Floating Worlds (34 page)

“If you want,” Tanuojin said. “There were two ships killed at Luna, that watch. I ordered the shooting from Ybix, and the rest of the charges are false. That ought to limit the points of controversy.”

Parine sat down in his chair. He plucked at the knees of his doe-gray trousers. “You’re in advance of yourself, aren’t you? The question isn’t one of issues yet, just procedure.”

“Oh.” Tanuojin circled past the Bench. “I’ll try not to confuse the case with the facts. How do I know we need your evidence declared?”

Parine turned his head away, insouciant. The young redheaded woman stood up before her chair. She spoke to the Bench. “We are not offering evidence itself, but an outline of our case. Of course, if the defenser is so willing to admit to the crimes as charged—”

“Object,” Paula said. “That isn’t what he said.”

Tanuojin shook his head at her. He walked slowly down the midline of the room, patrolling his boundary. He swayed to keep from hitting the white china lamp hanging from the ceiling, and the crowd murmured. Saba frowned.

“I don’t need your case,” Tanuojin said. “I know my evidence.” His bassoon voice was softer than before, as if he were uncertain.

Wu-wei said, “The defenser is obviously not familiar with the procedure. I’ll ask the adversary to restate his bill.”

The redheaded woman started toward the Bench. “Your Excellency, our evidence is exclusively documentary. If the defenser’s case is compatible, we can dispose of the adversary presentment in a matter of hours.”

Tanuojin strolled up between her and the judge’s table. Still talking, she backed away from him, and he took a step toward her. The redheaded woman braced herself. “Bench, tell this man not to chase me around.”

Paula put her hand over her mouth. Tanuojin walked away from the Martian woman, veering around the lamp. His back to the Bench, he said, “I don’t need his case. I know what happened at Luna. If he says something else happened, he’s lying. I don’t have to know the substance of a lie.”

Wu-wei knocked on the table. “Decline Parine’s bill of declaration.” He looked irritated.

Another of Parine’s staff bobbed out of his chair. His voice was high-pitched with indignation. “Bench, we object to the defenser’s behavior. Defenser is resorting to the coarsest tactics, including physical intimidation.” His voice quivered. “We’d like the Bench to state that he will use contempt procedures to control behavior in this courtroom.”

Saba leaned toward her across the arm of his chair. “I thought you said they’d have General Gordon.”

She shrugged one shoulder, her gaze on Parine, who was inspecting his own trim little hands. “That’s what I thought.”

Wu-wei was watching them. His face was smoothly expressionless again. Tanuojin went off on another tour of their half of the courtroom. Wu-wei said, “I have my doubts about the contempt citation, as I’m sure you know, but if the defenser agrees to it, I’ll consider the use.”

Tanuojin came up behind his chair and leaned on the back. “Against me only, or them too?”

“Against the offense as well,” the little judge said.

Parine bounced onto his feet. “We’re people of principle, sir, we don’t—”

Tanuojin said, “I’ve never met but one nigger with principles, and her principle is she has no principles.”

The audience roared. A voice in the back called, “Throw the black bastard out.” Marus and Kany left the wall and came up along the rail, between their chief and the crowd.

“I can assure you, Tanuojin,” Wu-wei said, “I am a man of no principles whatsoever.” The corners of his mouth tipped up in a V of a smile.

Parine had gone back to consult with the redheaded woman and another aide. He returned to the Bench. “Your Excellency, we have a bill of—”

Wu-wei leaned forward. “Parine, it’s almost seventeen hours. Before we get involved in another of these choreographs of yours, I’ll recess until nine tomorrow, so you won’t be rushed for time.” He knocked on the table. The rest of the courtroom, all but Tanuojin, heaved to its feet, and the judge went out through the back door into his office.

Paula rubbed her hands together, glad to be finished for the day. Parine’s staff was putting away papers. Tanuojin stood frowning at the floor.

A voice screamed from the back of the court: “Why don’t you go back where you came from?”

Paula went to the gate in the railing. A dozen spectators were crowded along it, yelling at Tanuojin. When she went through the gate, a fat woman turned on her. “You, too.” And raised her purse and struck her.

Marus went sideways into the fat woman, who fell hard, screeching. “He attacked me!” Three men in dark gray uniforms hustled her away. Paula turned her back. The police cleared out the courtroom.

Saba came through the railing. “You’re supposed to be watching her, too,” he said to Marus.

Paula went off down the aisle toward the doors. Saba and Tanuojin ranged up alongside her. The Styths came after her. Marus said to both of them, “I’m sorry, Akellar, I didn’t think—”

“Don’t try,” Tanuojin said. He went ahead of them all out the door.

Saba and Tanuojin started to argue on the way back to the hotel. Paula dropped behind them to stay out of their way. The other Styths trailed her. In the lobby, crossing the map in the floor, the two men kept still, but when she and Saba and Tanuojin were alone in the vertical car Saba swung around, his eyes flattened, and said, “You’re supposed to be a lawyer. You’re handling this like a hack.”

“Could you do it?”

“Better than you.” Saba crowded against her, pushing her toward the other man. “Tell him.” She stared straight ahead, uncomfortable in the heat of their tempers.

The vertical door opened and they went into the black and white sitting room of their suite. David ran to meet them. Saba snarled at Tanuojin, and the little boy veered away from him. His smile wilted.

“This snappy little stud lawyer is making fools out of us because of you.”

Paula led David by the hand into the big bedroom. His hands were grimy; he said something about a green yard where he had played in water. Sril had taken him to the park. Saba tramped in behind her.

“What are you fighting about?” she said to Saba.

“He’s botching the case.” The big Styth dropped flat across the bed. “This place makes me feel crazy. Trapped.”

She had spilled something on the front of her dress at lunch. She scraped at it with her fingernail. “It’s all the people.”

“What’s that whore’s address?”

“One-one-one something. Ask Sril.” She crooked her arm up behind her to unhook the back of the dress. “I think he’s doing well. He doesn’t know the court, he has to see how much the Bench will let him get away with.” She pulled the dress down over her hips, shivering in the cold, and turned to the closet for her robe. Saba was still lying on the bed, staring at her body. She turned her back to him. In the mirror she watched him roll up to his feet and stride out of the room.

She called Sybil Jefferson, to find out about General Gordon. Jefferson looked sleepy. Paula said, “What, did I get you up again?” and the fat woman shook her head.

“I haven’t been to bed yet.”

“Oh.” Paula wondered what her business was with the Council. “I’ll keep it short. Where is General Gordon?”

“Dead,” Jefferson said. “A heart attack. Electrically inspired.”

“Hunh. When was this?”

“Just a few months ago. The information isn’t in general release. I don’t really know much about it, dear girl, why don’t you ask Wylie?”

Paula grunted. That was Richard Bunker. “Where is he—on the Earth?”

“No—he’s here. You know he has an interest in you and the Styths.”

“How can I get in touch with him?”

“Don’t try. I’ll have him call you. Is that all?”

“That’s all.” Paula turned off the videone.

She took a shower. Without General Gordon, Parine had no case. They had misjudged the Styths. It would be instructing to see how long it took the Martians to adjust their prejudices. While she was standing in the hot mist of the shower washing her hair, David climbed into the stall with her. She washed him and dried them both off with a white towel. The child’s body was round and sweet. She hugged him, and he put his arms around her neck.

In the bedroom, Tanuojin stood at the videone, talking to someone on the screen. She put on her robe and got David into his shorts, but he refused to wear a shirt. Tanuojin shut off the videone.

“That was your friend Bunker. He’s meeting us at the Committee office at twenty-one hours. He says this place is wired.”

“Probably.” She found clean clothes. “You’ve met him, haven’t you? You know who he is.”

“Yes. The man who sent that listening device inboard
Ybix
at Luna and started this.” He paced around the room, his hands under his belt. David was struggling with the latch of the door. Tanuojin said, “Your friends are as bad as you are.”

“Don’t call them my friends. When anarchists are friends it means they fuck each other.”

“You’re the only people in the Universe who could make ‘friend’ into an obscenity.”

Her arms roughened in the cold. She put on her clothes, shivering. David finally realized he had to turn the door latch; he darted out to the next room.

“Where did Saba go?” Tanuojin said.

“To the whorehouse.”

“Damn him.”

She put on a sweater and a jacket. In the mirror his image paced across the room, swerving to miss the lamps. His long hollow face was gnawed with bad temper. She reached for her comb.

“I’m not doing that bad. In the court,” he said.

“You’re doing fine.”

“Who’s listening in on us? Parine? Do you think he speaks Styth? Somebody there must.”

He never stopped moving; his restless pacing took him around the room. She felt the burden of the Planet around them, the pressure of its millions and millions of lives. She kept her eyes on her own face in the mirror and combed out her bush of brass hair.

“Damn him, he’s totally irresponsible,” Tanuojin said. “When I need him he goes off to an orgy.”

“Let him alone,” Paula said. She veered across the low-ceilinged street to read the markings on the corner building. Above the address, a plaque set into the wall read

WARNING: This building protected by Sentry Security—guard your home—hire a Sentry

They turned the corner. The street was empty of people. It was lined with people’s homes, what in Crosby’s Planet they called a dormitory area. Every few feet down the gray walls on either side was a door or a window, alternating, identical, except for the changing numbers.

“
Let him alone
,” Tanuojin said, sneering. “If I let him alone, do you know what he’d do? Do you know what he was like when I met him?” They went up a moving stairway. Through the gap between the step and the rail, she looked down into another stairway, on the next level below.

At the top of the stair was a gate, beside the gate an enclosed booth for the guards. Tanuojin passed their identification in through the little revolving door in the window. The guards were staring at him. Paula hung back by the grillwork of the gate. Tanuojin would not let her carry the little plastic card Saba had made up for her on the ship’s computer. The gate clicked, and they moved into the street beyond. They went down a trunk street, empty like all the others, reading the numbers of the doors, and crossed a white line into a sector darkened for the artificial night. The only light came from the display windows of shops in either wall, where pale-skinned mannequins showed off clothes of feathers, of green plants, and metal.

“He’s a whore,” Tanuojin said. “He’ll lie down for anybody.”

“Maybe he enjoys it.”

“You won’t be so broad-minded when he catches you with his wife.”

She swerved over to the side of the street. In the wall white letters marked the office of the Committee for the Revolution. The door was locked.

“Don’t tell him about that,” she said. Bunker was nowhere in sight.

“Then keep sweet with me. What are we supposed to do, wait outside?”

“No. Give me that card.”

He gave her his fleet card and she used it to shim the lock. She reached for the latch. His hand caught her wrist. Startled, she looked up at his face, and he flung her off into the street and dodged back.

A muffled crack sounded. The door shook. Waist-high in the middle panel a ragged hole appeared. Paula rolled over to her hands and knees. Tanuojin launched himself shoulder-first at the door and through it into the office.

The door slammed against the wall with a splintering crack. A Martian voice cried, “Watch out!” The inside ceiling lights came on bright as sunlight. Paula got up, breathing a coppery stench that made her heart gallop. Shots like sticks breaking crackled inside the office. A bloody man staggered across the threshold and fell on his face in the street. He had a gun in his hand, and she stooped and took it. His shredded Martian tunic was dark with blood. Suddenly his body flew backward feet-first into the office. She whirled.

“Come in here,” Tanuojin said. “Turn these lights down.”

She went into the waiting room of the Committee office. Under a glaring ceiling, three other men lay on the tawny carpet. Tanuojin’s hands and the forearms of his sleeves shone with blood. She found the light switch and turned off all the lights but one.

“There’s one more,” Tanuojin said, shutting the door. “Down the hall. He has your friend Bunker, but he’ll probably shoot at me first. Are you all right?”

She nodded. Bent double, she went from one Martian to the next; they were all dead, all their eyes were open wide. When Tanuojin faced her, she saw a ragged hole in his shirt over his chest.

“You were hit.”

“I’m fixing it.” He went to the door behind the desk and opened it.

She watched him go into the corridor beyond. She knew what would happen. Three shots banged out from the end of the hall. Tanuojin went toward the gun, his hands at his sides. Paula went into the hallway behind him. The Martian crouched in the doorway at the end of the hall let out a screech and shot once more, and the Styth reached him.

Behind him, on the floor, Dick Bunker lay tied up like a market hen. Paula brushed by Tanuojin, who let the Martian drop.