“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 me 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
was no way to tell. He'd just have to sit and wait.
The Atrian judge remained motionless and silent for the better part of an hour. Then, at last, he looked up, and a hush fell over the court as both human and nonhuman waited to hear his verdict. “Man Khalinov,” said the Atrian, “you have caused me to think deeply and seriously over all you have said. It is my regretful conclusion that Man Krantz must be found guilty. He is hereby sentenced to die by heat tomorrow.”
“But your honor!” cried Khalinov, leaping to his feet again. “Allow me to continue,” said the judge. “The court appreciates your arguments, and will go so far as to admit to their validity in certain cases, including the case of Man Krantz.” “Then why not give him a lesser sentence?” “Man Krantz's life span is, in your terms, between ninety and one hundred and ten years. Is that not correct?”
“Yes.”
“The expected life span of an Atrian is approximately thirty-four hundred years. While I will admit that a sentence of perhaps fifty years, or possibly even less, would be appropriate from the point of view of the defendant, you must consider that this would be a worse insult to the families of the deceased and the general populace of Atria XVI, than would be a verdict of innocent. You are fond of hypotheses, so allow me to pose one of my own: What would your reaction be if an entity convicted of slaying fifty-seven Men on the planet Deluros VIII were to be given a prison sentence of two months?” Khalinov closed his eyes. There was no argument to be made. “Thank you, your honor,” he said, and turned to leave.