“All contracts are standard and handled through the reps,” she said, tightly. “Legal looks at them only if they’re flagged by the rep.” Soltan looked back at Bourne. “And you didn’t flag the contract,” she said.
“I flagged the rider,” Bourne said, and took back the infopanel for a second to pop up the document history. “It was the rider that had the unusual bits in it. There was no need to flag the standard contract, because it was standard.” “Except for the fact you forgot to activate it again,” Soltan said, taking the panel again.
“Yes, Your Honor,” Bourne said.
“The sign-off on the rider is yours, Ms. Meyer,” Soltan said.
“Yes,” Meyer said.
Soltan set down the infopanel. “This isn’t complicated,” she said. “If there was no contract, Butters applies.” “Mr. Holloway believed he had a contract,” Meyer said.
“Are you suggesting Mr. Holloway is now somehow legally obliged to honor a contract that doesn’t exist, merely because he believed it did?” Soltan said. “No, Ms. Meyer. It’s ZaraCorp who’s been getting the free ride here. In any case, you wanted an immediate preliminary ruling. Here it is: I’ll be issuing a ruling in favor of Mr. Holloway and putting the full court case on the docket. It’s a civil case, and you have a few ahead of it, if I recall. So I’ll hear it in about a year.” “I ask that you move it up on the schedule, Your Honor,” Meyer said.
“I’ll consider it,” Soltan said. “But not today.”
“This decision will bring operations on Zara Twenty-three to a standstill,” Brad Landon said. “Tens of thousands of people will be out of work. Are already out of work because of your preliminary ruling. They just don’t know it yet.” “That all depends on Mr. Holloway, doesn’t it?” Soltan said. She looked at Holloway.
“I have to say I’m deeply moved by ZaraCorp’s concern for its common worker,” Holloway said. “So I’m more than happy to keep operations going at the seam. All I ask is for half the gross revenue.” Landon blanched. “Half,” he said.
“Unless you think I should have more,” Holloway said.
“Meanwhile, ZaraCorp carries the load for the cost of machines and the workers,” Aubrey said.
“Ms. Meyer said it,” Holloway said. “Only ZaraCorp employees and contractors are allowed on-planet. Anytime you want to change that, you let me know. Until then, that’s your cost to sink.” “That’s not exactly an equitable division of cost,” Landon began.
“Half the gross or nothing,” Holloway said, cutting him off. “That’s the deal. Take it or don’t.” Landon looked at Aubrey, who nodded imperceptibly. “Done,” Landon said.
“Good, everyone’s happy,” Soltan said, and stood up. “Now please leave. I have some other issues to attend to.” She opened the door to her small private lavatory and disappeared into it.
Aubrey looked over at Bourne, sitting in one of the clerks’ chairs. “Little worm,” he said. “You will never work again. I promise that.” Bourne returned the stare. “Yes, well,” he said. “Your lawyer was already working on that out there, wasn’t she? The only difference between now and then is that deciding to screw up my career and my life just cost you six hundred billion credits. Hope it was worth it, you arrogant prick.” He stood up and left the room.
*
“Name and occupation,” Soltan said.
“Mark Sullivan,” Sullivan said. “I’m a lawyer. Currently between jobs.”
“Mr. Sullivan, on the day Mr. Holloway came to visit you, did you receive visitors?” Soltan asked.
“Aside from Mr. Holloway, you mean,” Sullivan said.
“Yes,” Soltan said.
“I had two,” Sullivan said. “Three if you count Jack’s dog. Besides Jack and the dog, there was Isabel Wangai, who is a mutual friend of ours. And then Jack briefly had a visit from Chad Bourne.” “Do you know what they spoke about?” Soltan asked.
“No,” Sullivan said. “They were talking quietly, and Jack did not discuss it with me afterwards. Then Isabel arrived and we talked of other things.” Soltan looked at Meyer. “Any questions?”
“No, Your Honor,” Meyer said. “We will still be supplying witnesses who will testify to Mr. DeLise’s whereabouts on the day of question. All we’ve done here is clear Mr. Bourne of any involvement.” “I would guess he’d say that was enough,” Soltan said. “Mr. Sullivan, you may step down. My clerk will take you back to the beanstalk terminal.” “If I may, I’d like to stay,” Sullivan said. “My transport doesn’t leave for twelve hours.” “Your choice,” Soltan said. “Now, Mr. Holloway. Your second piece of evidence, please.”
Chapter Twenty-three
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Holloway said. “Now, as Ms. Meyer has astutely noted, the last piece of evidence showed only that arson had occurred. It did not identify the man who landed at my compound, beat and killed those fuzzys, and in the process of doing so managed to set fire to my cabin. The man in question was careful to conceal his identity, whether or not he knew the security camera was there. He wore a ski mask. He wore gloves. He wore common boots sold in the general store to thousands of ZaraCorp workers and contract surveyors. He quite intentionally intended to evade identification.
“But,” Holloway said, “then something happened the man didn’t intend.” Holloway queued up a shorter excerpt from the previous video. It was of the man suddenly getting a faceful of Pinto.
“The man clearly did not intend to get the crap beat out of him by a fuzzy,” Holloway said. “Look how he’s taken by surprise, completely unprepared to deal with a small creature bent on tearing off his nose and popping out his eyes.” Holloway looked directly at DeLise, who was grinding his teeth. “It must have been some surprise to get schooled so completely by something the size of a cat. Here, let’s look at it again.” “Not unless you have a point to make, Mr. Holloway,” Soltan said.
“Quite right, Your Honor,” Holloway said. “And indeed, I do have a point to make.” Holloway played the video once more, this time in slow motion. “Color commentary aside, the fuzzy is doing some very real damage to the man’s face: There are some serious scratches, bites, and cuts going on there. This happened a week ago.” Holloway paused the video mid-gouge and then went to his table and pulled a picture out of his folder and gave it to Soltan. “This is a picture I took of Mr. DeLise three days ago, using a secure camera. You can see how scratched up his face is. In fact”— He pointed to where DeLise was sitting. —“you can still see scratches on his face a week after the attack.” Soltan looked over to Meyer. “I assume you have an alternative theory of the scratches,” Soltan said.
“We do, Your Honor,” Meyer said. She glanced over to DeLise and nodded.
“I got drunk,” DeLise said. “I had too many to drink at Warren’s and on the way home I fell facedown into a bush.” “Congratulations,” Soltan said.
DeLise shrugged. “I’m not proud of it. But that’s the reason,” he said.
“Mr. Holloway?” Soltan said.
“Well, since I know how much Joe likes his drink, normally I’d be perfectly willing to believe him,” Holloway said. He walked back to his table and pulled out a sheet with graphs and text on it. “But there is the little case of the DNA evidence.” Soltan took the sheet, frowning. “The man who set fire to your cabin left DNA,” she said.