“Incredible,” said Ponter, shaking his head. “Who spoke on your behalf?”
“I did,” said Jasmel.
“Good girl!” said Ponter, sweeping her up in another hug. He spoke over his daughter’s shoulder. “Adikor, I’m sorry you had to go through this.”
“Me too, but—” He shrugged. “You’ll doubtless hear it soon enough. Bolbay said I resented you; she said that I felt like merely an adjunct to your work.”
“Nonsense,” said Ponter, releasing Jasmel. “I could have accomplished nothing without you.”
Adikor tipped his head. “That’s generous of you to say, but …” He paused, then spread his arms, palms up. “But there was truth in her words.”
Ponter put an arm around Adikor’s shoulders. “Perhaps the theories were indeed more mine than yours—but it was you who designed and built the quantum computer, and it is that computer that has opened up a new world to us. Your contribution exceeds mine a hundredfold because of that.”
Adikor smiled. “Thank you.”
“So what happened?” said Ponter. He grinned. “Your voice doesn’t sound any higher, so I assume she didn’t succeed.”
“Actually,” said Jasmel, “the case will be heard by a tribunal, starting tomorrow.”
Ponter shook his head in wonder. “Well, obviously, we must have the accusation expunged.”
Adikor smiled. “If you’d be so kind,” he said.
The next morning, Adjudicator Sard was joined by a wizened male and an even more wizened female, one sitting on each side of her. The Gray Council chamber was packed with spectators and ten or so silver-clad Exhibitionists. Daklar Bolbay was still wearing orange, the color of accusation. But there was considerable whispering among the crowd when Adikor entered, for instead of the accused’s blue, he had on a rather jaunty shirt with a floral print, and a light green pant. He made his way to the stool he’d gotten to know so well.
“Scholar Huld,” said Adjudicator Sard, “we have traditions, and I expect you to observe them. I think by now you’ve learned how little patience I have for wasting time, so I won’t send you home to change today, but tomorrow, I’ll expect you to be wearing blue.”
“Of course, Adjudicator,” said Adikor. “Forgive me.”
Sard nodded. “The final investigation of Adikor Huld of Saldak Rim for the murder of Ponter Boddit of the same locale now begins. Presiding tribunal consists of Farba Dond”—the elderly man nodded—“as well as Kab Jodler, and myself, Komel Sard. The accuser is Daklar Bolbay, on behalf of her late woman-mate’s minor child, Megameg Bek.” Sard looked around the packed room, and a self-satisfied frown creased Sard’s face; she clearly knew this was a case that would be talked about for countless months to come. “We will begin with the initial statement of the accuser. Daklar Bolbay, you may begin.”
“With respect, Adjudicator,” said Adikor, rising, “I was wondering if the person speaking for me might present my defense first?”
“Scholar Huld,” said Dond, sharply, “Adjudicator Sard has already warned you about ignoring traditions. The accuser always goes first, and—”
“Oh, I understand that,” said Adikor. “But, well, I do know of Adjudicator Sard’s desire to speed things along, and I thought this might help.”
Bolbay rose, perhaps sensing an opportunity. After all, if she went after the defense, she’d be able to pull it apart during her initial statement. “As accuser, I have no problem with the defense being presented first.”
“Thank you,” said Adikor, bowing magnanimously. “Now, if it—”
“Scholar Huld!” snapped Sard. “It is not up to the accuser to determine protocol. We will proceed as tradition dictates, with Daklar Bolbay speaking first, and—”
“I only thought—” said Adikor.
“Silence!” Sard was getting quite red in the face. “You shouldn’t be talking at all.” She faced Jasmel. “Jasmel Ket, only you should speak on Scholar Huld’s behalf; please make sure he understands this.”
Jasmel rose. “With great respect, Worthy Adjudicator, I am not speaking for Adikor this time. You did, after all, suggest that he find a more appropriate defender.”
Sard nodded curtly. “I’m glad to see he can listen at least some of the time.” She scanned the crowd. “All right. Who is speaking on Adikor Huld’s behalf?”
Ponter Boddit, who had been standing just outside the Council-chamber doors, walked in. “I am,” he said.
Some spectators gasped.
“Very well,” said Sard, looking down, preparing to make a note. “And your name is?”
“Boddit,” said Ponter. Sard’s head snapped up. “Ponter Boddit.”
Ponter looked across the room. Jasmel had been restraining Megameg, but now she let her younger sister go. Megameg ran across the Council-chamber floor, and Ponter swept her up off the ground, hugging her.
“Order!” shouted Sard. “There will be order!”
Ponter was grinning from ear to ear. Part of him had worried that the authorities might try to keep the existence of the other Earth a secret. After all, it was only at the last moment that Doctors Montego and Singh had prevented Ponter from being taken away by the Gliksin authorities, possibly never to be seen again. But right now, thousands were using their Voyeurs at home to look in on what the Exhibitionists here were seeing, and a room full of regular Companions were transmitting signals to their owners’ alibi cubes. The whole world—this whole world—would soon hear the truth.
Bolbay was on her feet. “Ponter!”
“Your eagerness to avenge me is laudable, dear Daklar,” he said, “but, as you can see, it was premature.”
“Where have you been?” Bolbay demanded. Adikor thought she looked more angry than relieved.
“Where have I been?” repeated Ponter, looking out at the silver suits in the audience. “I must say I’m flattered that the trifling matter of the possible murder of an undistinguished physicist has attracted so many Exhibitionists. And, with them all here and with a hundred other Companions sending signals to the archive pavilion, I will be glad to explain.” He surveyed the faces—broad, flat faces; faces with proper-sized noses, not those pinched things the Gliksins had; hairy male faces and less-hairy female ones; faces with prominent browridges and streamlined jaws; handsome faces, beautiful faces, the faces of his people, his friends, his species. “But first,” he said, “let me just say that there’s no place like home.”
Chapter 47
Adikor and Ponter arrived at the home of Dern, the robotics engineer. Dern ushered them inside, then turned off his Voyeur—he was a fellow Lulasm fan, Ponter saw.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” said Dern, “it’s good to see you.” He pointed at the now-black square of the Voyeur. “Did you look in on Lulasm’s visit to the Economics Academy this morning?”
Ponter shook his head; so did Adikor.
“Your friend Sard has stepped down from being an adjudicator. Apparently, her colleagues thought she looked somewhat less than impartial, given the way your trial turned out.”
“Somewhat?” said Adikor, astonished. “There’s an understatement.”
“In any event,” said Dern, “the Grays decided she’d make a more meaningful contribution by teaching advanced mediation to 146s.”
“It probably won’t catch any Exhibitionist’s eye,” said Ponter, “but Daklar Bolbay is getting help now, too. Therapy for grief management, anger management, and so on.”
Adikor smiled. “I introduced her to my old personality sculptor, and he’s gotten her hooked up with the right people.”
“That’s good,” said Dern. “Are you going to demand a public apology from her?”