Chapter 38

Military Court C, George Bernard Shaw City.

Chip thought the trial counsel looked like a weasel. The kind of weasel other weasels distrusted. He wasn't the only one who thought so. One of the noncoms had asked to be excused from the court panel, claiming she could not be unbiased. "From the minute I saw his shifty eyes I knew he was as guilty as sin!"

"Sit down, Sergeant," said Judge McCairn. "That's the prosecuting attorney."

According to Lieutenant Capra, they were lucky there. "McCairn's one of the best. He's an amateur thespian. We all went to see him once in one of those operettas—not something you'd have gotten me to dead, otherwise. He made a fine Model Major General. I believe he was Polonius in another play before the war. He might understand the rats better than most people. He's got a sense of humor, too, even if he doesn't let it show in court. But for heaven's sake don't make jokes about his name."

Well, that might be true, not that Chip had any faith in Shareholders of any stripe. But the trial counsel, Captain Tesco, was another matter. He was out to crush any stray Vat. And he had plenty of wind, too.

"Today," he said loftily, "the prosecution will present you with evidence that will show incontrovertibly and beyond any reasonable doubt that Private Charles Connolly did betray his uniform and the core values that we of the Army of Harmony and Reason hold dear. Not only did Private Connolly desert his station, and engage in debauched acts of drunken looting with military animals, he also abandoned his fellow soldiers to a slow and cruel death. We will present to you with hard DNA evidence that the Private Connolly did engage in rape. We have satellite evidence and expert testimony showing him destroying the property of citizens, engaging in theft—even driving without a license! We have depositions from no less than the daughter of our dear late Chairman of how the accused endangered lives, broke the military laws of civilized warfare, behaved treacherously and misled and intoxicated military animals. Ms. Virginia Shaw's testimony can be compared to that of Caesar's wife. And is it not said that Caesar's wife is above suspicion?"

"The correct quotation is 'Caesar's wife must be above suspicion,' Captain," said the judge dryly. "That is hardly the same thing as a presumption that she is. And considering the context of that quotation, I hardly think it is germane to this issue. Continue."

"Ah. Well, we have the braggadocio testimony of the former private himself admitting much of this to the media." He turned to the panel: "The State of Harmony and Reason wants you to examine the evidence carefully, especially the witness depositions of Ms. Virginia Shaw. At the end, I am certain that you will be able to find, beyond any reasonable doubt, that the accused is guilty of all the offenses he has been charged with."

The trial counsel's case rested principally on what Captain Tesco considered incontrovertible facts. He'd tried plenty of Vat conscripts and gotten them convicted with far less. The idea of using animals as witnesses was quite abhorrent to him. He had suitable depositions from the only other human witness, which backed him up all the way.

It was something of an irritation to have that young pipsqueak cross-examine at all, in fact, especially because he soon proved better at it than Tesco had expected. The satellite monitoring technician was a case in point. Henry M'Batha had been a reluctant if truthful prosecution witness, and Tesco had been satisfied with his testimony.

Then Mike Capra stood up.

"Mr. M'Batha. Tell me: Just how accurate is satellite positioning? I have been told that we lost geostationary satellites when the initial Magh' landings took place."

"It did damage precision, Sir. But the picture-to-map detail is accurate to within ten yards."

"Ah. Mr. M'Batha, I took the liberty of getting the details of the A34 roadway from the central planning offices. The road in question was four yards wide. So: Is it possible that the vehicle you were tracking was not on the road?"

The man smiled broadly. "You're quite correct, sir. I was mistaken. I can't in fact swear that it was on the road. It could have been next to it."

Mike Capra raised his chin, pursed his lips. "I would like the panel to note that, contrary to what was stated by Captain Tesco, there is reasonable doubt that the accused was driving on a public roadway."

And then the wine farm owner. "So, Mr. Couteau. You had in fact abandoned the property to the advancing Magh'?"

"Yeah. The army told us we had twelve hours to get out, that they might need the place. We'd been moving stuff out from before, but the harvest was late and had slowed things up."

"I see," said Capra. "So what was still there, was in fact abandoned?"

"It was still my stuff," protested Couteau. "My house! Those vandals blew it up!"

Capra looked down at a paper in his paper. "I see that you put in a claim some two months ago—before this incident—to the war office. I also consulted your insurers, Bevan and Daughty. They informed me that you had claimed a loss of some one hundred thousand bottles from your cellar, and ten thousand gallons of brandy. It is a curious fact that, according to the deposition from Ms. Virginia Shaw, there were three pot-stills and one large stainless-steel vat. I have talked to the manufacturers of the stainless vat supplied to you. Oddly, the largest was just seven hundred gallons. I believe, Mister Couteau, that your insurers wish to talk to you after you leave here. Subsequent to my enquiry, they're also following up the number of bottles you ordered, too, as well as your cellar size."

As Capra spoke, the former wine-farm owner had gone from ruddy-faced bombast to pale, sweaty and nervous. "I . . . I might have been mistaken about the amount. It's been a very traumatic period."

Capra raised his eyebrows. "I would hardly say this was the testimony of a man who had established anything beyond a reasonable doubt."

"Objection!"

"Sustained."

It might be struck from the record, but it wasn't struck from the Court panel's minds, no matter what the judge might instruct.

"Mr. Couteau, it seems to me that as you have lodged a claim for redress with the army, and it would seem that you have received a substantial check from your insurers, that were the property to be recovered it would either have belonged to the army or your insurers? So I simply don't see your interest in this case at all."

By the time the former wine-farmer had left the witness stand, it seemed likely to Chip that he'd be heading for the nearest volunteer enlistment point before the army or the insurers caught up with him.

Then the poised Doctor Thom came to the stand. Chip felt his muscles tense up, and forced himself to relax. Even if he caught and killed the doctor now, it wouldn't do Ginny any good.

"Dr. Thom, you have testified here that you examined Ms. Shaw after what you have described as 'her ordeal.' "

"A terrible thing to have happen to a young girl reared in delicate circumstances," said the doctor.

"Indeed. It would be," agreed Capra. "Now tell me, Dr. Thom. You say here you examined Ms. Shaw on the night that she returned to Shaw House. Whereupon you discovered, as you put it, that she had been 'violated'?"

"That is correct, yes. A terrible—"

"Quite. Dr. Thom. You've already expatiated at some length on the horror. You very efficiently took seminal fluid sample for DNA analysis at the time."

"Yes." The doctor nodded. "It was my duty to do so as a physician."

Capra raised his eyebrows. "But you seem to have forgotten the other duties incumbent on you as a physician, attending to an alleged rape victim. Firstly, under HAR law, that you must report the matter to law enforcement authorities as soon as possible; and secondly, that the victim must with all possible speed be conveyed to a district surgeon for examination."

Thom smiled. "I am a district surgeon and the matter was reported to Major General Visse."

Lieutenant Capra raised his eyebrows. "Yes, Dr. Thom. You are today a district surgeon and have filled in the case reports as such. Unfortunately, you weren't a district surgeon at the time that you did the examinations. Your registration is only four days old, Dr. Thom. How convenient."

"Objection!"

"Denied. Continue, Lieutenant Capra."

Capra did. "You registered—after reporting the crime. You then falsified the medical reports."

"I did not! Those reports were compiled from my notes!"

"You dated and signed those reports as of ten days before you became entitled to even have the requisite forms, Dr. Thom. That makes them fraudulent and of no legal standing whatever," said Capra, relentlessly.

"I acted in the best interest of my patient!"

"No, you did not. Not, at least, in the manner prescribed by the Harmony and Reason Medical and Dental Council. You reported the matter—not to the police as the law prescribes, and not immediately—but some two weeks after the offense to a senior military officer. Why, Dr. Thom? Why didn't you follow the prescribed route set up to protect rape victims? Is it because this rape never happened?"

But the doctor had regained his composure. "You are insulting the reputation of a gently-bred young lady, Lieutenant. I acted as I did because of the extreme sensitivities of this case. You're not just talking of some Vat-slut here, Lieutenant. This is Virginia Shaw we are talking about."

The judge cleared his throat. "The law makes no exceptions, Dr. Thom. Virginia Shaw is as entitled to its protection as any other woman. Whether she's a 'Vat-slut' or not, to use your term—a term which has no legal standing, incidentally."

The doctor stiffened. "You have her deposition. You have semen samples. Are you suggesting that we let this Vat-scumbag get away with it because I made a few technical mistakes? On a technicality!" His voice was rising in anger.

"No, Dr. Thom," said Capra pleasantly. "I am simply proving that as a witness your testimony is worthless; that you break the law habitually; and that you are a liar."

"Objection!"

"Overuled. It would appear to me, Captain Tesco, that you have prepared this case very poorly. I instruct you to withdraw those District Surgeon certified medical reports from the evidence. If you like, the doctor may enter his original medical reports. But they are of no legal standing."

They came to the depositions made by Virginia Shaw.

"I must point out to the panel that while depositions are normally taken in the presence of representatives of both the defense and the prosecution, these were taken prior to my becoming defense attorney for the accused. I did apply to have them retaken, but permission was refused on medical grounds. I applied to the JAG to have these depositions set aside, but this has been refused also. We will be presenting evidence that indicates that the testator may have been mistaken. I call your attention to two matters stated in these depositions that have already been proven false. To wit: that the stainless steel vat at the Clos Verde contained ten thousand gallons, and that Ms. Shaw was examined by a registered district surgeon. In fact, these depositions are riddled with inconsistencies. It remains the opinion of the defense that the matter should be revisited."

"You demolished that lying creep of a doctor."

"Only on the face of it. The point is, Connolly, whether we like it or not, he has got a believable point. We are talking about Virginia Shaw. You might get off that charge on a technicality. But most of the panel still believes you guilty on the basis of those depositions. That doesn't help the rest of your case, even if they're not supposed to let it weigh with them."

Chip shrugged. "Do your best."

Then it was the defense's turn.

Lieutenant Capra addressed the panel. "Much of our witness testimony must come from various military animals. Their testimony has been considered to be as good as that of a mechanical recording device, because the nature of the soft-cyber device does not allow them to forget—or to create false memories as we humans can. These are facts for which I will be producing expert testimony. Please remember, their ability to communicate is limited. The rats tend to use the language of the Bard, and the bats are rather Irish. They are quite prone to misunderstanding and are literal rather than figurative in their usage of language. I will attempt to keep their testimony simple and clear for this reason. I hope my learned colleague, Captain Tesco, will do the same."

A flicker of a professional poker-player's glance and Mike Capra was sure that he had set that hook well. And he could say later—in all innocence—that he had warned him!

The bat perched on the witness stand and peered balefully at the panel and at the packed court-room.

"Senior BombardierBat Bronstein, could you tell us at what time that day you and the other bats, rats and Private Connolly dug your way out of the collapsed bunker?"

"To be sure. It was at fourteen hundred hours, fifty-one minutes and thirty-seconds that I personally left the bunker." Bronstein looked thoughtful. "I estimate that Connolly was between ten and fifteen seconds behind me."

"Objection, Your Honor. It is impossible for an animal to tell the time like that. It doesn't even own a watch."

"Your Honor, if I can explain," said Mike Capra smoothly. "The bats are bombardiers and sappers. Dealing with high explosive and timers naturally requires great precision. To that end, the soft-cyber device implanted in bats has an active electronic clock, which, according to the deposition of expert testimony I have entered as item three of evidence for the defense, is accurate to within the same limits as a cesium clock. The deposition is from Dr. Liepsich, of HARIT, the acknowledged expert on Korozhet devices. The bats' memory, as I pointed out, is electronic in nature and thus more reliable, if less flexible, than ours. I am sure Senior Bombardier Bronstein would happily give you a demonstration of her timekeeping skills."

"Indade. The court sitting today began three minutes and seventeen seconds late," said Bronstein obligingly, "due to the captain's late arrival at ten hundred hours, twenty-nine minutes and thirty-two seconds, the point at which he arrived at the doorway of the court and was reprimanded by Judge—"

Tesco held up his hands hastily. "I withdraw my objection."

Mike acknowledged that with a nod of his head. "I would like the panel to note that it is recorded in dispatches from Sector Delta 355 that the line was lost to the enemy and a general retreat of all survivors sounded at approximately eleven hundred hours. In other words, Private Connolly, far from abandoning his post, stayed at his post. Specification three of charge one, therefore cannot stand. Now, Senior Bombardier Bronstein, in your own words tell us about the situation when the Magh' burst through the wall of your bunker. Try to be specific about numbers and time."

Bronstein was. She testified in a very clipped fashion, as Mike had instructed.

"So. When Private Connolly rescued the rat known as Phylla from the cave-in—considering that he had a weapon in one hand, could he have held onto any other weapon and rescued the rat?"

Bronstein shrugged. "Not without extra limbs."

"And how many seconds had the then private to choose whether to try and recover his bangstick or to save a valuable military animal?"

Bronstein blinked at him. "About a quarter of a second. Approximately. Difficult to be more precise."

Mike Capra nodded. "In the heat of a combat situation the then private made a value judgment. He lost a piece of military equipment in the process of saving a military animal. I think he made a very good call. If we have to reduce this to financial issues, an issue bangstick costs the Army $5.75. Cloning, rearing and the implant costs for a Military Animal Class 1, otherwise known as a 'rat,' are approximately $480."

They moved on, and so did the day. Cross-examination of Bronstein proved that even if you had to put up with a fake Irish accent, soft-cyber chips were better recorders of events than humans. "Yon clerk has recorded what was said. Would you be having me recite it back to you?" And she did, until the judge asked her to stop.

She glowered at the trial counsel. "You would not be after questioning my memory again, or I will trink your blud."

Tesco looked at Bronstein, who was licking her long fangs with a very red tongue. "Your Honor, the witness is threatening me!"

"Merely making a joke at your expense, Captain," said the judge dryly. "Military bats are not vampires. Senior BombardierBat, refrain from doing so."

"It's ink he has in his veins anyway," said Bronstein, with a batwing shrug. But the cross-examination was very sparse after that.

Next on the stand was Fat Fal. He bounded up and perched on the very edge of the witness box and winked at the crowded courtroom.

Wisely, Capra kept his questioning to simple confirmation of the details of Bronstein's testimony.

Foolishly, Captain Tesco decided his time had come to demolish a witness. A fat rat was surely no opposition. "I suspect that we can discount the evidence of this witness, as he is drunk."

Fal looked down his long nose at the trial counsel. "Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind," he said, sniffing. "You reek. Canst still stand with that much bad sack in you?"

"Henry IV," said Judge McCairn, with—amazingly—a straight face. "As the Bard would have said 'Hoist by your own petard,' Captain Tesco? Proceed."

The flushed Tesco stuck to his guns. "I mean what I say, sir. I saw the rat in question drinking before it came up to the stand."

"On a point of information, Your Honor," said Capra. "Rats are issued a grog ration by the army. There is, as a result, a high level of alcohol dependency among them, but this does not appear to affect the soft-cyber in any way. And, sir, as they are considered to be military animals, there is in fact no regulation that says that they cannot be drunk or drink on duty or at any time. But the truth is, a drunk could not survive Magh' attacks. Rat Falstaff here has survived a year of those. He may drink—as many of us, including myself, and my learned colleague, do. In his case, unlike ours, it does not have a direct effect on his memory. This is a scientifically provable fact."

"I see," said the judge, making a note. "Have you any further questions, Captain? Or have you forgotten them . . . under the influence?"

"Very funny, Your Honor," said Tesco perfunctorily. "Ha ha ha. Now we have established that the then Private Connolly encouraged you to drink the looted brandy—"

"Nay," interrupted Fal. "Hath the wrong of it, as usual. He tried to stop us drinking, said it would make us go blind."

"Do you expect anyone to accept such a story?" asked Tesco sarcastically. "How did he try to persuade you, rat? Tell us."

Falstaff looked at the captain, focusing on his glasses. "Show me your hands, sirrah!" he barked in a parade ground-squeak.

Startled out of thinking, Tesco held them out, before pulling them back hastily.

"Ha!" exclaimed Fal with satisfaction. " 'Tis as I thought. Methinks I see hair sprouting there. That and blindness are caused by hoisting your own petard, and not drink, as any rat doth know, and as we explained to Chip. And why, methinks you could be living proof thereof."

When the court had at last been stilled and order restored, the now livid trial attorney continued. "You're a joker, are you, rat?"

"Aye," agreed Fal. "I am not only witty myself but the cause of wit that is in other rats."

"Henry IV again," murmured the judge.

Tesco threw the judge a murderous glance, and then turned his attention back to the rat. "But you're not going to evade the question. The then Private Connolly encouraged you . . ."

"Aye, Chip's a valorous whoreson, though you'd not think it to look at him. He's mingy with vittles tho'. Rationed the food to make it last."

Captain Tesco pounced: "So you admit he plied you with drink."

Fal shook his head. "Thou art ever the carping costermonger. Nay. Thrice nay. He even snatched the bottle away from the Auncient Pistol, when we had cracked a bottle of the wine we found."

"Ah. So he drank it himself, did he?"

"Nay. He spilled on the ground." The rat hauled up his belt. "The waste was very great," he said mournfully. "He said if we drank before we'd found food, we'd belike to eat him and the bats. 'Tis true."

"Cannibalism!" Tesco waved his arms theatrically. "What kind of witness is a self-admitted cannibal!?"

The judge cleared his throat. "Actually, Captain Tesco, cannibalism is devouring your own species. I do not believe rats are part of the human species."

Fat Fal spluttered indignantly. "Certainly not!"

"On a point of information, Your Honor," said Lieutenant Capra, "there is considerable evidence, including the well-reported and unpleasant Mactra bunker incident, to indicate that the rat is simply speaking the truth. The rats have to eat roughly every four hours. They're voracious and have a phenomenally high metabolic rate. It is clear that Connolly acted in the best interest of the military animals in question. It is also clear that the then private attempted to behave in a provident manner, conserving food by rationing the rats."

"Objection, Your Honor," snapped Tesco. "The creatures were feasting on food and drink stolen from Mr. Couteau!"

"It has already been established, Captain," said the judge, "that Mr. Couteau was no longer the owner of the food or the wine. Since he had lodged claims for his property, it was now owned by the army. The then private simply issued army rations to military animals. To be fair, he could scarcely have filled in a requisition form, and waited hopefully, without being accused of negligence for their welfare. It appears from the rat Falstaff's testimony that he attempted to do so prudently. I suggest you move on, or at least speak on the basis of accurate fact."

Having had his train of thought repeatedly derailed, Tesco went on to attempt the picking apart of a specific incident. "You claim that the accused attempted to persuade Ms. Shaw not to accompany you. When he went, had you not gone and had she, if she had wanted to and were able, and if there were no restraints on her to go, would Ms. Shaw not have been brought forcibly, meaning along with the Korozhet that you state was carried, netted to the tractor?"

"Objection!" boomed Capra. "That question should be taken out and shot, Your Honor. It's a traitor to the English language."

"Indeed. Rephrase it please, Captain Tesco."

The trial attorney did. At length. It was something he did well.

Falstaff scratched the base of his tail. "He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument, doth he not?"

"Answer the question, rat!" demanded Tesco.

"Happily," said Falstaff. "If I could but make sense of it. It seems a thing full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Mayhap 'tis too many beans in your diet. Doc hath the same problem."

By the time the attorney had got a "No" out of Fal—which was not the answer he'd wanted—he looked in dire need of a drink. That bought him to his next line of attack.

"The truth of the matter is you are not an unbiased witness. You took a willing part in the then Private Connolly's illegal activities and were wounded in the ensuing fracas."

Fal drew himself up. "What base calumny is this proceeding from the heat of the oppressed brain, you Bartholomew Boarpig?" he bellowed, indignation coming out with every syllable. "To thus impute my fracas was injured in open court! I'll have you know I was wounded in the cheek."

He turned around and waved his broad furry tail-end at the crowd. "See!"

Doll's coming to the stand next did nothing for Tesco's equilibrium, either.

"Would you say that you're sexually active, rat?"

Doll looked injured. "You perfumed milliner! Did'st think I'd just lie there?"

It only went downhill from there.

When questioned about Chip and Virginia's relationship, the prosecutor decided to press her. "I'm afraid I think you're lying, rat," he sneered.

Doll sneered right back at him. "Thou'rt a soldier? And afeared? Fie, my lord, fie. Hie him hence, and off with his head, Judge. A soldier that hath admitted his cowardice in open court before witnesses. For shame."

"Answer the question, rat," insisted Tesco, refusing—this time—to be drawn.

Doll looked at him with pure scorn. "I'll answer no questions from such an arrant coward. Get me an honorable inquisitor, sirrah. One who is not afeared."

"It was a manner of speaking, rat," said the judge. "Answer the questions put to you. You are under oath."

Doll looked thoughtful and then began counting on her stubby fingers. "Nay. I deny it. I have been under Falstaff, and on top of him, and under Nym, and Doc, and even Pistol, and Lennox and Ross, aye and Seyton too in the enlisted rats pub . . ."

"I mean you are sworn to tell the truth," interrupted the judge, before she could start counting on her toes.

Doll nodded. "Indeed. But it is yon scraggly swasher, whose pois'nous lies out-venom all the worms of the Nile. Why do you not make him be mounted by this Oath? It might screw some sense into him."

The judge looked distinctly tempted. So far both Tesco's case preparation, and the charges, obviously hadn't impressed him much. "While the idea has merit, rat, that is why we remind the panel that their decisions must be fair, impartial and open-minded. They are instructed that it is the facts and not their opinion of the trial or defense counsels that must weigh with them."

Doll nodded. Pointed a stubby forefinger at the panel. "Didst hear him, all of you? The judge said you can ignore"—she jerked a disdainful dab of the tail at the trial counsel—"yon Bartholomew Boarpig's wild canting."

"Objection!"

"Sustained. Witness, confine yourself to answering questions, please. Rat, I did not say the panel should ignore the trial counsel."

Doll considered this. "No. You said, as I did, that they canst ignore him, not that they must. Now, what is your question?"

But Captain Tesco, that past master of circumlocutionary speech, that had battered many a witness into involuntary confusion in his favor, had met his match. He'd lost his thread. By the time the day's testimony was over, he was plainly exhausted. And he'd yet to break Connolly's story.

Court was finally adjourned. The next day Chip knew it would be his turn. He wished that he had an implanted memory to rely on. Or even Shakespearean English.