Birthright

yourself. Therefore, you have placed all responsibility for all decisions and interpretations solely upon me.

My interpretation is that under Atrian law, murder need not be premeditated, but is defined simply and explicitly as the taking of one or more Atrian lives, by any means whatsoever, with or without motive or preknowledge. Therefore, your claim is disallowed, on the grounds that the charge is not premeditated murder.”

“If my client pleads guilty, the trial will end immediately, will it not?” asked Khalinov. “Yes.”

“Then Heinrich Krantz pleads not guilty to the charge of murder.” “Even though you yourself know that he did in fact commit the crime?” asked the Atrian. “Even so,” agreed Khalinov, studying the Atrian's face for an expression of some kind, but finding none. “Later we may change the plea, but how else can I argue my client's case? After all, I am only obeying the rules of the court.”

“Using them to serve your own purposes,” corrected the judge. “Agreed,” said Khalinov. “Is it not my job to protect my client's interests in any way I can? We are ready for the prosecution to present its evidence now.” “I am also the prosecution,'’ said the judge. “I know as absolute fact that Man Krantz caused the death of fifty-seven Atrians in the following manner...” The T-pack droned on and on with an explicit recounting of the crime.

When the Atrian had finished, Khalinov arose again. “Your honor,” he said, “with the court's permission I should like to present a visual display.” He nodded toward two assistants, and they approached, bearing the Atrian equivalent of a tridimensional video receiver. “Does this exhibit bear directly upon your case?” asked the judge. “Or, more precisely, will it in any way prove that my information is faulty and that your client is innocent of the crime of murder?” “Not directly,” admitted Khalinov, “but it does have some relevance to the subject of murder on the planet Atria XVI, and as such—”

“The exhibit is disallowed,” interrupted the judge. “But your honor!”

“Man Khalinov,” said the judge, “the rulings of this court are not subject to debate or question. Your exhibit will not be permitted. If you cannot prove, absolutely and beyond question, that Man Krantz did not cause the deaths of fifty-seven Atrians, then you are wasting the court's time.” “I gather you've got plenty to waste!” snapped Khalinov. “A man's life is at stake here. I intend to see to it that he gets the best and most comprehensive defense of which I am capable.” “Well spoken,” said the Atrian, “but irrelevant.” “No more irrelevant than the lives of fifty-seven Atrians,” said Khalinov. “My client is a sentient being,

just as the deceased Atrians were. What is more relevant than his defense?”

The judge remained silent for a long moment, then spoke. “Continue.” “Thank you, your honor. With the court's permission, I should like to call as a witness Professor Nigel Patrick, of the University of—”

“One moment,'’ said the judge. “Was Man Patrick on Atria XVI at the time of the crime's commission?” “I object, your honor,” said Khalinov. “No crime has yet been proven.” “Your objection is overruled. In point of fact, the crime has not yet beendis proven.” “Then in answer to your question, no, Professor Patrick was not on Atria XVI at any time during his life prior to yesterday.”

“Then how,” asked the Atrian, “can Man Patrick possibly testify in support of your client?” “Professor Patrick holds a doctorate in Criminology and another in Ethics,” said Khalinov. “The defense shall attempt to show that on many similar worlds—” “Disallowed,” said the judge.

“Dammit, your honor!” bellowed Khalinov, though only soft tinkling chimes came through the T-pack. “How can I present a defense when you disallow all my exhibits and all my expert testimony?” “They are not germane to the case at hand,'’ said the Atrian. “If your exhibits and your witnesses cannot disprove the truth of the charges, then they are irrelevant.” “They are not irrelevant! It is your law that is irrelevant!” “Man Khalinov,” said the Atrian calmly, “our law is not on trial. Your client is. Please continue.” Khalinov lowered his head in thought, painfully aware of the fact that the newsmen and cameras were catching every instant of this fiasco. He was also aware that he had to keep talking, for the moment he stopped he'd be conceding defeat.

“Your honor,” he said, “you made a remark about your law not being put on trial. Has any law of yours ever stood trial?”

“No.'’

“Why not?” asked Khalinov.

“Because laws are neither guilty nor innocent, and therefore cannot be tried.” “But laws can be good or evil,” persisted Khalinov. “What would you do if you discovered that a law was evil?”

“Laws in themselves cannot be good or evil,” said the Atrian. “Therefore, your question is irrelevant.”

“But lawscan be practical or impractical, can they not?” said Khalinov. “For example, a law that

required me to argue before you without a T-pack would be impractical, wouldn't it? Or a law demanding that I not wear an outfit incorporating life-support systems?” “Agreed,” said the Atrian. “But we have no such laws.” “Please allow me to continue, since you've disallowed every other line of defense,” said Khalinov. “You may continue,” said the judge.

“Thank you. May I ask you for a legal opinion, your honor?” “Yes.”

“Why would a law requiring that I appear here without life-support systems be impractical?” “Because you would die, obviously,” was the answer. “Would a native of Atria XVI die were he to appear before you without life-support systems?” “Of course not,” said the judge.

“Would a law requiring a native of Atria XVI to wear my particular life-support system be impractical?” “Naturally. The Atrian would die.”

“Would you then admit, your honor, that there are at least some instances where a law cannot be applied practically to both Atrian and non-Atrian alike?” “I so admit,” said the judge, “and I can appreciate your line of reasoning. However, this was merely a hypothetical case. In the case of Man Krantz, he destroyed fifty-seven sentient beings.” “I'm coming to that,” said Khalinov. “Let me hypothesize further. If, in the next instant, my life-support system should fail, due to a malfunction that is clearly the fault of the manufacturer, a tremendous amount of heat would shortly escape my protective suit, enough heat to destroy every Atrian in the room. Who would be responsible for this: myself, the manufacturer of the suit, the salesman I purchased it from, the quality-control expert who didn't catch the flaw, or perhaps the company that manufactures the machines upon which such suits are constructed?”

“I cannot answer that without further data,” said the Atrian. “I agree,” said Khalinov. “Would you go so far as to say, however, that I was not guilty of the deaths that would occur?”

“Tentatively, I would agree that you were not guilty,” said the judge slowly. “However, may I caution you once again that this is merely a hypothesis? Man Krantz's T-pack was examined and found to be in perfect working order.”

“All right,” said Khalinov, stalking back and forth before the judge, his hands clasped behind his back. “Let's get on to the case of Heinrich Krantz. And let us also keep in mind that you have found—hypothetically, to be sure—that a law can be impractical, and that the death of an Atrian is not

necessarily the responsibility of the destroying agent.

“Now, then, let us examine exactly what happened. Heinrich Krantz, a man with no prior criminal record, found himself on a crowded Atrian thoroughfare. For whatever reason, his T-pack was turned off—and let me remind the court that the reason for this hasn't yet been determined. It may well have been through an act of carelessness on Krantz's part; but, on the other hand, it may just as easily have been jostled into that position by the pressing crowd of Atrians. “At any rate, the T-pack was off. Now, on oxygen worlds, the T-pack is a hand-carried portable instrument. But on worlds where atmospheric conditions are such that we must wear protective covering and life-support systems at all times, the T-pack is built into the transparent facial mask. The reason is obvious: We are frequently so encumbered by our outfits that this is far more convenient than having to hold the T-pack in our hands. There is one other fact concerning this structure: Since Men rarely travel alone on such worlds, when the T-pack is turned off, it is still possible for them to communicate with each other. The T-pack, when working, muffles our voices and transmutes them into more pleasing, more coherent, and, in your case, less lethal sounds; but when it is off, the sounds are not muffled at all. For this, you may blame the manufacturer or the designer, if you wish, but you certainly cannot blame