The Lost Colony, DM Arnold [ebook reader for laptop TXT] 📗
- Author: DM Arnold
Book online «The Lost Colony, DM Arnold [ebook reader for laptop TXT] 📗». Author DM Arnold
“I object,” said the prosecution counsel, standing. “We have no precedent for examining non-humans.”
“It's the very definition of humanity we're examining,” Morsk replied. “How can we know how less ... or how more than human these beings are without questioning one of them?”
“Objection overruled,” said the referee.
A young Floran woman led Laida, wearing her novonid two-piece costume, into the examination box. Her escort returned to the back of the room and Laida held an object to her left ear.
“Morsk brought Laida here from Sudal?” Nyk whispered. “She's still recovering from being sunstarved. Her color does look better, I think.”
“We flew her in by shuttle this morning,” Kronta replied. “We'll take her back to her dome when she's finished here.”
“This young woman...”
“I object. Counsel Morsk must not prejudice the judges by employing terminology implying humanity until that question is settled.”
“Sustained,” said the referee.
“Keep your cool, Nyk,” Kronta whispered. “The prosecution will object to everything Morsk does. He's planned for it.”
“The witness before you is one of what the Varadans call a novo hominid, or novonid for short. She...”
“Objection! Counsel Morsk is using a gender-charged pronoun.”
“Human or otherwise,” Morsk replied, “the subject is female. She...”
“Objection! Counsel did it again!”
“Sustained. Counsel Morsk, you will refrain from prejudicing the panel.” Morsk nodded in acquiescence. “And, you will not be warned again.”
“As it pleases the court.” Morsk gestured toward the witness box. “The witness was one of those found on board the 501 by the defendants.” He turned to Laida. “Were you brought on board the scout of your own volition?”
Laida cocked her ear to the device she held in her left hand. “No, sir.”
“Do you understand the notion of death?”
She listened. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you fear death?”
“... yes, sir...”
“I object in the strongest terms,” the prosecutor shouted, coming to his feet. “This is a sham. What is that device?”
“It is a communicator,” Morsk replied. “Varadans do not speak Lingwafloran. We have an interpreter trained in the Varadan tongue sitting at the back of the room, translating my questions.”
“This is unacceptable,” the prosecutor retorted. “How are we to know if the questions are being translated or if the subject is being coached?”
“Yes, how?” asked the referee.
“If it would please,” Morsk replied, “we can have the interpreter come forward and perform her task aloud. I had thought the communicator would expedite the examination process.”
“I still object,” the prosecutor replied. “Since none of us speaks Varadan, how would we know if the translation is unbiased? We have no precedent for a witness to be questioned in a private language. If this ... being ... is to be questioned, let it be in Lingwafloran.”
The referee nodded. “The objection is sustained. Please dispense with the communicator.”
Morsk approached Laida and took the earpiece from her.
Nyk stood. “This is terribly unfair. You have put her to a disadvantage, not knowing our language. How would you...”
The referee pressed a control and a gong sounded. “Mr Kyhana, you are out of order. Sit and be silent.”
Nyk sat, folded his arms and glowered at the referee.
“Laida,” Morsk said. “Can you understand our tongue at all?”
She looked at him blankly. “Slowly, please,” she replied. Morsk repeated the question. “Some ... little.”
“Do you know how to read?”
“... yes...”
Morsk presented a handheld vidisplay. “Can you read this?”
Laida looked at it and shook her head. “...no...”
“Why not?”
“...not ... Varadan.”
“You can't read Lingwa. Can you read Varadan?”
“Yes...”
Morsk took the display and poked it. “Can you read this?” He handed it to her.
Laida's eyes brightened. “Yes... this Varadan.”
“Then, read it.”
Laida's eyes began to scan the screen.
“No -- aloud. Speak the words.”
She licked her lips, took a deep breath and began reading. Nyk sat back and let the words wash over him -- a mellifluous stream of the music of language. He could understand what she read but preferred instead to enjoy the melody of her voice.
She completed the passage and looked up. “That was beautiful, Laida,” Morsk said, picking up the vidisplay. He turned to the judges. “Does anyone recognize that passage?” He looked around the hearing room. “That was the first four paragraphs of Red Dawn, Red Dusk, chapter four -- rendered in the original Old Lingwa. How many here can read Old Lingwa? How many have heard it spoken? How many have appreciated the beauty...”
“I object,” said the prosecutor, standing. “The aesthetics of Old Lingwa are not an issue here.”
“Language is the issue,” Morsk retorted. “Language and thought are joined at the hip. The pivotal question is whether the beings found on that scout are sentient, intelligent and free-willed -- whether they can think...”
“I object again! A single individual cannot speak for the hundred others. By the defense's own admission many of them lack language skills of ANY sort.”
“If one, single, intelligent, sentient, free-willed, thinking being was held on board that vessel against his or her will, the crime of kidnapping WAS committed.”
“Overruled,” said the referee. “Counsel Morsk, please continue.”
“We can't crawl inside another's skull. The only way we can evaluate the quality of another's thoughts is if the other communicates them to us. This ... witness does not have facility in our language. I felt the need to demonstrate ... it's ... facility in ... it's own.”
“But -- you said this was Old Lingwa, not Varadan,” the referee noted.
“The two are nearly indistinguishable.”
“The initial objection is overruled. You may continue, Counsel Morsk.”
Morsk looked at Laida and spoke deliberately. “Do you understand what you read?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Describe it to us -- tell us what it was.”
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “There is one ... Ponta. Ponta ... choice made...” She shook her head. “No -- Ponta choice make ... must make. Hard choice...”
“Is Ponta a man or woman?”
“I think ... woman.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Ponta think ... woman... as woman...”
“Have you ever seen that passage before?”
Laida shook her head. “...no...”
“That's understandable. Red Dawn, Red Dusk wasn't written until after the Varada colony was abandoned. Please continue describing it.”
Laida bit her lip and closed her eyes. “Ponta ... Ponta...”
“It's frustrating, isn't it?”
“What mean?”
“You know WHAT you want to say ... but you don't know HOW to say it.”
“...Yes...”
“You want to describe this passage in which Ponta agonizes over which man she will marry...”
“Objection!”
“Overruled.”
“...but you lack the vocabulary -- the words in Lingwa to do so.”
“...yes...”
“It makes you angry -- with yourself.”
Her eyes began to fill. “...yes...”
“Don't be. Laida, how long have you known Lingwafloran?”
“I ... learn here.”
“How long have you been here?”
She rolled her eyes and counted on her fingers. “Eighteen days ... I think.”
“You've learned this much Lingwafloran in eighteen days?”
A tear ran down her cheek. “I try... I want ... learn more. I want talk ... you ... I ... I sick ... from ... from no sun...”
“Since you can't describe it in Floran -- please do so in Varadan.”
Laida drew in a breath, closed her eyes and began paraphrasing the passage. This time, Nyk concentrated on her words, and listened as she described a scene drummed into his and every other Floran's brains during their school years.
Nyk heard a bell ring and looked toward the panel of judges. A blue light on the center desk was lit. The other four came on in quick succession.
The referee rang her gong. “The panel has decided. We will recess while the finding is formulated.”
“This is terrible,” Nyk said as he paced. “I didn't even get a chance to give my testimony on the novonids.”
Morsk had pulled a table near a bench. He sat, his feet on the table, his knees to his chest, his fingers tented and his forehead resting on his fingertips. “Nykkyo, you will have your opportunity in the box.”
“What's taking them so long?”
“It's a precedent-setting finding,” Kronta said.
“What precedent? That the novonids are chattel? It's not fair! They used this language thing to put Laida at a disadvantage. She could barely answer a question!”
“It's falling just about how I expected it would,” Morsk said from between his fingers. “If we needed your testimony, we'd be in much deeper trouble. Nykkyo -- how long did it take you to become fluent in Varadan?”
“A few days of speaking it.”
“But,” Kronta replied, “you already knew Esperanto. Varadan, Old Lingwa and Esperanto are all similar.”
“How long then,” Morsk asked without looking up, “did it take you to learn Esperanto?”
“I ... I studied the written language for about three years. I learned to speak it with the Abo on Lexal. It was difficult for me at first...”
“Three years... I happen to know one of our judges is an expert on Red Dawn, Red Dusk.” Morsk looked up. “Laida's linguistic feat will not be lost on her.”
Nyk stopped and stared at Morsk. “That earpiece... You goaded them! You goaded them into forcing the language issue and then turned it against them.”
“If these judges do not rule that Laida, and by extension all novonids are human beings for legal purposes -- then, there is no hope for any of us.”
Nyk held Andra's hand as he climbed the spiral staircase of the Residence in Sudal. He spotted Suki, ran to her and threw his arms around her. “You're home!”
“I came in on the morning packet, and I am exhausted. I don't know how long it's been since I've had sleep ... and I don't want to know.”
“I'm well acquainted with the packet-lag phenomenon,” Nyk replied.
“How did your hearing go?”
Nyk and Andra held their left fists aloft. “The monitoring bands are gone, aren't they?”
“What was the resolution?”
“There were two issues. The first one hinged on whether or not our cargo comprised people or things. If they were things, then our mutiny would not have been justified; however, if they were people, then we were right to take whatever action was necessary to prevent an illegal activity.”
“And, the second?”
“Whether or not the crew knew they were committing an illegal activity.”
“In other words,” Suki replied, “fact and intent.”
“You're becoming familiar with Floran law,” Nyk said. “Proving the novonids are thinking beings wasn't difficult. Our counsel put Laida in the box and she performed flawlessly. Once he had that victory, he had them trapped on the second issue.”
“How so?” Suki asked.
“Zane came to the rescue,” Andra interjected. “His testimony, augmented by truth drug, focused on the secrecy of bringing them aboard, and the fact Captain Hayt ordered ejecting the 501's cargo into space.”
“In other words,” Suki replied, “the crew knew they were doing something wrong.”
“Specifically,” Nyk said, “Captain Hayt knew HE was doing something wrong. Then, Morsk invoked the duty-of-care doctrine. Since the first officer and the rest went along with the captain, it meant either they were in on it, or they violated their duty-of-care. Every Floran has a duty-of-care to the law that supercedes any chain-of-command.”
“They were damned either way.”
“Kronta told me Morsk was good. I didn't realize how good. It was so simple, but the prosecution was blind-sided by it. The panel ruled four-to-one in our favor on the second issue. As soon as the ruling was delivered, the crew began to sing like canaries...”
“What's a canary?” Andra asked.
“...They fingered the group on Gamma-5 responsible, and the group on Gamma-5 have agreed to cooperate in identifying their counterparts on Varada. This cooperation has helped sooth tender feelings on the Varadan side. That, plus returning all the novonids except for Laida and Mos.”
“Won't the novonids be executed there?” Suki asked.
“They've been turned over to the BSS. The Varadans promise they'll review each case.”
“What is a canary?” Andra repeated.
“It's an Earth bird,” Suki replied.
“Oh...”
“Laida has been offered asylum here,” Nyk continued, “based on her fear of reprisal on her homeworld.”
“And, Mos?”
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