The Lawyers of Mars: Three Novellas

by Pam Uphoff

  Sbozoi showed, just as she was getting ready to leave. "I've decided you are right to handle this matter yourself." He said. "But it's a lot of work and you are going to need some help. As it happens, my son Raelphy is again between assignments, so I'll send him to you in the morning."

  She tried hard to look like she was reluctant and realized that he was essentially planting a spy. As soon as his back was turned, the grin broke free. Of course Raelphe was probably back to being a total brat, but she could deal with that. She wondered if he'd ever told anyone about being tied up in a Pseudo's S&M Club. Probably not. Heck, maybe Xaero hadn't realized?

  Her mother was moping and trying to instill some guilt in her. She imagined herself carrying a shiny copper shield and bouncing the guilt right back at her, and started planning dinner. "What do you think? Cheeper on a stick? Or do you feel like a casserole tonight?"

  "Xaery!"

  "On a stick it is." Xaero started cutting. "What do you think, dewberry marinade or something salty?"

  "Xaero."

  "Yes, Mom?"

  "I'll do the marinade. Larger chunks of meat, please."

  Kessi came down and got underfoot for awhile, before being sent off to watch the news. While the sticks were cooking Xaero and Xella joined him.

  " . . . no need to deplete the polar caps while the Empire carelessly endangers the entire planet."

  The vid cut away from the lizard talking to the pretty reporter. "So that's where the Union stands on water from the south polar ice cap, and it looks like negotiations will have to start over from scratch after last tenth's near miss with disaster."

  Kessi grumbled about faithless allies, and Xaero wondered if L'azlod had returned to his home, and whether he had had anything to do with this reversal.

  Dinner was a mostly quiet affair, with her father still stiff with her, and her mother's conversational gambits falling flat. They both agreed on one thing though.

  "Get rid of that pretty publisher. He's not good enough for you. Probably be broke before year's end." Her Dad growled.

  "Listen to your father, dear, he only has your best interests at heart."

  She retreated to her room early, catching up with her comm messages, which were coming in fast, as the Biotech Industry scrambled to cover their collective tails. Unfortunately she was not going to have the luxury of enough free time to see Trev for a tenth or so. The parents would no doubt be delighted.

  ***

  Raelphe was once again waiting for her, sullenly this time.

  "Don't sweat the internal politics, Raelphe," she told him. "Tell him what he asks for, and you can be as open with me as you want, or don't want to be. But do not, under any circumstances, throw any sand at these companies. Our relationship is a bit adversarial at the moment, so we have to show them that we're getting the best deal we can for them, and keeping the Justice Department out of it as well. If we can polish this off without acrimony, we can pick up some big clients. These companies will keep you in luxury your whole life, but they'll have to trust you to represent them and work for their good, not your own and not your Dad's. You screw your reputation, you'll starve."

  He gawped at her, not having expected either welcome or honesty.

  She put him immediately to work, opening hard copy files on each company. Marfo happily found him an office around the corner, and lots and lots of filing cabinets.

  Xaero took pity on him, and took him off for a long lunch, and filled him in on how she was planning on settling the situation, and how she was going to get there. Being just as bright in this time as the former, he sopped it up.

  He set to filing the comm messages in a good mood, grinning occasionally at the language.

  ***

  Her mother had dinner in the oven and the loot from a shopping spree spread out over her room when she got home.

  "I just couldn't resist these new fabrics!" she pulled Xaero upstairs and waved at the collection. "Try on this peach outfit. Oh yes, it's perfect with your scales!"

  Xaero eyed it with horror. Wouldn't be caught dead in court in this number! But to keep the peace, she tried it on. She really preferred dark colors and dramatic, clean lines, not these frilly details . . .

  "Oh, there's the door!" her mother chirped. "Could you get it? I'd better check dinner."

  Xaero hoped Trev had come by and swung the door open as her mother bustled up behind her. "Oh, you're here already! Excellent, come in! Xaero, do get Coureti a drink."

  Xaero gritted her teeth. Coureti was not quite the last lizard on Mars she wanted to entertain, but he was close to the front of the pack. She hoped like sand her mother was just now setting her up, and that he was not a long time admirer.

  He followed her to the wine rack. "It's been years since I've seen you doing anything except hiding behind your business suits, I'd forgotten how lovely you are."

  Whew! Not an established lover. She happily straight armed him when he tried to get too close and cheerfully set out to make both him and her mother regret ever thinking of this dinner.

  ***

  A tenth later she had two full time clerks, Miss C'ank ruling the cave, more money than she'd thought possible and five biotech companies that thought she could walk on the surface. She refrained from mentioning that she hadn't had time to, lately.

  Her parents had contrived to introduce her to eight "suitable" males, evenly split between pseudo and tru. Fortunately she'd been working late so much that moving out was superfluous. As soon as she slowed down a bit she'd start looking for a place. She thought wistfully about Trev's unfortunately temporary apartment, and wondered where he lived in Imperial City and . . . wondered.

  The embossed invitation from Double Moons Publishers took her by surprise. "A reception in celebration of their first publications?"

  "Who are these guys, Xaero?" Raelphe asked from the doorway, holding one of his own. He'd dropped the Aunt somewhere along the line; probably about the time he'd rented his own apartment.

  "I met the Senior Editor at the Charity Ball. If you've heard anyone carrying on about my poor taste in males, he's the reason."

  "Oh." He grinned. "In that case, I'll definitely be going."

  Xaero thought of Silver and Gold and managed a straight face. Under different circumstances, they probably wouldn't take to each other. Nice of Trev to try, though.

  Chapter Nine

  The first person she saw as she walked through the doors was Elissy. She'd obviously received the attentions of a professional stylist and looked sophisticated and at least five years older.

  "Ah, Miss Xaero, you made it." Trev was formally attired and mouthwateringly gorgeous.

  They stared hungrily at each other for a long moment. Then Trev broke away. "Do come and see our first Tenth's product. I think you'll be impressed."

  She was. They'd not only produced 'Really and Truly Male' magazine, they had 'The Hunt for the Herfit' in full glossy color. "Vee had a complete backup of everything on him, including all the pictures we both recorded." Trev whispered. The large books were prominently displayed on a pile of stones, the primitive look somewhat spoiled by the cuteness of the toy animals around it. They had both of Elissy's books (on a frilly, lacy pastel colored table) and eight more by various people. "I got so bored, I wrote one of them." He had a good turn out, guaranteed by the free booze and food.

  She looked around for Raelphe and found him talking to Gold and Silver, his head swiveling back and forth between them and a glazed 'gone to heaven' expression on his face. "I couldn't resist." Trev smirked. "They're so lonely, trying to earn their pardons and thinking I'm a Bad Guy Who Will Kill Them If I Find Out."

  "I can't believe you found so many books to publish, so quickly." She said, looking them over. "'Wilderness Trek' by Trevi D'herio. Oh dear."

  "It has running gun fights, a herfit attack, a sand storm and of course the brave DMS officer who rescues the kidnapped heiress." He raised his spines at her snort. "Really, you should read it." He glanced over his s
houlder. "Let me introduce you to my cave of writers."

  "You know Miss Elisso of course," Elissy looked panicked to see a relative. Xaero winked at her. "And this is Miss Orto N'dreah, she's going to make Science Fiction readers sit up and take notice." Xaero shook hands with the stout older lizard.

  "And Merta R'abat; historical fiction and mysteries in a historical setting, we've printed two of hers."

  The thin older lizard studied her and smiled. "However did you do that marvelous warpaint for the Herfit book, dear?"

  "Eeps! No one was supposed to recognize me! Ordinary markers. Putting it on is easy," she smiled back. "Getting it off took a lot of soap, very hot water and scrubbing."

  "The surface must seem like another planet." Orto put in.

  "Not really," she said. "Perhaps because I have less need of breathing equipment. I mean, I climb to the surface, and walk out and keep going. For me, it's seamless, without transition."

  "The book implied you could stay out for several splits at a time?" Merta inquired.

  "From a pressurized environment to directly outdoors, if I'm not exerting myself, four splits." She said. "Running or climbing, one or two."

  "Goodness. It sounds dangerous to experiment!"

  "Not really, I lose ground very slowly, and so long as I'm within a split of shelter or a mask, I'm fine. Although the closer I push it, the longer the recovery. I think it must be a lot like a long distance runner who can go into anaerobic metabolism for a brief spurt, but has to metabolize the waste products afterwards, with much cramping and pain."

  "I hadn't thought about it like that." Both of the older ladies looked thoughtful. No doubt something anaerobic was going to befall their heroes or heroines shortly. Elissy had wandered off and was gazing soulfully at Vee, who was surrounded by a pack of males, all of them giving the majority of their attention to the race cart that was serving as a display stand.

  "How's the magazine being received?" she asked Trev.

  "Great." He said. "I thought the idea was insane, but everyone is snapping it up. We had to arrange an extra printer to keep up with demand."

  "My dear fellow," Orto tapped him playfully. "That magazine is an orgy of everything males worship. How could it possibly fail?"

  "What I find amusing is that the males all want to talk about the weapons and that cart, and are very nearly ignoring the models. The poor girls must be feeling like they've broken out in spots. No one but a love sick pup paying them any attention." Merta leaned over toward Orto. "I think we should give them a pep talk, c'mon."

  The old ladies headed for the fems, and poor Raelphe.

  Xaero looked past Trev's shoulder, then ducked back behind him. "Blozolli just walked through your door."

  Trev stiffened. "Turn and walk away, I don't want him to see you. I'll get him upstairs."

  She turned away, her spines twitching at turning her back to the enemy, and walked over to the display of 'The Hunt'. She was amused to see they'd used the first sighting of the Herfit as the dust cover picture. With his head and spines down, she bet no one spotted him until they'd read about it.

  She leafed through, blushing madly at the dramatic pictures.

  "Turned out well, didn't they?" Vee rumbled. His attention was beyond her, and she resisted the impulse to look.

  "I think you've found your niche in life. They're great. I just hope my parents don't ever see them."

  He grinned. "Think how Elissy feels. All right, Trev's got him upstairs and out of sight. I wonder what he's been doing for the last tenth. We hadn't had a single sighting of him."

  "Is he the first one to show up?"

  "No, there've been a few minor REMs, and that assistant of M'kabon's. We've sent them off to 'safe houses' where we can keep an eye on them. We'll sweep them all up when we get all the big ones. L'azlod's the only one left now." Satisfaction fairly dripped from his words, but he still looked a bit anxious, glancing up the stairs.

  Bodyguard hell. His charge just went off with the number two most wanted criminal on the planet.

  Vee got pulled back into the Truly Male discussion, and she followed curiously, picking up the first issue and leafing through it. Gold and Silver were indeed prominent in both the advertisements and the articles. She wondered how much coaching had been required for them to hold the plasma rifle correctly. None needed, no doubt for lounging in the fancy cart advertisements. Or the after-shower masculine moisturizer. Or . . . Great Sand! "Real Male Cooking?" she muttered.

  "With a blow torch, dear." Orto was back.

  "More like a flame thrower, actually," corrected Merta

  Vee overheard, grinned and pointed to the empty space beyond the magazine display. "Herri will shortly give a demonstration for the party. I'll do all the talking, he'll do all the flaming; he's actually quite shy."

  "This is hysterical," Xaero muttered. "I think you've played on every male stereotype in existence."

  "Works like a charm." He sounded so cheerful she looked around and spotted Trev. Having escaped the clutches of the wanted criminal, he was apparently going to feed him, as Gold was headed upstairs with a tray of the finger food they were passing around.

  "I wonder if it will have any staying power?" she pondered. "I guess you'll find out the old fashioned way?"

  "Keep making them until people stop buying them." Vee nodded. "None of these newfangled business models for us."

  "I can't believe you've done this without a single consumers' survey!" A sharp voice cut in from behind Vee.

  Vee rolled his eyes, as a well dressed Lizard joined them. "Tumir J'kel, have you met everyone? Miss L'svages was our guide for the Hunt book."

  The handsome Lizard smirked. "You huntee lotsa Cheepers, honey?"

  "Only at the store," she smiled, showing lotsa teeth. "My law practice keeps me too busy for recreational hunting."

  He looked shocked and offended. "You're a lawyer?"

  "Yes, I'm a junior partner at L'svages, L'svages, L'svages, L'svages, L'svages, L'svages and L'svages." She told him.

  "Oh, yes, that old firm. You must be a local."

  Amused, she elevated her muzzle snootily. "Our Imperial City office is just a branch to deal with a bit of government work that can't be done remotely." She flicked her spines. "You must be a publisher yourself. What does the Imperial City establishment think of a rival House setting up out in the wilds of the second largest city on the planet?"

  "It's absurd. Can't possibly work. Imperial City defines the market, you have to be in touch to make it in today's world." He looked dismissively at the magazine in her hands. "As soon as the novelty wears off, that rag will go begging for customers."

  "In your dreams." Another trumale joined them, this one nearly as tall as Vee, he looked old, but also tough. "It's about time we had something interesting to read, and editorials that actually say out loud what all males have been saying in private for centuries."

  "Major D'remel is a retired DMS officer." Vee informed the group. "He wrote the article on the BFG 3000 plasma rifle. And is working on a novel concept for us." He looked past the rival publisher and nodded. "Here we go."

  The contraption being wheeled through the large side door was even more impressive than the pictures in the magazine. Herri positively dwarfed Vee, and his equipment was built to scale. The gas tanks were industrial welder size, not the common backyard grill size, carried at an angle in polished brass sleeves. There appeared to be an air pump, and of course, the long wand, so the food cooked faster than the chef. The very little that wasn't chromed or polished brass was matt black.

  "Herri owns a cart customization shop." Vee mentioned, then headed over to help with the apparatus. D'remel gave a reverent sigh and followed.

  "Males." Orto swung her head slowly from side to side.

  Silver and Gold appeared on cue, one pulling a table height metal rack on wheels, the other a cart full of a variety of uncooked food.

  "Is this safe inside?" Merta hissed to Orto.

  "I belie
ve I'll find out from a distance." Orto nodded decisively, headed for a position closer to the doors.

  Most of the crowd was hovering at a short distance while riveted to the scene. As Herri turned knobs on the tanks, the lights dimmed to twilight. Herri triggered his wand and the gas whooshed into the air above the crowd's heads. The closest quickly backed up an extra step.

  Vee started talking about the food he was laying out over the grill, but everyone's attention was riveted to the flame. Some primitive instinct. Xaero thought, proof that we are all descendents of pyromaniacs. The first technological breakthrough.

  Speaking of primitive instincts, she was hemmed in by warm bodies, most of them taller than her. She kept her spines flat with an effort and as the mesmerized spectators pressed forward again, she eased backwards and sideways, circling the crowd to find a good view from slightly behind the flaming Herri.

  The aroma and sound of sizzling pike steaks saturated the room. It nearly decompressed as everyone there inhaled deeply.

  Even Blozolli. Xaero saw the movement on the second floor balcony and clinched her hands, wishing for at least a stunner. Oops, this Dry Scale has lost her knives. She flicked a quick look around, not liking taking her eyes off Blozolli. Herri's contraption had a rack full of cooking implements. Unfortunately all she could see were the handles.

  " . . . Seared to seal in the juices, and flash cooked . . . " Vee was rattling on as Herri grabbed a spatula and cleared the grill with a few experienced twists of his wrist.

  Silver and Gold rolled out a cart of uncooked cheeper-on-a-sticks and Herri stepped back, flamethrower erect and throwing out light for them to work by as they quickly laid out the next victims for immolation.

  Blozolli was watching, both hands on the railing, but turned more toward the doors than the spectacle. Xaero looked for Trev, and found him in the middle of the crowd, talking to several lizards. Blozolli straightened suddenly, and reaching under his vest pulled out a sizable pistol. In the lowered lighting she couldn't identify it. She stepped up and grabbed the handle in the center of the rack. A medium sized knife, badly balanced. She flexed her wrist, to get some faint feel for it, and as Blozolli raised his gun, she whipped her arm back and threw for the center of mass.