Illegal Alien

*33*

The video monitors in Judge Pringle’s courtroom flickered into life again with a view aboard the alien mothership. But this time the images weren’t old tapes—this time, they were a live broadcast…

Francis Antonio Nobilio floated down the dim corridor of the alien ship. It was exhilarating! He felt ten years younger. There had been a hint of nausea at first, but his body had quickly gotten used to the lack of gravity, and now he was enjoying himself thoroughly. The air had a slightly salty taste, as though he were at seaside, and there were several other faint smells. Frank had never noticed a Tosok body odor before, but over the centuries the beings had spent aboard this ship, whatever normally undetectable scent they gave off had been magnified past the threshold of discernibility.

There were lots of sounds. A low-pitched electrical hum, the occasional sloshing of water or other liquids moving through pipes, and a tick-tick-ticking that Kelkad, who was accompanying Frank, said was caused by uneven heating of the ship’s hull as its orbit moved it out of the Earth’s shadow and into direct sunlight.

Frank was carrying a video camera, on loan from Court TV. He also had a radio microphone and earpiece. Kelkad, who was wearing a headset that had been specially adapted for him, had arranged for the signals to be broadcast directly from the ship to the courthouse; the problems that had prevented Calhoun from broadcasting during his original impromptu visit had proven trivial to overcome. Doubtless over a billion people the world over were watching the live broadcast—but the only audience Frank was really interested in consisted of six women and six men in the Los Angeles County Criminal Courts Building. Judge Pringle had told Dale Rice to find a way to bring the evidence there, and Dale had done precisely that.

“Dr. Nobilio,” said Dale’s voice over the radio, “can you hear me?” Frank reached a hand up to adjust his headset.

“Yes.”

“All right,” said Dale’s voice. “The jury is present, and we would like to now continue with the testimony. Captain Kelkad, will you please escort Dr. Nobilio into the Tosok medical facilities?”

“Certainly,” said Kelkad. He gave an expert kick off a wall and headed down the corridor. From underneath, the alien looked a bit like an amputee squid, with his four evenly spaced limbs dangling straight behind his body. Frank struggled to keep the camera steady as he, too, pushed off the wall and tried to head in the same direction. Kelkad managed a pretty straight path down the corridor, but Frank ended up bouncing off of both walls as well as the ceiling and floor. At one point the camera lens ended up jammed directly into one of the circular yellow lights set into the ceiling. Frank mumbled an apology to the people watching back on Earth.

Finally they came to the starship’s sick bay—a room no human had ever seen before, but that the Tosok biochemist Stant had described to Dale during his deposition. In its center was a wide operating pallet, with a trough down its long axis to accommodate an arm. The ceiling sported a mechanical octopus of surgical tools attached to articulated arms—they apparently could be pulled down as required to aid the surgeon. Along the walls were interlocking storage units with hexagonal openings, each about eighty centimeters in diameter. The color scheme was mostly light blue, with silver and red highlights. Rather than the usual ceiling lighting disks, the whole roof seemed to be one giant luminescent panel that glowed yellowish white.

“Thank you,” said Dale’s voice. “Now, Kelkad, I am informed that this is the room in which Hask would have performed the organ harvesting of Seltar, the member of your crew who was accidentally killed, correct?”

Kelkad was floating midway between the floor and ceiling, keeping himself in place with his front hand lightly gripping the operating pallet. His cranial tuft waved forward. “That is correct.”

“Dr. Nobilio,” said Dale, “please pan the camera around the room, and while you do so please describe the room’s level of neatness or disarray.”

Frank moved the camera over the walls and floor, and did a long, slow pan up the length of the operating pallet. “Everything seems immaculate to me,” he said. “There’s no sign of messiness.”

“No blood splatters?” said Dale’s voice. “No evidence of carnage?”

“None.”

“Now, Dr. Nobilio, please show us the storage units mounted in the wall.”

Frank complied. “I would like you to zoom in on the labels on each one, and, Kelkad, I would like you to translate those labels for us.”

Ziegler’s voice over the headsets now: “Objection, Your Honor. Sidebar?”

“You may ap—” Judge Pringle must have killed the microphones; her voice was cut off in mid-word.

Frank, still floating, tried to shrug in Kelkad’s direction. “Sorry about this,” he said.

Kelkad’s topknot rippled. “Your courts do seem to spend an inordinate amount of time on procedural issues.”

“You should try working in government,” said Frank ruefully. “It seems all we do is argue.”

“I thought Mr. Rice said you were an idealist?”

“Compared to Dale, I certainly am. But I’m an idealist in the sense that I believe the ideal is attainable, whether it’s efficient courts or efficient government. And besides—”

“—stand back.” Judge Pringle’s voice again. Whatever legal issue had been raised had apparently now been sorted out. “Mr. Rice, proceed.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. Dr. Nobilio, you were showing us the wall storage units.”

“Oh, sorry.” Frank re-aimed the camera. “How’s that?”

“Fine,” said Dale’s voice. “Captain Kelkad, would you translate?”

Frank realized Kelkad was looking at the upper right unit, while the camera was focused on the upper left—one of those little cultural differences.

“This one says—”

“No, Kelkad,” said Frank. “Please start at the upper left.”

“Oh, sorry.” The Tosok used his front hand to push himself along the wall. “This one says ‘surgical’—well, you would call it ‘supplies,’ but the word is more general. ‘Surgical stuff.’ ”

“Miscellaneous surgical equipment?” offered Dale’s voice.

“That’s correct.”

“And the next one?”

“Horizontally or vertically?” asked Kelkad.

“Horizontally,” said Dale. “The next one to the right.”

“ ‘Bandages and gauze.’ ”

“And the next one?”

“ ‘Artificial joints.’ ”

“By which you mean mechanical elbows, knees, and so on, correct?” said Dale.

Kelkad’s tuft moved forward in agreement. “Yes.”

“And the next one?”

“That green mark is not a word; rather, it is a symbol we use to indicate cold storage.”

“As in refrigeration, correct?” said Dale.

“Yes.”

“So the contents of that unit are kept at low temperatures?”

“That is right.”

“Beneath the symbol, there’s some more writing. What does it say?”

“The first column says ‘organs for transplant.’ The second column says ‘hearts.’ ”

“Now, Kelkad, the words that you are referring to look fundamentally different from the writing on the previous units you showed us. Why is that?”

“The writing on the previous units was machine-produced. This is handwriting.”

“Tosok longhand, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Do you recognize the handwriting?” asked Dale.

“Objection!” Ziegler’s voice. “Kelkad has not been established as an expert in Tosok graphology.”

“Overruled.” Judge Pringle’s voice. “You may answer the question.”

“That is Hask’s handwriting,” said Kelkad. “It is quite distinctive—and rather sloppy.”

Frank could hear a small amount of laughter in his earpiece.

“So is it fair to say that this compartment was labeled after the commencement of your voyage from Alpha Centauri?” asked Dale.

“Unquestionably. We had no organs for transplant in inventory when we left.”

“Where did these organs come from?”

“From Seltar, the deceased member of my crew.”

“I know Tosoks are sensitive to cold,” said Dale’s voice. “Is it safe for you to open a refrigerated compartment?”

“Yes.”

“Doing so won’t trigger your hibernation reflex?”

“No.”

“Will you do so?”

“I must protest,” said Kelkad. “Internal organs are not to be displayed for nonmedical reasons.”

“I understand,” said Dale. His voice seemed to go off the microphone. “Perhaps the other Tosoks would like to leave the courtroom?”

There was some muffled commotion as they did so.

“There are no other Tosoks viewing this now,” said Dale. “Will you please continue?”

“If I must,” said Kelkad. Just above the bottommost edge of the hexagonal door were four circular indentations. He slipped the four fingers of his front hand into these. Frank zoomed the camera in to show the action. Kelkad’s knuckles flexed, and there was a clicking sound. The alien pulled the hatchway toward him, and a transparent hexagonal module, like a giant quartz crystal, pulled out of the wall. He brought it out about eighty centimeters, making the exposed part equal in length and width. Cold air drifted toward Frank, propelled by the gentle currents of the mothership’s air-circulation system. Through the viewfinder of his camera, he could see the image briefly fog then clear.

“Dr. Nobilio,” said Dale’s voice, “can you get us a good shot inside the chamber?”

Frank flailed about trying to comply. Kelkad reached out, offering his back hand to Frank. Frank took it, and managed to haul himself into position.

“How’s that?”

“Fine,” said Dale. “Now, Kelkad, can you identify the object we’re seeing?”

The chamber contained a pink mass about the size of a clenched fist, apparently wrapped with a clear film of plastic and packed around with ice chips. “Certainly. It is a Tosok heart.”

“Which one?”

Kelkad peered closer, then moved his front arm vaguely in the air, as if working it out for himself. “The right-front heart, I believe.”

“Very good,” said Dale. “Is that the only thing in the chamber?”

Kelkad gripped the four holes on the front panel and pulled the transparent drawer out farther. A second Tosok heart, packed in ice, was revealed.

“No,” said Kelkad. “Here is another one—the left front, it looks like.” He continued to pull out the drawer. “And a third one—right rear,” he said. He pulled on the drawer again. “And a fourth—the left rear.”

“Are you sure it’s the left rear,” asked Dale. “Or are you just anticipating that?”

Kelkad’s front eyes compressed from the sides—a Tosok squint. “No, it is indeed the left rear.”

“Anything else in there?” asked Dale.

Kelkad yanked on the handle some more. There were two additional compartments in the drawer, but both were empty. “No.”

“So, just to be clear for the jury, there are four hearts there, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And a normal Tosok has four discrete, individual hearts.”

“That is right.”

“And those four hearts are each distinct in shape.”

“The overall shape is pretty much the same, but the positioning of the valves is unique on each one.”

“Thank you. Let’s move on to the next compartment.”

Frank pushed lightly off the wall and repositioned himself, with his hand flat against the cool, glowing ceiling.

“This one is also a refrigerated compartment,” said Kelkad. “And it is also labeled in Hask’s handwriting. It says ‘organs for transplant—lungs.’ ” His finger traced out the words as he pointed to them.

“Please open the compartment.”

Kelkad did so.

“Please pull it out all the way,” said Dale’s voice.

The captain gave a healthy yank. As soon as he let go of the four-holed handle, he began sailing under inertia across the room. Frank jockeyed for position. Inside the drawer were four blue semicircular masses.

“What is inside the compartment?” asked Dale from Earth.

“Four Tosok lungs,” replied Kelkad, having now floated back.

“The normal number found in a Tosok body, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Is there any way to distinguish a right-front lung, say, from a right-rear lung?” asked Dale.

“Not without doing a dissection or tissue scan,” said Kelkad. “Indeed, they are essentially interchangeable—you can successfully transplant a lung from any position into any other position.”

“And these four lungs, they were not in storage either when you left your home world?”

“No. As I said, we had no organs of any kind in storage. These would have been harvested from Seltar at the same time her hearts were taken out.”

“And the next chamber over, what does that contain?”

“The label says it contains gebarda—the cleansing organs that serve the same function as your kidneys and spleen.”

“Please pull that drawer all the way open,” said Dale.

Kelkad did so, this time managing to keep his position near Frank.

“Are there four organs in there?”

Kelkad’s tuft moved forward in assent. “Yes.”

“Thank you,” said Dale. “Now, being mindful of the Court’s time, perhaps rather than searching methodically, we can have you simply go straight to whatever drawer might contain Seltar’s kivart.”

Kelkad closed the hexagonal drawer containing the four gebarda, then scanned the rest of the doors.

“We’re waiting, Kelkad,” said Dale’s voice.

“I am looking for it.”

“I do have the term correct, don’t I?” said Dale. “The kivart is the single organ in the Tosok body responsible for producing free-floating nerve bundles?”

“Yes,” said Kelkad. “But I do not see it here.”

“The kivart can be harvested for transplant, can’t it?”

“Yes.”

“In fact, as an organ that a Tosok has only one of, it’s one of the most important ones to harvest, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Indeed, a Tosok can get by for extended periods with only three lungs, no?”

“In fact,” said Kelkad, “in the elderly, the strain of transplanting a fourth lung outweighs the benefits of having it in most cases.”

“Indeed, you can get by, as long as you don’t exert yourself, for an extended period with just two lungs, correct?”

“That is right.”

“And, again so long as one doesn’t exert oneself, three hearts, or even just two, would be enough to allow life to continue, no?”

“That is right.”

“But the kivart—well, if the kivart goes, severe motor-control problems develop almost at once, isn’t that so?”

“Yes,” said Kelkad.

“Indeed, without his or her one and only kivart, a Tosok would die quickly, no?”

“That is correct.”

“And so,” said Dale, “Hask would doubtless have harvested Seltar’s kivart, which, in many ways, is the most crucial of all the organs to recover, and—”

A muffled sound, then Judge Pringle’s voice: “Mr. Rice, caution your client. I will not tolerate outbursts in my courtroom.”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor. Hask, be quiet—”

Hask’s untranslated voice, plus the near-simultaneous translation, both somewhat murky, as if being picked up by a microphone some distance away: “Do not pursue this line of questioning.”

“I’m sorry, Hask.” Dale’s voice. “It’s my job to defend you.”

“I do not wish this defense.”

“Mr. Rice.” Judge Pringle again. “Mr. Rice.”

“A moment, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Rice, the Court is waiting.”

“Hask.” Dale’s voice. “Hask, I’m going to finish.”

“But—”

Judge Pringle: “Mr. Rice—”

“Kelkad,” said Dale, “it is true that the kivart is a crucial organ, yes?”

“Most definitely.”

“And yet it is missing from the collection of harvested body parts, no?”

“Apparently.”

“Hask would have known to harvest it, no?”

“Doubtless. And, regardless, he would have consulted the procedures manual when confronted with Seltar’s accidental death; that would have reminded him.”

“So expected body parts are missing here, too, aren’t they?” said Dale. “Just as they were from Dr. Calhoun’s body?”

“I— I suppose that is true,” said Kelkad.

“Thank you,” said Dale. “Your witness, Ms. Ziegler.”

“Umm, no questions,” said a muffled voice. Ziegler sounded perplexed—and Frank didn’t blame her. It seemed as if Dale was arguing Ziegler’s own case: that Hask had first practiced his aberrant behavior on one of his own before trying it on a human being.