INFINITY HOLD3

by Longyear, Barry B.

  "You just can't pick due process out of the air, Nicos. There are time-tested rules that have—"

  "I think all of us have had some experience with your time-tested rules, Pendril. So, we're going to do it this way mainly because we can't afford to fart away the next six months to two years playing around with a trial the way they do it back on Earth."

  "Speed does not make justice!"

  I sighed and shook my head. "Neither does dragging it out forever." I scratched my chin and thought for a moment. Every shark had thought about the justice thing at one time or another. You can't sit through the middle of a jury trial with all of that grandstand blowholing by the cockroaches going on without trying to come up with an answer that was more efficient than the current definitions. Of course, the sharks never come up with very good suggestions in this department, because anything that would be an improvement on the current mess meant that sharkie would be dropping through the crowbars all that much sooner. But we were serving something a little different in Tenbene v. Ollick.

  "Okay, Pendril, here's a definition of justice as it works in the Razai on this desert today. Justice is everybody getting exactly what they deserve as fast as possible." I held my hands out indicating the jury, myself, Mojo and Herb. "That is why we are all here." I nodded at Mojo. 'Let's have your story."

  Mojo stood up and said, "Man, last night I was walkin' by these haystacks, see? Not a mau or chocolate brow in sight, do you see what it is?"

  "I understand," I confirmed.

  "Yes, well, see I was movin' up to the front of the column to get out of the dust. My lungs can't take all the shit in the air, catch it?" Mojo pointed toward Ollick. "This fishbelly angel-cake haystack, he doesn't want me walkin' up with the white folks, see—"

  "Objection," called out Pendril. "The witness is drawing conclusions."

  Immediately that fantasy of blowing off Pendril's face leaped to mind. With an effort, I wrestled it back into the dark. "So what?" I asked.

  "Mojo had no way of knowing what my client thought, therefore him saying that Herb Ollick didn't want him walking with—

  "I know that. So does everybody else."

  Pendril folded his arms and began, with elaborate patience, "The rules of evidence—"

  "Bite it off, Pendril. Those rules aren't our rules."

  "The rules of evidence are designed to keep improper, incomplete, or illegal evidence from being presented to the jury. Tenbene concluding that—"

  I held up my hands. "Enough." I turned to the jury. "Are any of you people having trouble understanding Mojo?"

  They all shook their heads. I looked at Pendril. "Let Mojo say it the way he wants to say it. The jury isn't stupid. It can sort out the chicken from the fricassee."

  I faced Mojo. "Go on."

  "Man, I forget where I was."

  "I sympathize."

  "He didn't want you walking with the white folks," prompted Ila Toussant. I looked at her and she showed me the pad. She was keeping a transcript of the entire thing. I nodded at her and faced Mojo.

  "Yeah, this ugly, white, faggot, motherfucker, he—"

  "Objection!" Jason Pendril was on his feet. "Nicos, you cannot allow this inflammatory language to go on—"

  "You'll get your chance, Pendril. Now, shut up!" I looked at Herb Ollick. "Ice, you better tell your cockroach to quit slowing things down. You've been around awhile. You ought to know by now that the lawyer gets all the money and glory, while you get the bill and the crowbars. It's your ass that's on the block, not his. See, you are responsible for whatever Pendril does. So, if he slows things down to where we have to give the trial to Mojo by default, you are the one who pays. Understand?"

  Herb Ollick nodded, he grabbed Pendril by the seat of his trousers and pulled him down into a sitting position. Then Ollick put a bug in his ear while we listened to the end of Mojo's story.

  There wasn't anything unusual in Mojo's tale. Every shark had seen the same thing a hundred or a thousand times. One guy operates his blowhole, another guy blows back, the years of frustration dump into the temper of the moment, a cutter gets pulled, and it's slash-and-snap time at the zoo.

  When he was all done, I asked him, "Mojo, you got any witnesses?"

  Mojo nodded. "I gots lots of witnesses. Trouble is, man, all of 'em are mighty pale, if you get my meanin'."

  Pendril got to his feet and said in a very quiet voice, "May I cross examine now?"

  I held up my hand. "Just a minute."

  "He has no witnesses. My client has half a dozen—"

  "I said, just a minute, Pendril. I have to explain something before any witnesses are called." I looked over to the Ollick dune. "Are any of you planning on being a witness for Herb?"

  Seven haystacks got on their feet. They were laughing and jabbing each other around. "You people who want to be witnesses, listen up. When you give testimony here, what you say can decide whether a man lives or dies. So, if you lie, and later we find out that you lied, the maximum payback that this trial is considering will happen to you, whatever happens to Herb Ollick. In this case, that means death. Understand?"

  One by one the witnesses declared themselves non-witnesses by sitting down. A haystack and a mau seated behind Mojo stood up. The haystack waved his hand once. "I want to testify."

  I held up my hand. "Let's always take the short road. The most important witnesses first. Then if the jury needs more, we'll get more." Lowering my hand, I turned to Pendril. "Is your client guilty or innocent?"

  Jason Pendril frowned and looked at me as though I had just spoken to him in Suryianese. "He entered a plea of not guilty."

  "I heard that. What I want to know is something different. What did Herb Ollick tell you? Did he do it?"

  "I'm not a witness here, Nicos."

  "Everybody is a potential witness, including you."

  "I can't be made to testify against my own client. The attorney-client privilege forbids any such—"

  "That doesn't exist here," I interrupted. "Let me run a streak by you, counselor. This is Tartaros, the big T. This is not Earth. Your job here is the same as the jury's, and it is the same as mine. We are all here to make sure that everybody gets exactly what's coming to them."

  "No." Pendril addressed the crowd. "My job is to give my client the best possible defense I can, regardless of his guilt or innocence." He faced me. "That's my job!"

  I shook my head. "Nope. You're just like everybody else, Pendril. If you know Ollick's guilty, and you keep it from us, then you are just as guilty as he is. And in the Razai, that mean's you suffer the same punishment."

  "Don't be juvenile, Nicos. What's that going to do to the attorney-client relationship? You wouldn't be able to tell your attorney anything. What kind of effect do you think that would have?"

  I considered it for a moment and answered, "I think it would make someone who was guilty real nervous. That's what I think." I pointed my finger at him. "So let's have your statement, Pendril. Is this guy guilty or not."

  "I have to think about this—

  "There's nothing to think about. If he's guilty, either you know or you don't. If he's guilty and you know, either you tell us or you don't. If you don't tell us, and we find out that you knew he was guilty, you'll suffer the same punishment that he suffers. Understand?"

  "I understand." Pendril shaded his eyes against the sun, glanced at Herb Ollick, and looked again at me. He pushed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "In that case, he's guilty as hell." Jason Pendril sat down to the combined gasps, cheers, and jeers of the spectators.

  One of the jurors called out, "I think we've got enough."

  I turned to the jury. "Is there anybody who needs something more?"

  They looked at each other shaking their heads. "We've got enough," repeated the juror, a chop female who couldn't have been more than eighteen years old.

  "So, what's it going to be?"

  Altogether they called out "Guilty!"

  I turned to Mojo. "That's it. He's a
ll yours."

  "What?" Mojo Tenbene stood in front of me, his hands on his hips. "Chili pepper, you're supposed to waste his white ass."

  I shook my head. "There's no need. You're still alive. He didn't try to kill me. He tried to kill you."

  "You wasted Dick Irish."

  "That I did. And the one I did it for was Freddy, since Freddy wasn't there to do Irish himself. Since that was the case, Dick Irish got the max. You're still here, so you can collect your price for what Herb Ollick did to you. I only do contract killing for the dead."

  Mojo's face looked frightened, then it looked sly. "I can do anything I want with him?"

  I thought about it some. "You can't violate the law. You can waste him, take all he owns, or send him out of the Razai. Everything he owns, including his life, belongs to you if you want it. But you can't torture him, make him a servant or slave, or anything like that because that would make him a prisoner and break the only law we have."

  I pointed at Herb Ollick. "Make up your mind what you're going to do. We can't hold him prisoner either. So smoke him or do whatever it is that you're going to do."

  Ice Fingers stood in the same place where he had been when the jury had found him guilty. He looked up at Mojo as the black man approached. Mojo stopped a couple of paces from Ollick and unslung his rifle. Herb Ollick closed his eyes and tensed all over. When the expected shot did not hit, Herb opened his eyes. The muzzle of Mojo's weapon was lowered to the ground. Mojo was looking at the tips of his own shoes. Slowly he lifted his gaze until he was looking at the haystack.

  "Ollick," called Mojo.

  "Yes?" Herb's voice sounded awful dry.

  "Ollick, you been rubbin' your white trash goomba shit in my face ever since you got dropped in the Crotch, and now you tried to waste me. I can mow your white ravioli ass right now!" The muzzle of Mojo's weapon came up again. "Man, I can trigger off this gun and thin your fat ass in a split second. I own you."

  Ollick nodded and closed his eyes again. I thought I saw a tear fall off of Herb's face, but I couldn't have sworn to it.

  Mojo stood like a statue for a long time. Taking a deep breath, he let out a sigh and lowered his rifle. "Ollick, I want an apology."

  Herb looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. "An apology?"

  "That's right. I want you to say you're sorry for callin' me a nigger. I want it just like that. And for pullin' a cutter on me. I want to hear you say that."

  Herb Ollick rubbed his eyes, and I thought I saw his knees shake. "Mojo, I'm sorry. I was way out of line. I'm sorry for calling you a nigger, and I'm sorry for pulling a cutter on you. Any excuses I got aren't any good. Not here. I'm sorry."

  Herb glanced at me and held out his hands. "I really am."

  I asked Mojo, 'Is that it?"

  "Yeah." Mojo turned and walked off.

  I turned to Herb and said, "You're free to go." I looked at the jury and the crowd.

  "It's all over."

  Herb glanced once at Jason Pendril, then he turned and walked away in the direction opposite from Mojo's. Jason Pendril walked past the jury and headed for the front of the column.

  A single person behind me started clapping. I looked up and saw Martin Stays, his rifle slung, slapping his hands together, a big grin on his face. Marietta and Ila took it up, then Cap Brady and Marantha Silver started applauding. A few of the sharks even joined in.

  Maybe it was a compliment. I didn't know. Maybe I was just too tired to figure out what had gone on and what was going on. All I wanted to do was make it to the head of the column and get back to Alna and some sleep before the night march.

  Stays came sliding down the dune toward me. "Hey, Chief. Nance wants you up at the point."

  "Why?"

  "We're going to send a delegation to the Hand. She wants you to go along."

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  The Delegates

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  It was late, and the shadows were filling the valleys between the dunes. We were about two miles west of where the bunch from the Hand had made camp for the night. Two hundred armed Razai under Nazzar's command were taking positions around the Hand camp, and the walking column would be moving up during the night, guarded by the remains of the armed sharks under the command of Yirbe Vekk.

  Twelve of us sat in the shade. There was Nance, Garoit, Bloody Sarah and two of her generals, Ow Dao and Rhome Nazzar. Stays sat to my left, Marantha Silver to my right, and to Marantha's right were the Chopper and two more from Nazzar's best ten.

  One of them was Slicker Toan. Slicker was a clumsy-looking haystack with half-closed eyes that made him look like he had the smarts of an eggplant. He was very strong, very smart, as nimble as an athlete, and one of the best pickpockets in the universe.

  The other was a woman, a tiny pepper named Minnie McDavis. She used to run marathons, she was absolutely ruthless with either a knife or a gun, and she was one of those persons who never seem to be noticed. In broad daylight she was almost invisible. She was the one who used to geld her men with a razor when they disappointed her. It sort of shriveled me up to think about it.

  After reading the notes Ila Toussant had written on the trial, Nance tossed the notebook back to Martin Stays. Turning from Stays she glanced at me. "You boys made a lot of law today."

  Her legs were crossed and she leaned forward, her arms folded, her elbows resting on her knees. "I wonder where all of this is going," she said to no one in particular. She shrugged and sat up. "In another day, we might all be dead, so why wonder?" She looked at me. "Bando, you put Stays in charge of the cops while you're gone, right?"

  "Right."

  Nance looked at Sarah. "Sarah, you're with the delegation, too. Nazzar's in command in your absence, and if Nazzar drops, it goes to Ow Dao, right?"

  Bloody Sarah smiled. "Yes, but General Dao would prefer to be called Tao Dao."

  "Sorry. I forgot."

  Tao Dao nodded his forgiveness. Nance looked at Garoit. "If I drop, Pussyface, you get your old job back, at least until the next election."

  "Why don't you send me, instead, Nance? You don't know what's out there, and anything could happen."

  Nance smiled. "You know, Pussyface, I almost think you're afraid something might happen to me."

  "I am!" He said loudly, then repeated himself more quietly, "I am. So send me as your representative. I don't serve any other function around here. Look, I won't make any deals or commit us to anything without your approval. How about it?"

  Nance looked around the circle for a moment. She looked down at the sand in front of her feet, picked up a handful, and began letting the sand trickle through her fingers. "I thought about it, Garoit, and I'm going to tell you why I'm not sending you." She brushed off her hands and folded her arms again.

  "Listen, all of you. My name is Nance Damas. I was given life as the mistake of a stupid Juarez hooker. I have been molested, raped, almost killed, and left to die in the sewers and garbage cans of Earth. The only person whose love I could ever accept was a woman, and she was raped and murdered. I did the rapist and the six witnesses who let it happen because they didn't want to get involved. That put me in the Crotch when I was seventeen. I've lived in Hell ever since. I don't know anything but filth, cruelty, the backs of hands, and the shitty end of the stick." She unfolded her arms and held them out.

  "I'm smart enough to know that we—the Razai—we got something here. I think it's something that might be important." She burst out with a quiet laugh. "That's all I know." She pointed at Garoit. "Pussyface knows a lot more. He's smart and he's read and thought about a lot of things. I know, because the two of us have talked a lot. I think we need Pussyface. He's valuable for the future." She held her hand to her breast. "If I die, it's no great loss. That's the way I feel about it," she looked at Garoit, "and that's why I'm going instead of you."

  We all tried to speak at once, but Nance held up her hands and ordered us to silence.
"Shut the goddamned hell up! We're right next to the damned Hand, and we can't afford to have them hear us with you working your blowholes at full pressure!" She put her hands down.

  "Now, I don't want any we-love-you-and-need-you testimonials from you assholes. I told you why I'm doing what I'm doing, and that's the end of it. Understand?" She got to her feet. "Does everybody understand?" There were a few nods around the circle.

  Nance pointed to my right. "Seraphine, I want you, Marantha, Slicker, and Minnie to be our guard. If things start happening, you have to keep the Hand off us long enough for us to signal Nazzar and Dao." The Chopper nodded and Nance held out her hands. "What are we waiting for? It's time to let the rest of this planet know we're here and in business."

  We all got to our feet and Nance led off, heading east. I looked at Stays and started unbundling my shirt and parka. It would be getting cold soon. "Stays, maybe you ought to make up some more copies of the rules."

  "Okay."

  "See if you can find some more paper. Somebody's got to have some."

  "Okay." Stays held out his hand. "Take care of yourself, Sherlock."

  I shook hands with him. "Same to you, asshole. When you can, let Alna know what's happened to me."

  "Okay. And here's something someone left for you.," He held out the tiny pumpkin-colored book.

  I took it and looked at it for a long time. I had told Rus and his bunch to keep the book. Him returning it made me a little angry. I was glad he returned it, because I was afraid. That made me a whole lot more angry. I reached under my sheet and shoved the book into my pocket.

  "You can't ever tell. It might just be so boring that I'll be grateful to have something to read."

  "You can always hope," Stays encouraged.

  I turned and fell in behind the Chopper. I felt that it was going to be another long night.

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  The Irish Goomba