Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [126]
‘Our information is that you have an undeclared life form aboard.’
‘What life form?’ Jo-Jo felt his heart change rhythm.
The Carabinere glanced out into Salacious II’s corridor.
Another officer appeared and handed him a sample bag.
He opened it and waved the contents under Jo-Jo’s nose.
It smelled and looked like a decayed jellyfish. ‘Uuli.’
‘Yes, sir. Place your hands on your head and keep them there until I say otherwise.’
‘But you don’t understand,’ said Jo-Jo as the Carabinere pressed a pistol into the small of his back and marched him off Salacious II. ‘I wouldn’t... I couldn’t... I’M ALLERGIC TO THE DAMN THINGS.’
* * * *
The courtroom on Dowl was a grimy basement in the station’s underbelly. The closed-circuit screens provided most of the light and the only humanesques present were the Latino defence lawmon and the court custodian: a paid witness slept in a corner. The defence lawmon zapped Jo-Jo awake with a laser-pointer.
‘All stand for the judge,’ rumbled the custodian.
At one time, courts had been conducted via uplink but too many proven cases of fakery had occurred and OLOSS had chosen to go back to the old-fashioned face-to-face ways. It saved a fortune in disputed convictions.
Jo-Jo had prepared his defence using Dowl’s executive-lawmon suite, knowing that its legal-aid wrap would be more than sufficient for anything a circuit judge’s automated prosecutor could deal him.
He stood, confident and impatient, his mind on the two scores he had to settle. Tekton, and now the unknown mercenary: Jo-Jo Rasterovich planned to live for a long time.
The ceiling opened and the judge descended into the room in a darkened protective-sealed transparent capsule. He was already seated and shuffling deskfilm.
‘Presiding today will be Samuel L. Frattini-Longbok-Speaking-Goh,’ said a disembodied voice.
Jo-Jo experienced a frisson of shock like a cold hand on his balls. S-samuel L?
The capsule lit up and the judge fixed Jo-Jo with a neutral stare. ‘Proceed!’
The court’s auto-pros read the charges.
‘Mr Josif-Josif Rasterovich. How plead you?’ said Judge Goh.
Jo-Jo ran angles as fast as his brain could manage. The lawmon dangling before him in the large capsule just happened to be the same man he had blackmailed to obtain the location of the shape-changing alloy. The blackmail had involved compromising snaps of Samuel L. and his attempt to give cunnilingus to a Balol madam with six orifices.
Perhaps he won’t recognise me. Perhaps he has recognised me. Perhaps he—
‘Speak or be held in contempt.’
‘Urn . . . not guilty . . . Judge Goh.’
‘On what grounds?’
Jo-Jo launched into his version of events, letting his wrap dictate the necessary phrases. As he recounted his story, Samuel L’s face remained in a frozen ‘judgely.’ expression.
‘Have you finished?’
Jo-Jo nodded. To his consternation, a hint of a smirk twitched the corners of Samuel L’s mouth.
‘The OLOSS court finds Josif-Josif Rasterovich guilty of neglecting to declare a Class Three life form, and cruelty to a Class Three sentient species. The penalty for such an offence is two years in confinement. The defendant will serve that sentence on Dowl resonance-shift station without cause for appeal or transfer. Good day.’
‘No!’ bellowed Jo-Jo.
The court witness woke with a start, the newsfilm slipping off his knees.
Samuel L darkened his capsule as effectively as if he were drawing the curtain on a stage.
‘Goh, you fat, dirty prick! You can’t do this to me. I’ll find your wife and tell her about your—’
The capsule shot upwards into the gap in the ceiling and the hatch snapped shut with a smooth click at the precise time that auto-restraints snaked around Jo-Jo’s neck and ankles and secured him to his chair.
The court witness got to his feet and stumbled over. ‘Haven’t always worked here,’ he said, conversationally picking his nose. ‘Caretaker for most of my life.’
Jo-Jo stared at him. What was the dumb fuck on about?
The court witness patted his head. ‘And for a small fee I can bring you excellent food and women, ersatz or genuine.’
Jo-Jo strained