Mylan, the defense attorney, put the gun back on his table and returned to me.
“I would like to step back a moment and examine our witness,” Mylan said.
“What for?” the judge asked, in a lilting, feigned voice. And his tone made me look back. He was feeding a question to the defense.
“To establish the validity of this charge at all.”
There were murmurs from the crowd and I pondered what Mylan meant.
“Proceed,” Judge Naeb stated at once.
“Hank,” Mylan began smoothly, “not everyone knows of all your exploits. I, myself, have only been on this esteemed city for the past twenty and four years. How long have you been here?”
“Uh. I don’t know. Maybe two hundred. Less? I’m not sure.”
“And you are the same person that destroyed the Colmarian Confederation seventy-eight years ago.”
Ugh.
“Fifty. And it wasn’t just me.”
“What?”
“It wasn’t just me that done it. A lot of things happened. I was just nearby. And, yeah, I kind of helped I guess.”
“It was seventy-eight years ago that Belvaille was transported from the state of Ginland to Ceredus,” Mylan said, confused. He thought I was trying to trick him somehow. But I was just dumb.
“Really?” I asked.
“Yes…”
Man, was it that long ago?
The defense tried to recover, as the audience was growing restless.
“And are you the one who fought hundreds of Therezians on this very station?”
The audience was dead silent. This was like hearing the history of creation from the mouth of the guy standing next to the Creator when it happened.
“I didn’t fight fight them. There were hundreds, sure. Kicking buildings to pieces and stepping on people.”
“But you survived and they all fled?” Mylan confirmed.
“It’s not as simple as that, but yeah.”
“And you negotiated our species’ survival with a prince of the Boranjame on his… shuttle?”
I could see he accented that last word to force me to correct him for dramatic effect.
“It was on his world-ship, yes.”
Some stunned murmurs from the crowd.
“And you single-handedly repelled a full Dredel Led robot invasion of this station, saving millions of lives—back when we were at war with the Dredel Led.”
“I don’t know how many people I saved. I fought some Dredel Led—”
“And they lost,” Mylan interrupted.
“Yes.”
“And in the dark corporate years of Belvaille you did battle with tanks.” He went on to detail what a tank was since most people had no clue. “You fought those personally?”
“Smaller ones,” I said.
I knew there were stories about me. Stories like this.
Just about anyone who knew the gospel truth was dead or senile like I was. Those stories did me a world of help when I was trying to work as a Kommilaire, though. I only had to show up and fights would stop. So setting the record completely straight wasn’t in my best interest or that of the Stair Boys.
If people thought I thrashed hundreds of Therezians, an absolutely ridiculous idea considering just one Therezian beat me into a coma, then those people were less likely to cause trouble when I attempted to maintain a semblance of order in the city.
Mylan pounced over to his table like he had been possessed by whatever furry animal he had skinned to make his clothes.
He picked up the gun.
“So let me ask you, were you scared when Mr. Imdi-ho allegedly pointed this weapon at you?”
“Scared? How do you mean?”
“Hah, you don’t even know that concept! You want me to explain it to you!”
“I know what being scared is,” I said.
“When was the last time you were afraid?”
There was a pause as I thought on it.
“See? Our Supreme Kommilaire drives around every day dealing with the city’s most dangerous inhabitants—which does not include Mr. Imdi-ho, who has no prior record—yet he can’t tell us when he was last frightened.”
I was frightened as hell when I was about to die from my numerous heart attacks, but I didn’t want to say that.
“Let me ask you,” Mylan continued, “if I shot you with this gun, would it hurt you?”
I was taken aback.
“Are you challenging me to a duel?”
“No! No! No!” Mylan stammered. “I just want to know if this gun could harm you is all.”
He held it up again.
“No.”
“Then I vote that this charge be thrown out on account that Mr. Imdi-ho is incapable of threatening our Supreme Kommilaire.”
Excited talking from the audience.
The prosecutor, who may have been sleeping this whole time, suddenly became alert.
“I object!” He shouted.
“On what grounds?” the judge asked.
“Bad… bad jurisprudence. Bad precedence.” He searched through his notes for more words to throw.
“I fine the defendant fifty thumbs and confiscation of Exhibit A,” the judge gaveled.
“What?” I shouted, but Judge Naeb had already stood and exited.
These trials didn’t mean a lot, but I couldn’t have people pointing guns at me all the time!
Everyone was debating the outcome after the trial.
I stepped down from the witness box, waiting for people to start waving guns in my face, but instead I was assaulted by reporters.
“Hank, an intriguing ruling, what is your take on it?” Rendrae asked.
Rendrae was an old-school citizen of Belvaille. Fat and green described him perfectly.
He held a microphone that plugged directly into the station’s loudspeakers. He was a partial owner of them along with some other groups. They hosted news and entertainment programs throughout the day and part of the night. They were a near-constant noise.
Some news organizations put out a printed daily paper, but that was only for the wealthy. Thus their content was limited to financial dealings and society reviews.
The lesser reporters hung behind Rendrae waiting for their turns, like pigeons waiting for a hawk to get his fill and leave.
I cleared my throat, which echoed on the speakers as the microphone was thrust toward me. I didn’t like doing this, but it was part of the job.
“I think it is dangerous—” I started.
“Do you believe the ruling reflected Mr. Imdi-ho’s membership in the Olmarr Republic? That there might have been some efforts to appease them? Or maybe they even bought the ruling?”
“Maybe,” I said dumbly. Though Rendrae was clearly correct.
The Olmarr Republic was a powerful faction on Belvaille. They were trying to establish an empire based on their ancient civilization, which was a precursor to the Colmarian Confederation. Belvaille was in the territory that had once been part of the Olmarr Republic—so they say. It morphed untold millennia ago.
In my view, the Olmarr Republic was just another power grab by people wanting a marketable rally point. No one’s great-great-great-great-grandparents were alive during the Olmarr Republic, so it was nonsense that anyone should care now.
But they had money and support. I could easily see them throwing their weight into the outcome of this trial. It would score them points with their members and show they were influential. And Judge Naeb certainly wasn’t above bribes—if anything, bribes were above him.
“What is your next step, then?” Rendrae asked. “Is it lawful for people to intimidate the Kommilaire?”
“No. I understand the judge’s ruling to only apply to me. My Kommilaire have instructions that if anyone threatens them, they are to immediately attack. That doesn’t change.”