Dallman opened the gate to the circle of props and stepped through it. Turning, he said again, “Order the men to stack arms at whatever place he indicates.”
The courtroom was a lovely hillside by the sea. The slope was crowded with natives, none of whom had the air of knowing what was happening. At the bottom, seated behind something that looked suspiciously like an enormous, elongated gourd, were the justices: a girl and two young men. The chairs occupied by the defense and the prosecution also were fashioned from gourds, and Dallman was so impressed with the comfort of his that he considered trying to buy it.
The verdict, of course, was predetermined. Not only that, but the courtroom scene had all of the blundering overtones of a drama badly rehearsed by amateur actors. Lines were bungled. The defense seemingly was expected to play dead, because every query or objection produced stark consternation on the part of both prosecution and court. The native Fornri, the arresting officer, also functioned as chief prosecutor. He addressed the young lady first justice as “Your Eminence” except when he absently called her Dalla. Fornri’s assistant, a native called Banu, seemed to sleep through the proceedings, but when either prosecution or court was stumped on a legal point, Fornri would nudge him, whisper a question, and—after a searching meditation—receive a whispered response.
At one side and to the rear of the justices, a native named Larno sat beside a stretched matting that had been plastered with clay. When Dallman first saw this, he nudged his counsel, the Rirga’s young legal officer, Lieutenant Darnsel, and whispered jokingly, “The court recorder.” He was only partly wrong. Larno’s function, they eventually discovered, was to record the fines as they were assessed.
Lieutenant Darnsel had no more illusion as to the outcome than Dallman had, but as long as he had to be there he was determined to enjoy himself. His performance displayed a skill in histrionics and a gift for inspired improvisation that Dallman would not have suspected of him. The vibrant indignation with which he now leaped to his feet to shout, “Exception!” was sheer dramatic art.
The natives again displayed signs of consternation. Dallman could not understand why. They had bested Lieutenant Darnsel easily on every point he raised.
“State your exception,” the first justice responded.
“We cannot be convicted on any of those charges—willfully disregarding landing regulations, avoidance of customs, landing in a restricted area, and so on, when you have failed to inform approaching ships as to what your regulations are.”
Prosecution and court listened with deepening anxiety.
Darnsel continued, “You are required to so inform approaching ships, and the failure to do so places the burden of negligence on you.”
The justices exchanged apprehensive glances. “Does the distinguished world’s advocate have any comment?” the first justice asked.
Fornri again turned to the dozing Banu, who eventually whispered a reply. Fornri nodded, got to his feet, and faced Lieutenant Darnsel. “Please tell the court what steps you took to obtain the necessary regulations prior to landing.”
“We monitored the SCC, the Standard Communications Channel, which is required of any ship approaching a planet. The same regulations require every planet to broadcast its regulations in the common Galactic language and to state the communications channel to be used to obtain landing instructions and clearance. Obviously you failed to do so, and your negligence leaves this world open to severe penalties.”
Fornri conferred with Banu again, and then he asked, “Where is this requirement of which you speak? Where is it stated? We are an independent world. Who requires this of us?”
“It is contained in every interworld treaty and in every commercial and communications agreement,” Lieutenant Darnsel said.
“We have no such treaty or agreement,” Fornri told him.
Darnsel reflected for a moment, shrugged wearily, and murmured, “Touche.” He took a step toward his chair and then turned to Fornri again. “Would you mind if I consulted your lawbook?”
Fornri’s expression was one of sheer bafflement, but he said politely, “Not at all.”
Darnsel marched over to Banu, and they engaged in a whispered conference while court and audience gaped at them. Finally Darnsel straightened up and addressed the court. “No further questions.”
The first justice said, “Will the court’s recorder kindly tabulate the fines?”
“Certainly, Your Eminence,” Larno said. “Five counts of failure to land at proper immigration points with official clearance.” He turned to Darnsel and Dallman and added, with engaging apology, “That’s one for each ship.”
They watched intently as he wrote, and as he finished Darnsel leaped to his feet with a cry of anguish. He was no longer acting. “A hundred and twenty-five thousand credits!” he screamed.
“Next charge, please,” the first justice said.
Darnsel stood with arms outstretched pleadingly. Fornri ignored him. “The next charge, Your Eminence, is ‘Willful avoidance of customs and quarantine.’ On this date, representing the fifth in a series of flagrant and willful acts, a ship of the Space Navy of the Galactic Federation of Independent Worlds did violate our sovereign territory—”
Darnsel continued his exhibition of dramatic pantomime, but neither court nor prosecutor paid the slightest attention.
Nor, in the end, did it have the least effect on the outcome.
As they marched back from the court hearing, with natives escorting them at a discreet distance, Darnsel remarked, “I’ve heard of piracy, sir, and I’ve had some experience with extortion, but this—half a million credits in fines—I don’t know what to call this.”
Dallman said philosophically, “They knocked off thirty thousand to make it a round number, which was nice of them.”
“The government won’t pay it. It’ll let us rot here.”
“It’ll pay it,” Dallman said confidently. “It’ll have to, to avoid political complications.”
“Where does it get the money, sir? Out of our wages for the next century?”
“Hardly. We were ordered to land immediately, and we followed orders. If the fine comes out of anyone’s wages it won’t be ours. What was it you asked the young chap who functions as a lawbook?”
“I asked him about the age of majority on this world. All of the justices looked suspiciously young to me—in fact, I thought I had sound basis for a mistrial.”
“So what did you find out?”
“I had some trouble making him understand what I meant by ‘age of majority,’ and then he claimed it was up to the individual to decide when he was an adult. I didn’t pursue the matter. What will you do now, sir?”
“Communicate with headquarters and ask for instructions,’’ Dallman said. He smiled wryly. “It could only happen in Paradise.”
5
It required eight days of frenzied communication with his headquarters before Dallman finally was able to complete negotiations with the natives. Before the last conference started he asked to confer with the navy men and scratcher crews under detention, and Fornri led him on a fast-paced march along meandering forest trails. He was fully convinced that the detention camp was buried at the center of the continent when suddenly they emerged on the seashore again. For all Dallman knew, they were a couple of kilometers and a short boat ride down the coast from where they had started.
“They don’t quite trust me,” he mused. “But then—why should they?”
A small village had been constructed in a sloping meadow just above the beach. He had not been close to a native village, and the dwellings startled him—the brilliantly colored, precisely shaped roofs looked like molded plastic.