"Perhaps, counselor," he looked about the courtroom confused. "Is Miss Anderson's parent present to assume custody of her?
"Yes sir, her step-father is waiting in the corridor and I'd be happy to escort her to him."
"No offense to your skills counselor, but I'm surprised he didn't wish to observe the proceedings personally," he said quizzically.
Stanley briefly considered trying to lie, but remembered the prosecutor got caught out trying to switch subjects on Morse. It might make matter worse than honesty.
"Regrettably Your Honor, you found his presence offensive and had him removed."
Morse looked at him blankly for an instant and then exploded.
"Step-father? He asked incredulous. "That is not a father, that is a furry freak. This court cannot recognize a familial relationship with a," he checked himself visibly from saying a curse, swallowed and said softer, "animal."
"These proceedings have obviously been a farce from the very start! You knew this girl would be going back to this alien freak if released." His head swiveled like a turret and he regarded the prosecutor with narrowed eyes. "You, Ms. Fenucci, did you conspire to keep this material fact from the court?"
"Your Honor, the fact is not material. Mr. Gordon is neither an alien freak, nor an animal. He is a legal person under the Treaty of Man and my office respects the law on the matter and recognizes we are obligated to recognize the rulings of Derf law, such as her adoption, as binding, just as they respect and reciprocate in honoring Human law."
She wanted her office and herself personally distanced from this mess. She'd jollied this old fossil along other times, but this one was going to blow up in his face and she wasn't going to take her career and office down with him.
"And you Mr. Cook, were you aware of this unnatural relationship between your clients? Did you intend never to reveal this to the court?"
"Your Honor, I have no opinion about my clients family relationships as to their nature. I can only say it is a legal one I am bound to honor by superior law. I am a loyal citizen of the North American Union and would consider deliberately opposing a treaty the Congress in their wisdom has ratified an act of sedition. That outweighs any personal opinions." He hoped the old fool would follow the logic that he was toying with sedition himself, but there was no change in his demeanor to indicate he was thinking at all.
"You, Mr. McPherson may only have the privilege of practice here with the supervision of Mr. Cook. I do not appreciate the unwholesome influence you have brought into our jurisdiction. You henceforth will be prohibited from practice in my court even with local supervision. Do you understand?"
"Yes," McPherson agreed.
"Yes, what?" Judge Morse asked him.
"Yes is sufficient."
"It is customary to address the court as Your Honor, or you may find yourself in contempt Mr. McPherson."
"I fear I already find myself in contempt of a judge who sits the bench drunk, breaks the solemn treaties of his country and who insults my client who I have found a fine gentleman, not an alien freak and animal. If you unwisely wish to advertise that contempt to the world which I was trying to not voice aloud, then I believe you will find to your shock your bigotry is roundly condemned by your fellow citizens. Go back to your chambers and stick your nose in your bottle again. We expect no better."
"You will sit in a jail cell until I have a full apology, though I don't know how you will ever convince me of its sincerity. Bailiff, remove Mr. McPherson to the county jail."
The bailiff stood looking at him for some quiet seconds.
"Your Honor, I am some four years past the age at which I can retire. I apologize for not giving you more notice, but I find myself unable to continue as an officer of the court. I must leave now." He turned and walked out the door ignoring the threats and yelling behind him.
Morse turned to the court recorder and pointed at the camera eye recording the session. "Strike those last remarks by the bailiff and the lawyer from the record."
"Your Honor, that is impossible, the machine auto saves every thirty seconds. It is archived to multiple secure locations already. You got a notice from the Vital Records Dispersal Program last year. It was implemented to keep wreckers from destroying important documents after the EMP attack on the Bureau of Prisons." He glared at her but had no reply.
"You," the judge said pointing at the woman in civilian dress who brought Lee to the court. "What is your name?"
"Louisa Priestly, Your Honor."
"Are you a sworn officer?"
"Yes I am Your Honor."
"Place this man under arrest then and remove him to the county jail."
Stanley was scribbling away on a sheet of paper, obviously hurrying.
"I would be happy to do so Your Honor, but I have Lee Anderson in my custody also and have signed for her and am responsible for her. Do you wish to order her given over to another responsible party, or do you wish me to leave with both of them and return them as I am able to each facility?"
"Do you have cuffs Officer Priestly?
"Yes sir," she said displaying them in hand.
"Then cuff Mr. McPherson and have building security in the corridor send an officer to deal with him. You can return Miss Anderson to temporary custody."
"Your Honor!" Cook said, standing quickly. "Is this hearing recessed until another time or are you making some determination what shall done for my client?"
"I have determined Miss Anderson is an endangered minor. She has been held in a situation that is not normal or wholesome for a human child. I am going to order a search of any proper blood relatives who may assume her guardianship. If none can be found she will be a ward of the court and given over to foster care."
Lee stuck the sheet of paper Stanley slid across the table to her in her pocket.. She stood too. Stanley was being cuffed so all he could do was say, "Sit down!"
"May I speak?" Lee asked ignoring him.
"I seem to recall requesting that very thing," Morse said amused. He seemed to think he was going to get what he wanted from Lee. If she thought that speaking now would take her lawyer off the hook it would be lovely. He put his chin in his hand and looked at her expectantly.
"I strongly counsel you remain silent," Cook said aloud frowning. She waved him away.
"Two points," Lee said loudly holding up two fingers. "I give notice I appeal to the Derf court of the Red Tree Clan to have the Derf known as William act as my Champion," she had a sudden inspiration and added, "and for The Treaty of Man."
"I don't recognize any mock court of soulless animals off on some distant world," he sneered. "Their law doesn't extend here." The prosecutor just buried her face in her hands, dismayed at the damage this old fool was doing and wondered how much blame would stick to her. Everybody had pussy-footed around him for years while he made weird remarks and questionable decisions. But he'd never gone off the deep end like seeing the Derf had caused today.
"Also, I injured my foot," Lee pointed out. "I object I've been refused treatment and may not even have a nurse look at it until Wednesday," she complained.
"You walked in on it didn't you girl? Tell your jailer. I hear this belly-aching from prisoners all the time and am sick of it. Court is concluded," he announced himself having no bailiff and stalked off to his chambers in a huff.
Lee looked at the note, "We will get you free, Lee. Don't give up hope if you hear nothing for some time."
"Of course Stanley," she muttered to herself, standing in shock at the outcome. The Matron took her by the elbow and steered her to the door. She hoped she'd at least see Gordon outside, but the corridor was empty except for another cart and a uniformed officer. They cuffed her again with the ones the uniformed police woman had and they drove off. She didn't ask where they were going. It seemed pointless.
Chapter 32
Gordon came off the ramp from the Earth shuttle with Richard and Jesus. When they reached the edge of the Commission field their contract with him was finish
ed. They offered their hands and left silently. He was surprised to see Gwen the vet standing there. "Ms Hanson, Gordon nodded to her, "Were you waiting for me?"
"Sure am. I thought over your offer to come to Derfhome. It sounds a lot more interesting than the life I'm leading here. I've been looking onto your culture and customs. I can see how I'd have a practice there, if I can get along with the Mothers. I heard about your problems Earthside. Is the offer still open, or are circumstances changed?"
"Circumstances are changed, but the offer still stands. However I intend to lift ship very quickly. If you are taking passage with me you'll need to be aboard in a matter of hours. If you have matters to wrap up and possessions to deal with, you'd best take commercial passage at a later date."
"My apartment is paid month to month; they can keep the furniture and small appliances, or give 'em to charity. I've never been a clothes horse. I'll throw some things in a duffel bag and bring my professional tools and be to the field in say, two hours. My personal funds I'll just stop and bring it cash. Sound sweet?"
"That sounds excellent," Gordon agreed. "Field security will have your name as a crew member. We're lifting near empty, so anything personal you can lug to the field to bring is no problem, anything of Earth origin you bring can probably be sold at a profit. You can even purchase professional instruments and devices, if they can be sent straight to the ship, otherwise they will have to follow by commercial carrier."
"Your holds load in vacuum or pressure?" Gwen asked.
"We have a short pressure tube to a private loading dock, with security. You have carte blanche for shipping volume and mass and I'll call and have you authorized to buy for the ship. I should warn you we will likely go to Fargone first, but your pay will start immediately and we can use the transit time effectively for training. Do you need an advance to cover any expenses?"
"Nah, thanks but I'm set for now, I have some savings, but I appreciate the offer."
"You will have access to the ship if you beat me there. An Association rep will be at the gate with your spacer's papers. Consider your initiation fee my gift." He made to move on like they were done.
"Uh, I'm happy to work my passage, but I didn't know I'd be anything but a passenger," Gwen told him. "What position will I be holding as crew?" she asked.
"Why, Ship's Surgeon of course dear," he smiled. "You might want to download anything you can find on treating Derf. Again, feel free to charge books or papers to the ship. Is that satisfactory?"
"Sure is," Gwen agreed, looking very thoughtful, she was obviously caught off guard but game.
* * *
As soon as the auto-cab started rolling Gwen pulled her pad and made a voice call to the medical supply with who she was dealing. "Andy, this is Gwen. You know the list I had you quote last week? Any of it you can get to the port and loaded aboard the vessel High Hopes you've just sold. Charge it to the ship. Yes, I can hold but not long. I have other calls to make."
After about thirty seconds he came back on. "It's being packed and will be out the door and in transit in twenty minutes. Do you have any idea what sort of a credit line and rating you have authorized against your ship?" he asked in breathy wonder.
"No idea at all. Good enough I take it?"
"The bank said to ship on a verified receipt up to twenty-million dollars USNA, so you'll have to sign for it on the ramp. Looks like you got in a very nice outfit, Gwen."
"I'll be there in an hour or so Andy. Have your guy wait if he beats me there."
"Oh, don't worry. He'll stand there until they pull the ramp from under him, Gwen. Thanks for the order."
"I expect I'll buy more stuff. It will just be a few months until I see what I need and it will have to be shipped to Derfhome. Bye Andy," and she and disconnected. She stabbed a search in the pad: Imports – Fargone and Derfhome. Hmm...Interesting.
* * *
Gordon's driver presented papers to the guard at his public dock access. The screen above the gate read: Pressure Dock 12 – High Hopes (in count to lift) – loading – 8m x 4m x 10m max. Below it showed in green letters – Lane One (occupied). A small brown step van was sitting in front of the occupied lane waiting to back in. In gold script on the side it said – Purtin's Wholesale Confectioners. As he watched the pressure gate withdrew and an even bigger truck exited with lettering that said – Lunnie Distributors * Fine Imported Spirits * Wine. His eyebrows went up – a gesture naturally shared with humans. It appeared Ms. Hanson was very busy.
He had the driver pull to the side, well short and out of the way and told him to stick his arm out the window holding up two fingers and wave the truck following them on. The red and black armored truck went past, swung sharply in the tunnel and backed up precisely to the second lane. It only waited seconds, before the safety gate lifted and it could back in. On its side in old fashioned lettering it proclaimed - BRINKS.
Gwen was standing on the ramp signing a paper invoice on a clipboard. She hadn't even found time to take the duffle bag at her feet to her quarters.
"Hi Boss, I got my favorite clothing and like ninety percent of my equipment loaded. Since you offered to haul anything I wanted I brought some stuff I hope to sell, that OK?"
"Certainly, I did the same for our relatives on Derfhome. I hope you have mass totals for what you've stowed?"
"Oh, sure, I've been keeping it as central as possible and splitting it side to side evenly. Mass total is on the invoices. Holy cow! Is that what I think it is?" Gwen asked as a big skid of ingots went past them on a fork lift.
"If you think it is a pile of one-hundred kilogram silver ingots it is," he said grinning. "We are going to Fargone and their system is particularly poor in silver minerals. There is an industrial demand and silver is their coinage. It's worth more than gold in that system. I'll have letters of credit, but nothing beats actual cash money sometimes."
Gwen watched three more skids of the metal go past before Gordon signed and the guards withdrew. "And what sort of trade goods did you bring Ms. Hanson?"
"Luxury goods, I've got three cases of single malt Scotch, five cases of top shelf bourbon and about five hundred kilos of chocolate bars."
Gordon got a thoughtful look. "I may want to be one of your customers if I need some bribes. I should have thought of that actually."
"Whom would you need to bribe?"
"I'm looking to buy some arms. I'm not sure how difficult it will be. That's why I have all the cash, in case it is easier than bank transfer. But a more discreet gift like a bottle, may buy me an introduction or just information with less fuss."
"No problem. My booze is your booze. I thought Fargone was so Libertarian they would sell guns to the Devil himself. That's the way the press paints them anyway."
"Indeed they may. I expect most of my shopping list will be easy to fill, but one wonders if they don't hold their nukes a bit tighter than infantry gear?"
Gwen looked closely to see if he was teasing her. There was no humor there at all.
* * *
The police detective who had booked him came back to the holding cell. Something was wrong. He looked concerned. No, he looked scared, McPherson decided. A tall man in a much better suit followed him silently, carrying a folder. He just looked irritated.
"McPherson!" He called aloud like he didn't know him from the others. He'd put him in the lock-up maybe six hours ago and he was the only one in a suit. He went to the slot to be cuffed before the door opened. The detective pulled cuffs from his belt and the angry man told him, "We don't need those. I think the two of us can handle one elderly lawyer."
They walked down the hall with him between them, the detective leading and turned into an office. It was small and dreary with cheap furniture crammed in and long overdue for paint or even a good cleaning. The detective stood aside to let them enter the room.
When he moved to come in after them the big man blocked the way and closed the door part way. "I'll speak privately to the prisoner. We may be some time. I sugges
t you find something else to occupy the rest of your shift. I can get somebody else to walk him back with me." He closed the door on him before the man could raise any objection.
"Have a seat," he suggested to McPherson. He took the other seat behind the desk. He hadn't locked the door or cuffed him to the chair. He tipped the folder up and shook everything out on the desk. It was McPherson's papers from the courtroom, his wallet and pocket computer with com and his passport and wedding ring.
"Look in the wallet and make sure they didn't steal anything."
McPherson raised an eyebrow but did as he was told. The cash and credit cards were all there, as were several cards to professional organizations. He folded back the leather to open a hidden compartment and was surprised to see there were still three gold sovereigns in a plastic holder.
"It's all there."
"Good. Now counselor, you are a tremendous big pain in the ass for the Federal Government. We have your government raising holy hell over your arrest. I don't know what you were thinking to blurt the truth out loud, in a courtroom, but no matter how satisfying, it created a problem for both of us. It might take months to gain your release from local authorities."
The fellow offered no name or agency identification, McPherson noted.
"I'm just relieved you came to no harm from the scum with which you were locked up today. We have no control over where and in what conditions you'd be held. States right have been a very sensitive subject of late. No matter how obvious a flaming jackass judge Morse is, the state of California can't just roll over and ignore his contempt citation. Do you understand?"
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