As had happened the last time I’d been in this room, both Doug and Ty stayed at my side instead of dividing themselves up between me and Bayta.
[Good morning,] Minnario greeted me as I sat down. [I trust you had no further adventures on your way home last night?]
“It was actually rather boring,” I assured him. “Anything new on our guest?”
[Unfortunately, yes,] he said, lowering his voice as he glanced casually around. [The passkey wouldn’t open the door this morning. I’m guessing that it’s designed to only be good for a single day, or even just a few hours.]
“Damn,” I muttered. Stupid, stupid, stupid, and I should have seen it coming. “Fine. We’ll just have to get hold of someone else’s passkey.”
[How?]
“Working on it,” I assured him. “I also have a statement I want to make to the court as soon as possible. Will the Slisst Protocols have a problem with that?”
[No, I don’t think so,] Minnario said, peering oddly at me. [What sort of statement?]
“If we’re lucky, one that should get this whole thing closed down,” I told him. “If not in a flat-out acquittal, at least in complete and utter confusion.”
[That sounds like quite a statement,] Minnario said, his odd expression going a little odder. [Perhaps you should share it with me before we present it to the court.]
Across the room, the door opened and Wandek entered the room. “Too late,” I murmured. “Trust me, though. You’re going to love it.”
The opening ceremonies were pretty much the same as last time around. After they were finished, Hchchu informed the guardlaws that it was indeed Dr. Aronobal who had informed him of my dual identity as Frank Compton and Frank Abram Donaldson. Unfortunately, since Aronobal had now disappeared, he continued, it would be impossible for the guardlaws to ask her any questions as to how or where she’d obtained that information.
And then it was my turn.
“I have a point of order to raise,” I said, rising to my feet. “I confess my relative ignorance of the Slisst Protocols on this matter, and I beg the guardlaws’ indulgence and clarification.”
{Continue,} Wandek said, his voice wary.
“Thank you,” I said. “My question is in regard to this court’s right to jurisdiction in this matter.”
That one got them. Two of the guardlaws shifted in their seats, while the third sent a sharp look over at Hchchu. Wandek, in contrast, kept his eyes unblinkingly on mine. {This is an old argument, Mr. Compton,} he said, {and one which numerous courts have ruled on over the last three centuries. All those rulings have been against you.}
“But you haven’t even heard my question,” I protested politely.
{I don’t need to,} he said. {You seek to claim that since the six victims of your crime were santras, with the genetic variations that often accompany that title, they cannot be considered true Filiaelians.}
{Even at the time of the Slisst Protocols it was accepted that Filiaelian was a wide-spanning title,} one of the other guardlaws put in. {If a person has Filiaelian blood and Filiaelian appearance, he is indeed a Filiaelian.}
“So it’s the appearance that matters?” I asked.
{Not at all,} Wandek said, shooting a brief glare at the other guardlaw. Hardly surprising, really—allowing me to get away with framing the argument in terms of appearance was a quick road to a possible legal minefield.
Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t actually the direction I was headed. And though he didn’t know it, he and the whole Slisst Protocols were already in the middle of that minefield. “So what is it that makes a person a Filiaelian?” I asked.
{His heart,} Wandek said. {Not the physical heart, of course—that can be altered in any way desired. I speak of the way he views life.}
{A Filiaelian’s identity is in his heart, his mind, and his soul,} the other guardlaw added. {No matter what genetics were worked on you, Mr. Compton, you would never and could never be a Filiaelian.}
“I see,” I said slowly, as if trying to work it through. “So it’s basically a person’s mind that makes him truly Filiaelian?”
{Yes,} Wandek said.
“Good,” I said. “Then if the court will indulge me, I’d like to tell you about a strange being who is even now attempting to conquer the galaxy.
“A creature who calls himself Modhri.”
* * *
I laid it out for them. All of it: the Modhri’s history, his nature, his essence, and the fact that all six of the Fillies on New Tigris had been Modhran walkers.
I left out the details of the war itself, of course, including how long Bayta and I had been involved with it. I also didn’t talk about the true nature of the Spiders, and I absolutely didn’t even hint at the existence and importance of the Chahwyn. The details of our various cases, as well as why the Modhri had been interested in New Tigris in the first place, I also kept to myself.
Still, even without all of that, the recital was clearly riveting. The guardlaws listened in silence, the darkening and paling of their blazes betraying their swirl of emotions. Most of my attention was on the guardlaws, but out of the corner of my eye I could see Hchchu sitting just as unmoving at the prosecutor’s table. Beside me, Minnario listened with fascination, and even Doug and Ty seemed entranced by the firm, resonant sound of my voice.
Finally, I ran out of things to tell them. “The bottom line is this,” I said. “Since the beings I fought on New Tigris were, at the time of the combat, Modhran walkers and not Filiaelians, I claim that no regular court of the Assembly has jurisdiction over the case. I therefore request that I be released without prejudice until such time as a proper court can be established to deal with what is surely an extraordinary and unprecedented situation. Thank you.” Nodding to each of the guardlaws in turn, I sat back down.
Beside me, Minnario stirred. [A most interesting argument,] he murmured.
“Thank you,” I said, inclining my head to him.
[I didn’t say it was good,] he warned. [Merely interesting.]
Wandek looked down the table at his fellow guardlaws, and for a couple of minutes they all murmured back and forth. Then Wandek straightened up and looked back at me. {No,} he said flatly.
Even Minnario seemed taken aback. [I beg your pardon?] he said.
{The six murdered Filiaelians came from Kuzyatru Station,} Wandek said. {That’s already been established. Even if this Modhri truly exists—and without actual proof, we cannot grant that as fact—even if it exists, it has no presence here. We therefore have no choice but to conclude that the murdered Filiaelians were not so infected.}
I cleared my throat. “Perhaps I wasn’t entirely clear on how the Modhri operates,” I suggested. “His polyp colonies are designed to hide within a walker’s body where they can’t be detected.”
{Perhaps not by Humans or Shorshians or Juriani,} Wandek retorted with an edge of offended pride. {But they cannot hide from Filiaelians.}
{Usantra Wandek is correct,} Hchchu spoke up. {As assistant director of Kuzyatru Station, I can confirm there is no such alien presence aboard.}
“But that’s the point: you can’t confirm that,” I persisted. “The polyps simply lie in place, unmoving and undetectable—”
{But they still live,} Hchchu interrupted. {Which means they must absorb nutrients and secrete waste products. Both processes leave subtle but detectable indicators that a full biochemical scan would be able to find.}
“And how often would something that complete be done?” I scoffed.
{Four times a year,} Hchchu said. {On everyone.}