Above His Station (22 page)
I puffed out my cheeks. ‘I couldn’t even begin to speculate.’
‘That he was allergic to her perfume! Can you believe that?’
‘How is that a valid defence?’ I questioned.
‘Oh, this is the classic bit,’ said the rat, grinning from ear to ear. ‘He said that he went out into his garden and got a whiff of her perfume over the fence. The next thing he knew he’d chopped her fucking head off with a fucking lawnmower!’
I didn’t have to pretend to look shocked for that one. ‘You’re having me on.’
‘Seriously!’ piped the rat. ‘He told the court that he couldn’t remember a thing about it!’
‘I still don’t see how that’s much of an alibi,’ I said. ‘All right, so he might have been let off with involuntary manslaughter rather than murder, but surely-’
‘Yeah, but get this,’ continued the rat, splaying out the fingers of both hands as if it was just about to impart all the forbidden secrets of the Universe. ‘It turned out that the victim’s husband was behind it. He’d found out that she was seeing someone on the side, so once spring came he got hold of this hallucinogenic perfume on the black market. It was like, outlawed in 17 different star sectors or something on account of its unstable side-effects in the vicinity of freshly-cut grass.’
I frowned, a facial expression that I shall probably be buried with if the past few days were any indication. ‘Look, whilst that’s marginally interesting, did you happen to learn anything else today that might actually be of
use
to us in our appeal against the genetic metamorphosis of every human life on Earth? Or are you planning on bombarding the jury with an endless supply of obscure legal anecdotes in the hope that they get so bored they drop down dead?’
‘That’s cold, man,’ the rat said, its excitement suddenly departed.
Seeing the look on its little face I felt as if I’d just kicked a swan.
‘I’m not doing this for my health, remember?’ it snapped. ‘I didn’t have to come here, I didn’t have to put myself through all this aggravation, and even if – and it’s currently a big one – we do actually win, there’s no guarantee that the Asclepians can reverse the
S-Triple R
’s effects and put things back the way they were!’
‘I know that, all right?’ I said. ‘And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. It’s just that…I…’ I wasn’t struggling to find the words, just struggling to say them. ‘I can’t afford to think about not winning the case, that’s all. And I don’t know how you’re going to pull it off, but if anyone can do it then it’s you. I nominated you as my Advocate for a reason, remember?’
‘I remember,’ said the rat. ‘And like I told you, don’t blame me if I fuck this up.’
‘You won’t,’ I said. ‘I know you won’t.’
‘What’s that? Instinct talking again?’
‘Something better,’ I said. ‘Faith.’
‘Then you’ve got shitloads more than me, Daddio…and I’m the one that’s been on an intensive Advocate training course for the past 2 fucking days! But it’s not been a total washout.’ The rat teased its whiskers, similarly to how an old hermit that lives in a cave on a deserted island might stroke his extraordinarily long beard. ‘There’s a chance. Okay, it’s so fucking slim it’s anorexic…but Taisho might have found a loophole that we can exploit, based on an intergalactic policy called the Brian Cox Charter – something that the Earth never signed up to. If we can prove that the Asclepian’s attack is in breach of the charter, and if we can discredit any claims they might have to the contrary, then we might be able to get enough of the jury on our side when it comes to the final verdict. We both knew this was always going to be a crapshoot.’
‘Mind your language,’ I said, hoping to smooth things over with some humour.
‘Right,’ the rat said. ‘Now…I’m hungry so what say we call room service and order some pizza. I don’t want a late one, though. We’ve both got a big day tomorrow.’
At 07:25 hrs I popped my head around Astrid’s door to let her know that the rat and I were off to the hearing, but she wasn’t yet back from her nightly snooping. I hoped that she was all right, but even if she wasn’t, there was hardly anything that I could do about it; I was due in court in a few minutes.
Arbitrator Bloch sent up a small parcel to our apartment and I opened it to find myself completely bemused. At first I thought it was tiny, pinstriped, charcoal-grey three-piece suit for an
Action Man
like the ones David used to have when he was a boy
– until the rat corrected me, nudging past my arm for a better look.
*
3 minutes later I was allowed to open my eyes.
‘What do you think?’ asked the rat, giving me a twirl.
‘Mmm,’ I said. ‘You look like a very natty ratty.’
The rat admired its reflection in the full-length mirror and straightened out the kink to its tie. ‘You don’t think it makes me look too-’
‘Fat?’ I suggested.
‘I was going to say ‘
serious
’,’ said the rat.
‘Oh, I’m not sure you can ever look
too
serious,’ I said. ‘Especially in a court of law.’
‘Inter-fucking-
galactic
law, get it right.’
‘Inter-fucking-galactic law, yes of course,’ I said. ‘How could I forget?’
‘Just out of interest,’ broached the rat gently, ‘
does
it make me look fat?’
I ignored it, looking at my own reflection in the mirror. My navy-blue uniform had been freshly-cleaned by the excellent SLETVDTC staff, and even the slashes in my trousers from where the tiger had clawed me had been stitched up. Deciding that I might look smarter without my cardigan, I took it off and just wore my shirt and regulation tie. I felt a bit lighter on my feet, far less constricted around my waistline and I concluded that I looked acceptable for the proceedings.
‘Come on,’ I said to the rat. ‘We’re due downstairs.’
*
Specifically, we were due downstairs in Courtroom number 2.
‘Ready?’ I asked the rat as we arrived at the double doors several minutes later.
‘Yep,’ it said. ‘You?’
‘I’m feeling a bit queasy, actually,’ I admitted.
‘Me too,’ said the rat.
‘I thought you just said that you were ready!’
‘I am,’ said the rat. ‘Ready to puke my guts up at any given moment.’
‘Well, I’m glad it’s not just me,’ I said. ‘So what happens next?’
‘We go in, I start talking and the whole place shuts up and we make those fucking snakes pay, that’s what.’
‘No, I meant before all that. Is someone coming to meet us, or-?’
‘Relax, Gramps. I’ve got this,’ the rat told me firmly. ‘Taisho was a good teacher, and she reckons that I was a good pupil, even if she did say it probably would have taken half the time if I’d stopped asking so many questions.’
‘Questions are good. Questions means you were taking it seriously,’ I said. ‘You
were
taking it seriously, weren’t you?’
‘Did you know that a fish can’t fart? Apparently, it’s a physical impossibility.’
‘Why?’ I sighed.
‘Something to do with how they filter out stomach gases through their gills.’
‘No…I meant ‘
Why?
’ as in ‘
Why are you telling me this?
’ I asked. ‘What makes you think that I would have any interest whatsoever in whether a fish can break wind or not? Now sharpen up and concentrate on the matter at hand.’
*
The matter at hand was suddenly a lot more at hand that I had anticipated.
I pushed open the doors and walked inside the courtroom, my nervous heart beating a decidedly Latin rhythm. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen courtroom dramas on TV or in the films? If you have then you’ll be able to picture this next bit a lot easier, but for the uninitiated there were rows of wooden benches on either side, a bit like a church (you are familiar with what a church looks like, I take it? You should never presume). A centre aisle divided the rows of benches, and on the other side of a knee-high barrier was a raised gallery separated from the rest of the courtroom by a thick glass screen. The bench even resembled an altar. Continuing the church theme, it was all polished mahogany so it must have been a bugger to keep clean. Adjacent to the bench was the stand where I presumed the rat would need to go, with an area where I presumed that I would be seated, and next to that was a small desk with a transcribing machine upon it. The opposite side of the judge’s bench mirrored the plaintiff’s side; where I presumed the Prime Ambassador would be as the defendant, plus an area for his counsel to prepare their defence. I was beginning to wonder if we’d got the wrong room until there was a crash of noise and I spun around to see several faces, one of which I was familiar with: Haakenslaars Bloch, Chief Arbitrator for the Sentient Life-form Ethical Treatment and Valued Diversity Tribunal Committee (SLETVDTC for short). Accompanying Bloch were a few court personnel (alien types, too numerous and bizarre to describe to the level of detail required to do them justice). I noticed that no one bothered to say ‘
All rise!
’ when Bloch entered, but I guessed this was because the rat and I were the only ones in the courtroom and we were already standing.
Arbitrator Bloch took his seat, his loathsome girth almost oozing into position to get himself comfy. He glanced over at the rat and I, offering a don’t-blink-or-you’ll-miss-it smile. ‘Morning.’
‘Morning,’ the rat and I both said.
‘I see you got my little gift,’ Bloch said, eyeing the rat’s new suit. ‘We’ve got a policy that all attendees wear clothes when court is in session. It’s slightly old-fashioned, but it saves any unnecessary embarrassment. I don’t know how well-versed you are in these sort of matters, Earthman, but I presume your Advocate has filled you in on what to expect?’
‘Bits and pieces,’ I replied. ‘I suppose it’s a bit like a trial.’
‘A bit,’ said Bloch. ‘Except in a trial you’ve usually got one side that’s guilty and one side that’s not and both of them are trying to prove the other one wrong. In the case of an ethical treatment tribunal, we’re trying to decide whether the defendant had any legal right to do what they did - to which of course, Ambassador Serpiente is going to say Yes. How it will work is like this: your Advocate will present your case to the jury, and then the defendant will present theirs. The jury shuffle off into a room to deliberate, and then come back after lunch with a verdict.’
‘Which will be guilty with any luck,’ I said.
‘First lesson?’ said Bloch, sticking a stubby digit in the air. ‘Luck counts for nothing in a courtroom…only hard facts and evidence. Now, you’ll be required to speak only once to confirm the charges that you are levelling at the defendant. At all other times your Advocate will speak on your behalf. You’re perfectly welcome to confer with one another, of course, but please note that any discussions will be placed onto the official record by the court’s clerk.’ Bloch looked up irritably, scanning the room with his bulbous orange eyes. ‘Where is that blessed woman?’
A little old lady burst into the courtroom and hurried down the aisle, hastily taking her place at the inscribing machine. She popped her handbag on the floor by her feet and arranged her spectacles into position. If she was an alien then she was a very strange one in that she looked perfectly normal. I thought that I was supposed to be the only human being left in the Universe and I was just about to question this fact when I saw the long scaly tail poking out the back of her skirt and the two bulges on her back where she kept her wings, so I thought never mind.
‘Good
afternoon
, Mrs Jenkins,’ said Bloch. ‘So good of you to join us.’
‘Begging your pardon, Arbitrator,’ said Mrs Jenkins. ‘Had to make a quick comfort stop on route, if you catch me drift.’
‘Ah,’ nodded Bloch. ‘More trouble with your waterworks, is it?’
‘Mornings are the worst, sir, especially after a cuppa. Goes right through me like a bleeding sieve, so it does.’
‘Maybe you should consider skipping the tea if it disagrees with you, Mrs J.’
‘Couldn’t do that, sir. Only way I can wake up of a morning is with me daily cuppa.’
Bloch hissed under his breath. ‘I can hardly delay official SLETVDTC business indefinitely on account of your sensitive bladder.’ He signalled to one of his other clerks at the other end of the bench. ‘Send them in please, Lawrence.’
I took my appointed place just to the rat’s right, as it took its place in the Advocate’s stand – although no one would have been able to see it if it sat down, so it just stood up on the podium bit. It looked quite sharp in its little pin-striped suit and I felt a bit underdressed in my uniform. The jury then filed into the courtroom in single file. I was so used to seeing brightly-coloured skin, tentacles, great big bug-eyes, claws, big jaws, spikes and spines that I hardly gave them a second glance. They were dressed in very sombre clothes, even the females. They looked thoroughly depressed already and I prayed that wasn’t going to be indicative of their verdict when it was announced.
Once the jury was seated, the far end doors opened once more and I had to lift myself up off my seat to see who it was. The Prime Ambassador of Asclepia entered the courtroom. He was (as all Asclepians are) a reticulated python, yet he was easily twice the size of Astrid in all dimensions, and a lot more fearsome-looking too. Even if I hadn’t known that he was the leader of his planet, I still would have assumed that he was a snake with authority. He slid across the floor with his head as big as a bicycle saddle, maintaining eye contact with the jury. He raised himself onto the tip of his tail and then made his way up the side of the defendant’s podium, crawling like ivy up a wall. I had to double-take when a cardboard-bound folder levitated through the air and rested itself gently on the podium in front of him, and he seemed to just glance at it and it opened itself up and flicked through several pages. I recalled what Astrid had said about how Asclepians have got very strong wills, but I had no idea that it extended as far as telekinesis. That was quite impressive, I thought.
