Jumping off the Planet d-1

by David Gerrold

  "Just how much money are we talking about, Bolivar?"

  Hidalgo pursed his lips and looked extremely uncomfortable. "It's over three trillion dollars, Your Honor. Perhaps as much as ten. The money came out of nine thousand different accounts that my people regularly watch, and at least ninety thousand more that we have not yet found a way to monitor. For this much money to move off of Earth so abruptly—"

  Judge Griffith rapped her gavel. "The money flows, Bolivar. The act that you don't like where it goes doesn't make the river a crime. This isn't a McGuffin at all. It's the stuff that dreams are made of."

  "Your Honor, I respectfully request the Court to require Señor Dingillian to divulge the truth about what he is carrying. If it is a legal transfer, then I shall apologize profusely for taking up his time and the Court's. But if Señor Dingillian is carrying a check of such emormous size, I am certain that there are law enforcement and tax agencies both groundside and starside who will want to check that no laws are being broken by such a transfer." Hidalgo folded his lands across his paunch and waited.

  Judge Griffith frowned. "I understand exactly what you're trying to do, Bollie. But what you're asking is generally beyond the each of this Court. I can ask Mr. Dingillian to reveal what he is carrying, but absent any evidence of a crime, he isn't required to violate his own privacy. If there is no evidence of wrong-doing, I can take no action."

  "I understand, Your Honor, but I believe it is in the interests of justice to compel such performance as is appropriate."

  "Mm. Yes. Bollie, I know you—you always want the best justice money can buy. So be it." She turned to Dad. "What are you carrying, Max? You don't have to tell me, but if it'll get Bolivar Hidalgo off your back ... "

  Dad shook his head and spread his empty hands wide. "Your Honor. I'm not carrying anything ... "

  The way he said it—with an unspoken now attached to the end of the sentence—was enough to raise Judge Griffith's eyebrows. "Have you already delivered it?"

  "I have not delivered anything, Your Honor." Again, the same unfinished tone. If you didn't know Dad, you might not catch it, but if you were smart ... like Judge Griffith, you could hear that what Dad wasn't saying was almost as important as what he was saying.

  Judge Griffith hesitated. I could see she'd figured it out. But of course, being a judge, she'd probably learned how to figure out when people were telling the truth or not. And then, too, she might have had some game of her own working ...

  "Well, then," she said. "If you're not carrying anything—this Court has no further business with you."

  "Your Honor!" That was Hidalgo. "Ask him who paid for his tickets and what he had to do in return!"

  She appeared to be mulling it over. I glanced over at Doug, he looked to the monkey in my lap, I shrugged and looked at the ceiling. Dad looked back and forth between us, carefully blank. Despite the judge's decision, Stinky was still asleep in Mom's lap, and I wondered if we were going to be able to get him away from her.

  Judge Griffith unfolded her hands. "Dr. Hidalgo, I think you're asking me to go into an area that is beyond the scope of this session. I told you earlier that I would not get into any inquiries that did not bear directly on the custody of the Dingillian children. I'm not going fishing for you. While the matter you have raised is certainly an important one, we cannot pursue it here. If you wish, you can pursue this in another court." She started to pick up her gavel again—

  Almost as soon as the judge had begun speaking, Hidalgo had nudged Howard, who began fumbling in his briefcase. Now, as Judge Griffith finished, Howard leapt to his feet. "Uh, not so fast, our Honor, I have a warrant here—"

  "And you're just serving it now?"

  "I hadn't expected that it would be necessary."

  "Pass it up."

  Howard-The-Unkempt gave the paper to Judge Griffith's assistant, Joyce, who passed it to the judge. She unfolded the paper and studied it thoughtfully. She scratched her eyebrow with a fingernail while she read. "Well, this appears to be in order," she said finally. To the rest of the room, she announced, "This is a Line Authority search-and-seizure warrant for the property of Max Dingillian. I'll spare you all the whereases. You're accused of transporting contraband."

  Dad stood up, "Your Honor, all I have are the clothes I'm wearing. If the court will provide me with something to wear, I'll be happy to give you these clothes."

  "It's not that easy, Max. I'm authorized to detain you."

  Dad shrugged. "Go ahead, Your Honor." He held out his wrists, as if awaiting handcuffs. "Take me away. I don't have anything—"

  "Wait a minute," I said. I stood up, still holding the monkey. Dad is telling the truth. He isn't carrying anything. I am. He gave to me. I put it in the monkey."

  Dad and Douglas both stared. "Charles—!"

  I was already prying the back of the monkey open. I pulled out the bottommost memory bar and carried it over to Dad. "Here," I said. "Give this to the judge."

  Dad looked at the memory bar, looked at me, looked at Olivia—she was carefully blank—then handed it to Joyce, who handed it to Judge Griffith, who turned it over in her hands, examining it. "You were paid to transport this?"

  Dad looked to Olivia, looked back to the judge. "Yes, Your Honor. I was paid to transport that."

  "Well then, the warrant is satisfied." Judge Griffith passed the memory bar to her assistant. "Joyce, seal that. It's not to be released anyone." To Doctor Hidalgo, she said, "If it can be demonstrated that the intention of this warrant was to disrupt a lawful business enterprise, not only will I hold you in contempt, I will fine you for the full amount of damages. And you too, Howard. Let it be noted that this Court does not approve of the mischievous abuse of litigation."

  "Your Honor," Howard-The-Illegitimate said, "we would like to request that the ... uh, monkey be confiscated as well. In case there are other memory cards—"

  "Nope. The monkey doesn't belong to Max Dingillian. It belongs to Robert Dingillian. Sorry, Howard." She raised her hands in mock helplessness.

  He sputtered. "But the warrant—!"

  "The warrant says nothing about the property of Robert Dingillian. And as he is no longer under the custodial authority of Max Dingillian, we cannot even use that umbrella. Hm, I see you forgot to add an a priori clause that would have allowed me to grant your request. You should be more careful when you draft these things, Howard. You left a loophole big enough to be an escape hatch. Given the wording of this document," she waved it at him, "this Court has no authority to seize the property of any other Dingillian. And I will not act beyond the authority of this document. If I did, the next judge up would have ample grounds to invalidate the warrant anyway. So consider that I'm doing you a favor. If you want the monkey, go get another warrant."

  I couldn't help myself, I surreptitiously switched the monkey on—and whispered into its ear. It leapt down from my lap, ran over to Howard-The-Stupid, and gave him a double-chocolate, hot-fudge farkleberry with whipped cream and a cherry on top. Plus a noise like an elephant fart. Then it came scurrying back to me. Howard looked like he was going to explode.

  Keeping her face carefully blank, Judge Griffith picked up her gavel and rapped it once. "We're adjourned." She looked at her watch. "And just in time. You have an elevator to catch, Mickey. Get your butt in gear. They're holding the gate for you—"

  GOOD-BYES

  And then a lot of stuff happened all at once. Dr. Hidalgo waddled up and stood in front of Dad. "You have been very lucky, Senior Dingillian. Very very lucky. I hope for your sake and your children's sake that your luck holds out."

  Dad shook his head and laughed. "And you've been very stupid, Dr. Hidalgo. Very very stupid. You never figured it out, did you?"

  Dr. Hidalgo raised an eyebrow. "Enlighten me?"

  "You and your people—I was never carrying anything. I was a decoy. Do you really think they'd trust that much money to my care? 'en I'm not that stupid. Whoever it was—and even I don't know for sure, you probably k
now more than me—they wanted you looking in the wrong place. So they hired me. And I guess it worked, while you were busy chasing me up the Line, you weren't hassling whole bunch of other folks."

  "That's an assumption on your part."

  "Maybe so, maybe not. But I got my job done. Thanks again for your help." Dad offered his hand.

  Surprisingly, Dr. Hidalgo took it. He held Dad's hand in both of his. "You may yet need my help, señor. I do not think you know what you are playing with. You keep my card. You call me if your new friends don't work out. Adios. Vaya con dios." And he turned and waddled over to confer with Howard-The-Unhappy.

  Dad turned to look at me. And Douglas. We were whispering together. Dad must have seen the look on my face. And on Douglas' too. He said, "What?"

  And I said to Douglas, "You tell him."

  And Dad said, "Tell me what?"

  So Douglas swallowed hard. "You sure, Charles?"

  "Yes." I nodded.

  Douglas turned to Dad. "We don't want you to come with us."

  Dad looked confused. He looked from me to Douglas and back again. So I added, "Judge Griffith said we don't have to take you if we don't want to. Well ... we don't want to."

  Dad went pale. "Charles? Douglas? Are you sure—?"

  "We have to go, Dad." Douglas hugged him quickly. "Maybe we'll see you on the moon. I hope so."

  I went to Dad to hug him too, but I didn't say anything to him. He looked like he'd been stabbed—and was still waiting to fall down. He didn't hug me back, so I let go and followed Douglas over to where Mom was standing. She was holding Bobby, rocking him back and forth on her shoulder.

  Joyce, the bailiff, followed at a respectful distance. Mom had picked up Bobby and was holding onto him as hard as she could. She glared over his shoulder at Douglas, and at Joyce too, and she held onto Bobby for the longest time, holding him, stroking his head, whispering into his ear, telling him over and over how much she loved him and how she was going to come and get him, not to worry—but at last, Douglas bent down to take him, and she let him slip out of her arms. Tears were running down her cheeks and I was starting to feel real bad about this whole thing. Doug bent his head to kiss her, but she just turned away.

  So Douglas turned away from her and she was standing there by herself, just looking at me—and I didn't know what to say or do. She walked slowly over to where I was standing alone, and when she spoke it was like being dragged naked over nails. She just shook her head and asked, "Why, Charles—why?"

  I shook my head helplessly. "I—I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't do it to hurt you."

  "Was I really that bad a mother to you?"

  "Mom, you're angry all the time—"

  "Well, don't I have good reason to be? The way you treat me. The way your father treats me."

  "Mom, this isn't about you—"

  "Well, then who is it about—? Answer me that!"

  "Mom, you don't listen! You don't ever listen—you're not listening now."

  "Charles, I have a right to know. You're breaking up our family—"

  "No, Mom. It was already broken. You and Dad broke it up a long time ago—"

  "Is this really what you want—to hurt me like this?"

  I wiped the tears from my cheeks. "Mom, what I want most"—it hurt to say it; my voice cracked—"what I want most is ... to get away From you, right now. I can't stand it when you talk to me like this. It isn't my fault!"

  "Go ahead, then! You're just like your father, you little bastard! I hope you're happy!" And then—she slapped my face! For an instant, I saw stars.

  I didn't know what to do or say. I was too shocked. She hadn't ever hit me before. I couldn't believe it—everybody was staring at me—so I just turned to go—and then she was grabbing at me, crying, "Oh, God, Charles—I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that! Charles, please—wait! Wait! Charles!"

  There was one thing she could have said that might have made tie stop, and I was listening as hard as I could to hear her say it, and maybe she was saying it in her own way, but I was listening for the words, and she never said them. She never said the words. So I kept going.

  And then Doug put an arm around my shoulders and I started sobbing as we followed Mickey to the hatch of the transfer pod. I looked back to see Dr. Hidalgo and that Sykes woman rushing to Mom's side, and then Doug steered me into the waiting pod and then the door closed and they were gone—

  "So what happens now?" I asked, still wiping tears from my eyes.

  "I have an idea," Doug answered, shouldering Bobby with one arm, and hugging me with the other. "Let's go to the moon."

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  [13 jan 2002—scanned, proofed and released for #bookz]

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