Fletcher's face was a grim mask. "No one knows the truth. I never-" Czernek cut her off. "I haven't finished yet. You deceived Valerie Dalton into giving you her child, you risked the life of Karen Chandler in an untested operation, you let the baby get sick-" Fletcher coolly interrupted him. "I've stated before that Valerie was not deceived. She received the pregnancy termi-nation she wanted. Karen agreed to the operation and has not expressed any displeasure with the degree of risk. Renata had no say in the matter, but I suggest that we wait twenty years and ask her if she would have preferred to have been aborted."
Valerie wept silently, her head down on the table.
"As for your rights as the father, as I see it, you have none. You have no say in whether the woman should keep or expel the fetus; it is her body, her right. You do, however, have the right to rescue that fetus and find a new womb for it, some-thing you chose not to do."
She looked out at the spectators to stare at Ian, searching his eyes for something, anything. He gazed back at her, dis-passionately cool. Their past was a closed book; she could no longer read him. She paused, her mind suddenly focusing on a new thought. "In fact," she said slowly, still looking at Brunner, "there are places inside the male body where a fetus could be attached, brought to term and delivered by Caes-"
Her Metagram receiver beeped inside her jacket pocket. She reached in to silence it.
"I'm not interested in your scientific fantasies," Czernek said sternly. Fletcher withdrew the receiver and read the LCD display.
Czernek continued, not noticing the doctor's action. "The evidence has shown that she's suffered incredible pain, both mental and physical, to keep Renata alive-"
Fletcher stared at the words. Her worst fears had come to pass.
No stem cell act. Temp. spikes 101+
"Dr. Fletcher, are you listening to me?"
"To hell with you," she said, holding up the receiver. "Renata's dying, and you're bickering over who'll get the corpse." She bounded from the witness stand toward Valerie.
"Bailiff-" Lyang pointed at Fletcher. The tall, husky man stepped toward her as she leaned over Valerie.
"Renata needs marrow. Right now. Let's go."
"Stay right here, please," the bailiff said, firmly gripping Evelyn's arm.
"Motion to recess!" Johnson shouted.
"Move to declare a mistrial!" Czernek said even louder. "She's clearly seeking to prejudice the jury-" A single nerve-stunning blow from Lyang's gavel silenced everyone except Fletcher.
"-got to do it now before the temperature spikes get too-"
"Dr. Fletcher." The judge's voice ran cold. "Is this mere his-trionics, or is the child's life really in danger?"
"She's running temperature spikes. That means some infection's taken advantage of her depressed immune system. She'll be put on antibiotics and antifungals, but she needs more marrow. Now. We've got to try to kick start her stem-"
"Very well, Doctor. Court is recessed until Monday." The gavel fell. Its sound was lost in the chaos that erupted.
Valerie stood. The bailiff released Fletcher's right arm. Her left was seized by Czernek.
"Val-you're not going through with this, are you? The jury's watching." Valerie stared at him with an arctic gaze. "Let go of her." The two women strode from the courtroom into a sea of reporters, lights, and shouted questions. Fletcher said noth-ing, using one arm to blaze a trail while holding Valerie's hand tightly in the other. They made it to the steps of the court-house in record time.
The crowd outside must have been watching Fletcher's tes-timony. Shouts emanated from both sides, accompanied by thrusting signs and waving fists. Toward the center, though, stood a tiny knot of people with signs lettered in bright DayGlo colors. They stood silently. Then, as the pair approached, they pressed backward with all their might to create a narrow path for Evelyn and Valerie. Valerie read the signs. Each one said the same thing.
Transoption:
A Woman's Choice
A Baby's Right!
They guided Valerie and Dr. Fletcher through the crowd. The faces on the men and women-nearly all of them in their early twenties-possessed the serious intensity of people who had just found a new battle to fight, a new precept to defend. Or perhaps an old one to attack.
Several of the young people laid their hands on Fletcher's shoulders and back as they propelled the pair toward the car. Sympathetic arms gently embraced Valerie.
A woman not more than twenty wedged her way up to the pair to announce, "If I'd only known transoption existed, I wouldn't have had an abortion." Her pretty face was set in a grave expression. The jostling of the crowd around them forced her to bob and weave like a boxer. Her piercing blue eyes, though, remained fixed on Evelyn's.
"Please don't give up. There are thousands of us out there. We'll help you save-" The swirl of bodies moved her away from Fletcher, back into the crowd. They had broken free of the two clusters of demonstrators and rushed toward the parking lot. Scores of members from the rival groups followed quietly, observing Fletcher with undisguised curiosity. Newspeople closed in with more questions.
"We're going to the hospital," Fletcher shouted, unlocking the passenger side of the Saab to admit Valerie. "Medical emer-gency. Clear a path or you'll be wearing tread marks." She jumped around to her side, fired up the engine and punched it. Reporters and onlookers leapt away from the squealing machine. The sparse pro-transoption forces cheered, waving their signs with visceral enthusiasm.
Valerie looked behind her to see Ron's BMW in hot pursuit. They raced down Crenshaw toward Pacific Coast Highway.
"What kind of car do the Chandlers drive?" Valerie asked.
"I'm not sure." Evelyn pumped the brakes every few sec-onds to avoid rear-ending cars. She swerved smoothly into another lane and then slammed the accelerator. Traffic sig-nals seemed to turn from amber to red every time they en-tered an intersection.
"Someone's following Ron." She turned to watch the road ahead. "Can we save her?" Fletcher nodded. "I hope so. It just worries me that none of the three cell lines have recovered." She hit the brakes and turned the wheel hard. "I want to cover all bases, so I'm going to administer more marrow." She glanced quickly at Valerie. "Are you up for it?" Valerie nodded. "I'll do anything to save her." She fell silent for a long moment, then said, "If Renata needs me this much, doesn't that prove I'd be the better mother?"
"I don't know, Valerie." Though she drove with sharp con-centration, her voice sounded weary.
"Motherhood isn't a tug-of-war with a human being as the prize."
"I saw a play once," Valerie said. "In high school. Two women both claimed to be the mother of a baby, so the judge drew a chalk circle and put the baby in the middle and said that he would determine who the mother was by who pulled it out. They both grabbed the baby and started to pull. It cried in pain. One woman couldn't stand the cries, so she let go, and the other woman pulled it out of the circle." Evelyn nodded, jerking the wheel to the right. "And the judge knew that the woman who wouldn't hurt the baby was the real mother."
"You've seen the play, too?"
Fletcher smiled. "I know the story of Solomon. But I've also seen enough child-abuse cases to know that it's just a story, not a reliable human trait."