by Mike Resnick
Five non-Atrians, none of them Men, had been tried for murder during the twelve centuries that Atria XVI had been a member of the galactic community. All had been found guilty, and all had been summarily executed.
Atrian criminal law was a composite of childishly simple codes and shockingly severe penalties. Most of the crimes were meaningless to Khalinov; they evidently could be committed only by one Atrian against the person or property of another. But for those crimes that could be committed by non-Atrians, they were meaningful in the extreme.
Anyone who knowingly or unknowingly caused the death of an Atrian, for any reason whatsoever, including self-defense, was guilty of murder. The penalty: death. Anyone who entered an Atrian domicile without written permission was guilty of the Atrian equivalent of breaking and entering. The penalty: death. Anyone who took possession of any Atrian property or artifact without first proffering a fair and agreed-upon payment was guilty of robbery and/or burglary. The penalty: death. Andthat, in toto, was their penal code for alien races. It told Khalinov almost as much about the race by its omissions as by what it said. For one thing, it was
obvious that Kominsky was right about their near-indestructibility, for there was no mention of assault or
battery. He was probably also correct about their being a race of philosophical bent, since, unlike most of the races of the galaxy, there was no mention of blasphemy or of giving lip service to local religious mores. Probably the surest bet of all was that they were indeed long-lived, for nowhere was there any sentence other than death; and it stood to reason that prison sentences would be meaningless to a race that was virtually immortal.
The transcripts of the five non-Atrian murder trials were almost identical. In every case the argument was made that the act had been accidental. In only one case did the court disagree, but it seemed to make no difference. If a non-Atrian caused an Atrian death, his own life was forfeit. Period. He read more. The defendant did not have to be present; if he was, he could not confront his accusers unless they agreed. Trial was by a randomly selected jury of five, but the jury could be waived by the defense. And, finally, there was only one court on Atria, because of the relative absence of crime. As a result, its verdict was final; there was absolutely no procedure by which a decision could be appealed. Krantz had been given a preliminary hearing on Deluros VIII, at which time he was indicted of the lesser crime of resisting arrest and making an illegal claim of sanctuary. They decided, further, that he qualified for extradition. As yet, his case hadn't been heard on Atria XVI, for on that unthinkably frigid world there were no bills of indictment, no pretrial hearings, nothing but a simple verdict of innocent or guilty. After two more hours of poring over what little was written concerning Atrian law, it began to look more and more as if this wasn't going to go down in history as one of Ivor Khalinov's more brilliant cases. He started up from his book, suddenly aware of another presence in the room. It was Kominsky, back from wherever he went to do his research, and looking as grim as Khalinov. “Well?” demanded the barrister.
“To draw a rather poor parallel,” said Kominsky, “if your boy Krantz were a horse, we could save a lot of time and money by shooting him right now.” “It looks that bad?”
“It sure doesn't look good,” said Kominsky. “I'll give it to you point by point. First, the only Atrian who won a court case on any other world was executed upon returning to Atria XVI, because they thought the judgment had been too lenient. Second, they're more fragile than most methane-breathers; there can't be any doubt that a good loud sneeze, amplified by passing through an unfiltered and unmuffled T-pack on Krantz's oxygen helmet, would shatter every Atrian in his vicinity. Third, they subscribe to the laws of the Galactic Commerce Commission insofar as their interplanetary and interstellar trade is concerned, but they seem to do it as a necessary and irritating inconvenience; none of the more sophisticated codes, such as mercy, applies in planetary matters. Fourth, they have no religion, and even if they did, I very much doubt that their god would be the forgiving type. Fifth, they are definitely asexual, and reproduce by a form of budding, unbelievable as that sounds. Sixth, the average life span is upward of three thousand years. Seventh, there's never been a trial that lasted more than two hours. And eighth, I could use a drink.”
“I'll agree with your last point,” said Khalinov, pulling out a hip flask. “How about the first seven?”
“Oh, I agree with them, too. That's why I'm drinking with you.” He uttered a long “Ahhh,” wiped his
mouth off, and passed the flask to Kominsky. “I want you to hunt up Braque as soon as you can. Assuming he hasn't been sleeping all afternoon, he should have figured out what form of communication passes for video on Atria XVI. Have him line up a couple of guys who can use the medium, and have them make a five-minute recording.”
“Of what?”
“Of an Atrian whose protective glove accidentally comes off while visiting Deluros VIII, thereby freezing fifty-seven Men to death.”
“Okay,” said Kominsky dubiously. “But...” “But what?”
“But I think the Atrian judge may sentence the actor to death for even pretending to take someone else's life.”
Khalinov just glared at him.
* * * *
The courtroom was filled by the press, Krantz's parents and their influential friends, Khalinov's staff and assistants, and a handful of beautiful, blue-white, grasslike creatures. Khalinov himself, terribly uncomfortable in his modified heat-and-oxygen suit, sat at a table some twenty feet from a large crystalline figure, who was either standing, sitting, squatting, kneeling, or lying down, Khalinov couldn't decide which.
“Has the defense anything to say before sentence is passed?” said the Atrian. The words were like delicate chimes, but they came out in flat, unaccented Galactic-O through Khalinov's T-pack. The lawyer rose to his feet.
“Your honor,” he said, “I have not even heard the charges against my client.” “Were you not sent a copy of our penal code, along with a report of Man Krantz's actions?” “Yes, but it is customary for the prosecuting attorney to state his case prior to the opening statement of the defense.”
“Whose custom are you referring to, Man Khalinov?” asked the judge. “Yours or ours?” “My apologies, your honor,” said Khalinov, bowing deeply. “That being the case, I would like to enter a plea of innocent to the charge of premeditated murder.” “I do not recall that the word ‘premeditated’ was included in the charges,” said the judge. “But it must have been implied, your honor,” said Khalinov, “or else some crime other than murder has been committed.”
“That is for me to decide,” said the Atrian. “You have waived trial by jury, for reasons best known to
yourself. Therefore, you have placed all responsibility for all decisions and interpretations solely upon me.
My interpretation is that under Atrian law, murder need not be premeditated, but is defined simply and explicitly as the taking of one or more Atrian lives, by any means whatsoever, with or without motive or preknowledge. Therefore, your claim is disallowed, on the grounds that the charge is not premeditated murder.”
“If my client pleads guilty, the trial will end immediately, will it not?” asked Khalinov. “Yes.”
“Then Heinrich Krantz pleads not guilty to the charge of murder.” “Even though you yourself know that he did in fact commit the crime?” asked the Atrian. “Even so,” agreed Khalinov, studying the Atrian's face for an expression of some kind, but finding none. “Later we may change the plea, but how else can I argue my client's case? After all, I am only obeying the rules of the court.”
“Using them to serve your own purposes,” corrected the judge. “Agreed,” said Khalinov. “Is it not my job to protect my client's interests in any way I can? We are ready for the prosecution to present its evidence now.” “I am also the prosecution,'’ said the judge. “I know as absolute fact that Man Krantz caused the death of fifty-seven Atrians in the following manner...” The T-pack droned
on and on with an explicit recounting of the crime.
When the Atrian had finished, Khalinov arose again. “Your honor,” he said, “with the court's permission I should like to present a visual display.” He nodded toward two assistants, and they approached, bearing the Atrian equivalent of a tridimensional video receiver. “Does this exhibit bear directly upon your case?” asked the judge. “Or, more precisely, will it in any way prove that my information is faulty and that your client is innocent of the crime of murder?” “Not directly,” admitted Khalinov, “but it does have some relevance to the subject of murder on the planet Atria XVI, and as such—”
“The exhibit is disallowed,” interrupted the judge. “But your honor!”
“Man Khalinov,” said the judge, “the rulings of this court are not subject to debate or question. Your exhibit will not be permitted. If you cannot prove, absolutely and beyond question, that Man Krantz did not cause the deaths of fifty-seven Atrians, then you are wasting the court's time.” “I gather you've got plenty to waste!” snapped Khalinov. “A man's life is at stake here. I intend to see to it that he gets the best and most comprehensive defense of which I am capable.” “Well spoken,” said the Atrian, “but irrelevant.” “No more irrelevant than the lives of fifty-seven Atrians,” said Khalinov. “My client is a sentient being,
just as the deceased Atrians were. What is more relevant than his defense?”
The judge remained silent for a long moment, then spoke. “Continue.” “Thank you, your honor. With the court's permission, I should like to call as a witness Professor Nigel Patrick, of the University of—”
“One moment,'’ said the judge. “Was Man Patrick on Atria XVI at the time of the crime's commission?” “I object, your honor,” said Khalinov. “No crime has yet been proven.” “Your objection is overruled. In point of fact, the crime has not yet beendis proven.” “Then in answer to your question, no, Professor Patrick was not on Atria XVI at any time during his life prior to yesterday.”
“Then how,” asked the Atrian, “can Man Patrick possibly testify in support of your client?” “Professor Patrick holds a doctorate in Criminology and another in Ethics,” said Khalinov. “The defense shall attempt to show that on many similar worlds—” “Disallowed,” said the judge.
“Dammit, your honor!” bellowed Khalinov, though only soft tinkling chimes came through the T-pack. “How can I present a defense when you disallow all my exhibits and all my expert testimony?” “They are not germane to the case at hand,'’ said the Atrian. “If your exhibits and your witnesses cannot disprove the truth of the charges, then they are irrelevant.” “They are not irrelevant! It is your law that is irrelevant!” “Man Khalinov,” said the Atrian calmly, “our law is not on trial. Your client is. Please continue.” Khalinov lowered his head in thought, painfully aware of the fact that the newsmen and cameras were catching every instant of this fiasco. He was also aware that he had to keep talking, for the moment he stopped he'd be conceding defeat.
“Your honor,” he said, “you made a remark about your law not being put on trial. Has any law of yours ever stood trial?”
“No.'’
“Why not?” asked Khalinov.
“Because laws are neither guilty nor innocent, and therefore cannot be tried.” “But laws can be good or evil,” persisted Khalinov. “What would you do if you discovered that a law was evil?”
“Laws in themselves cannot be good or evil,” said the Atrian. “Therefore, your question is irrelevant.”
“But lawscan be practical or impractical, can they not?” said Khalinov. “For example, a law that
required me to argue before you without a T-pack would be impractical, wouldn't it? Or a law demanding that I not wear an outfit incorporating life-support systems?” “Agreed,” said the Atrian. “But we have no such laws.” “Please allow me to continue, since you've disallowed every other line of defense,” said Khalinov. “You may continue,” said the judge.
“Thank you. May I ask you for a legal opinion, your honor?” “Yes.”
“Why would a law requiring that I appear here without life-support systems be impractical?” “Because you would die, obviously,” was the answer. “Would a native of Atria XVI die were he to appear before you without life-support systems?” “Of course not,” said the judge.
“Would a law requiring a native of Atria XVI to wear my particular life-support system be impractical?” “Naturally. The Atrian would die.”
“Would you then admit, your honor, that there are at least some instances where a law cannot be applied practically to both Atrian and non-Atrian alike?” “I so admit,” said the judge, “and I can appreciate your line of reasoning. However, this was merely a hypothetical case. In the case of Man Krantz, he destroyed fifty-seven sentient beings.” “I'm coming to that,” said Khalinov. “Let me hypothesize further. If, in the next instant, my life-support system should fail, due to a malfunction that is clearly the fault of the manufacturer, a tremendous amount of heat would shortly escape my protective suit, enough heat to destroy every Atrian in the room. Who would be responsible for this: myself, the manufacturer of the suit, the salesman I purchased it from, the quality-control expert who didn't catch the flaw, or perhaps the company that manufactures the machines upon which such suits are constructed?”
“I cannot answer that without further data,” said the Atrian. “I agree,” said Khalinov. “Would you go so far as to say, however, that I was not guilty of the deaths that would occur?”
“Tentatively, I would agree that you were not guilty,” said the judge slowly. “However, may I caution you once again that this is merely a hypothesis? Man Krantz's T-pack was examined and found to be in perfect working order.”
“All right,” said Khalinov, stalking back and forth before the judge, his hands clasped behind his back. “Let's get on to the case of Heinrich Krantz. And let us also keep in mind that you have found—hypothetically, to be sure—that a law can be impractical, and that the death of an Atrian is not
necessarily the responsibility of the destroying agent.
“Now, then, let us examine exactly what happened. Heinrich Krantz, a man with no prior criminal record, found himself on a crowded Atrian thoroughfare. For whatever reason, his T-pack was turned off—and let me remind the court that the reason for this hasn't yet been determined. It may well have been through an act of carelessness on Krantz's part; but, on the other hand, it may just as easily have been jostled into that position by the pressing crowd of Atrians. “At any rate, the T-pack was off. Now, on oxygen worlds, the T-pack is a hand-carried portable instrument. But on worlds where atmospheric conditions are such that we must wear protective covering and life-support systems at all times, the T-pack is built into the transparent facial mask. The reason is obvious: We are frequently so encumbered by our outfits that this is far more convenient than having to hold the T-pack in our hands. There is one other fact concerning this structure: Since Men rarely travel alone on such worlds, when the T-pack is turned off, it is still possible for them to communicate with each other. The T-pack, when working, muffles our voices and transmutes them into more pleasing, more coherent, and, in your case, less lethal sounds; but when it is off, the sounds are not muffled at all. For this, you may blame the manufacturer or the designer, if you wish, but you certainly cannot blame my client.
“So we have Heinrich Krantz walking down your thoroughfare with, for a reason as yet undetermined, his T-pack off. And what did he do?
“I don't know if there is an analog word, even in Galactic-O, but he sneezed. This is an involuntary action due, one might say, to a biological deficiency in our race. Had someone pointed a deadly weapon at Heinrich Krantz and told him that it would be fired if he made a sound, no matter how great his fear and his desire to live, he could nonetheless not have kept from sneezing at that instant in time. It was an action which was not unique to my client, but one which has been bred into him for untold thousands of generations. I have with m
e scientific testimony to the effect that sneezing is common not only to Man, but to more than eighty percent of all oxygen-breathing races.” He walked to his table, withdrew a file of papers from a folder, and placed them before the judge. “Your honor,” he concluded, “I will now restate my client's plea. According to Atrian law he must plead guilty, for he was indeed the agent whereby fifty-seven of your citizens died. However, based on the arguments I have offered, and the hypotheses you yourself have agreed to, I strongly request—no, I demand— that due consideration be made of the circumstances surrounding the act in question. No race
that has a lifespan as long as yours can be totally devoid of mercy and compassion. If you cannot find my client innocent, then surely you can agree that he should not be made to pay so high a penalty for an involuntary action that he was and still is physically incapable of avoiding. “On Deluros VIII, as on most of the worlds in the galaxy peopled by Man and non-Man alike, our penal codes allow for degrees of leniency based on degrees of guilt. If your honor could bring himself to delay passing sentence until such time as you can look through our codes—and I will be happy to supply numerous experts, at my own expense, to discuss them with you—I feel that both my client and the cause of Atrian justice will be better served. “I thank you for your patience and tolerance, and hope that in your wisdom you can come to a decision that will be fair both to my client and to the memory of those deceased Atrians, who, though victimized, were no more innocent than was Heinrich Krantz.” Khalinov sat down, sweating profusely. He wished he could see an expression on the Atrian's face, wished he could get an inkling of what the delicate, blue-white, crystalline being was thinking, but there