Trial of the Century

by Lawrence M. Schoen

  The bailiffs returned, both yesterday’s pair and this morning’s duo, as I was tying my bow tie. With one in front, one behind me, and the other bailiffs to either side, they marched me down a series of bland corridors lined with an unknowable number of invisible doors, all of which may have led to cells identical to my own, or maybe none of them existed at all. It was alien architecture, after all, and maybe that uncertainty was the point of having doors you couldn’t see.

  The last corridor opened onto a huge circular chamber, easily fifty meters in diameter. The walls rose up, story after story, lined with thousands of seats. And above them, vast balconies and private skyboxes loomed. My trial was going to be a theatrical event in the round, and every seat in the house had been filled with Arconi citizenry come to see justice done. It was probably the largest venue I’d ever played, and I wasn’t planning to perform so much as a hypnotic hand levitation.

  No ceiling capped the room, and I could see a bright cerulean sky above with just a wisp of clouds. The morning sun shone down, illuminating a broad dais of dark wood that had been polished beyond brilliance, and behind it sat the Tribunal, five Arconi judges in bright green robes. A round pedestal of the same wood stood a bit in front of the dais, and a pair of triangular tables, their bases facing the dais, were set to either side of the pedestal and a bit further back. Each of the tables had several stools.

  Veltuma, my court-appointed Advocate, sat at one of the tables. My bailiffs marched me to her and shoved me onto a stool. This seemed to be Veltuma’s cue to stand and take up position on the pedestal. She faced the Justiciars then lowered her head. They didn’t look happy, but I couldn’t tell if their ire was aimed at my Advocate or at me. Then too, maybe being a sourpuss was a prerequisite to sitting on the Arconi bench.

  “Conroy of Earth,” said the Justiciar in the middle, extending a hand in my direction and pointing at me like I was Jean Valjean and he desperately wanted to shout “j’accuse!”

  I rose.

  “Advocate Veltuma has requested to be released from her role of representation. She claims you are dangerous and self-destructive in ways not otherwise indicated by the charges brought against you. Do you wish to make a statement before we respond to her request?”

  Now that I knew to look for it, nearly every sentence uttered by an Arcon was simple, honest, literal language. I wondered if the style had evolved before their truth sense, or because of it.

  I thought back on every court room proceeding I’d seen portrayed, on stage, in novels, even in old films. And then I just fell back on my experience on stage. When I spoke, my words weren’t just for the five robed Arcons on the other side of the dais, but for the audience who had come to see the Amazing Conroy, whether they’d known it or not.

  “If it please the court, there is ample precedent for the Advocate to step down. I do not wish to prejudice your honors by either confirming or denying her claims. I draw your attention to the ruling in Billig vs. the Board of Repudiation, in which the Advocate’s stated opinion that he could not prevail was sufficient grounds for dismissal rather than insist the defendant engage in a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

  Murmurs from the galleries swept over me like susurrating waves until the Justiciar who’d spoken slapped the dais. “You quote our own case law to us?”

  I shrugged and added an exaggerated display of half-raised arms and upturned palms, body language that I felt certain they’d understand. “I like to read,” I said, and sat back down on my stool.

  The judges conferred, huddling together like ballplayers on a pitch for a long moment, then breaking apart.

  “The Advocate is dismissed without prejudice.”

  Veltuma turned in place on the pedestal, and with head still bowed walked between the two tables and out the way I’d come in. After she’d left the room the Justiciar returned his attention to me. He looked like he wasn’t going to say anything until I stood up, so I stood up.

  “Under the circumstances, this body will recess until a new Advocate can be appointed, and provided opportunity to meet with the defendant—“

  “Your honor, forgive the interruption, but I waive my right to a court-appointed Advocate. I wish to represent myself.”

  This time the sound from the galleries was deafening and it took all five judges slapping their dais in unison to quiet the room.

  “Let the record show the defendant has waved appointment from the court, as is his right. And yet, Conroy of Earth, your command of our legal system appears incomplete. Only an Arcon may speak in defense of an accused criminal. Are you an Arcon?”

  It wasn’t as dumb a question as it seemed. All the Justiciars knew my history, and knew that I’d once hypnotized a Human into believing she was a buffalo dog. Loyoka himself had been present, and when he’d asked her, his truth sense confirmed her agreement. Suspecting a similar trick, I couldn’t blame them for putting the question to me.

  “I am not an Arcon,” I said. “I’m a human being, born and raised on Earth.” The murmurs from the galleries rose again. They lessened at a single slap but didn’t fall off entirely. That seemed good enough for the Justiciar to continue. He gestured for me to sit down again.

  “Let the record also show that the defendant is not an Arcon and thus may not defend himself before this court. Under the circumstances, unless there is someone present who willingly wishes to accept the responsibility of Advocacy for the accused, this court will render a verdict based on the evidence already submitted.”

  I looked up at the surrounding sea of Arconi faces gazing down to regard me in absolute silence. Time hung suspended. I looked back at the lead judge, watched him nod to his peers on either side before turning his head back to face me. As he began to speak, a voice called out from above.

  “I will stand as Advocate for the Human, Conroy of Earth!”

  Pandemonium broke out in the galleries. All five Justiciars were on their feet, slapping their dais with both hands. Bailiffs began moving through the crowd, waving stun batons advisedly and even using them here and there to quiet the most unruly. From what I’d read, this sort of thing never happened in the halls of Arconi justice. As quickly as it had been lost, order was restored and everyone was back in his or her seat; everyone except the Arcon who had volunteered to be my Advocate and remained standing.

  Loyoka. And he held something dark cradled in the crook of his right arm. A buffalito. Reggie!

  He left his gallery and reached the floor by means of a stair or ramp I couldn’t see, and a moment later stood upon the pedestal before the Justiciars’ dais where he gazed back at the quintet of scowling faces trying to stare him down. I thought I caught a faint scent like lemon zest but it was probably just my imagination.

  “Are you not the arresting officer in this case?”

  “I am,” said Loyoka.

  “And are you not responsible for swearing out the initial complaint, and compiling the bulk of the evidence brought against the defendant?”

  “That is so.”

  “And have you not been actively pursuing the defendant’s capture all this time?”

  “Also correct.”

  “Then what misunderstanding of reality has possessed you to believe the defendant would accept you as his Advocate?”

  Loyoka turned his head from the judges and cast his gaze upon me. I didn’t meet his eyes; mine were on Reggie, watching the regular rise and fall of his furry chest as he lay sleeping, held against the Arcon’s body.

  “Mister Conroy has expressed the opinion that there are more important things than justice. I feel an obligation to educate him on his error, if he will allow me.”

  I stood up, bowed my head to Loyoka, and addressed the judges, tearing my thoughts away from my buffalito and swallowing back the lump in my throat and the many questions seeing him had brought up. Why was he still sleeping? Had Loyoka taken him to be healed or was he still dying? Was it possible the Arcon didn’t realize the danger? Was Reggie going to explode here and now in the m
iddle of my trial?

  “I welcome Loyoka’s instruction and accept him as my Advocate before this court.”

  The lead Justiciar waved me down again and turned back to Loyoka. “Very well. This court accepts Loyoka as Advocate for the Human, Conroy of Earth. Does the Advocate have anything to add to the materials already submitted to this court?”

  I winced. No offer of additional time for my new Advocate to prepare. No chance to consult with his client. Having avoided a delay because of Veltuma’s departure, the Tribunal intended to run this show to its predetermined conclusion.

  “I do,” said Loyoka. A ripple of surprise swept over the judges. And then my Advocate did a thing I’d rarely seen an Arcon do. He smiled. His lips pulled back revealing gleaming teeth in a broad grin. On cue, the galleries were all abuzz again. “Honorable Justiciars, there can be no doubt that the fertile buffalo dogs retrieved from Conroy’s former company are descended from genetic lines that trace back to animals from our facilities on Gibrahl. And yet, there is also no direct evidence that the defendant was aware that he was in the possession of ill-gotten livestock. As he recently reminded me, it has been established that he is not a smuggler. And given that the animals once belonging to him have been restored to Arconi hands, I move that the charges related to these issues be dropped.”

  The wonderful thing about the Arcon telepathic facility for detecting the truth is the effect that absolute veracity can have on people. All five Justiciars stared slack-jawed at the conviction behind Loyoka’s words. Even the bailiffs were gobsmacked. And up in the galleries, another round of pandemonium ensued.

  After much dais-slapping, the audience quieted down enough for the Justiciars to have another huddle. I’d have found it fascinating if they hadn’t been deciding my fate. I looked to Loyoka but he hadn’t spared me so much as a glance since stepping onto the pedestal. He kept his eyes fixed on the judges as they returned to their seats.

  “This court finds itself unwilling to set aside the charges because of the criminal harm done to the Arcon economy by the corporation formerly headed by the defendant. Whether or not he knowingly made use of stolen livestock, he must be held accountable for the outcomes brought about by his corporation.”

  A cheer rose from the audience and the bailiffs went back to work with their stun batons.

  Once order had been restored Loyoka nodded to the lead judge. “The Advocate agrees completely,” he said. “And I have new data which I would ask the court to consider.”

  “New data?”

  “The defendant is accused of crimes against our economy. Specifically, by offering his own buffalo dogs for lease and for sale at deeply discounted rates, we found our own sales cut by a quarter in less than two years. To remain competitive, our facilities were forced to reduce prices, and while we regained a significant portion of the lost marketshare, we did so only at significant reduction of our profits.”

  The lead Justiciar slapped the dais. “These data are known to the court. You spoke of new information.”

  “I did. I wish to bring to light other consequences of the defendant’s actions. Is the court aware that Conroy did not simply lure away a large portion of the existing buffalo dog trade, but in addition undertook an aggressive campaign to expand his customer base into new, previously unexploited markets?” Loyoka held up a scarlet data wafer, turning in place on the speaker’s pedestal and displaying it to the entire audience in the galleries. He surrendered it to a bailiff who in turn slotted the wafer into a device allowing all five Justiciars access to the information. Once he saw they had the data, he continued.

  “So aggressive were the defendant’s efforts that not only did he acquire nearly a thousand new clients, but the additional markets he opened up produced a demand for buffalo dogs seven times in excess of the volume he could supply. Understand what this means. Conroy created a situation in which he would knowingly disappoint six out of seven potential customers!”

  More murmurs from the crowd, but the worst offenders had been rendered unconscious in the last round of hubbub and Loyoka gave the current noise no regard, pressing on. “His company employed training methodologies with his animals outside the range of techniques our own people had ever used, which permitted them to perform more complex tasks than ever before possible. This further expanded the utility of the creatures, and added to demand. As your honors review the detailed reports I have compiled, you will have no choice but to agree that the defendant’s irresponsible business practices created a clamoring for product that he had no intention of providing.”

  Loyoka crossed his arms and studied his feet as the Justiciars examined the information he’d provided and evaluated his conclusions. The galleries resumed a low, incoherent murmur. The judges huddled again, returned to individually review the data once more, then huddled yet again. When they broke apart the lead Justiciar rose to his feet.

  “Advocate, the court accepts your data, but fails to see how it can be considered an aid to the defendant. If anything, it speaks to further crimes against the Arconi economy.”

  “No, your honor. With respect, I contend it says quite the opposite. As I’ve stated, initially, the defendant’s actions caused harm, but this court has failed to see the full effect of his actions. Ultimately, he created a void, a need for buffalo dogs where none had existed before.”

  The lead Justiciar brought his sourpuss to bear, scowling as he demanded, “Your point, Advocate?”

  “My point is that the defendant didn’t meet that need. We did.”

  Several people in the galleries leaped to their feet shouting. The bailiffs had had enough and put them down with the brutal efficiency of their batons, not bothering to activate the actual stunners.

  Loyoka held a second data wafer aloft. “I have here further documentation revealing record profits in our buffalo dog sales over the past year. Profits which many times outstrip any losses initially incurred as a result of the activity of the defendant. This documentation includes projections based on our expansion into markets which, prior to the creation of the defendant’s corporation, our own people had no intention of exploring. I have here analyses suggesting that, far from committing crimes against our economy, Conroy, a Human of Earth, has single-handedly engineered an economic bonanza for the Arconi people!”

  This time the bailiffs couldn’t put down the explosion of sound from the galleries; they were as much a part of the shouting as the audience who had come expecting to see an alien sentenced to some fate worse than death for crimes against the state. Instead, every last one of them saw the truth in Loyoka’s words. Inconceivable and unbelievable, they owed some portion of their current prosperity to me!

  The Justiciars had all risen and were shouting as well, all five of them slapping their dais again and casting about, attempting to catch the gaze of the court’s many bailiffs and reassert control. Loyoka calmly waited for someone to take the data wafer from him, but it never happened. He’d spoken literal truth. Eventually order was restored and Loyoka simply put the wafer away in a pocket.

  The lead Justiciar spoke. “Is it your contention then that the charges against the defendant be dropped?”

  “No, your honor, that would be too simple. Rather, the same logic by which, under the false impression of incomplete data you wished to hold Conroy accountable for our economic woes, I submit he should be acknowledged and honored for our economic well-being.”

  “And what of the considerable expense involved in the attempt to bring him to justice, Advocate? The costs incurred by this court, the expenses and time invested by your own department in pursuing him for years, in achieving his rendition?”

  “These are not an issue. They have been compensated many times over by the seizure of the breeding pups from his corporation, your honor.”

  “Then what is your recommendation, Advocate?”

  Loyoka bowed from the waist, then slowly and deliberately made eye contact with each of the five Justiciars before continuing. “Dismiss all
charges against the defendant, restore to him the balance of the value of the property taken from him, award him the recognition the Arconi people owe to him for his efforts on their behalf, however unintentional they may have been. Most importantly, I ask that you affirm my original intention, your honors. Demonstrate to Conroy, a Human of Earth, that nothing is more important than justice.”

  *

  My quartet of bailiffs escorted me from the courtroom, their carriage subtly transformed to that of an honor guard. I tried to linger, waving frantically for Loyoka’s attention. My nemesis-turned-Advocate ignored me, turning away and taking Reggie with him as he departed down another aisle. Instead of returning me to my cell, the bailiffs walked me to a well-appointed room where the five Justiciars lounged in deep, narrow chairs, having traded their green robes of office for variations on pajamas in earth tones, and their sour expressions for more relaxed if guarded ones. My escort guided me to stand before each of them in turn, and one by one these representations of Arconi justice thanked me — with complete sincerity and no trace of hypocrisy — for my contributions to their people. No apologies, no restitution, and certainly no mention of the multiple lifetimes of punishment they had been ready to dole out prior to Loyoka’s defense.

  At the end, the lead Justiciar took my hand in his and pressed a metal disc with an attached bit of colored ribbon into my palm, and stepped back. A medal. He’d given me a medal.

  “It is the Mark of Aspiration, the highest honor that has ever been bestowed on any of the Arconi worlds. My fellow Justiciars and I discussed your situation and concluded that mere words are insufficient. Nor would reparations truly express the debt of gratitude we owe.”

  I looked at the medal. “I’m… sure I’m not worthy of such an honor. Seriously, reparations would be fine.”

  He ignored me. All five of them did. They just sat there, staring at me, ignoring the truth behind what I’d said, and smiled faintly. All in all, I liked them better as sourpusses.