Garth walked into the alien courtroom, wearing a prisoner badge that made it impossible to conceive of ---------…whatever it made it impossible to conceive of. His head was on a swivel, gawking at the many, many ways it was different from a human courtroom.
The entire thing seemed like it was built to house giants, for starters. There was an inordinate amount of room down the hall and between each and every seat, along with a ceiling that stretched fifty feet in the air, far enough that Garth was a little suspicious that there might be weather in here of some kind.
The entire place was lit by a dim red light. Garth supposed that might be easier on creatures with some kind of night-vision, but it made it pretty freaking spooky for a human. Alicia’s hesitant steps being a case in point.
The attendants herded her to the spectator seats, and Garth to the defendant chair, where Chi’tet joined him, wearing a ridiculous robe…thingy. It was brown silk down to her feet and split around her secondary arms, nearly dragging on the floor.
“You really have to wear that?” Garth whispered as people of every size and shape began flooding into the courtroom, eager to get a peek at the guy who waterboarded an elf. Or maybe they were just here to get a look at the memory of the event.
“It’s tradition, shut up.” Chi’tet said, opening her briefcase and preparing her notes. “Don’t forget to say the line.”
“I’m on it.” Garth said. He’d been feeling pretty relaxed the last couple weeks, so he was about to smile and wave to the gawkers, but then he realized that was something serial killers did, so he decided to just focus on looking innocent.
More and more people were filtering in, even a few he recognized. There was Mareen, and even one of the guys who had been standing behind the Dan Ui grandmaster what’s-his-name when they destroyed L.A.
…forty eight years ahead of schedule.
Garth nodded at them with a tight smile. They in turn watched him like a hawk.
“All rise for the honorable judge Timmy Pandscam.”
They all stood, and a slime monster not unlike the one who’d sold him his first Status band oozed over to the judge’s seat and settled into the scoop chair, overlooking them with it’s eyeless wisdom.
“Be seated,” It said. It’s translated voice was old and dignified, but Garth had no way of telling its age or gender…at all. It was beside the point, but Garth couldn’t help wondering if they chose sexless, ageless, formless judges to be as free from prejudice as possible.
“We will now begin the trial of this revolting stick-person.”
And replaced it with other kinds, I guess.
“Now, let the prosecution present the charges.”
The guy on the other side of the theater, a tall blue Shinta with his own brown robes, stood and opened his notebook, which unfolded into a list the length of Garth’s arm.
“The charges are as follows: Dereliction of duty, desertion, theft of government property, impersonating an officer…”
Garth spaced out for a moment as he checked each of the boxes, nodding to himself.
“Sale and distribution of narcotics, failure to adhere to city zoning ordinance, intention to reproduce spellbooks without a license...”
Garth zoned out again.
I think some fried chicken when I get back to Earth would be awesome. We’ve got the birds for it. I could reintroduce KFC. Eeeh…maybe not. Still gonna have some fried chicken though.
Garth was tapping his fingers on the table, bending his colossal intelligence on figuring out The Colonel’s secret recipe, when the prosecution read the last charge.
“And finally, the assault and torture of an elf.”
A collective gasp rippled through the observers.
“They act like that’s a bad thing,” Garth said, glancing around.
“The elves are denizens of the First World, they are immortal and at the Apex of the inner spheres. Just because he was young, weak and stupid didn’t make him not an elf.”
“Eh,” Garth said with a shrug, “Working out for us so far.”
“You…” Chi’tet gave him an angry antennae wiggle before returning to her notes.
Garth twiddled his thumbs and rocked back and forth in his chair, until the glacially slow trial got to the important part.
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“Do you, Garth Daniels, deny these accusations?”
Garth stood and cleared his throat.
“You know, back on my planet, we know that the elves are untouchable and better than us in every way. We even have a saying, Elves rule, humans drool, that crystalizes exactly how lame and unworthy we are compared to them. I’m not even fit to lick an elf’s boot. I know this, and I unequivocally deny these heinous allegations.” Garth said before sitting back down.
“I see,” the blob said in a tone that made Garth think it would be rubbing its temples if it had them. “Since this trial is a bit of a special case, I’ll call upon the services of an apostle of Ferenor to make sure there is no doubt as to the outcome of this trial.” The blob handed a note to the bailiff before turning back to address the court.
Ferenor was, according to Chi’tet, the god of Truth, and their Apostles were capable of telling the veracity of anything, even doctored images, or, more pertinent to Garth’s situation: memories.
They were also notoriously hard to bribe, but Chi’tet had been able to find an inroad with one that involved exposing lies.
The trial continued for a good hour before the apostle showed up.
A corio woman wearing yellow robes that seemed to be spun from sunlight was guided by the bailiff into the theater to sit beside the prosecution. No matter how hard Garth stared, he couldn’t see through them, despite how they seemed to be made from air.
“Welcome, Maya Onerein, It honors us to have you in this court.”
“Thank you,” She said, with a nod, glancing over at Garth and frowning. They hadn’t met yet, but Chi’tet had.
Garth smiled and waved.
“If you don’t mind, would you repeat your earlier statement denying the assault and torture of an elf working for the Inner Spheres?”
Garth leaned forward and spoke into his microphone, “Didn’t do it.”
Maya’s eyes widened.
“Well, Miss Onerein?”
“He’s an Apostle of Pala.” She said. “I can’t read his words.”
The crowd began speaking over each other in hushed tones that flitted around the theater while Garth sat back and waited for the next development.
It’s not just the ingredients, I’ve gotta make some kind of fluffer that can make the batter the exact right consistency to make that extra crispy chicken skin. Maybe I can make a plant that makes and whips the batter all at once. I don’t think there’s any animal product in there… even if there were, I could always replicate fats and proteins and junk.
Why not take it one step further? Why not make a fried chicken fruit tree? Garth imagined a tree that grew wings, thighs, and drumsticks in a kind of un-fried state, with the batter just below the surface. Then when it was detached from the tree, it would trigger a burst of magic that would expel the batter to the surface, which would then crisp from a sudden wave of high heat.
It might burn the people who pick it, though…Well, you gotta make some sacrifices for freshness.
“I see,” the blob said, exasperation clearly in his tone now. “I always dreaded the day I’d receive a disciple of Pala in my courtroom. I’m glad you’re here, Miss Onerein. I invoke my power as a representative of the Inner Spheres to order a Mnemonic Testimony.”
“Here we go,” Chi’tet clicked softly.
“Sir,” Maya Onerein said, heading over to Garth’s seat.
“Hey, wait, doesn’t using my own memories against me break some kinda rule?” Garth said as she approached, really wishing there were some way to -------
Stupid prisoner badge.
The Corio Apostle strode up to him and put a hand to his forehead, and his life began flashing before his eyes, like a bad VHS tape on fast forward, scanning dispassionately through his life, although she seemed to pause for a moment or two on some of the more explicit memories before moving on.
Finally, She got to the moment in question, where he’d tied Argus down and waterboarded him.
Garth felt a mental pinch as she copied the memory and drew it out of him.
This is make or break right here, Garth thought, hoping she’d extended the copied memory by the thirty seconds he’d need.
An apostle of Ferenor couldn’t tell whether memories in the head of an apostle of Pala were fabrications or not, as they were still part of the Apostle and fell under her protection, but once the memories were removed, that protection fell away, and the Apostle could tell the audience for a fact, whether or not the memories spoke the truth.
A little truth-y loophole.
“I have the memory,” Maya said, heading back to the prosecution’s desk and manifesting a glowing blue ball at the tips of her fingers, placing it in a depression built into the deck.
A hologram of Garth’s memory leapt out of the desk, dominating the space between the desks and the judge’s panel.
Garth saw his point of view as he poured water over the towel pressed over Argus’s face, shortly before taking it off, then glancing up at Sandi, who grinned back at him.
The courtroom watched in stunned silence as the elf’s struggles got more and more intense, nearly passing out several times, until words caused Garth to glance up, spotting the assembled might of the Dan Ui Clan.
On Earth.
When they weren’t supposed to be.
Then the memory cut out.
“What can you say about this memory?” Timmy said.
“Having removed it from the Apostle, I can verify that every part of it is accurate and unaltered.” Maya said. “What was seen there was what happened.”
“Enter it as evidence M.T. G.D. nine oh seven five three.” The judge said, consulting a notepad as he spoke to the clerk taking notes.
“Seems like this is going to be a shorter trial than I was expecting,” Judge Pandscam said, wiggling in pleasure. “We’ll take a short recess, and then continue with the trial.”
Just like that, the trial continued, while Garth tried to figure out a way to bring crispy chicken skins back at an affordable, convenient pace.
Garth got slapped with the guilty verdict on most of the things he was charged with in a matter of hours, especially the elf-torture. Not that Garth was really hoping to be able to win an innocent plea. He just had to plead innocent to get the memory taken as evidence.
Then they moved on to sentencing.
“If I had my way, I’d have them throw you in a hole until the end of time and be done with it,” Timmy Pandscam said, his voice carrying an undercurrent of anger. “But it seems like Argus Nielshin would like to exercise an esoteric law that gives him, as the aggrieved elf, the right to carry out your sentencing. May Kolath have mercy on you.”
Timmy Pandscam slimed his way off the bucket chair and oozed offstage, and was shortly replaced by a familiar face, one Argus Neilshin, who cleaned and transmuted the chair into a human-shaped one with a wave of his hand.
The simple scoop turned into a gaudy, gold-plated chair padded in thick red velvet, designed to make whoever was sitting in it look tasteless and important.
Argus plopped down in the chair and laced his fingers together, leaning forward eagerly.
“Hello again Garth,” he said, grinning like the Cheshire cat.