and sent him in with his father. There was a directory in the videone panel; she called the Interplanetary Hotel.
A young man with an intense bushy mustache answered Jefferson’s extension. “Look, it’s two o’clock.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not on your time yet. Is Roland there? I’m Paula Mendoza.”
“Oh. Hold on.”
She stood listening to the rattle of the shower. The suite was quiet. Saba’s clothes hung over the edge of the bed.
“Mendoza.”
She turned back to the screen. Jefferson was putting herself into a garden-print kimono. Her face was barded with fat. “Sybil,” Paula said. “What are you doing here? You look awful.”
“I’m here on Council business, which is probably why. How are you?” Jefferson did up the hooks over her shelf of breast.
“I get along. Who’s our judge in the court?”
“Wu-wei. Do you know him?”
Paula pursed her lips. “Yes. This will be interesting.” She looked around the room, wondering if the place were tapped.
“Are you arguing the Styths’ case?” Jefferson asked.
“No. Tanuojin is. Saba’s lyo.”
“And the adversary is Chi Parine.”
Paula shook her head. “Blank.”
“I guess he’s too recent for you. He’s a Martian. In the past few years he’s been quite a little firebrand. He’s a member of the Sunlight League.”
“My my. What’s their case?”
“I don’t know.” Jefferson took a lace-edged hanky from her pocket and dabbed at her bad eye. “There’s been more show than law in it, so far. Frankly, nobody expected you to answer the subpoena. They were taken rather aback when you did.”
“I think we’ll take them all the way back to the ape,” Paula said. She glanced behind her at the shower. David was laughing. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Fine, Mendoza.”
Paula turned off the videone. The hiss of the shower half-drowned David’s giggles. She had met Wu-wei once, on the Earth; they had talked about music and ritual circumcision. She took off her clothes and went into the shower with Saba and David.
“We’re late.”
“They won’t start without us.” Tanuojin turned over the single long sheet of the hourly. “Where did they get these pictures of us?”
Saba led them down the corridor. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to be late.”
Paula broke into a trot to keep up. The rest of the crew was strung out along the corridor behind them. Painted apple-green, the inside of the court building reminded her of a school where her mother had sent her before she grew big enough to run away. They went through a set of double doors into the courtroom.
Spectators filled the back two-thirds of the room, which was also apple-green. All the heads turned. The racket of conversation hushed. Paula moved in between Saba and Tanuojin, where she would not be noticed. A railing separated the gallery from the Bench. To the right front of the judge’s table was a small crowd of seated people: the adversary. They were all Martians.
The Bench was vacant. Wu-wei wasn’t a man to wait in public. Saba bent to swing open the gate in the railing, and they went in to the left side of the court.
Paula took her coat off. The courtroom was warm even for her. She glanced at the adversary side and met five sets of unfriendly eyes. She recognized Chi Parine from his picture in the hourlies. He was a small man, in early middle age, his hair thinning back from his forehead. His clothes were flamboyant, a green tunic, yellow shoes.
“Why are all these people staring at us?” Bakan asked, behind her.
Saba pointed at the wall, and the five Styths lined up along it. Tanuojin sat down carefully in a straight chair. It was much too small for him. Saba half-sat on the railing.
A woman in a short dress came out the door behind the judge’s table. She knocked with her knuckles on the tabletop.
“Please rise for the Bench.”
Paula was still on her feet. Behind her, the gallery got noisily up, and the Martians stood, but Saba and Tanuojin stayed as they were. Wu-wei came in. He took his seat behind the table. Folding his hands in front of him, he aimed his yellow epicene face at Tanuojin. The audience slapped down into their chairs, and the Martians all sat but one.
Wu-wei said, “I assume you gentlemen are registering a protest of some kind. Would you care to express it now?” His velvet tenor voice reminded her of Pedasen.
Tanuojin sprawled long as a whip across the chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m an Akellar of the Styth Empire. I only stand up for an Akellar who outranks me.”
“No,” Wu-wei said. He opened his paper file. “You’re just bad-mannered.” He turned to the bailiff. “Read the case.”
The woman who had announced him stood and read off the charges and the names of the people involved. She managed to mispronounce both the Styth names and the name of the ship. Paula went over beside Tanuojin’s chair and sat on her heels. She glanced at Chi Parine, who was watching her narrowly. To Tanuojin, she said, “Ask them for bigger chairs.” Surprised, she sniffed at the metal taint in the air. “Tanuojin. You’re afraid.”
He twisted to look back at Saba. Slumping forward again, he whacked her in the side with his elbow. “Get away from me.”
Parine was up on his feet, his chest thrown out. He reminded her of Machou, displaying in the hall of the Akopra. “Your Excellency, I want to protest the defenser’s churlish behavior. This is a civilized proceeding. If these—” he waved at the Styths—“people don’t intend to abide by our laws, they shouldn’t have come here.”
Several spectators clapped. Wu-wei banged his knuckles on the table.
“I think I’ve already noted that the defenser is being defiant and hostile. Perhaps as he comes to know us, he’ll take to us a little more. I understand you have some bills, Parine.”
“Indeed we do, Your Excellency.” Parine strutted up to the Bench. “We are bringing a bill to disqualify Paula Mendoza from the defense.”
Paula went back to the railing and sat on it, beside Saba. The spectators murmured. They sounded eager. Saba looked around at them.
“That’s an unusual bill,” Wu-wei said.
“Your Excellency, this is an unusual case. The charges have been brought against these two men.” Parine gestured toward the Styths. “They have chosen, wisely or not as time will tell, to argue in their own defense. Miss Mendoza works for the Committee for the Revolution. The laws of the court require that third parties to a case declare their interest before the case opens. The Committee has declared no interest in this case—”
Tanuojin was unfolding himself out of the chair. He rose up to his full height, and Parine faltered, distracted. He wheeled back toward the Bench.
“The Committee hasn’t declared any interest. Therefore Miss Mendoza has no right in the case.”
Wu-wei was writing on his worksheet. Paula stared at Tanuojin’s back. His shirt was sticking to him. She expected him to come over to the rail, to talk it over, but he watched Parine. The little lawyer put his hands on his hips, his arms sticking out, and swaggered back toward his chair.
“Defenser, do you have an argument?” Wu-wei said.
“I don’t need an argument.” Tanuojin walked along the midline between their side of the room and Parine’s. “He needs the arguments. He hasn’t proved she still works for the Committee.”
Parine bellied up to him. “She’s never resigned. The first person she called in Crosby’s Planet was Sybil Jefferson.”
Paula muttered, under her breath. So their suite was tapped.
“Ask her if she works for the Committee.”
