When he deemed it was safe, Mickey ducked out of the cabin. "I'll be back as fast as I can. I have to get your tickets validated. Otherwise, this cabin will show up as empty and they'll give it to someone else." To Douglas, he smiled. "Save my place, huh?" And then he was gone.
I broke the silence. "Can I call Mom?"
Dad looked at me, startled. He started to say something, then thought better of it and closed his mouth instead. "Do what you wish, Charles. You've already made it clear that I can't control you." He sounded like he hated me. Well, at least that was honest.
I went to the phone and punched Mom's number. The screen showed a map of the route-finder as, the system tried to locate Mom. First it went to El Paso, then San Francisco, then Vandenberg, then—stopped. Instead, a notice appeared, flashing in several languages. "We apologize for the inconvenience. Weather conditions have temporarily disrupted all communication services. Please try again later."
"Hokay," I said, and flicked the phone off. I sat down again. I was on my own. Douglas was going his own way with Mickey. Dad had signed off on the whole family. Stinky had his monkey, his thumb, and his dreams. And Mom was temporarily out of service.
Mickey came back in, waving our boarding passes. "All right, we're clear."
"That was fast," Doug said, "How'd you do it?"
"It was easy. A friend of mine is working the desk. I told him we had VIPs traveling incognito, they were already aboard, but we needed the paperwork handled, and he'd be doing me a great favor if he'd check in the tickets. By the time I finished explaining, he'd already done it. He said, 'Give my best to Alexei.' "
Doug smiled. "Why do I have the feeling that some money has been spread around?"
"Because it has. The information I gave Alexei? He's put all his assets into lockdown, and now he's peddling a very delicious rumor to some of his very best clients, plus lockdown storage for their volatile liquidity. By tomorrow, he could be a billionaire, just in percentages alone."
"He's going to start a financial panic—" Dad said.
"He's counting on it. Panics are profitable to guys like Alexei. They don't care which way the money flows—as long as it flows."
"That's disloyal," Dad said grumpily.
"To whom? Earth? Alexei isn't from Earth. He's from Luna. He's being loyal to his family in Gagarin."
"By breaking the law? By hurting Earth?"
Mickey shrugged. "What law is he breaking? And why should he try to help Earth? Earth isn't trying to help Luna—or anyone else. Never mind." Mickey looked disgusted. "You'd have to get your mind out of the dirt to understand."
"All the economies are linked. If you pull one down—"
"No, they're not," Mickey said. "Not anymore. You can thank the SuperNationals for that. There's only one economy—and they push their money from place to place, whenever they want, regardless of who it hurts. What Alexei is doing is taking their money away from them. Some of it, anyway."
"Like Robin Hood, eh?" Dad looked skeptical.
"Whatever," said Mickey. "I don't expect you to understand, and I'm not going to waste any more time explaining it to you."
"I know about the political situation," Dad said. "And the rest of it. The planet is dying. Everybody knows it. The human race has eaten it down to the bone and it's still chewing. Did you check the news this morning? It's now official. Africa is having a 'Population Crash.' India too. And China next. And it's still spreading. That's why we're here. Just like everybody else who's jumping off the planet." Dad looked more frustrated and angry than I'd ever seen him. "And just like you said, the lower half of the Line is shut down to everyone except corporation personnel. So why shouldn't the people who've been pushed down into the dirt by the SuperNationals all their lives feel resentful? I do."
"Speak for yourself, Dad," said Weird.
"Douglas!" Dad looked at him warningly. "I've tried very hard to understand your ... situation. I think you should recognize how hard it's been for me." To Mickey, he said, "I've been appointed the villain by everyone in this situation—by you, by Charles, by Douglas, by my ex-wife, by the law. Once in a while, I'd like someone to say they're trying to understand my feelings about all this. I'm tired of being the target, that's what this is about. I'm tired of having to listen to other people tell me why I can't have what I want. It's my turn now. Watching Alexei take what isn't his and live like a—a grasshopper while the rest of the ants are starving for crumbs is supposed to make me feel better about Luna? Or Earth? Or anyone? I don't think so."
Douglas finally let his own anger show. He said, "Well, maybe if you'd managed things a little bit better—"
"I did the best I could—"
"Obviously, it wasn't good enough—"
"It would have been, if Charles hadn't opened his big mouth—"
Boom. The banana-split time bomb had finally gone off. He blamed me.
"—I had it all figured out. And everything was working. Get on this elevator, get on that elevator, and by the time anyone knew where we were, it would be too late to stop us, and then Charles had to ruin it. We could have been halfway to the moon by now—"
"That isn't fair, Dad—"
"Nothing is fair anymore, Douglas. That's what this whole trip has been about. Escaping the unfairness." He put his head in his hands. "All I wanted, all I hoped for, was a little understanding, a little cooperation from you kids. I did it for you!"
"You did it for yourself," corrected Douglas. "Just like I did it for myself and Charles did it for himself. None of us knows how to do anything for anyone else—"
"Excuse me—?" I said. Very quietly. "Excuse me?"
It was the quiet tone that did it. They all looked at me curiously. "Each of us has now had a fight with every one else in the room. Except Mickey and Douglas. This isn't fair. Mickey, Douglas? It's your turn to say nasty things to each other now." One thing about growing up with Weird, you learn how to do sarcasm real well.
Both Douglas and Dad shut up. They looked at each other. Mickey looked to Douglas. Douglas looked at me angrily. Stinky snored. Mickey turned and went back to the chair. He looked like he was trying to make a decision. "Is anyone hungry? No? All right, why don't I make up the beds? We're all tired. I'll be back in a moment." He stepped out of the cabin, leaving the rest of us to sit and glower at each other. I settled my headphones over my ears and dialed up something very distracting. John Lennon's bitter period, when all he could do was write songs about how wrong everybody else was. Crippled Inside. That was a good one. Nice and loud. The monkey crawled into my lap and hugged me. I wondered who'd programmed that, but I didn't push it away.
TALKING LATE
Mickey came back with an odd expression on his face. "Come with me," he said. "All of you. Quickly."
"Huh? Why?"
"Just come—" He was already picking up Stinky. I grabbed the monkey. Douglas shouldered the backpack. Dad picked up his worries and we followed Mickey out the hatch and up the corridor to the transfer pod. Mickey wouldn't answer any questions. "I'll explain later," was all he said.
The transfer pod dropped us down to the boarding level. Actually, there are two boarding levels. There's the public boarding level and the Very Important Person boarding level—Mickey took us to the VIP level.
We stepped out of the hatch into—
I didn't see the room at first. It was about the size of a classroom or a lounge, I guess, but directly in front of us was Judge Griffith in her wheelchair, and next to her, but not too close, there was Olivia, looking unhappy, and a couple other people I didn't recognize, but very official looking, and also that stupid lawyer, Howard. He still wore the same stupid suit that didn't fit right, only now he looked like he'd slept in it, and he had a very smug look on his face, like he'd caught us with our pants down and our hands on our dicks. I was tempted to give him my own farkleberry.
"Ahh," said Judge Griffith. "Thank you all for joining us. Mickey, did you have any trouble?" Mickey shook his head. "The Court thanks you fo
r your efforts." Douglas glared at him, but Mickey didn't meet his look, so Douglas stepped over and took Stinky out of his arms, then he moved away from Mickey, as if he didn't want to know him anymore. The fuse was finally lit on that argument. Mickey looked miserable. I pretended to be interested in the monkey.
"All right, if everybody will take their places, we can get this business handled once and for all." Judge Griffith wheeled backwards, moving out of the way. She gestured with her gavel; she held the head of it in her fist and used the handle as a pointer. The chairs and the tables of the lounge had been moved into positions like a courtroom. "Olivia, if you'll sit over there on the left. Mickey, you too. The Dingillians—thank you. Howard, I want you on the right. Court officers, here beside me. And ... yes, that'll do it, thank you."
Dad whispered to Olivia, "What the hell is going on? What did you do to us?" Olivia just shook her head and pointed us toward the chairs. "I can't advise you," she whispered. "You're on your own now." Dad looked as angry as I'd ever seen him in my entire life. Angrier than that even.
Douglas laid Stinky down on a nearby couch. The rest of us sat down in chairs that were much too comfortable for a legal procedure. It was hard to believe we were actually in a courtroom. But Judge Griffith put those doubts to rest immediately. She wheeled up to a small table that was to serve as the bench; her clipboard was already open and propped up so she could see it. She reversed the gavel in her hand and rapped it sharply on the table. She glanced over to her assistant. "Are we missing someone?"
The woman nodded. "Godot called. He'll be late."
Judge Griffith raised a questioning eyebrow. "I assume he has a good excuse?" She glanced at her watch. "Was the shuttle delayed?"
"The shuttle docked on time, the paperwork was delayed. Last I heard, he's waiting for customs to clear."
"Damn nuisance," Judge Griffith said, obviously annoyed. "Never mind, we can still take care of the preliminaries. And if he can't get here before we finish, then the hell with him. This Court is not on call. At least, not in this case." She turned forward again. "The Third District Court of the Orbital Space Authority, serving Geosynchronous Station and Allied Domains, Judge Georgia Griffith presiding, is now in special session, this session being mandated by the attempted flight from jurisdiction of the following individuals ... "
Olivia stood. "Beg pardon, Your Honor, but no one has actually fled jurisdiction yet—"
"Don't nit-pick, counselor. We caught them with the tickets in their hands. Don't act like an Earth-lawyer or we'll be here all night. I promised you we could resolve this quickly, and we will. If you and Howard will both keep your big mouths shut. First of all—"
Now Dad stood up. "Your Honor? If I may? Ms. Partridge no longer represents us—"
"Yes, yes, I know all about that dodge. I used it myself when I was a cub. Who do you think taught it to Olivia? Sit down, Mr. Dingillian. We have work to do here." She looked at Howard. "I suppose you want to have your say too?"
Sarcasm was wasted on him. He stood up, talking. "Thank you, Your Honor. I appreciate the opportunity. I think that the actions of the defendants clearly demonstrates their willful disregard for the authority of this—"
"Sit down, Howard. I don't need to hear it from you, either." She sighed and looked exasperated. "Listen up, folks—I don't like working late. I'm pissed at the lot of you. You've acted like spoiled brats and if I could think of a good reason to justify tossing all of you into the cooler for a week or two, I'd do it. Except that would give me the problem of finding custodial authority for the minors involved, and while I suppose I could release them to the custody of the oldest brother—" She stopped herself. "Hmm, that's not a bad idea, it would resolve everything ... well, almost everything. Never mind, just don't anyone tempt me." She glared around the room, as if daring anyone to speak.
"All right," she continued, with a dark glower in Dad's direction. "We're here because Max Dingillian and his three kids somehow ended up on the midnight elevator to Farpoint. I presume the destination was Whirlaway. Correct? This, in spite of the fact that a court hearing was ordered for nine in the ayem, tomorrow morning. So I am left with the not unreasonable assumption that you, sir, Max Dingillian, were attempting to evade the authority of this court. Not that you could have. I'd have transferred authority—a single phone call down to the end of the Line—and you'd have been detained there. I doubt that the shift in venue to Farpoint would have resulted in a different outcome. Regardless of the distance, and sometimes the expense involved, starside courts have demonstrated a remarkable and refreshing consistency."
She leaned forward in her chair, aiming her remarks directly to Dad. "Up here, attempting to evade authority usually gets you a trip groundside. However ... in light of several recent judgments where groundside courts have held the Line authority liable for expenses and damages when individuals are returned to Earth with resultant detriment, we have become extremely reluctant to expose ourselves to that liability unless we are certain that we will not have to bear the cost of the bounce-back. I am concerned that this case may have some exposure in that direction. So in that regard, the Court chooses to ignore—for the moment, anyway—the evidence of your attempt to evade jurisdiction. Sit down, Howard! I'll get to you in a moment!" She turned back to Dad. "At the very least, I should hold you in contempt of court, Mr. Dingillian, but it is not in the best interests of your children to do so, and it does not serve the goal of a speedy resolution. Let it be known, however, that the Court views your conduct with extreme displeasure. Let me translate that for you: you've exhausted whatever good will you had here. Do you understand?"
Dad nodded. "I understand completely. And I thank you for your ... uh, mercy, Your Honor."
Judge Griffith ignored Dad. She turned to Howard-In-The-Wrinkled-Suit. "All right, Howard, now you may object ... " Howard started to stand up, shrugged, sank back down in his seat, spreading his hands helplessly.
"Right," Judge Griffith agreed. "Objection overruled. Thank you. The Court appreciates your efforts to help move this process forward as fast as possible." She turned to Olivia. "Counselor, you no longer represent the Dingillians, is that correct?"
"That is correct." Olivia's voice was unemotional. Detached.
"Nevertheless, you were planning to leave on the midnight elevator with them. Is that correct too?"
"Yes, Your Honor. That is correct."
"Do you have an interesting explanation for this?"
"Conflict of interest. My son has a relationship with Douglas Dingillian."
"Had," corrected Douglas. Judge Griffith gave him a curious look, but otherwise ignored his interruption.
"Did you advise the Dingillians to evade jurisdiction, Counselor?"
"Of course not. I'm an officer of the court. That would be unethical."
"Nevertheless, was it among the options you discussed?"
Olivia nodded reluctantly. "Yes, it was."
"Well, Olivia," the Judge continued, "we have here the evidence that you booked the tickets yourself under one of your shadow accounts. So even though you recused yourself from this case, you still managed to be a participant in abaction that would have damaged the court's ability to function. The Court finds you in contempt and fines you ... " The judge consulted her clipboard, tapping at its surface as she looked something up. " ... one thousand chocolate-dollars." Olivia didn't react to that. Judge Griffith continued, "Sentence suspended in recognition of your assistance in arranging this special session."
"Thank you, Your Honor," Olivia said quietly.
"The same thing I said to Max Dingillian goes for you too, Counselor. Your store of good will is exhausted in this court. Remember that."
Now, Judge Griffith turned to Howard-The-Smug. "Any objections? No? Overruled anyway. Don't worry about your store of good will, Howard. The Court's opinion of you remains unchanged."
To the rest of us, she said, "The issue here is simple, and if we can resolve it in the next two hours"—she glanced a
t her watch—"then the Dingillians, or at least Max Dingillian, depending on the ruling of this court, can continue their—or his—journey." By the emphasis she put on "or his," she made it very clear that she had not yet made up her mind whether Dad was going to go to the moon with us or without us.
She looked to me. "Charles?"
"Huh?"
"Please come forward. Leave the monkey. Sit over here on this chair, will you? Thank you. Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"Sure," I said. "I mean, yes, I do."
CLOCKWISE
Judge Griffith turned her chair so she was facing me. "All right, Charles—is that what you like to be called, Charles?"
I shrugged. "My family calls me Chigger."
"Is that what you want me to call you?"
"It's okay," I said, half-heartedly.
"I'll call you Charles," she said, nodding. "It sounds more respectful. Now ... do you remember the riddle I asked you at dinner?"
"About how do you tell a Martian the difference between left and right?"
"Yes, that's the one. For the record, would you restate it?"
I took a breath. "You asked how to explain left and right without using the words left and right. How would you demonstrate or explain the difference? What are the ... the defining criteria? Is that the right way to say it?"
"Yes, it is. Very good, Charles. That's even better than I said. So, have you thought about the problem?"
I made a face. "I haven't been able to think about anything else. That's really a tough question."
"Yes, it is." She grinned right back at me. "The first time I heard it, I couldn't get it out of my head for months. So do you have an answer?"
Jumping Off the Planet Page 22
