9 Tales of Space and Time

by Anthology

  “I think we understand that,” grunted Hrdlicka. “Anything further, Doctor?”

  “I believe not.”

  “We’ll call Mr. Cardozo . . . if Mr. Blair will yield the floor.” Scowling, Blair sat down.

  “Nice going,” Cardozo whispered as he passed Malory on the way to the witness stand.

  “Now, Mr. Cardozo,” said Hrdlicka, “our penologist. Or warden. We don’t have much of a prison for you now, eh? But, as we redevelop the complexities of civilization, I suppose we’ll have plenty such. Um. Now, suppose you tell us just how you follow up Dr. Malory’s work.”

  “Essentially, I investigate any accused as a social, rather than a psychiatric, case. And I try to combine Dr. Malory’s findings with the limitations of the situation and set up means for rehabilitation.”

  “I see. You’ve an eye to the defendant’s future, rather than to his past?”

  “That’s very well put, Your Honor.”

  “Well, ladies and gentlemen, for once we have a real expert to help us. Mr. Cardozo was a penologist by profession, associate warden at the maximum-security institution on Pluto. So, while we’ve been going by-guess-and-by-God so far, now we’ve got a gentleman who knows what he’s talking about.”

  “Your Honor!” It was Blair again. “Now what is it, Mr. Blair?”

  “I’d like to ask the penologist one question.”

  “Is it relevant, Mr. Blair?”

  “I think it is.”

  “All right, all right.” The old man looked very weary.

  Blair bustled up to the stand. Even seated, Brandt Cardozo was a head taller than the little man. “You and I were conversing in the bachelor lounge of the Tonia when it crashed,” Blair rapped out. “Did you or did you not say to me at that time that you did not believe in prisons?”

  Hrdlicka leaned over his desk so suddenly his glasses slid down over his nose again.

  “Counselor!” he roared. “A conversation out of the past has nothing to do with this trial! You know that! Now, sit down before I order you to leave the court!”

  “Your honor,” said Brandt Cardozo. “I’ve no objection to answering that question . . . if Mr. Blair will let me finish my sentence, this time.” He gazed tranquilly at the flushed counsel. “When you interrupted me back on the Tonia, sir, I recollect that I was about to say this: I do not approve of prisons as institutions for punishment. I most firmly believe in them as a means toward rehabilitation—if they are so devised.”

  “That’s enough,” rumbled Hrdlicka. “Mr. Blair knows the thinking behind our law and what’s more, he knows you’re a leading exponent of that thinking.”

  “Yes,” sneered Blair, “we all know how bitterly Mr. Cardozo was opposed to capital punishment.” There are your fangs, thought Cardozo, bared at last.

  “Sit down, Mr. Blair.” Hrdlicka’s voice was suddenly quiet.

  Blair sat down, a smirk on his gnome’s face.

  “Now,” Hrdlicka was not his usual rumbling self, “what’s your advice to this court, Mr. Cardozo?” Brandt Cardozo sat relaxed in his chair, a rangy, big-shouldered man with a boyishly cheerful face.

  “Sometime, sir,” he said, “we’ll have a large staff of penal experts. It will be a fairly simple job for the penologist to take the psychiatrist’s findings, correlate them with those of his own staff, and be able to make a very accurate recommendation to the court. The penologist can set up a long-range program for the prisoner, defining exactly what is needed in the way of special training or treatment, medical care, minimum security confinement, maximum security . . .”

  “Your Honor, I must ask your indulgence once more.” Blair rushed on before Hrdlicka could stop him. “Mr. Cardozo, you used the expression ‘maximum security.’ Are we to presume you admit the need for such an institution?”

  “Certainly. I’m afraid we’ll need one for Tasker. For a while, at least. Any penologist, or criminologist if you prefer, will admit that we can’t rehabilitate certain men and women. In other words, they’re incurable. We get to them too late to help. To protect ourselves we must keep those persons locked up. And watch them pretty closely. Of course, we must try to make their confinement useful—useful to them and to society.”

  “Thank you,” said Blair.

  “Go on, Mr. Cardozo,” said Hrdlicka.

  “Your Honor, I can’t get any help from Tasker either. I have talked to survivors of the crew about him. Of course, I must regard much of their talk as gossip. They think Tasker’s papers were forged; they say he was lazy, a careless worker, a troublemaker. They think Tasker has a criminal record. I’d say he probably has. At any rate, I’m going to regard him as such until both Dr. Malory and I can accumulate more detailed and accurate information about the man.”

  “Um. So what do we do with him?”

  Brandt Cardozo felt the uneasy gaze of the audience on his back. He looked at the jury. They were frowning, worried.

  “Well, sir, here’s where we, as a society, meet our first challenge. A well-liked and most useful member of our community has been killed by a man whose worth to us is pretty dubious.” Brandt Cardozo straightened his big shoulders. “We have decided we won’t take the easy answer to such a problem—we won’t shrug off the burden by killing the killer. Let’s meet the challenge, then. First of all, hospitalize Tasker, under guard, of course, until Dr. Malory is satisfied Tasker’s free of all dakarine effects. Then, let Dr. Malory work on him; I’m confident the doctor can very soon—once the man is his normal self—decide how to order his confinement so Tasker will have every chance for readjustment. There was a method of sentencing the mentally irresponsible in the System; such persons were detained during the pleasure of the court.

  “I think you can do the same. Simply order David Tasker to be detained during the pleasure of this court—in the custody of the proper authorities. I would further suggest that you provide for periodic examinations of the prisoner by yourself, assisted by such citizens as you deem necessary—Mr. Blair, Miss Giovannetti—to determine any future disposal of his case. Eventually we can decide whether we can hope for rehabilitation or settle for perpetual confinement.”

  “Well . . . that makes very good sense to me. You may step down, Mr. Cardozo, and thank you.”

  Hrdlicka propped his elbows on his desk and rested his chin in his cupped hands. He stared somberly at the crowded room.

  “The court’s going to follow Mr. Cardozo’s program,” he rumbled. “But before I make it official, I’d like to say one or two things to all of you, as people of this planet we call the New World. I was on the committee that drew up our civil and criminal codes. I agreed to all the ideas that people like Mr. Cardozo wanted to incorporate into the laws. Voted for them. But I wasn’t sure they’d work. I’m an old man and I guess my years have made me cynical. I thought if the pressure was on us, if ever, we’d all take the easy way out. Well, we haven’t. I’m glad. Speaks damn well for our future.”

  He raised his head and dropped his hands flat on the desk.

  “If it’s agreeable to all concerned, I’ll sentence the convicted defendant. Any objections, Miss Giovannetti?”

  “Your Honor—I—I’m awfully proud . . . I think this court has done a great thing today . . .”

  “Think so, too. D’ye agree, Mr. Blair? Oh . . . I see you’ve got something to say. Well, go ahead.”

  Hugo Blair had darted to his feet and stepped a pace away from his chair, so the spectators’ view of him would not be blocked by his table.

  “Trouble, Brandt,” whispered Malory.

  “I don’t think so. Hrdlicka will handle him.”

  “Your Honor,” rasped Blair, “I am an officer of this court.”

  “So?”

  “That means, sir, that I am obliged to speak out when this court fails to serve the interests of the people!”

  “Yes, yes. Come to the point!”

  Blair turned a little to one side so that, while seeming to face the bench, as was proper, he could stil
l glance out at the spectators. He clasped his hands behind his back and thrust out his big head.

  “Mr. Cardozo has beguiled a charitable people into decreeing that there shall be no capital punishment,” he cried. “But I must ask you, all of you, what will you have in its stead?” He pointed at the grinning Tasker. “There sits our declared enemy. You have heard him pronounced a drug addict, a habitual criminal, He has already killed one of us. How many more of us will he slaughter whenever he gets bored with our coddling of him?”

  “Blair!” roared Hrdlicka. He banged his gavel. “Sit down!” He raised his bulk half out of his chair. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but we’ll have no ranting by counsel in this court!”

  “Ranting, sir? Is.it ranting to ask that we stop and observe where the impractical schemes of weak men may lead us?”

  “You’re in contempt of this court, Counselor. That doesn’t mean much—to me. But you’re in contempt of the laws of your country and I won’t stand for that!”

  “Is it contempt to challenge a law that does not protect?”

  “Ah, Judge, Your Honor . . .” the foreman of the jury, a sandyhaired, nervous man, raised a thin arm. “I think we have a right to ask Mr. Blair to tell us what he means.”

  “That’s torn it,” breathed Malory.

  “If that blasted Tasker only realized what was happening to him,” Cardozo groaned.

  “Very well,” growled Hrdlicka. “I’ll let you answer the jury, Counselor.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Blair’s bow was generally in the jury’s direction. “I’ll be brief. Mr. Cardozo and Dr. Malory have given us some pretty generalities. Oh, they were sincere. I’m sure of that. But their words were generalities. I, on the other hand, am concerned solely with one, individual matter. The matter of David Tasker—murderer!”

  “Mr. Hrdlicka!” Cardozo cried. “I object to that . . .”

  “I will correct myself,” Blair said smoothly. “Let me say that you are not concerned solely with the problem of David Tasker. But I am. For, you see, I wish to live in peace. And safety.”

  Blair paused, smiled thinly.

  “Quiet, boy,” murmured the doctor. “Don’t argue with him.”

  “So I will confine myself to the problem of David Tasker,” Blair went on. “Now, Mr. Cardozo has said that we should keep him in a sort of perpetual custody. A kindly procedure, but isn’t it a bit impractical?” He was speaking directly to the audience now. “I trust that Dr. Malory will agree that he can’t spend all his time with one patient. And you’ll agree that you, yourself, can’t personally guard one lone prisoner day and night, won’t you, Mr. Cardozo? After all, we each of us have many different jobs that must be done if this community is to survive. Now, we don’t have a prison as yet. Shall we stop all other building—hospital, school, sanitation system—to erect a jail for one worthless man?”

  “Are you through?” Hrdlicka asked.

  “Just one or two queries more. We have a very small policing force, because most of us are orderly men. So, if we follow the advice of our friends here, we, all of us, men, women—even the few children left to us—must always be on our guard to see that this enemy of ours doesn’t break free from our weak restraint and, in his mad lust for his filthy drug, kill any of us in his way!”

  Brandt Cardozo heard a confused muttering behind him. He turned. The spectators moved restlessly, huddling together, whispering. Some were staring at Tasker and their faces weren’t pleasant to see. Cardozo arose.

  “Your Honor,” he said quietly, “I seem to be the principal target of Mr. Blair’s wrath. May I remind him that I am acting according to law—the law he himself is sworn to uphold.”

  “Not necessarily. Mr. Blair doesn’t have much regard for law. A matter I’ll take up with the Council. Now, Blair, you’ve done a neat job of stirring us up, so sit down and be quiet.”

  The muttering among the spectators grew louder.

  “There’ll be order in this court!” roared Hrdlicka.

  He waited.

  The muttering did not subside.

  The jury foreman coughed.

  “Seems to us, the jury, that is,” he was embarrassed but stubborn, “there’s a lot in what he says. We ain’t blaming Mr. Cardozo any—but, well, I guess we don’t see how that—the prisoner can be kept locked up so that the rest of us are safe.”

  “That’s our problem!” snapped Cardozo. “We’ve got to face it! And I, for one, am ready to face it! Your Honor, I wish to go on public record that I assume full responsibility for Tasker’s safe custody.”

  “Very commendable,” sneered Blair. “And after Tasker’s next killing, you will send us your regrets, Mr. Cardozo?”

  Someone in the back of the room stumbled to his feet and cried, “Now, look . . .”

  “Silence!” roared Hrdlicka.

  For the moment they all obeyed him.

  “Now,” said the old man, “this is your court and I’m your judge. We’re here to carry out your laws. Your laws, remember! So let’s get on with it. And no more nonsense!”

  “Is it nonsense to want to protect ourselves?” cried Blair.

  No muttering now, but a loud chorus of agreement.

  “Look, Judge,” said the foreman of the jury. The hubbub died down. “I don’t know how to say it legal, but the jury thinks that, well, Tasker ought to be kicked out. And . . .” he fumbled and the juror next to him plucked his sleeve. They whispered together. “Yeah. And we want it on record that we think so.” He sat down.

  “But that won’t do,” purred Hugo Blair. “Really it won’t. Suppose we do exile this fellow. Then what? Out in the hills he lurks—mad, hungry—more desperate than ever. We, in our valley, must patrol our homes both day and night. Yet, in the darkness, our few sentries will be easy enough to evade. So, we bar our doors and windows. Children are kept close to home. We huddle together. We are afraid . . . afraid of one man.”

  And someone in the back of the room yelled, “So kill the son of a bitch!”

  Blair smiled.

  Hrdlicka rose to his feet and stood, a massive, brooding figure.

  “Mr. Blair,” he rumbled, “I have mentioned before I am going to report your conduct to the Council. That’s all I have to say to you.” He looked contemptuously at the jury. “Long ago we decided that we were going to settle down on this planet and live ordered lives. Which means you can’t cook up laws on the spur of the moment. You already have laws on your statute books. Those laws provide penalties for this prisoner and I am going to impose them now! David Tasker, stand up!”

  Which was a mistake, Brandt Cardozo realized that immediately. The shambling figure of Tasker gave them a focus, a personification for their fear.

  Some of them yelled. Hrdlicka beat on his desk with his gavel, but it was no use. Finally, somebody—probably the man who had first cried “Kill!”—started down the aisle. As Brandt Cardozo moved out to block the man, he caught a glimpse of Hugo Blair. Blair was staring at the running man and, to Cardozo’s surprise, the little man was no longer smiling.

  As the fellow burst among them, Cardozo reached out for him, but the other brushed on by. “Come on!” the man screamed at Blair, “let’s get him now.”

  Blair’s eyes bulged under his shaggy brows and he faltered a step backward.

  “Guard!” bellowed Hrdlicka. “Arrest that man!”

  Lisa Giovannetti stumbled out of her chair. The man tried to avoid her, bumped into her, and knocked her to the floor. The man stopped and looked down at her.

  Cardozo saw that Blair was trembling.

  “Is this what you wanted, Mr. Blair?” he asked softly.

  Lisa Giovannetti tried—not very hard—to get up.

  Brandt Cardozo moved swiftly over to the man, grabbed his arm, and swung him around. “Get out of here,” Cardozo said clearly but not loudly, “or I’ll knock you down.”

  The other looked at Cardozo, then down at Lisa Giovannetti. He jerked his arm free and stumbled up the aisle.
People moved out of his way. Cardozo helped Lisa Giovannetti to her feet.

  “Nice going,” he whispered, then in normal tones he asked, “Are you hurt?”

  “No . . . just awfully scared.”

  Brandt Cardozo looked up at Hrdlicka. The old man stood, shoulders sagging. He looked very tired.

  “Your Honor,” Cardozo said, “we all seem to have forgotten ourselves. I respectfully suggest you adjourn this court until we . . .”

  “Until we stop acting like silly, hysterical children?” Hrdlicka rasped. “I agree. I’m ashamed. Deeply ashamed. I—never mind, court’s adjourned.”

  There was shuffling of feet, a few started out, but most of them didn’t move. They stood, uneasy, watching Hugo Blair.

  The little man had recovered his poise.

  “I agree with Your Honor that violence will not solve the questions raised by this trial,” he said. “But I am sure that an immediate, public session of the Council will.”

  He stalked up the aisle and the people followed him, clustering close, jabbering, nodding their heads. Hrdlicka watched them as the room slowly cleared.

  “All right,” he said at last. “Guard, take the prisoner back to his cell. By the side door.”

  Pierre Malory sighed. Hrdlicka stepped ponderously off his crude platform and joined the little group.

  “Well, lads,” he smiled without mirth at Cardozo and Malory, “there goes your fancy, progressive penal code. No capital punishment, eh?” He gestured toward Lisa Giovannetti. “One of you had better take this girl home.”

  “No,” she said. “I’m quite all right. Really. I wasn’t a bit hurt, you know.”

  “But you lay there—well, I’ll be damned!” He beamed at her.

  “She’s a smart girl,” grinned Cardozo. “Her little act stopped the lynching, Anthony.”

  “What’s going to happen now?” asked the girl.

  “Oh,” said Hrdlicka, “that little bastard Blair will get what he wants. He’ll make his point in Council just like he did today. Better get ready for a full-dress execution, Brandt, my boy.”