Marlowe and the Spacewoman (33 page)

CHAPTER 19

TRIAL OF A SPACEWOMAN

Sure enough, the next morning within minutes of the courts opening, Marlowe received the summons to appear before special Joint Chiefs of Staff tribunal to settle the spacewoman issue once and for all.  They were scheduled to appear at eleven thirty, with tardiness or absence treated as an admission of guilt.

“Ready or not, we’re in the soup now, eh House?”

“It does appear that way,” said House.

“Wake the others and tell them to get ready for court.”

“It’s nine fifteen,” said House.  “Father and Nina have been up for a couple of hours now.”

“Ah.  So it’s me holding up the works.  Right.  Tell them the good news and that I’ll be out shortly.”

“Very well.”

When Marlowe joined the others, Jebediah was frowning thoughtfully and Nina just looked worried.

“Aren’t we entitled to more notice than this,” asked Nina.

“We got almost two hours,” said Marlowe.  “I’m surprised we got that much notice.  My brother probably pulled some strings to get us that, since I can’t imagine Obedere being so generous.”

Nina didn’t looked any less uncomfortable.  Jebediah just shook his head slightly.

Marlowe patted Nina on the back.  “Buck up.  We’re fine.  We’ve got all we need to get you off the hook.  Right, House?

“I agree, but I have one suggestion.  Ms. Minari, during proceedings, I would refrain from any comment on the bagpipes.  They were unable to successfully classify them, a shortcoming  we don’t want to emphasize lest we cast a shadow on the analysis of the space rocks.”

Nina nodded solemnly.  “A very good point, House.  My lips are sealed.”

Marlowe pinged his brother on the way over, finagling an emergency appointment from the secretary, who wouldn’t put him directly through to the Governor because His Most Honored Imminence was in a conference with the Joint Chiefs.  Most likely ongoing discussions about what to do about Nina.  Still, the lack of direct contact didn’t worry Marlowe, as long as he actually got the meeting.  He fully expected to end the ‘Nina issue’ once and for all with this audience, getting her off the hook by the end of the meeting.  Then he could focus solely on the successful and unsuccessful attempts on his life.

The Studebaker dropped them off in front of City Hall, where a waiting Artie and Gwen smiled malevolently and waved.  Their eagerness to escort Marlowe was dampened by the fact that he had Nina and his father with him.  Their enthusiasm was further dampened when Gwen attempted to rough up Nina and ended up flat on her back, unconscious.  Artie eyed Marlowe dismissively, but regarded Nina with a touch of respect and, maybe, just a hint of fear.  That response planted the seed of an idea in Marlowe’s head.  

Artie led them to the waiting lounge outside the Governor’s official hall.  Never before had Marlowe seen such an exuberant explosion of green; the last time he’d been in the room, it had been more neutrally appointed.  Now thick dark green carpet lined the floor and apple green paint adorned the walls.  Even the video windows were tinted green.  Marlowe wondered what had possessed his brother during this particular bout of interior redecoration.  Because the green upholstery of the sofa matched the walls, finding a place to sit took a moment of careful examination and, after that failed, a wire-frame overlay of the room’s layout provided by House.  

Only one item stood out clearly in the sea of green, and this drew Nina’s immediate attention.  

“What is this?”

A large, amputated caricature of an oak tree trunk, two and half meters of knots and gnarls, crowded one corner of the room.  Marlowe had seen the item in question so many times, even in this room it was subliminal to him.  He shrugged.

“That?  It’s just a Whack-A-Parrot.”

“Whack-A-Parrot?”

“Yeah.  See those fist-sized holes dotting all around it?”  Marlowe pointed out the dark openings that almost, but not quite, randomly covered the SynthaPlas tree.  “When you activate the game, parrot heads pop out and you hit them.”

“If I might interrupt,” interrupted House, “Nina might find the antique game, Whack-A-Mole, a handy point of reference.”

“So this is a sort of 3-D sculpted version of Whack-A-Mole?”

“Yes,” said House.  

“What is Whack-A-Mole?” asked Marlowe.

“But if this is like Whack-A-Mole, where’s the paddle to hit the heads with?”

Marlowe took this one.  “That’s easy.  You use your fist.”

“Your fist?”

“Yeah.  My brother hates parrots.  After the City Hall bird bombing incident, he issued a lot of anti-parrot laws, and as part of the public relations end of things, invented entertainment that subtlety, and not so subtlety, encouraged anti-parrot sentiment.  Whack-A-Parrot being one of the more kid-friendly approaches.  I won’t even describe some of the video games that were published by the government.  Let’s just say they weren’t for the faint of heart, or those who can’t stand the sight of blood.  But back to Whack-A-Parrot.  The Governor played a round at the press conference for the public unveiling, and liked it so much he had several installed here.  Care to try it?  My brother claims it’s very therapeutic.”  

“No, I think I’ll pass.”

They cooled their heels for about twenty minutes before the Governor deigned to see them.  Marlowe used the time to put together a nice little multimedia presentation arguing the case for Nina’s claims to be from outer space.  He worked quickly, utilizing a lot of suggestions and material provided by House, and by the time he was done was quite pleased with the effort and felt outright confident.

Artie reappeared, trying to stand tall in his ten centimeter lift shoes.  “The Governor will see you now.”

Nina looked a little pale and a trifle damp around the edges.  Marlowe patted her on the knee before getting up.  “No worries.  Piece of donut.”

“Donut?”

“I think ‘cake’ was the dessert item you were looking for,” intoned House.

“Ah, sorry.  Cake.  Piece of cake, yes?”

Nina grew even paler.  “Oh dear.”

Artie clucked impatiently.  “You’re keeping the Governor and the Joint Chiefs waiting!”

Before them the great leaden door to the Governor’s Hall hung open.  Marlowe muttered ‘poker face’ under his breath before crossing the threshold.  The PDI received the trigger phrase and instructed the nano probes to release mellowing agents that numbed the muscles in his face.  He absolutely couldn’t afford to give anything away with a careless expression.

The Governor’s Hall never failed to stun the first-time visitor.  Twenty meters long and ten meters across, it spoke of power, majesty, prestige, and, well, there was no escaping it, power again.  Immense power.  A series of diamond and emerald chandeliers, glowing with warm light and spanning several meters each, dripped from the gold and platinum-plated vaulted ceilings.  Lining the length of the shimmering white walls, on both sides, were ever-larger portraits of the Governor that grew in size until, at the other end of the hall, they stretched from floor to ceiling.  A blood red granite floor polished until the tiny specks of pink embedded in it gleamed and twinkled like burning stars reflected the ceiling like a lake of blood.  A thick bronze and silver-speckled snake coiled around the perimeter of the floor, inlaid in the granite.  The snake was eating its own tail, and Marlowe, Nina, and Jebediah stood just inside the gaping jaws of the snake as it prepared to devour itself and all who entered the Governor’s Hall.  And underlying it all, the spicy, warm smell of fresh cedar.  Old hat to Marlowe and Jebediah, but Nina let out a nearly audible gasp.

At the end of this imposing hall a horseshoe shaped table rose out of the floor with a tall throne set on a platform at the head of the U-shaped opening.  The table was draped in a heavy, purple cloth, and behind it, facing the trio, sat the Joint Chiefs.  The Governor sat behind them on the raised throne.  And behind him, filling the entire wall, was a huge video bay window overlooking the City.

“Nice throne,” whispered Nina.

Marlowe whispered back.  “Porcelain.  Very intricate, if you can get close enough to see.  And supposedly quite cool during the summer.”

The Governor’s voice boomed down the hall, rolling over them, and then bouncing back, where sound dampeners used destructive interference to mute it.  “Approach, applicants, that you might be heard.”

Marlowe’s previous visits to the Governor’s Hall had been for unofficial events, such as the one pogo stick race he’d been invited to, and the Whack-A-Parrot tournament.  This time, a more reverent, reserved approach seemed appropriate, so he led Jebediah and Nina forward at a steady, respectful pace.

The Governor stamped his foot impatiently.  “Oh, for Governor’s sake, we squeezed this tribunal in between a budget meeting and the City Public Works committee meeting.  Get a move on!”  If he recognized that his father was with them, he showed no sign of it.

The trio crossed the remaining ten meters at a brisk jog.  They stopped just short of the table, all but Nina huffing and puffing under the watchful gaze of the Joint Chiefs.  Marlowe took a moment to catch his breath and size up his audience.  

The Joint Chiefs consisted of eight Ministry heads.  Marlowe only recognized one face, Obedere’s, with its hooded eyes and dour frown representing the Ministry of Policing.  They all had little placards in front of them identifying which ministry they ran.  From left to right, they were Air Defense, Naval Defense, Ground Defense, Policing, Space Defense, Trade and Tariff Defense, and Information.  

Men and women, the Joint Chiefs managed to look anonymous and sinister at the same time, like the 'quiet ones' no one paid attention to until after their killing spree. Or, in this case, until after they issued an order of execution.

Marlowe’s brother rapped a gavel into the desk in front of him.  

“We are here,” intoned the Governor, “to hear evidence and settle once and for all the status of Ms. Nina Minari, the woman whose ship crashed into and destroyed the Brussels sprouts crop at the Northeast Rural District One collective farm.  Normally, the law is clear on this matter.  Destruction of City food production is a capital offense.  However, the defendant claims to be from outer space, and as such, is invoking the ‘outstanding circumstances’ clause of the law.

“Our task, nay, our duty, is to hear the facts and then make a determination.  Is this woman really from outer space?  If so, I will exercise the ‘outstanding circumstances’ clause and pardon her.  If not, she will be sentenced to death, said sentence to be carried out immediately.”

Marlowe decided this was the perfect moment to send Obedere an email about the id box hijacking virus and what they’d found in his secret lair.  Along with that information Marlowe included a note that read simply, “You want to choose the right side.”  He figured the message would get through.  A moment later Obedere’s eyes grew wide, and his mouth dropped open, teeth flaring in a rictus of rage.  His iris implants, overloaded by the blow, visibly flashed.

Marlowe cleared his throat.  “I speak for the defense, your Honors.  My name is Marlowe.  I’m a private investigator.  The City contracted with me to investigate the origins of the defendant, one Nina Minari.  Please set your PDI receivers to Presentation Channel 3 so that I can present my findings to you.  The conference login pass phrase is ‘Forbidden Planet’.  I’ll wait until you’re all logged in.”

Marlowe waited as the attendee flags started popping in.  Obedere’s was last.

“I’m sure you’re all familiar with the circumstances surrounding her arrival.  Her story at first seems highly improbable.  However, if you’ll keep an open mind and review the evidence I’m about to present, I think you’ll all be surprised.  I know I was.”

Marlowe started the presentation loop.  He opened with a slide show of the Internet images depicting Nina interacting with people and events from the past, warm harp music strumming inspirationally in the background (House’s suggestion).  As Marlowe described the origins of the images, and how Obedere’s own investigators had collected them off the remnants of the Big Fed computer network called the Internet, an animated woman in a space suit waved from a corner of the presentation.  With an encouraging smile, she pointed out Nina’s presence in each picture, and if mentioned by Marlowe, would also point out a notable historical figure present with Nina.  The spacesuit was,as House put it, ‘retro’, with fins on the forearms and half-discs where the arms met the shoulders.  A little jet-pack on her back allowed her to putter around the presentation as her bright smile shined through the large, entirely glass helmet.  House was quite proud of her, an animated subroutine of his own creation.

After the Internet pictures came the disk images showing Nina’s crew mates and some of the scenery she’d encountered at 55 Cancri.  Marlowe was slowly building the evidence, laying the groundwork for what came next.  Much to his relief, even Naval Defense had awakened and was paying rapt attention.  Once the spacewoman had finished trudging through the 55 Cancri pictures, the music changed timbre and became a little more tense.  At this point, Marlowe outlined the results of the dead skin cell age analysis he’d done, adding credibility to Nina’s claims of living in the shuttle for four months.  

Next up was the astronomical survey commissioned by House to locate Nina’s ship in orbit.  After the animated spacewoman whipped out a telescope and began scanning the heavens above, images of the ship appeared.  Low mag images at first, showing just a streak in the night sky, and then then higher mag images, zooming in until the streak became a blocky, pixelated shape.  The ground-based telescope that had been used wasn’t the best for capturing detailed pictures, but it was good enough to show that something new was in the sky, which certainly didn’t hurt Nina’s case.  Marlowe explained this as he cycled through the images, all the time wondering how his brother would react when he got the final bill.