The Star Beast (7 page)

“Hey! Inside with you, Johnnie Stuart! You were supposed to be in court twenty minutes ago.”

John Thomas looked startled. “But I thought…” he began, then noticed that the judge and Mr. Greenberg had gone. “Oh! Just a minute, Mr. Dreiser… I’ve got something to say to Lummox.”

“You’ve got nothing to say to that beast now. Come along.”

“But, Chief…”

Mr. Dreiser grabbed his arm and started to move away. Since he outweighed John Thomas by nearly one hundred pounds Johnnie moved with him. Betty interrupted with, “Deacon Dreiser! What a nasty way to behave!”

“That’ll be enough out of you, young lady,” Dreiser answered. He continued toward the courthouse with John Thomas in tow. Betty shut up and followed. She considered tripping the police chief, but decided not to.

John Thomas gave in to the inevitable. He had intended to impress on Lummox, at the very last minute, the necessity of remaining quiet, staying put, and not eating the steel bars. But Mr. Dreiser would not listen. It seemed to John that most of the older people in the world spent much of their time not listening.

Lummox had not missed their exit. He stood up, filling the enclosed space, and stared after John Thomas, while wondering what to do. The bars creaked as he brushed against them. Betty looked back and said, “Lummox! You wait there! We’ll be back.”

Lummox remained standing, staring after them and thinking about it. An order from Betty wasn’t really an order. Or was it? There were precedents in the past to think over.

Presently he lay down again.

CHAPTER IV

The Prisoner at the Bars

AS
O’Farrell and Greenberg entered the room the bailiff shouted, “Order in the court!” The babble died down and spectators tried to find seats. A young man wearing a hat and hung about with paraphernalia stepped into the path of the two officials. “Hold it!” he said and photographed them. “One more…and give us a smile, Judge, like the Commissioner had just said something funny.”

“One is enough. And take off that hat.” O’Farrell brushed past him. The man shrugged but did not take off his hat.

The clerk of the court looked up as they approached. His face was red and sweaty, and he had his tools spread out on the justice’s bench. “Sorry, Judge,” he said. “Half a moment.” He bent over a microphone and intoned, “Testing…one, two, three, four… Cincinnati…sixty-six.” He looked up. “I’ve had more grief with this recording system today.”

“You should have checked it earlier.”

“So help me, Judge, if you can find anybody… Never mind. I did check it, it was running sweet. Then when I switched it on at ten minutes to ten, a transistor quit and it’s been an endless job to locate the trouble.”

“All right,” O’Farrell answered testily, annoyed that it should happen in the presence of a distinguished visitor. “Get my bench clear of your implements, will you?”

Greenberg said hastily, “If it’s all the same to you, I won’t use the bench. We’ll gather around a big table, court-martial style. I find it speeds things up.”

O’Farrell looked unhappy. “I have always maintained the ancient formalities in this court. I find it worthwhile.”

“Very likely. I suppose that those of us who have to try cases anywhere and everywhere get into sloppy habits. But we can’t help it. Take Minatare for example; suppose you attempted, out of politeness, to conform to their customs in trying a case. They don’t think a judge is worth a hoot unless he undergoes a cleansing fast before he mounts the judge’s sphere…then he has to stay up there without food or drink until he reaches a decision. Frankly, I couldn’t take it. Could you?”

Judge O’Farrell felt annoyed that this glib young man should imply that there could be a parallel between the seemly rituals of his court and such heathen practices. He recalled uneasily the three stacks of wheat cakes, adorned with sausage and eggs, with which he had started the day. “Well…‘other times, other customs,’” he said grudgingly.

“Exactly. And thanks for indulging me.” Greenberg motioned to the bailiff; the two started shoving attorneys’ tables together to make one big one before O’Farrell could make clear that he had quoted the old saw for the purpose of rebutting it. Shortly, about fifteen people were seated around the composite table and Greenberg had sent the bailiff out to find ash trays. He turned to the clerk, who was now at his control desk, wearing earphones and crouching over his instruments in the awkward pose of all electronics technicians. “Is your equipment working now?”

The clerk pressed a thumb and forefinger together. “Rolling.”

“Very well. Court’s in session.”

The clerk spoke into his mike, announcing time, date, place, nature and jurisdiction of the court, and the name and title of the special master presiding, reading the last and mispronouncing Sergei Greenberg’s first name; Greenberg did not correct him. The bailiff came in, his hands full of ash trays, and said hastily, “Oyez! Oyez! Let all who have business before this court gather nigh and…”

“Never mind,” Greenberg interrupted. “Thanks anyhow. This court will now hold a preliminary hearing on any and all issues relating to the actions last Monday of an extra-terrestrial creature locally resident and known as ‘Lummox.’ I refer to that big brute in a cage outside this building. Bailiff, go get a picture of him, please, and insert it in the record.”

“Right away, your honor.”

“The court wishes to announce that this hearing may be converted to a final determination on any or all issues at any time, if the court so announces and subject to objection and ruling at the time. In other words, don’t hold your fire; this may be your only day in court. Oh yes…the court will receive petitions relating to this extra-terrestrial as well as hear issues.”

“Question, your honor.”

“Yes?”

“May it please the court: my client and I have no objection if all that we are engaged in is a preliminary inquiry. But will we return to accepted procedures if we go on to terminer?”

“This court, being convened by the Federation and acting in accordance with the body of law called ‘Customs of Civilizations’ in brief and consisting of agreements, treaties, precedents, et cetera, between two or more planets of the Federation, or with other civilizations with which member planets of the Federation have diplomatic relations, is not bound by local procedures. It is the purpose of this court to arrive at the truth and, from there, to reach equity…equity under the Law. The court will not trample on local law and custom except where they are hopelessly opposed to superior law. But where local custom is merely ritualistic, this court will ignore formality and get on with its business. Understand me?”

“Er, I believe so, sir. I may take exception later.” The small, middle-aged man who spoke seemed embarrassed.

“Any one may object at any time for any reason and be heard. Also you may appeal from my decisions. However…” Greenberg grinned warmly.“… I doubt if it will do you much good. So far I have been pretty lucky in having my decisions upheld.”

“I did not intend to imply,” the man answered stiffly, “that the court was not properly…”

“Sure, sure! Let’s get on with it.” Greenberg picked up a stack of papers. “Here is a civil action. ‘Bon Marché Merchandising Corporation versus ‘Lummox,’ John Thomas Stuart
XI
…” (“
That name still bothers me
,” he said in an aside to Judge O’Farrell.) “…Marie Brandley Stuart, et al., and another one like it for the Western Mutual Assurance Company, insurers of Bon Marché. Here is another, same defendants, brought by K. Ito and his insurance company, um, New World Casualty, Ltd., and one from the City of Westville, same defendants again…and still another brought by Mrs. Isabelle Donahue. Also some criminal matters…one is for harboring a dangerous animal, one for felonious harboring of same, another for negligence and another for maintaining a public nuisance.”

John Thomas had been steadily turning white. Greenberg glanced at him and said, “They haven’t skipped much, have they, son? Cheer up…the condemned man always eats a hearty breakfast.” John Thomas managed a sickly grin. Betty found his knee under the table and patted it.

There was another paper in the stack; Greenberg shuffled it in with the others without reading it into the record. It was a petition signed by the Chief-of-Safety on behalf of the City of Westville praying the court to order the destruction of a dangerous animal known as “Lummox” and further identified as, etc. Instead Greenberg looked up and said, “Now who’s who? You, sir?”

The man addressed was the lawyer who had questioned the court’s methods; he identified himself as Alfred Schneider and stated that he was acting both for Western Mutual and for the Bon Marché. “This gentleman beside me is Mr. deGrasse, manager of the store.”

“Good. Now the next man, please.” Greenberg established that all principals were present, with their attorneys; the roster included, besides himself, Judge O’Farrell, John Thomas, Betty, and Chief Dreiser, the following: Mrs. Donahue and her lawyer Mr. Beanfield, Messrs. Schneider and deGrasse for Bon Marché, Mr. Lombard, city attorney of Westville, the attorney for Mr. Ito’s insurance company and Mr. Ito’s son (acting for his father), Officers Karnes and Mendoza (witnesses), and John Thomas’s mother with the Stuart family lawyer, Mr. Postle.

Greenberg said to Postle, “I take it you are also acting for Mr. Stuart.”

Betty interrupted with, “Heavens, no! I’m representing Johnnie.”

Greenberg raised his eyebrows. “I was about to ask what you were doing here. Uh, you are an attorney?”

“Well… I’m his counsel.”

O’Farrell leaned over and whispered, “This is preposterous, Mr. Commissioner. Of course she is not a lawyer. I know the child. I’m rather fond of her…but frankly, I don’t think she is quite bright.” He added severely, “Betty, you have no business here. Get out and quit making a fool of yourself.”

“Now, see here, Judge…”

“One moment, young lady,” Greenberg put in. “Do you have any qualifications to act as counsel for Mr. Stuart?”

“I certainly do. I’m the counsel he wants.”

“Mmm, a very strong point. Though perhaps not sufficient.” He spoke to John Thomas. “Is that correct?”

“Uh, yes. sir.”

Judge O’Farrell whispered, “Don’t do it, son! You’ll be reversed.”

Greenberg whispered back, “That’s what I am afraid of.” He frowned, then spoke to Mr. Postle. “Are you prepared to act for both mother and son?”

“Yes.”

“
No!
” Betty contradicted.

“Eh? Wouldn’t Mr. Stuart’s interests be better protected in the hands of an attorney than in yours? No, don’t answer; I want Mr. Stuart to answer.”

John Thomas turned pink and managed to mutter, “I don’t want him.”

“Why?”

John Thomas looked stubborn. Betty said scornfully, “Because his mother doesn’t like Lummox, that’s why. And…”

“That’s not true!” Mrs. Stuart cut in sharply.

“It is true…and that old fossil Postle is stringing along with her. They want to get rid of Lummie, both of them!”

O’Farrell coughed in his handkerchief. Postle turned red. Greenberg said gravely, “Young lady, you will stand and apologize to Mr. Postle.”

Betty looked at the Commissioner, dropped her eyes and stood up. She said humbly, “Mr. Postle, I’m sorry you’re a fossil. I mean I’m sorry I said you were a fossil.”

“Sit down,” Greenberg said soberly. “Mind your manners hereafter. Mr. Stuart, no one is required to accept counsel not of his choice. But you place me in a dilemma. Legally you are a minor child; you have chosen as counsel another minor child. It won’t look well in the record.” He pulled at his chin. “Could it be that you…or your counsel…or both of you…are trying to cause a mistrial?”

“Uh, no, sir.” Betty looked smugly virtuous; it was a possibility she had counted on but had not mentioned to Johnnie.

“Hmm…”

“Your honor…”

“Yes, Mr. Lombard?”

“This strikes me as ridiculous. This girl has no standing. She is not a member of the bar; obviously she can’t function as an attorney. I dislike finding myself in the position of instructing the court but the obvious thing to do is to put her outside the bar and appoint counsel. May I suggest that the Public Defender is present and prepared?”

“You may so suggest. Is that all, Mr. City Attorney?”

“Uh, yes, your honor.”

“May I say that the court also finds it distasteful for you to instruct the court; you will not do so again.”

“Er…yes, your honor.”

“This court will, make its own mistakes in its own way. Under the customs by which this court is convened it is not necessary that a counsel be qualified formally…in your idiom, be a ‘member of the bar,’ a licensed lawyer. If you find that rule unusual, let me assure you that the hereditary lawyer-priests of Deflai find it much more astonishing. But it is the only rule which can be applied everywhere. Nevertheless I thank you for your suggestion. Will the Public Defender stand up?”

“Here, your honor. Cyrus Andrews.”

“Thank you. Are you prepared to act?”

“Yes. I’ll need a recess to consult with my principal.”

“Naturally. Well, Mr. Stuart? Shall the court appoint Mr. Andrews as your counsel? Or associate counsel?”

“No!” Again Betty answered.

“I was addressing Mr. Stuart, Miss Sorenson. Well?”

John Thomas glanced at Betty. “No, your honor.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll answer that,” Betty put in. “I talk faster than he does; that’s why I’m counsel. We won’t take Mr. Andrews because the City Attorney is against us on one of these silly things they’ve got about Lummox…and the City Attorney and Mr. Andrews are law partners when they are not fighting sham battles in court!”

Greenberg turned to Andrews. “Is that correct, sir?”

“Why, yes, we’re law partners, your honor. You will understand that, in a town this size…”

“I quite understand. I also understand Miss Sorenson’s objection. Thank you, Mr. Andrews. Stand down.”

“Mr. Greenberg?”

“What is it now, young lady?”

“I can get you part way off the spot. You see, I had a dirty hunch that some busybody would try to keep me out of it. So we fixed it up ahead of time. I’m half owner.”