's attention, and slid quietly out of the room.