“Here it comes, sir. The z’Srauff!”
The z’Srauff were reasonably close to human stature and appearance, allowing for the fact that their ancestry had been canine instead of simian. They had, of course, longer and narrower jaws than we have, and definitely carnivorous teeth.
There were stories floating around that they enjoyed barbecued Terran even better than they did supercow and hot relish.
This one advanced, extending his three-fingered hand.
“I am most happy to make connection with Solar League representative,” he said. “I am named Gglafrr Ddespttann Vuvuvu.”
No wonder Thrombley let him introduce himself. I answered in the Basic English that was all he’d admit to understanding:
“The name of your great nation has gone before you to me. The stories we tell to our young of you are at the top of our books. I have hope to make great pleasure in you and me to be friends.”
Gglafrr Vuvuvu’s smile wavered a little at the oblique reference to the couple of trouncings our Space Navy had administered to z’Srauff ships in the past. “We will be in the same place again times with no number,” the alien replied. “I have hope for you that time you are in this place will be long and will put pleasure in your heart.”
Then the pressure of the line behind him pushed him on. Cabinet Members; Senators and Representatives; prominent citizens, mostly Judge so-and-so, or Colonel this-or-that. It was all a blur, so much so that it was an instant before I recognized the gleaming golden hair and the statuesque figure.
“Thank you! I have met the Ambassador.” The lovely voice was shaking with restrained anger.
“Gail!” I exclaimed.
“Your father coming to the barbecue, Gail?” President Hutchinson was asking.
“He ought to be here any minute. He sent me on ahead from the hotel. He wants to meet the Ambassador. That’s why I joined the line.”
“Well, suppose I leave Mr. Silk in your hands for a while,” Hutchinson said. “I ought to circulate around a little.”
“Yes. Just leave him in my hands!” she said vindictively.
“What’s wrong, Gail?” I wanted to know. “I know, I was supposed to meet you at the spaceport, but—”
“You made a beautiful fool of me at the spaceport!”
“Look, I can explain everything. My Embassy staff insisted on hurrying me off—”
Somebody gave a high-pitched whoop directly behind me and emptied the clip of a pistol. I couldn’t even hear what else I said. I couldn’t hear what she said, either, but it was something angry.
“You have to listen to me!” I roared in her ear. “I can explain everything!”
“Any diplomat can explain anything!” she shouted back.
“Look, Gail, you’re hanging an innocent man!” I yelled back at her. “I’m entitled to a fair trial!”
Somebody on the platform began firing his pistol within inches of the loudspeakers and it sounded like an H-bomb going off. She grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward a door under the platform.
“Down here!” she yelled. “And this better be good, Mr. Silk!”
We went down a spiral ramp, lighted by widely-scattered overhead lights.
“Space-attack shelter,” she explained. “And look: what goes on in spaceships is one thing, but it’s as much as a girl’s reputation is worth to come down here during a barbecue.”
There seemed to be quite few girls at that barbecue who didn’t care what happened to their reputations. We discovered that after looking into a couple of passageways that branched off the entrance.
“Over this way,” Gail said, “Confederate Courts Building. There won’t be anything going on over here, now.”
I told her, with as much humorous detail as possible, about how Thrombley had shanghaied me to the Embassy, and about the chase by the Rangers. Before I was half through, she was laughing heartily, all traces of her anger gone. Finally, we came to a stairway, and at the head of it to a small door.
“It’s been four years that I’ve been away from here,” she said. “I think there’s a reading room of the Law Library up here. Let’s go in and enjoy the quiet for a while.”
But when we opened the door, there was a Ranger standing inside.
“Come to see a trial, Mr. Silk? Oh, hello, Gail. Just in time; they’re going to prepare for the next trial.”
As he spoke, something clicked at the door. Gail looked at me in consternation.
“Now we’re locked in,” she said. “We can’t get out till the trial’s over.”
V
I looked around.
We were on a high balcony, at the end of a long, narrow room. In front of us, windows rose to the ceiling, and it was evident that the floor of the room was about twenty feet below ground level. Outside, I could see the barbecue still going on, but not a murmur of noise penetrated to us. What seemed to be the judge’s bench was against the outside wall, under the tall windows. To the right of it was a railed stand with a chair in it, and in front, arranged in U-shape, were three tables at which a number of men were hastily conferring. There were nine judges in a row on the bench, all in black gowns. The spectators’ seats below were filled with people, and there were quite a few up here on the balcony.
“What is this? Supreme Court?” I asked as Gail piloted me to a couple of seats where we could be alone.
“No, Court of Political Justice,” she told me. “This is the court that’s going to try those three Bonney brothers, who killed Mr. Cumshaw.”
It suddenly occurred to me that this was the first time I had heard anything specific about the death of my predecessor.
“That isn’t the trial that’s going on now, I hope?”
“Oh, no; that won’t be for a couple of days. Not till after you can arrange to attend. I don’t know what this trial is. I only got
