There were lots of sounds. A low-pitched electrical hum, the occasional sloshing of water or other liquids moving through pipes, and a tick-tick-ticking that Kelkad, who was accompanying Frank, said was caused by uneven heating of the ship’s hull as its orbit moved it out of the Earth’s shadow and into direct sunlight.
Frank was carrying a video camera, on loan from Court TV. He also had a radio microphone and earpiece. Kelkad, who was wearing a headset that had been specially adapted for him, had arranged for the signals to be broadcast directly from the ship to the courthouse; the problems that had prevented Calhoun from broadcasting during his original impromptu visit had proven trivial to overcome. Doubtless over a billion people the world over were watching the live broadcast—but the only audience Frank was really interested in consisted of six women and six men in the Los Angeles County Criminal Courts Building. Judge Pringle had told Dale Rice to find a way to bring the evidence there, and Dale had done precisely that.
“Dr. Nobilio,” said Dale’s voice over the radio, “can you hear me?” Frank reached a hand up to adjust his headset.
“Yes.”
“All right,” said Dale’s voice. “The jury is present, and we would like to now continue with the testimony. Captain Kelkad, will you please escort Dr. Nobilio into the Tosok medical facilities?”
“Certainly,” said Kelkad. He gave an expert kick off a wall and headed down the corridor. From underneath, the alien looked a bit like an amputee squid, with his four evenly spaced limbs dangling straight behind his body. Frank struggled to keep the camera steady as he, too, pushed off the wall and tried to head in the same direction. Kelkad managed a pretty straight path down the corridor, but Frank ended up bouncing off of both walls as well as the ceiling and floor. At one point the camera lens ended up jammed directly into one of the circular yellow lights set into the ceiling. Frank mumbled an apology to the people watching back on Earth.
Finally they came to the starship’s sick bay—a room no human had ever seen before, but that the Tosok biochemist Stant had described to Dale during his deposition. In its center was a wide operating pallet, with a trough down its long axis to accommodate an arm. The ceiling sported a mechanical octopus of surgical tools attached to articulated arms—they apparently could be pulled down as required to aid the surgeon. Along the walls were interlocking storage units with hexagonal openings, each about eighty centimeters in diameter. The color scheme was mostly light blue, with silver and red highlights. Rather than the usual ceiling lighting disks, the whole roof seemed to be one giant luminescent panel that glowed yellowish white.
“Thank you,” said Dale’s voice. “Now, Kelkad, I am informed that this is the room in which Hask would have performed the organ harvesting of Seltar, the member of your crew who was accidentally killed, correct?”
Kelkad was floating midway between the floor and ceiling, keeping himself in place with his front hand lightly gripping the operating pallet. His cranial tuft waved forward. “That is correct.”
“Dr. Nobilio,” said Dale, “please pan the camera around the room, and while you do so please describe the room’s level of neatness or disarray.”
Frank moved the camera over the walls and floor, and did a long, slow pan up the length of the operating pallet. “Everything seems immaculate to me,” he said. “There’s no sign of messiness.”
“No blood splatters?” said Dale’s voice. “No evidence of carnage?”
“None.”
“Now, Dr. Nobilio, please show us the storage units mounted in the wall.”
Frank complied. “I would like you to zoom in on the labels on each one, and, Kelkad, I would like you to translate those labels for us.”
Ziegler’s voice over the headsets now: “Objection, Your Honor. Sidebar?”
“You may ap—” Judge Pringle must have killed the microphones; her voice was cut off in mid-word.
Frank, still floating, tried to shrug in Kelkad’s direction. “Sorry about this,” he said.
Kelkad’s topknot rippled. “Your courts do seem to spend an inordinate amount of time on procedural issues.”
“You should try working in government,” said Frank ruefully. “It seems all we do is argue.”
“I thought Mr. Rice said you were an idealist?”
“Compared to Dale, I certainly am. But I’m an idealist in the sense that I believe the ideal is attainable, whether it’s efficient courts or efficient government. And besides—”
“—stand back.” Judge Pringle’s voice again. Whatever legal issue had been raised had apparently now been sorted out. “Mr. Rice, proceed.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Dr. Nobilio, you were showing us the wall storage units.”
“Oh, sorry.” Frank re-aimed the camera. “How’s that?”
“Fine,” said Dale’s voice. “Captain Kelkad, would you translate?”
Frank realized Kelkad was looking at the upper right unit, while the camera was focused on the upper left—one of those little cultural differences.
“This one says—”
“No, Kelkad,” said Frank. “Please start at the upper left.”
“Oh, sorry.” The Tosok used his front hand to push himself along the wall. “This one says ‘surgical’—well, you would call it ‘supplies,’ but the word is more general. ‘Surgical stuff.’ ”
“Miscellaneous surgical equipment?” offered Dale’s voice.
“That’s correct.”
“And the next one?”
“Horizontally or vertically?” asked Kelkad.
“Horizontally,” said Dale. “The next one to the right.”
“ ‘Bandages and gauze.’ ”
“And the next one?”
“ ‘Artificial joints.’ ”
“By which you mean mechanical elbows, knees, and so on, correct?” said Dale.
Kelkad’s tuft moved forward in agreement. “Yes.”
“And the next one?”
“That green mark is not a word; rather, it is a symbol we use to indicate cold storage.”
“As in refrigeration, correct?” said Dale.
“Yes.”
“So the contents of that unit are kept at low temperatures?”
“That is right.”
“Beneath the symbol, there’s some more writing. What does it say?”
“The first column says ‘organs for transplant.’ The second column says ‘hearts.’ ”
“Now, Kelkad, the words that you are referring to look fundamentally different from the writing on the previous units you showed us. Why is that?”
“The writing on the previous units was machine-produced. This is handwriting.”
“Tosok longhand, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Do you recognize the handwriting?” asked Dale.
“Objection!” Ziegler’s voice. “Kelkad has not been established as an expert in Tosok graphology.”
“Overruled.” Judge Pringle’s voice. “You may answer the question.”
“That is Hask’s handwriting,” said Kelkad. “It is quite distinctive—and rather sloppy.”
Frank could hear a small amount of laughter in his earpiece.
“So is it fair to say that this compartment was labeled after the commencement of your voyage from Alpha Centauri?” asked Dale.
“Unquestionably. We had no organs for transplant in inventory when we left.”
“Where did these organs come from?”
“From Seltar, the deceased member of my crew.”
“I know Tosoks are sensitive to cold,” said Dale’s voice. “Is it safe for you to open a refrigerated compartment?”
“Yes.”
“Doing so won’t trigger your hibernation reflex?”
“No.”
“Will you do so?”