by Tom Shepherd
At that moment the forcefield dropped. Apparently, the police no longer felt the need to separate the Matthews Trade Embassy from the outside world.
“Let’s get inside,” Adelaide said. “I need another drink.”
“First I gotta see if Suzie made it.” Tyler tapped his wristband. “Everything okay?
“Home safe and sound, luv. Cozy in the Patrick Henry computer.”
Rosalie squeezed Tyler’s hand and they returned to the Trade Embassy while he chattered away with his holographic dream girl.
“Thank God, again. You’re becoming a high maintenance girlfriend.”
“Bugger that. I saved your arse repeatedly tonight. Do you want me to pop back over there, clean the brown stains from your tighty-whities?”
“So, you’ll do my laundry?”
“I’ll wait up for you. We can do without undies.”
“Babe, humans need sleep,” he protested.
“Wore you out that easily?”
Tyler could feel his cyber-sweetheart grinning. Their relationship was crazy, but he didn’t care. “We need a defense strategy for Esteban.”
“Already have a few ideas.”
“Good,” he said. “Bring them to the staff meeting.”
“So, I’m officially a Star Lawyer?”
“If my colleagues agree, and we can get the certifications in place. Be ready to join us in the conference room, 08:00.”
“Yes sir, guv’nor!”
Tyler laughed, closed the com link, and joined his colleagues inside the Trade Embassy.
* * * *
Across town at the uppermost level of the egg-shaped Gobikan, the Supreme Council of Pontiffs met in emergency session. Roused from their nightly prayer routine and preparation for sleep, they appeared without festive robes and shuffled into the small room in their gold-and-white administrative tunics and soft, indoor slippers. Each of the five Pontiffs took his assigned seat around the pentagon shaped table.
Jakok, the number two Pontiff, called the rare midnight session. He was the youngest among the five, although he would be considered an elderly Suryadivan under other circumstances. He waited for the rest of his fellow Pontiffs, noting a pile of round, hand-sized, lightly frosted fruit and fresh brown cakes in the center of the five-sided table. Mugs of cool beverages stood ready to wash down the delicacies.
Elach Raud. Jakok snorted, feeling the burden of Faith and State pressing upon his shoulders in the absence of a competent Holy Father. The old fool was losing his mind. All he ever thought about was those damned cakes. And his refractory sons would be the ruin of the Pontiffs.
When the last Supreme Pontiff slipped into his seat, Jakok launched into an elaborate explanation about why he had summoned them, but Elach Raud quickly interrupted him.
“Dear Father Jakok, you have overlooked the most important element in a successful and happy gathering.”
“We have your cakes, Holy Father.”
“No, no! I meant prayer. We must open with prayer.”
Jakok bowed his head fin. “Of course, Holy Father. Please pray us in.” Damn! He made the fool of me this time.
Elach Raud raised webbed hands and opened by calling upon all Forty-Six to bless the gathering of servants to the One True Faith. He continued with specific requests to lovely Delica the goddess of kindness; brown-hooded Tzenlykka the silent consoler; Apjutz the laughing god who brought lighthearted fellowship; and Azurdabol of the purple feathers whose stern eye kept business on track. He ended with a confession of sin for the group and asked red-eyed Zarunk to spare them in the Judgment at the Gate to Eternity.
“Now, tell me again.” The Holy Father reached for a cake and took a bite. “Why have we gathered tonight?”
“The Matthews children push for renewal of their right to operate the Jump Gate to Andromeda,” Jakok said. “Their Alpha Site is too close to Sacred Adao. Therefore, it represents a threat to the special activities surrounding our Sacred Hunt. The Adaon system must not become a major trade route with ships in the hundreds—thousands, perhaps—buzzing through our territory. Someone will discover our special activities, and who knows where that will lead? Certainly, we shall lose our monopoly, perhaps even the planet itself.”
“But the Adaon system lies within recognized Suryadivan space. Clearly it is off limits to visitors,” Elach Raud said.
“Holy Father, we are talking about control of a secret commodity that generates hundreds of trillions of credits from a restricted list of customers.” Jakok shook his head. “Many star nations, far more powerful than the Sacred Protectorate, live by taking whatever they want. And we have something everyone wants.”
Elach Raud wiped cake crumbs from the corner of his mouth. “What are you suggesting, my friend Jakok?”
“We must act boldly to stop the Matthews Alpha Gate from coming on line. That will require court action, unless this Council authorizes a more forceful response.”
“Are you saying we should attack the Terran Jump Gate?” The Holy Father dropped his half-eaten cake on the table. No plate below caught it. He did not seem to notice.
“Attack the alien intruders? Yes, if necessary.”
“Beloved Jakok, the Terran Commonwealth is among the most powerfully armed star nations in explored space. Matthews Corporation alone commands a fleet numbering a thousand starships, and that is only their combat vessels.”
“Holy Father—”
“I will entertain a plan of action that does not threaten the Suryadivan homeworld and its people.” Elach Raud looked down and picked up his fallen cake. “Anyone?”
Silence.
“Well, I have a plan,” Raud said. “I will assign my son, Kedak, to fight the Matthews Corporation in court.”
Jakok leaned forward. “Kedak is a fine High Priest and attorney, but surely there are more experienced—”
“No, it must be Kedak. Is there any further business?”
“No, Holy Father.”
“Then we are done. Sleep well.” He stood and shuffled from the room with a mug of cool drink and three more treats.
Jakok lingered in place until the room emptied. The damned old fool had no idea what Jakok was trying to accomplish. His fading mind couldn’t fathom the forces poised to strike if they showed weakness.
He glanced at the image of red-eyed Zarunk, god of the judgment and guardian to the afterlife. A pitiless deity who brooked no excuses for failure or weakness.
Gatekeeper Zarunk, do you see what I am up against? How can I deliver my people blameless to your door of light with Elach Raud as Supreme Pontiff? Help me, Terrible Judge. Make me strong enough to show no mercy. And although he serves another god, make the Pirate King keep all his pledges.
The second highest Pontiff of the Suryadivan Sacred Protectorate sighed and helped himself to a cake.
Twenty-Four
Next morning after breakfast and assorted individual ablutions—to include Rosalie’s 45-minute aerobic workout and Mr. Blue sleeping late as usual—Matthews & Matthews Star Lawyers gathered for the first time in the executive conference room aboard the Patrick Henry.
J.B. and Tyler had drawn up finalized schematics for offices, meeting spaces, and support facilities. When they were satisfied with their wish list, they directed Paco León to lock the program, permanently setting the holographic configuration. The partners could still add or rearrange furniture, equipment, and personnel, but security protocols carved the basic floorplan for Star Lawyer’s HQ in the stone of impenetrable, encrypted algorithms. The only way to change the design now was to scrap everything and start over.
Dorla worked a keyboard next to J.B., who presided at their meetings even though Tyler was technically the senior partner. J.B. nodded to Tyler, who took his place at the opposite end of the oblong table. Mr. Blue and Demarcus Platte sat across from each other, and Rosalie lifted bare feet off the rug and curled into a brown leather swivel chair. There was an empty seat between her spot and Tyler’s.
“The awakeni
ng repast was an adequate First Fast Break,” Blue said, launching into another butchery of Terran Standard. “I had an omelet with everything but the chicken sink.”
“The awakening repast was an adequate First Fast Break,” Blue said, launching into another butchery of Terran Standard. “I had an omelet with everything but the chicken sink.”
Tyler laughed. “Breakfast, not fast break. And didn’t you mean kitchen sink?”
“Why would I eat a kitchen sink?”
“Metaphor, Indigo.”
The blue alien flopped his big ears. “Your language is a night horse.”
“Mare. Nightmare.”
“Why does gender matter?”
“Terran is derived from English. It matters.”
Mr. Blue sat back and crossed his arms. “I didn’t want chicken in my omelet, anyway. Perhaps Second Break-fast will be good-good food.”
“The meeting will come to order,” J.B. said. “Dorla, please indicate all present except Paco León, Yumiko Matsuda, and Esteban Solorio,”
“Paco is supervising maintenance on the hyperdrive,” she said. “He wanted to be here. Paco said he wanted to talk to Tyler and J.B.”
“Record him absent,” J.B. said.
Dorla frowned. “I don’t want the minutes to make my husband look negligent.”
“It’s just for the record. Esteban and Yumiko want to be here, too.”
“Yes, sir.” Dorla entered the absences, but Tyler noticed she quietly added a brief explanation for each.
“Before we start,” Tyler said, “does anyone mind if Suzie joins us?”
“Please, yes!” Rosalie chirped.
J.B. looked at Mr. Blue and Inspector Platte. “Objections?”
“Motion approved unanimously,” Dorla León noted.
Suzie appeared in the empty seat beside Tyler. She wore a dark green business suit with brown and orange neck scarf flowing over her bosom. Rosalie smiled brightly and waved at Tyler’s stunning, holographic girlfriend. All four men at the table—Mr. Blue included—stared at her until J.B. regained his composure and continued the morning business.
“Mrs. León, where are we on the Esteban-Yumiko case?”
“The alleged victim, Lox Aspi, is an official of the religious division of the Suryadivan government, so I filed a request for an emergency hearing today with the Court of Spiritual Offenses,” Dorla said. “We’re due to present our apologia after the Late Morning Prayer Period tomorrow.”
“Our what?” J.B. said.
“Apologia. Don’t ask me why, but that’s what they call it,” Dorla said. “The computer translated our copy of the procedure.”
Suzie raised a hand. “May I speak to this?”
“Considering how unprepared we corporate drudges are to try a case under alien criminal law?” Tyler said. “Yeah. Take us back to school.”
“This is a blended governmental system, sacred and secular. To defeat a charge of criminal misconduct, petitioners must show the spiritual principles behind their argument and convince the court the accused has suffered an injustice offensive to their gods. The closest Terran equivalent to this process are the documents of apologia in Christian history. They were not apologies in the modern sense, but aggressive arguments to demonstrate the truth of Christian belief over and against criticisms by unbelievers or heretics.”
“We’re screwed.” Tyler shook his head. “There ain’t a Catholic on that court.”
“You don’t need to show the superiority of your religion over theirs,” Suzie said. “They wouldn’t accept that logic no matter how profoundly constructed. What they’re looking for is evidence the accused has Divine Cohesion on his side, which means the indictment was improperly brought, based not on immortal Truth but mortal error.”
“I’ll present initial arguments for the injustice of charging Esteban and Yumiko,” J.B. said. “Tyler, do you mind if I ask Suzie to second chair for me?”
Tyler smiled broadly. “Go for it.”
She shifted in the chair. “You’ll really let me tag along?”
“Is that a yes?” J.B. said.
“Abso-blooming-lutely! Let’s spring our colleagues.”
“You’ll be translating and providing legal research this time. We’ll see about future litigation tasks.”
She cocked her head. “Does that mean I’m an attorney?”
J.B. rocked his chair like a porch swing. “You’re a walking law school. If you don’t qualify, who does? We’ll install courtroom procedure and cross-examination skills in your program, and at some point you’ll have to pass the TUBE to serve as official representation.”
Tyler smiled. Terran Unified Bar Exam. The last time he heard that acronym, Dr. Adelaide LeBlanc was his academic advisor.
“For now, legal intern works,” J.B. said.
Tyler nodded. “We have a holographic mock court. She can practice there.”
“You and I could benefit from logging some hours in criminal trial mode, too,” J.B. said.
Rosalie reached across the table and squeezed her hand, wordlessly mouthing, “Bueno, Star Lawyer!”
“Okay, Suzie and I tackle the religious court,” J.B. said. “How about the Jump Gate easement issue?”
Tyler raised his hands, prayer like. “Guess I’ll be suing the Vatican.”
Dorla tapped her keyboard. “No, the easement relief goes to the secular court.”
“Why?” Tyler said. “It’s the Pontiffs who have their nightgowns in a knot about aliens desecrating the Sacred Hunt.”
“When I tried to file with the Court of Spiritual Offenses they kicked me over to the secular system,” Dorla said. “I have no idea why, but the Property Assessment Court has jurisdiction.”
“What’s going on, Suzie?” Tyler said.
“Accessing recent history. At the request of the religious hierarchy, the People’s Assembly passed laws barring alien starship traffic near Adao, which requires the lay government to enforce the taboo militarily and judicially.”
“Just like the Bible,” J.B. said. “The High Priests and Scribes let the Romans do their dirty work, and vice-versa.”
Tyler smirked. “Yup. Jews didn’t kill Jesus. It was the Italians.” He looked around the room, but nobody laughed.
“That joke was only funny the first couple times,” J.B. said.
“Anyway,” Dorla said, “I filed a request for an immediate hearing in secular court. The clerk insisted they could not possibly hear our complaint until thirty-seven days from now.”
“Not acceptable,” J.B. said.
“I have a suggestion.” Suzie leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. “I think we should appear in court this morning and disrupt the proceedings of whatever case is being heard.”
J.B. shook his head. “Okay, now you’re making me regret—”
“Listen, Jerry. Suryadivan civil law is not like Terran Juris Prudence,” Suzie said. “No Magna Carta, no British and American constitutions to establish legal precedents. Presiding judges act on yiduak and jaka’sela—which roughly means intuition and common sense. All rulings are based on a reasonable assessment of the case in context.”
“That describes the social evolution of Suryadivan culture. Flexible, yet self-righteous,” Rosalie said. “How does it help us, hon?”
“If we break into a case in progress,” Suzie said, “the judge has the option to supersede precedent and hear the case unscheduled. There are multiple instances of this happening.”
“Okay, here’s a downside,” Tyler said. “What if I get up in court and raise hell, and the presiding judge is the Honorable Sourpuss Mc Badass? I am not only out of luck, I’m also jailed for whatever offense he creates on the spot.”
“Something like that. Sorry, luv. It’s a risk you’ll have to take.”
Tyler smirked. “Notice how the previous ‘we’ has drifted to ‘you’ in this legal equation?”
“They can’t jail a hologram, can they now?”
“All right, save th
e chit-chat for happy hour,” J.B. said. “Mr. Blue, you’ve the only attorney at the table with experience in non-human legal systems. Your estimate?”
The Quirt-Thymean suddenly became focused, as if J.B. had pushed a legal systems on button under Blue’s ear.
“I have never tried a case in the Sacred Protectorate, Jay Bear, but my family members have. Counselor London is correct. Judges here may allow impassioned intrusions to shape the legal calendar. With a disruptive strategy, the probability of success is low. Zero if we don’t.”
J.B. glanced at his brother. “Your call, Senior Partner.”
“I’m thinking about it.” He scratched his head. “A century of work to establish a Jump Gate to Andromeda—maybe the survival of Matthews Interstellar itself—comes down to the whimsy of a disrupted judge. I don’t like it.”
“Suzie, which presiding judge today has a big heart and an open mind?” Rosalie asked.
“They all have big hearts,” Blue said. “The Suryadivan circulatory system—”
“Metaphor, Indigo,” Tyler said.
“Oh.” He sat back and flapped his shaggy ears. “Such a difficult language.”
“Not possible today,” Dorla said. “All courts and government offices are closed for a religious holiday. They have forty-six—”
“Forty-six holidays,” Tyler said. “One per deity.”
“Well, we need a little practice in the mock court, anyway,” J.B. said.
“Tomorrow is a good day.” Suzie tapped her fingers as if accessing something complex. “I’d try Judge Gemma, one of twenty-five senior jurists of the Property Assessment Court. Middle-aged female. She had a reputation for toughness, but she’s mellowed since the birth of her first grandchild last year.”
“Gemma the grandma?” Tyler said dryly. “It’s a sign from God.”
“Which god?” Mr. Blue said.
Tyler frowned. “Harry Truman.”
Blue smiled brightly. “May I pray to him?”
Suzie wagged a finger at Tyler. “Quit acting like a thirteen-year-old class clown. You’re embarrassing me.”
He shrugged. “If we’re really a couple, you’ll get used to it.”
