Illegal Alien

*23*

Hask and Frank had returned with Dale to Dale’s twenty-seventh-floor office. As soon as they arrived, though, Hask excused himself to use the bathroom. Like humans, Tosoks eliminated both solid and liquid waste, and with some difficulty they could make use of human toilets.

Once Hask had left the room, Frank leaned forward in his usual easy chair.

“Ziegler’s case was quite devastating,” he said. “What does our shadow jury say?”

Dale heaved his massive bulk into his leather chair and consulted a report Mary-Margaret had left on his desk. “As of this moment they’re voting unanimously to convict Hask,” he said with a sigh.

Frank frowned. “Look, I know you said we shouldn’t put Hask on the stand, but at this stage surely the real jury will be expecting to hear from him.”

“Possibly,” said Dale. “But Pringle will tell them that the defendant is under no obligation to testify; the entire burden is on prosecution. That’s part of CALJIC. Still…”

“Yes?”

“Well, this is hardly a normal case. You know what it says in the charge—‘did willfully, unlawfully, and with malice aforethought murder Cletus Robert Calhoun, a human being.’ In previous cases, it always seemed funny to me that they specify a ‘human being,’ but that is the key point in this case. The deceased is human, and the defendant is not—and the jury might well feel the prosecution has less of a burden in this case.” He waved the report at Frank. “That seems to be what our shadow jury is saying, anyway: if they make the wrong verdict, well, it’s not as though a human being would end up rotting in jail. If we can put Hask on the stand, and convince the jury that he’s every bit as much a person, every bit as real and sensitive as anyone else, then they may decide the way we want them to. The key, though, is to get them to like Hask.”

“That’s not going to be easy,” said Frank, shaking his head. Late-afternoon sunlight was painting the room in sepia tones. “I mean, we can’t win the jurors over with Hask’s smile, or anything like that—he physically can’t smile, and frankly, those rusty dental plates give me the willies. And shouldn’t a good defendant show more horror when crime-scene photos are displayed? I was hoping the Tosok taboo about internal matters would have worked in our favor there, but all Hask did was wave that topknot around in various patterns. The jury will never understand what those mean.”

“Don’t underestimate juries,” said Dale. “They’re a lot smarter than you might think. I’ll give you an example: I once handled a personal-injury case; not my normal thing, but it was for a friend. Our position was that the reason the person had been injured was because the car’s seat belt was faulty. Well, during our case, every time I mentioned that, I took off my glasses.” He demonstrated. “See? After I’d done that a few dozen times, the jury was conditioned. Then, whenever the automaker’s lawyer tried to point out alternative possible causes for the accident, I’d just take off my glasses. Never said a word, see, and there’s nothing in the transcript. But I’d take off my glasses, and the jury would be reminded of the faulty seat belt. We won 2.8 million in that case.”

“Wow.”

“If the jury can learn that ‘glasses coming off’ means ‘defective seat belt,’ it can also learn that ‘topknot waving side to side’ means Tosok laughter, or that ‘topknot lying flat’ means Tosok revulsion. Don’t worry, son. I think our jury knows Hask and the other Tosoks a lot better than you think they do.”

“So then we should put Hask on the stand.”

“Maybe… but it still worries me. Nine times out of ten, it’s a disaster, and—”

The door to Dale’s office opened, and Hask strode in. “I wish to testify,” he said at once, lowering his weight onto the single Tosok chair.

Dale and Frank exchanged glances. “I advise against it,” said Dale.

Hask was silent for a moment. “It is my decision to make.”

“Of course, of course,” said Dale. “But you’ve never seen a criminal case before; I’ve seen hundreds. It’s almost always a mistake for the defendant to take the stand.”

“Why? What chance is there that they will find me innocent if I do not testify?”

“No one ever knows what a jury is thinking.”

“That is not true. Your shadow jury has already voted to convict me, has it not?”

“No, it hasn’t.”

“You are lying.”

Dale nodded. “All right, all right. But even if it has, taking the stand is almost always the wrong move. You only do that when you have no other choice.”

“Such as now,” said Hask. As always, his natural voice rose as the words were spoken, making it impossible to tell if it was a question or a statement.

Dale sighed again. “I suppose. But you know that Linda Ziegler will let to cross-examine you?”

“I understand that.”

“And you still want to do it?”

“Yes.”

“All right,” said Dale, resigning himself to it. “But we’ll put you on the stand first.”

“Why first?” asked Hask.

“Because if Linda eviscerates you—forgive the metaphor—we’ll have the rest of our case-in-chief to try to recover.” Dale scratched his chin. “We should talk about your testimony—figure out what you’re going to say.”

“I am going to tell the truth, of course. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

Dale raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“You cannot tell, can you?” said Hask.

“Tell that you’re innocent? Of course I believe that, Hask, but—”

“No, tell if I am telling the truth.”

“What? No. Aren’t you?”

Hask fell silent.

There was an even bigger-than-normal crowd of reporters outside the Criminal Courts Building the next morning. Many dozens of reporters shouted questions at Dale and Frank as they entered, but Dale said nothing. Inside the courtroom, the excitement was palpable.

Judge Pringle came in, said her usual good morning to the jurors and lawyers, and then looked at Dale. “The defense may now begin its case-in-chief,” she said.

Dale rose and moved to the lectern. He paused for a moment, letting the drama build, then, in that Darth Vader voice of his, he boomed out, “The defense calls Hask.”

The courtroom buzzed with excitement. Reporters leaned forward in their chairs.

“Just a second,” said Judge Pringle. “Hask, you are aware that you have an absolute constitutional right not to testify? No one can compel you to do so, if it is not your wish?”

Hask had already arisen from his special chair at the defense table. “I understand, Your Honor.”

“And no one has coerced you into testifying?”

“No one. In fact—” He fell silent.

Dale kept an expressionless face, but was relieved. At least he’d taught Hask something. He’d closed his mouth before he’d said “In fact, my lawyer advised me against testifying,” thank God.

“All right,” said Pringle. “Mr. Ortiz, please swear the witness in.” Hask made his way to the witness stand. As he did so, a court worker removed the human chair and replaced it with a Tosok one.

“Place your front hand on the Bible, please.” Hask did so. “You do solemnly swear or affirm,” said the clerk, “that the testimony you may give in the cause now pending before this Court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“I do so affirm,” said Hask.

“Thank you. Be seated, and please state and spell your name for the record.”

“Hask, which I guess is H-A-S-K.”

“Mr. Rice,” said Judge Pringle, “you may proceed.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” said Dale, slowly getting to his feet and making his way to the lectern. “Mr. Hask, what is your position aboard the Tosok starship?”

“My title was First.”

“ ‘First’—is that like ‘first officer’?”

“No. The First is the person who comes out of hibernation first. It was my job to deal with any in-flight emergencies, and also to be the first revived upon arrival at our destination, in order to determine if it was safe to revive the others.”

“So you are a very important member of the crew?”

“On the contrary, I am the most expendable.”

“The prosecution has suggested you had the opportunity to kill Dr. Calhoun. Did you have that opportunity?”

“I was not alone with him at the time he died.”

“But you can’t account for your presence during the entire window of opportunity for this crime.”

“I can account for it. I simply cannot prove the truth of the account. And there are others who had equal opportunity.”

“The prosecution has also suggested that you had the means to kill Dr. Calhoun. Specifically, that you used a monofilament carving tool to sever his leg. Would such a tool work for that purpose?”

“I suspect so, yes.”

“But a murder conviction requires more than just opportunity and means. It—”

“Objection. Mr. Rice is arguing his case.”

“Sustained.”

“What about motive, Hask? Did you have any reason to want to see Dr. Calhoun dead?”

Ziegler was on her feet. “Objection, Your Honor. CALJIC 2.51: ‘Motive is not an element of the crime charged and need not be shown.’ ”

“Overruled. I’ll present the jury instructions, counselor.”

“Hask, did you have any motive for wanting to see Dr. Calhoun dead?”

“None.”

“Is there any Tosok religious ritual that involves dissection or dismemberment?”

“No.”

“We humans have some rather bloody sports. Some humans like to hunt animals. Do your people hunt for sport?”

“Define ‘for sport,’ please.”

“For fun. For recreation. As a way of passing the time.”

“No.”

“But you are carnivores.”

“We are omnivores.”

“Sorry. But you do eat meat.”

“Yes. But we do not hunt. Our ancestors did, certainly, but that was centuries ago. As the Court has seen, we now grow meat that has no central nervous system.”

“So you’ve never had the urge to kill something with your own hands?”

“Certainly not.”

“The tape we saw of you and Dr. Calhoun talking aboard the mothership implies differently.”

“I was engaging in idle speculation. I said something to the effect that perhaps we had given up too much in no longer hunting our own food, but I have no more desire to slaughter something to eat than you do, Mr. Rice.”

“In general, is there any reason at all you’d want to kill something?”

“No.”

“In particular, is there any reason you’d want to kill Dr. Calhoun?”

“None whatsoever.”

“What did you think of Dr. Calhoun?”

“I liked him. He was my friend.”

“How did you feel when you learned he was dead?”

“I was sad.”

“Reports say you didn’t look sad.”

“I am physically incapable of shedding tears, Mr. Rice. But I expressed it in my own way. Clete was my friend, and I wish more than anything that he was not dead.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hask.” Dale sat down. “Your witness, counselor.”

“Hask,” said Ziegler, rising to her feet.

“Your Honor,” said Dale, “objection! Mr. Hask is entitled to common courtesy. Ms. Ziegler should surely precede his name with an honorific.”

Ziegler looked miffed, but apparently realized that any argument would just make her look even more rude.

“Sustained,” said Pringle. “Ms. Ziegler, you will address the defendant as ‘Mr. Hask’ or ‘sir.’ ”

“Of course, Your Honor,” said Ziegler. “My apologies. Mr. Hask, you said you weren’t alone with Dr. Calhoun at the time of his murder.”

“Correct.”

“But you had been alone with him on other occasions?”

“Certainly. We took the trip up to the mothership together.”

“Yes, yes. But, beyond that, hadn’t you and he spent time alone at the USC residence?”

“From time to time he and I happened to be the only people present in a given room.”

“It was more than that, wasn’t it? Is it not true that you often spent time alone with Dr. Calhoun—sometimes in his room at Valcour Hall, sometimes in your own?”

“We talked often, yes. Friends do that.”

“So it would not be at all unusual for him to admit you to his room?”

“Clete had singular tastes in music. No one else would join him there when he was using his CD player.”

“Singular tastes?”

Hask made a sound very much like human throat-clearing, then sang, “ ‘Swing your partner, do-si-do—’ ”

The jury erupted into laughter.

“Thank you for that recital,” said Ziegler coldly. “Mr. Hask, if you were often a guest of the deceased in his room, then why should we believe that you were not in his room when he was killed?”

“You should believe it because of the presumption of innocence, which is supposed to be the underpinning of your system of jurisprudence.”

“Move to strike as nonresponsive,” snapped Ziegler.

But Judge Pringle was smiling. “It seemed an excellent response to me, Ms. Ziegler. Overruled.”

Ziegler turned back to Hask. “You admit, though, that you were frequently alone with Dr. Calhoun.”

“ ‘Occasionally’ would be a more correct word.”

“Fine. You were occasionally alone with him. And on the night that he died, you chose not to go see Stephen Jay Gould.”

“That is correct.”

“Why is that?”

“I knew that I would likely shed my skin that evening.”

“And you wanted privacy for that?”

“Not at all. But I have observed the incredible attention you humans give to us Tosoks, even under the most banal circumstances. I felt it would be rude to create a distraction during Professor Gould’s lecture by shedding my skin in public.”

“Very considerate,” said Ziegler sarcastically. “Yet you were not due to shed that day. How could you possibly know it was going to happen?”

“I had begun dropping scales earlier that day, and I was experiencing the itchy feeling that is normally associated with the shedding of skin. I grant that my shedding was unscheduled, but I was aware in advance that it was going to happen.”

“And how do you explain the presence of objects resembling Tosok scales being found in Dr. Calhoun’s room?”

“Objection,” said Dale. “Calls for speculation.”

“I’ll allow it,” said Pringle.

Hask’s topknot waved slightly. “I visited him earlier in the day; perhaps I dropped some scales then. Or perhaps I had dropped scales elsewhere in the dormitory, and Dr. Calhoun, intrigued by them, picked them up and took them to his room for study; they could have then been knocked to the floor from his desk during whatever melee might have accompanied his murder.”

“What were you doing while Dr. Calhoun was murdered?”

“I believe the People have been unable to establish precisely when that occurred,” said Hask.

“Very well. What were you doing between eight p.m. and midnight last December twenty-second?”

“From eight p.m. to eight-thirty p.m., I watched TV.”

“What program?”

“I believe I was ‘channel surfing,’ if I understand the term. I watched a variety of programs.” His tuft parted in a Tosok shrug. “I am a male, after all.”

The jury laughed. Ziegler’s cheeks turned slightly red. “And after your channel surfing?”

“Meditation, mostly. And, of course, the shedding of my skin.”

“Of course,” said Ziegler. “The very convenient shedding of your skin.”

“It is never convenient, Ms. Ziegler. I do not know if you are prone to any periodic biological function, but, trust me, such things are just plain irritating.”

Judge Pringle was struggling to suppress a grin.

“The tool used to kill Dr. Calhoun,” said Ziegler. “Was it yours?”

“It certainly looks as though he was killed with a Tosok monofilament, yes. It could have been mine or that of any of the others; it is a common tool—we have dozens of them aboard our starship. But even if it was mine, it was hardly an item I kept under lock and key.”

Dale allowed himself a small smile. Hask was being a wonderful witness—funny, warm, reasonable. It was clear that he was winning the jury over.

Linda Ziegler must have been thinking the same thing. Dale could almost see her changing mental gears. Her manner became much more aggressive, her voice much harsher. “Mr. Hask, isn’t it true that you were awoken prematurely from hibernation to deal with a shipboard emergency?”

“Yes.”

“You were awoken because you were the crew member designated as ‘First’, correct?”

“Yes.”

“What about Seltar? What was her title?”

“She was Second—if a situation arose that I could not deal with alone, she, too, would be revived. I was more expendable than she, but she was more expendable than all the others.”

“And the two of you were revived to deal with an accident affecting your ship?”

“Yes.”

“Simultaneously? Or did you revive first?”

“Simultaneously. The on-board computer recognized that both of us would be required, and so began heating our hibernation pallets and blankets to awaken us.”

“But Seltar died during repairs?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“She was working in the engineering compartment. A containment plate ruptured and blew out toward her. The impact killed her instantly.”

“Was her body severely damaged?”

“No. The injury was to her head.”

“And so what did you do with the body?”

“As per the standard procedures of my ship, I dissected it to harvest her organs, in case they might be needed for transplant.”

“And didn’t you find yourself aroused by the process of doing so?”

“No.”

“Didn’t you find the cutting of flesh pleasurable?”

“No.”

“You didn’t feel compelled to experience the same sensation again?”

“No.”

“And once you arrived at Earth, weren’t you curious about human anatomy?”

“No. Such curiosity would be prurient.”

“Come now, Hask! You’re an explorer, and you’re on what is, to you, an alien world. Weren’t you curious about the lifeforms you found here?”

“When you put it that way…”

“So you lied a moment ago when you said no.”

“I misspoke.”

“How many other times have you misspoken?”

“Objection!” said Dale. “Argumentative.”

“Sustained,” said Pringle.

“So you admit that you had recently experienced the opening up of a body, and that you were fascinated by human anatomy—even if such fascination was not polite by the standards of your race.”

“You are overstating my curiosity.”

“On December twenty-second, you found yourself with Dr. Calhoun while almost everyone else was away. Did your urge to see human in-wards get the best of you?”

“No.”

“Did you pull out your cutting device and sever his leg?”

“No.”

“And did you then slit open his belly and carve out his organs—just is you had carved out Seltar’s organs?”

“No. No. None of what you say is true.”

“You’re a monster, aren’t you, Mister Hask? A killer, and, even by the standards of your own people, a deviant.”

“Objection!” said Dale.

“That is not true,” said Hask. His topknot was flailing wildly.

“The one inescapable truth, though,” said Ziegler, “is that Cletus Calhoun is dead.”

Hask was quiet for several seconds. His topknot slowly calmed down.

“That,” agreed Hask, at last, “is the one inescapable truth.”