Illegal Alien Page 19
“We talked often, yes. Friends do that.”
“So it would not be at all unusual for him to admit you to his room?”
“Clete had singular tastes in music. No one else would join him there when he was using his CD player.”
“Singular tastes?”
Hask made a sound very much like human throat-clearing, then sang, “‘Swing your partner, do-si-do—’”
The jury erupted into laughter.
“Thank you for that recital,” said Ziegler coldly. “Mr. Hask, if you were often a guest of the deceased in his room, then why should we believe that you were not in his room when he was killed?”
“You should believe it because of the presumption of innocence, which is supposed to be the underpinning of your system of jurisprudence.”
“Move to strike as nonresponsive,” snapped Ziegler.
But Judge Pringle was smiling. “It seemed an excellent response to me, Ms. Ziegler. Overruled.”
Ziegler turned back to Hask. “You admit, though, that you were frequently alone with Dr. Calhoun.”
“‘Occasionally’ would be a more correct word.”
“Fine. You were occasionally alone with him. And on the night that he died, you chose not to go see Stephen Jay Gould.”
“That is correct.”
“Why is that?”
“I knew that I would likely shed my skin that evening.”
“And you wanted privacy for that?”
“Not at all. But I have observed the incredible attention you humans give to us Tosoks, even under the most banal circumstances. I felt it would be rude to create a distraction during Professor Gould’s lecture by shedding my skin in public.”
“Very considerate,” said Ziegler sarcastically. “Yet you were not due to shed that day. How could you possibly know it was going to happen?”
“I had begun dropping scales earlier that day, and I was experiencing the itchy feeling that is normally associated with the shedding of skin. I grant that my shedding was unscheduled, but I was aware in advance that it was going to happen.”
“And how do you explain the presence of objects resembling Tosok scales being found in Dr. Calhoun’s room?”
“Objection,” said Dale. “Calls for speculation.”
“I’ll allow it,” said Pringle.
Hask’s topknot waved slightly. “I visited him earlier in the day; perhaps I dropped some scales then. Or perhaps I had dropped scales elsewhere in the dormitory, and Dr. Calhoun, intrigued by them, picked them up and took them to his room for study; they could have then been knocked to the floor from his desk during whatever melee might have accompanied his murder.”
“What were you doing while Dr. Calhoun was murdered?”
“I believe the People have been unable to establish precisely when that occurred,” said Hask.
“Very well. What were you doing between eight P.M. and midnight last December twenty-second?”
“From eight P.M. to eight-thirty P.M., I watched TV.”
“What program?”
“I believe I was ‘channel surfing,’ if I understand the term. I watched a variety of programs.” His tuft parted in a Tosok shrug. “I am a male, after all.”
The jury laughed. Ziegler’s cheeks turned slightly red. “And after your channel surfing?”
“Meditation, mostly. And, of course, the shedding of my skin.”
“Of course,” said Ziegler. “The very convenient shedding of your skin.”
“It is never convenient, Ms. Ziegler. I do not know if you are prone to any periodic biological function, but, trust me, such things are just plain irritating.”
Judge Pringle was struggling to suppress a grin.
“The tool used to kill Dr. Calhoun,” said Ziegler. “Was it yours?”
“It certainly looks as though he was killed with a Tosok monofilament, yes. It could have been mine or that of any of the others; it is a common tool—we have dozens of them aboard our starship. But even if it was mine, it was hardly an item I kept under lock and key.”
Dale allowed himself a small smile. Hask was being a wonderful witness—funny, warm, reasonable. It was clear that he was winning the jury over.
Linda Ziegler must have been thinking the same thing. Dale could almost see her changing mental gears. Her manner became much more aggressive, her voice much harsher. “Mr. Hask, isn’t it true that you were awoken prematurely from hibernation to deal with a shipboard emergency?”
“Yes.”
“You were awoken because you were the crew member designated as ‘First,’ correct?”
“Yes.”
“What about Seltar? What was her title?”
“She was Second—if a situation arose that I could not deal with alone, she, too, would be revived. I was more expendable than she, but she was more expendable than all the others.”
“And the two of you were revived to deal with an accident affecting your ship?”
“Yes.”
“Simultaneously? Or did you revive first?”
“Simultaneously. The on-board computer recognized that both of us would be required, and so began heating our hibernation pallets and blankets to awaken us.”
“But Seltar died during repairs?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She was working in the engineering compartment. A containment plate ruptured and blew out toward her. The impact killed her instantly.”
“Was her body severely damaged?”
“No. The injury was to her head.”
“And so what did you do with the body?”
“As per the standard procedures of my ship, I dissected it to harvest her organs, in case they might be needed for transplant.”
“And didn’t you find yourself aroused by the process of doing so?”
“No.”
“Didn’t you find the cutting of flesh pleasurable?”
“No.”
“You didn’t feel compelled to experience the same sensation again?”
“No.”
“And once you arrived at Earth, weren’t you curious about human anatomy?”
“No. Such curiosity would be prurient.”
“Come now, Hask! You’re an explorer, and you’re on what is, to you, an alien world. Weren’t you curious about the lifeforms you found here?”
“When you put it that way…”
“So you lied a moment ago when you said no.”
“I misspoke.”
“How many other times have you misspoken?”
“Objection!” said Dale. “Argumentative.”
“Sustained,” said Pringle.
“So you admit that you had recently experienced the opening up of a body, and that you were fascinated by human anatomy—even if such fascination was not polite by the standards of your race.”
“You are overstating my curiosity.”
“On December twenty-second, you found yourself with Dr. Calhoun while almost everyone else was away. Did your urge to see human innards get the best of you?”
“No.”
“Did you pull out your cutting device and sever his leg?”
“No.”
“And did you then slit open his belly and carve out his organs—just as you had carved out Seltar’s organs?”
“No. No. None of what you say is true.”
“You’re a monster, aren’t you, Mister Hask? A killer, and, even by the standards of your own people, a deviant.”
“Objection!” said Dale.
“That is not true,” said Hask. His topknot was flailing wildly.
“The one inescapable truth, though,” said Ziegler, “is that Cletus Calhoun is dead.”
Hask was quiet for several seconds. His topknot slowly calmed down. “That,” agreed Hask, at last, “is the one inescapable truth.”
CHAPTER
24
The media excitement was slightly—but only slightly—less the next day, when the defense’s case-in-chief continued.
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“The defense calls the Tosok named Rendo,” said Dale Rice.
Rendo strode to the witness stand and was sworn in.
Dale rose. “Mr. Rendo, what is your job title aboard the Tosok starship?”
“I am Sixth.”
“And what specialty did you perform?”
“I am chief engineer.”
“Prior to embarking on your starflight, where did you live?”
“In the city known as Destalb
“And that planet,” said Dale, “where is it located?”
“In the scheme of naming used by your species, it is part of the Alpha Centauri system.”
“Why did your people come to Earth?”
Rendo looked at the jurors. “In our skies, your sun appears in the constellation you call Cassiopeia. From Earth, Cassiopeia looks like your capital letter W. From our world, your sun forms an extra jag off the W. We call that constellation the serpent. Your sun is the bright eye of the serpent; the rest of what you call Cassiopeia makes up the fainter tail.” Rendo’s tuft parted in the center. “Every young Tosok has looked up at the eye of the serpent, knowing that, save for Orange and Red, it is the nearest star. It is only natural that we should wish to visit here.”
“Orange and Red?”
“Our names for Alpha Centauri B and C. We call Alpha Centauri A ‘Yellow,’ B ‘Orange,’ and C ‘Red.’”
“What is the purpose of your mission?”
“We are explorers. We came in peace, and in friendship.”
“Your mission is, to quote an Earth TV show, to seek out new life and new civilizations?”
“Yes.”
“Something is wrong with your starship, the Ka
“Yes.”
“What, exactly?”
“The ship has two engines. The main one is a large fusion engine, used for interstellar travel. The other, smaller one, is a standard rocket engine, used for maneuvering within a star system. Although this secondary one still operates, the main one was damaged and requires repair.”
“How was it damaged?”
“As we approached the orbit of your planet Neptune, a chunk of ice impacted the fusion engine.”
“Is the damage irreparable?”
“No. With the proper parts, it can be fixed.”
“Are you capable of manufacturing the proper parts aboard your mothership?”
“No.”
“Could humans manufacture the proper parts here on Earth?” asked Dale.
“With guidance from us, yes. In fact, they are doing that even as we speak.”
“Let me get this straight, Mr. Rendo. Without human goodwill, you and your crew are stranded here, unable to ever return home, is that right?”
“That is correct.”
“So the last thing you Tosoks would want to do is to make us humans angry, lest we be unwilling to help you?”
“Objection,” said Ziegler. “The witness can only speak on his own behalf.”
“Sustained.”
“Chief Engineer,” said Dale, “speaking personally, since you require our help to get home, is it not in your best interest to treat us well?”
“Absolutely.”
“Just so there’s no misunderstanding, killing someone would not be considered treating them well in Tosok society, would it?”
“Like Captain Kelkad, I wish for you humans to think well of Tosok society. I would like to be able to tell you that murder is unknown on my world, but it is not. But committing murder most certainly would not be the appropriate thing to do to one from whom we wanted help.”
“Thank you, Rendo. I’m sure the jury appreciates your candor and honesty. Your witness, Ms. Ziegler.”
Linda Ziegler stood up and moved to the lectern. “Hello, Mr. Rendo.”
“Hello, Ms. Ziegler.”
“I’m curious about the accident that befell your ship.”
“What would you like to know?”
“I wonder how it is that such advanced beings as yourselves would not have prepared for the possibility of collisions in space?”
“We were prepared for the possibility of micrometeoroid collisions in the inner solar system, by which point our crew would be revived from its long sleep and therefore able to deal with them. We had expected the outer solar system to be virtually empty, and so our ship was undertaking only the most cursory of automated monitoring. We knew about your Oort cloud, of course—the halo of cometary material that surrounds your sun at a distance of up to one hundred thousand times your planet’s orbital radius, but we had not known about the disk of cometary nuclei, ice, and other junk approximately forty times your orbital radius from the sun.”
Ziegler consulted her notes, refreshing herself on the briefing she’d had on this topic. “We call that region ‘the Kuiper belt.’” She looked at the jurors. “The jury may have heard of the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter, but that is a different phenomenon; the Kuiper belt is much farther out, past the orbit of Neptune.” She turned back to Rendo. “Our theories of planetary formation suggest that any star with planets is likely to have such a region surrounding it.”
“And we have learned from that insight,” said Rendo. “Dr. Calhoun explained short-period comets to me, which I understand are debris from the Kuiper belt that has fallen in toward the inner solar system. I suspect such comets are spectacular to behold, but my world has never seen one, at least not in all of Tosok recorded history.” Rendo paused, as if considering how best to make his point. “Alpha Centauri is a triple star system, Ms. Ziegler. Each of these three stars has a gravitational effect on matter orbiting beyond a certain distance from the others. From what I learned from Dr. Calhoun, I would say it was likely that Alpha Centauri A, B, and C did indeed have Kuiper belts left over after they coalesced out of primordial dust and gas, just as such a belt was left over after your sun did the same. But the gravitational dance of A and B long ago cleared out each other’s Kuiper belts. Without the clue of having seen short-period comets in our own sky, it never occurred to us that a disk of debris would ever have existed close in to our own sun, let alone around other suns. The accident did indeed occur as I described, we do indeed need human assistance, and as I told Mr. Rice, none of my people would have jeopardized that assistance by committing murder.”
Ziegler realized she wasn’t helping her cause. “No further questions,” she said.
CHAPTER
25
Something about the courtroom discussion of the orbital dynamics of the Alpha Centauri system was bothering Frank Nobilio, but he wasn’t exactly sure what. Of course, Frank wasn’t an astronomer himself (his doctorate was in the history of science), but he’d taken one undergrad astronomy course. Still, there was something that didn’t quite add up. In the past, when he’d had an astronomical question, Frank had simply put it to Cletus Calhoun, but now that wasn’t possible.
Or was it?
Frank drove out to KCET, the Los Angeles PBS affiliate. The people there were only too happy to give him access to a viewing room, with a thirty-one-inch TV and a stereo VCR. Frank’s memory was right: there had been an episode on this very topic. He sat in the dark, sipping Diet Pepsi from a can.
The screen filled with a corporate logo. “This program,” said a female voice, “is made possible by a grant from the Johnson & Johnson Family of Companies, and by annual financial support from viewers like you.”
The camera started tight on a campfire, then pulled back to show that it was surrounded by primitive, beetle-browed humans. Sparks rose from the fire, and the camera tilted up, following them as they continued up toward the moonless night sky. The sparks soon disappeared, but the sky was filled with stars, the Milky Way arching overhead. The camera kept tilting up, and the pounding rhythm of Jerry Lee Lewis’s piano started in the background. Soon the camera was zooming into space, then the image flipped around to show Ear
th’s nightside and, rising over its curving edge, the sun. The camera moved in toward the sun, its spotted face filling the screen, a prominence arcing up from the surface. Lewis’s voice belted out the words “Goodness gracious! Great balls of fire!” The prominence fell back toward the surface of the sun, but the series title was left in flaming letters glowing in space: GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!
The camera moved through space as the song continued, past a bloated red giant star adjacent to a black hole, which was pulling material from it; past a binary star system; past a pulsar flashing on and off; through the Pleiades, their blue light diffused by the nebulosity surrounding them…
A second title appeared: WITH CLETUS CALHOUN. Jerry Lee Lewis sang the words “Great Balls of Fire!” once more, and the credit sequence ended. After a brief fade to black, the image of Clete himself came up, all gangly limbs and goofy smile. It was twilight, and he was standing on a boardwalk at the edge of a subtropical swamp.
A third title appeared: PROGRAM 3: JUST OVER YONDER.
“Evening, y’all,” said Clete, smiling. Frank felt his eyes stinging. God, how he missed that man. In the darkened room, it was almost like he was really there with him.
“Y’all know I come from the South,” continued Clete, looking straight into the camera—straight at Frank. “From Tennessee, t’be ’zact. But tonight we’ve up and gone even farther south than that—just ’bout as far south as a body can go and still be in the good ol’ U.S. of A. We’re here in Everglades National Park, right down near the tip o’ Florida.” In the background, an egret flew against the pink sky, its long legs and neck not unlike those of Calhoun himself. “We’ve come on down here to see something y’all can’t see farther north.” He pointed with a skinny arm and the camera followed until it had centered its view on a bright star, just above the horizon, framed between two bulrushes.
“That there’s Alpha Centauri,” said Clete. “Don’t look like nothin’ special, but it’s the closest star to the Earth, ’cepting the Sun. It’s ’round ’bout twenty-five trillion miles away—just over yonder. Our nearest neighbor in space.”
Frank hit the fast-forward button. Clete zipped around silently, like a Keystone Kop. He was intercut with graphics showing the constellation of the Centaur. After a time Frank released the button.