“HOPSCOTCH!” shouted Gail as she jumped up. She then did some odd Jazzercise(TM) motion with her feet. “It’s a game!”
“Ok. Does that mean anything to you?” Patav did not celebrate with her.
Gail dully sat down.
“Did it ever mean anything to you?” asked Lorav, which might have just been to conjure more thoughts to siphon, but at times—that’s what conversations were.
“I played it as a kid.”
“With who?”
“IDK, my BFF, Rose?”
“Rose? You mean the woman from the music festival? Where is she now?”
“Oh, it’s awful. They transported her consciousness without a body vehicle back home.”
“Back to Earth?” The gears were turning for the triplets. For Gail, not so much. Except of course for the gears she had that were actually turning.
Patav closed her eyes. “I think we have a stowaway.”
“We need a body,” said Lorav with perhaps a little too much excitement than was warranted.
Gail looked around as if she now might be able to spot her best friend, Rose. She couldn’t, of course, but they both smiled at each other anyway. “Rascal Rose will always (always) fight for her right to PARTAY!”
Gail grabbed both women for a large mechanical and organic jumble of a hug, which might have suffocated a small child. And it did—if Gail’s worry was a small child.
SEVEN
Before Frankie could be convinced that their defense strategy was the best strategy, Zadra’s court date had arrived, and Frankie climbed the steps of the Trundle In-and-Out (apparently, they handled those sorts of people resources as well) and wondered again why someone on trial could pick someone else to be on trial with them.
“It’s more common than you’d think on time-efficient and rate-valuing planets,” Medow had said.
Sossios had the most appropriate attorneys that ill-gotten money could buy: Joe and Joe-hn Falco, Mistaken for Evil Twin Criminal Defense Attorneys. Joe and Joe-hn themselves were twins. Joe and Joe-hn rode in a hovering open-top vehicle that didn’t not look like a Cadillac. A bright yellow advertisement banner flew behind the once-classy vehicle, which flew laps around the government buildings of Nurfla, before letting the ship hover by the interactive stairs—although, almost all stairs are interactive.
Joe and Joe-hn were Rennos, a species which seemed to be as inclined as humans to become attorneys. The broad, bulbous beings had deep rich purple-black skin that appeared glossy due to the thin film of mucous that formed the outermost layer of their being. It was unclear how old the twins were. First, age is a construct. Second, while their species’ color faded with age, it seemed that the twins might be undergoing color treatments to make them appear youthful and alert. Close inspection would reveal the edges of cracked mucous to have absorbed some of the dye. It was uncertain what material was used to dye the creatures, but one could assume it was probably an illegally poached substance. Fortunately, for the attorneys, they had a Poaching for Alleged Appearance Improvement but Really for Religious Reasons attorney on retainer.
With such an expansive industry, industry had built around it. The choices for what bar to pass was its own obstacle. It was much like the Business Planet of Planetary Business, but completely composed of attorneys. No, choosing, studying for, and passing the correct bar were still not the final obstacles to becoming attorneys at law. The final obstacle to becoming an attorney at law was to create and disseminate your most catchiest advertising slogan.
Jingles were always popular, although music varied from planet to planet, and thus what might be an orchestra of cats to one planet might be an orchestra of mating cats to another. So, it surprised many populations when these niche attorneys wrote the GALAXY’S MOST CATCHIEST SONG. It was so catchy, the Rennos thought perhaps they should go into the advertising business, but—business was so good, they stuck with Evil-twinning. In fact, use of the Evil-twinning defense had increased by 7% with broadcast of their commercial.
For many reasons, mostly legal, this song cannot be described or played without proper clearance. Also, depending on what interplanetary laws are in place, the subliminal and overt hypnosis might be illegal where it was accessed.
“Shouldn’t it be clear who’s THE GALAXY’S MOST WANTED? She has all the money…that she stole?” asked Frankie, side-eying the twins as they gracefully flopped out of the Cadillac. They had to perform the action in unison, as sudden weight shifts in hover-cars were the leading cause of rollovers. The ship rose a few inches, which would definitely make it more difficult to get into the car when the time came. Parking by steps and other climbable structures was an old hover-car trick. And carriage stoops had purpose once again.
The circular room was made of all translucent glass, because justice was supposed to be transparent. Unfortunately, this also meant it was nearly impossible to navigate without hitting a shin or mandible on a bench end. Everyone, including the court staff struggled to find their places, and were never quite sure if they were in the correct place, nor if they were about to fall off of it. Nurflans consciously felt out with their hands to both understand their environment, and, they hoped, to leave enough grease spots for reference.
“Justice is blind, am I right?” guffawed one of Sossios’s attorneys.
While Rennos were a bulbous and hefty species with thin coats of slime, they were in no way an unattractive species. Even if they weren’t famous, rich, and riding around in a flashy ride—they’d still look formidably sharp. They slid over to Frankie and her crew.
“Sossios, I’m glad they’ve taken you out of those cuffs and from that prison cell—” Joe or Joe-hn said with a sly smile.
“No, I’m Frankie.”
“—and how could anyone tell?” asked Joe-hn or Joe.
Gail guffawed. “Yeah, how could they know?”
Medow, being well-versed in attorney-speak, closed her eyes as she inhaled, opening them at the top of her inhale to signal her distaste for the joke and the attempt to sway the public, as if she wished all of life took place in a court room—where at least she could object to a third party.
When the judge’s arrival was announced, all Earthlings and Earth TV watchers rose. Everyone else had sense to remain still on the surface upon which they sat. Gail actually missed her spot sitting back down, but was able to save herself with the ‘chair’ function of her lower extremity exoskeleton pants. She then spent the beginning of the court procedures sliding back and forth, trying to determine where her seat was, until she wasn’t sure she had one to begin with. The judge appeared to be Nurflan, but it was difficult to tell as he or she was draped in light-blocking fabric so any jury findings were not swayed by the judge’s coloration. They reached the podium with the grace of someone who knew where it was. Once the judge appeared in place, they pressed a button and the once-invisible screen around them darkened, blocking and distorting color. The Nurflan took off her robes. She heard someone—it had to be someone from the Atalan—give a whistle.
“She’s not naked in there,” scolded someone.
“Ha, naked,” laughed someone who wasn’t the one scolding or the one whistling.
Frankie didn’t turn around. She’d turn the color of shame, and that was not what she needed at this time.
Joe or Joe-hn went first. “Our client has been under great distress since seeing the posters of THE GALAXY’S MOST WANTED with her likeness and name. Her worst nightmares have come true. She’s been captured and held for the crimes that her name was tied to, but as you can see—she is not the only possible conviction.” He pointed to Frankie, who felt herself turn corn-mato red.
Joe went next, which meant the first was Joe-hn. “We will be proposing that Farkhanix Chakrabarti has the same DNA or as they call it on Earth, DNA, as our client. Born on Nurfla. She has a criminal history not just for herself, but for the friends she keeps in a failing spacecraft. A spacecraft that when not grounded by your legal team, is often grounded for lack of f
unds. We will argue that Farkhanix, as our client’s twin, has the DNA, the method of transportation…for the most part, and motive for such crimes. Dropping these charges against our client is imperative; even more so is the arrest and conviction of the real culprit and evil twin, Farkhanix Chakrabarti.”
“Notice they haven’t said ‘Sossios Zadra’ once,” muttered Medow.
“All right. It seems we can’t possibly go forward with this trial until we know we have the correct defendant. DNA tests for both.”
“—Oh no, ma’am. The evil twin has taken a DNA test here at Trundle In-And-Out. I have the results here for you.”
Medow’s head spun to her client.
“Oops,” said Frankie. “I just wanted to see my adoption records.”
“So, you gave the Nurflan government a sample of your DNA.”
“I didn’t know what it was!”
“Well for the record, it’s DNA. Or, in your language, DNA!” Frankie liked the sarcasm and slight anger in Medow’s voice. It reminded her of…well, everyone in her life.
The judge looked over the paperwork. “Do either of you have any sort of original family history?”
Joe answered, “Sossios was adopted from here, placed by Trundle In-and-Out with a couple, last-name New Yorks. The twin was not placed by official government channels. Mr. Calligan Calligan of Calligan Reincarnation Services homed the twin. Here’s Sossios’s adoption papers, and Mr. Calligan has written out a statement of his own. It explains he came into possession of a Nurflan infant, and he adopted this infant out to Mr. and Mrs. Chakrabarti.”
If anyone besides Frankie had questions as to how Calligan came into possession of a Nurflan infant, they did not express it in any facial expression, raised hand, subtle coloring, or murmur of concern. The color mask disrupted not just hue and saturation, but many of the judge’s facial features. Did more nuanced interactions in a society cultivate harmony, or just more room for error? Frankie considered examples for both arguments, forgetting to pay attention. Because she spent most of her time on a small ship, most things that needed her attention were abrupt and usually on fire. There was a lot of input to sort here, and maybe it was the stress, but Frankie was starting to zone out to all of it.
“Ms. Chakrabarti!” shouted the judge, like it was primary school all over again.
“Yes, yes ma’am.” Frankie went to stand, then wasn’t sure if she should. She waited in an awkward half crouch as if she were now trying to sneak out of the establishment.
“Did you commit these crimes?”
“Oh my gosh, no. No, I didn’t. I mean, I’m really not sure what they even are. Something pretty bad though, right? No, that wasn’t me. I don’t even do generic, mild bad. I don’t think.”
“Neither of you would like to plead this. Any DNA evidence will obviously point to both or either of you.”
“Or neither,” muttered Sossios.
Joe and Joe-hn both secreted and jiggled to tell their client to be quiet. Sossios didn’t say any more, and if the judge had heard her, she did not pursue any line of questioning.
“Then, we’ll need you both to report verified alibis for all of these crimes. I want to know where you were when your evil twin was painting the planets fluorescent. Court dismissed until its next scene.” The judge began putting on her dark robes for her exit.
“This will be a cinch,” said Frankie. She hadn’t done the crimes, so obviously she’d been somewhere else. “How many crimes are there?”
“GALAXY’S MOST WANTED,” came that same sarcastic and a bit angry voice.
“Oh, right.”
EIGHT
It turned out that “We need a body” was exactly the problem that Calligan Reincarnation Services specialized in. Transferring souls into empty containers wasn’t really a complicated thing, not like the differential equations needed for the three-body problem in which concurrent psyches with unknown initial conditions needed to be separated for legal reasons. While demand for embodiment wasn’t exorbitant, when the need arose it warranted a steep pile of money, or a vaguely unethical payment plan in which one’s purchase could be repossessed. Much like the “Bad Credit? No Credit? No Problem!” vehicles cycling through a string of owners via predatory loan terms, recycled bodies were often the outset of many three-body problems. And so, while Calligan Reincarnation Services kept within a modest one-story building, Calligan was said to be swimming in the money of lost souls.
While they knew Frankie had been adopted from here, and there seemed to be some sort of…issue…which might lead her to being imprisoned, it had been decided that embodiment was a different branch of the business that Rose could patronize without guilt. As the triplets, Gail, and some non-physical manifestation of Rose approached the building, it seemed as colorful as all of its neighbors. Truly, it had been painted white and the colors were only a reflection of its surroundings. Subtle subversion crossed the threshold to blinding denouncement with entry into the business. The small lobby had white walls, white ceiling, and a white floor. Graciously the floor was scuffed and provided some orienting features so those with visually based balance systems didn’t fall over in immediate space-time. Whether the lobby was truly, distinctly stark-white and sterile, was indeterminable on the trippy-colored planet of Nurfla. White had never seemed so loud, except of course, when a restaurant was out of ranch dressing. Also to help was a door and a small receptionist’s window. Patav stepped forward from the entrance but did not have to go far to fill up the entire frame’s view with Rapcohr.
“We have an appointment with Mr. Calligan.”
Whether it was early in the morning and he hadn’t had his morning cup of Caffex, or the Nurflan was muted by the whiteness, the colors on him did not seem so vibrant as everyone else they’d met. If they were an odd combination of beings on a planet vastly different from their respective own, the receptionist didn’t show it. He chewed his lip and played a color-by-number game on some flimsy parchment that was probably thrown out each day. He hardly turned a shade of acknowledgment. Not sure how the office and clinic customs worked on Nurfla, Lorav, Patav, the biological and mechanical parts of Gail, and the non-ethereal parts of Rose took places on thinly cushioned chairs along the wall.
The amount of cushioning provided upon seating apparatuses universally signified the duration, severity, and type of waiting one did in a waiting room. This was true even for planets with waiting clients who did not have butts. The amount of cushioning in this particular waiting room signified that the duration was ‘however damn long they wanted it to be.’ Because, really, if you were at Calligan’s Reincarnation Services—you really hadn’t many more options.
Calligan himself had considered that for the company’s slogan. However, that particular sentiment left it open for customers to consider the other options, including remaining in peace rather than waiting, prodding, and reinsertion into a universe that really wasn’t all that great to begin with.
“So, is Rose the ‘otherwise’-part?” asked Gail.
“What do you mean?” asked Patav.
Bored, Lorav answered. “She’s talking about the motto for this place, A body for every soul, reincarnated or otherwise.”
“Yes, that,” said Gail, pleased she didn’t have to explain it herself. Things were a lot easier with Lorav filling in for her. She wished she did it more. Gail again looked to Lorav. This time for the answer to her clarified question.
Lorav shrugged, idly flipping through a copy of Highlights. “There’s not a lot that can’t fit under ‘otherwise.” She remained unimpressed by both the broad advertising tactic and the month’s Find What’s Different in These Two Pictures.
Gail used her ‘I have made a judgmental observation, and would like you to hear it, but would like the person I’m judging to not hear it,’ voice, which was much quieter than an inside voice, but not nearly enough, and was also accompanied by a hand-to-mouth and wide-eyed side-eye to the observable entity. “He could be her brother.”
“Stop, Gail. They don’t all look alike,” said Lorav so quickly that it seemed she had been waiting for the very moment for the thought to be vocalized.
“But, like… most of them do.”
“One’s blue!”
“You two look exactly like Etav,” Gail argued, adding another species and arguable thought to the mix.
“We’re sisters. Triplets, even.”
A couple of hydrostats in Gail’s arms pivoted in such a way to signal she did not know what that had to do with anything.
Before anyone could pull up a PowerPoint presentation comparing the phenotypic diversities of species in both intra-galactic and inter-galactic breeders, the blue receptionist leaned over and opened the door into the rest of the building forty minutes later, without any other action or movement to confirm that it was intended for them or that he even knew of their existence. When there seemed to be no other reason for the door to have been opened, the crew quietly filed through.
Despite the lack of distinguishable light sources, the hall sort of kept its same glaring reflection as it did in the lobby. Glancing in the first door, they saw a pale green Nurflan behind a desk.
“Come in, come in,” he said, pulsing that Customer Service blue momentarily.
Gail’s hydrostats did a bit of a jabbing motion on one side, as if she were saying, “This guy too, also looks just like our petite, hot-pink captain.”
Lorav shook her head vehemently.
The Nurflan’s desk was the translucent standard fare of their airport and Trundle In-and-Out, although less psychedelic (given that the Nurflan, presumably Calligan, was the only rapid color changer in the room) and possibly a bit longer to match the long, translucent bench where potential clients were likely welcome to sit. The office wasn’t a large room, and the real estate the desk and bench covered didn’t create a lot of space in which clients could step away from each other and whatever situation might have brought them here. So sit they did, feeling a might self-conscious being on display, as if the past generational sins of employing glass-bottom boats were finally catching up to their species.
Atalan Adventure Pack: Books 4-6 Page 17