“You are three minutes early, Intendant, but this insignificant deviation can be readily accommodated by Enforcer Chief Malatarsiss and Evaluator Throma’eloo Lek—unless the witness-defendant prefers to wait out the interval.”
“He does not,” said Paul.
The bronze portal slid open, revealing two expressionless Simbiari in golden uniforms. “The witness-defendant will accompany these enforcers,” Abaram said.
As Marc came forward, Paul said sharply, “When the questioning is completed, please bring the boy to my office in North America Tower. Immediately.”
“This will be done,” Abaram said, “if the action is feasible, pending the outcome of the interrogation. We will notify you promptly if the witness-defendant’s presence is required elsewhere.” The screen went black.
Marc stepped between the two exotics, and they about-faced. Then the door slid closed, leaving Paul standing alone.
When they had finished, and the boy was breathing normally again and his brain cycling in dreamless sleep, the two exotic redactors went into the adjacent parlor to escape the examination room’s lingering aetheric stench of pain and terror.
Moti Ala Malatarsiss dug a handful of Kleenex from the platinum sabretache case that hung from her uniform belt, scrubbed her slimy palms, and dropped the green-stained wad into a wastebasket. Her complexion had gone an unhealthy olivaceous tan. She flung open a refreshment cabinet, filled a glass with carbonated water, and tossed it down in a single swallow.
Belatedly, she said, “My apologies, Evaluator, but I felt an overpowering need for rehydration. May I offer you a drink also?”
“Single-malt Scotch, if you please. Straight up.”
The Simbiari Enforcer Chief seized a fresh bottle of Bunnahabhain and fumbled to open it. The bottle neck clinked as she poured sloppily, and she left sticky padprints on the glass. “Sorry about that, too.” She thrust the drink into Throma’eloo Lek’s extended tentacle.
The grotesque Krondaku blinked his primary optics in mild acknowledgment of his colleague’s unusual state of flusteration. “A most peculiar and fascinating case, is it not? Once again the human race displays its bottomless capacity to astound.”
The Chief refilled her own glass. “And this one is only a pubescent child!” She sipped with partially restored composure. “Let us go out on the balcony to discuss this, shall we? Disturbing resonances still propagate in here.”
“As you wish,” Throma’eloo sighed, slithering after her into the fierce sunlight through sliding doors opened by psychokinesis. Unobtrusively, he sent a restoring redactive impulse into the limbic system of his fellow interrogator, while on another level of his mind he was assembling a précis of the bad news for the Select Judicial Evaluation Committee back at Concilium Orb. A more primitive level of the Krondak consciousness deplored the excessive gravity, low oxygen partial-pressure, and intense ultraviolet radiation of the Human home planet. The booze was superb, however, and Moti Ala had remembered to bring the bottle out onto the balcony with her.
The Chief flopped into a deck chair, rolled up her silvery uniform sleeves, and extended her bare green arms to the healing sunlight. “Sacred Truth and Beauty, that’s better!”
The monstrous Krondaku squatted in the shadiest spot, near the place where the balcony merged with the granite of an artificial cliff. A waterfall splashed down mossy stones and beaded Throma’eloo’s warty integument with welcome moisture. He appropriated the Scotch and began a formal recapitulation.
“I understand now, colleague, why you requested my assistance in this apparently straightforward investigation. The metapsychic precocity of the Remillard line is, of course, a continuing topic of study amongst evolutionists of the Concilium. We were not aware, however, that an individual with the potential of this examinee had been born into the family. His ability to resist Simbiari-Krondak psychoprobing technique has disturbing implications. Of course, Marc could be unique. His father and the father’s siblings are arguably the most powerful of human operants, yet our probing of them was readily accomplished. Nevertheless, I must point out that the blocking mechanisms that Marc used, virtually instinctively, are susceptible to program analysis and could, at least in theory, be passed on to and utilized by other humans of high metafunction.”
“But we broke him … I think.”
The Krondaku indicated qualified assent, simultaneously introducing a generous nip of Scotch into his buccal orifice. “I believe we have ascertained the truth of the drowning incident, at least, lamentable though it may be. The boy was clearly appalled by his mother’s procreative risk-taking. Like many immature male Earthlings, particularly those of high intelligence and stunted affect, he represses sexual feelings for the female parent while at the same time craving the maternal consolations she vouchsafed him during his infancy, which she now denies him. In the human species, the hormonal imbalance of puberty exacerbates the aforesaid psychological turmoil. Thus we may see that, all unconsciously, Marc hates his mother for denying him and envies both his father and the unborn sibling, seeing in the latter, especially, a usurper of the love that he feels is owed to him—and also a metapsychic challenger. The boy’s relationship with his father is complicated by the role-model factor. He has a powerful respect for Paul, at the same time that he is jealous of him. This is quite normal amongst humans. When Marc’s mother revealed her illicit pregnancy, the boy’s highest level of consciousness perceived a grave threat to both himself and his father—”
“While the deeper mental strata cogitated the situational potential for simultaneous revenge upon both parents and elimination of the sibling rival. Yes, yes, I agree with your assessment, Evaluator.”
The Chief’s face slowly regained its normal emerald hue as her hyperactive mucus glands simmered down. The area around her chair was now littered with used Kleenex, a situation that distressed the orderly sensibilities of the Krondaku. Before the Simbiari race had undertaken the Proctorship of planet Earth, they had been accustomed to blot up their excess bodily fluids with unobtrusive small sponges concealed in their clothing. Their stewardship of the Earthlings had proved so stressful, however, that the traditional expedient became inadequate without inconvenient wringing-out operations; and so Earthbound Simbiari had become addicted to Kleenex, which they carried in ornamental belt containers and rarely disposed of properly. They passed on the nasty new habit to their congeners throughout the Milieu (to the delight of human paper-product companies), and nowadays crinkled wads of tissue seemed to litter half the planets of the Orion Arm. Throma’eloo Lek, like many of his ancient and fastidious race, secretly deplored the lowering of standards but never would have dreamed of humiliating the Simbiari by reproaching them. Earth was the first Proctorship undertaken by that semiUnified race, and the project had shaken Simb courage severely.
“Is it your conclusion, then,” the Krondaku inquired, “that the boy is innocent of double homicide by drowning?”
The Chief assumed a more dignified posture and refastened her cuffs. “Volition in the immature human psyche is not easy to pin down. But I believe our efforts show that Marc Remillard acted entirely through unconscious impetus when he brought about the drowning of his mother and the incidental demise of the aged male relative. Marc suggested the canoe trip in the first place, then neglected to portage around the rapids. However, there was never in his mind a deliberate intention to kill. I do not believe he has any complicity in the McAllister murder, either.”
The Krondaku hesitated. “Let us postpone for a moment any deliberation on the boy’s possible implication in that truly heinous crime. I would like to clear up the tag ends in the matter of the illicit pregnancy. Are you satisfied that Paul Remillard was unaware of his wife’s condition and her determination to flout Milieu law?”
“My personal redactive examination of Paul Remillard immediately prior to his appearance before the Special Committee on Ethics convinced me that he was innocent of conspiring with his wife. What has puzzled me is Paul??
?s equivocal reaction to Marc’s original account of the canoe trip. His apparent fear that his wife was not actually dead.”
“Neither Teresa’s body nor that of Rogatien Remillard has been found.”
“The Hartland rapids, in which the canoe capsized, have apparently trapped human victims among their dense and chaotically tumbled rocks before.” The Chief rose from her seat, frowning. “Still … it would be most unsettling if thou and I shall have erred in our analyses of these affairs, my dear Lek. There were aspects of mentation in both the boy and his close relations that I could not apprehend at all. And the coincidence of the two fatal events happening so close in time is peculiar, to put it mildly. Yet there seems to be no connection between the deaths. No one but Marc seems to have been involved in the canoe incident, and the adult Remillards appear to be completely innocent of any involvement with that or the murder of Brett McAllister. The Magistratum has been obliged, as a result of these mental examinations, to exonerate Paul and his six brothers and sisters. Now it is the boy’s turn to be discharged … And still thou seest that I am sorely dissatisfied.”
The Krondaku’s mind was reassuring in response to her anxiety-laden use of the second-person familiar. “The Lylmik, who selected the seven Remillard siblings to be magnates of the Concilium, would hardly nominate persons of dubious integrity. Marc is, I admit, a knottier problem. He is certainly an egocentrist, imperfectly adherent to Milieu ethics, and capable of almost anything. But I hardly think that a human stripling—even one as mentally talented as this one—has the metapsychic wattage to hoodwink a couple of old pros like thee and me, my dear Moti Ala.”
“Thou hast not struggled amongst these barbarous folk for thirty-eight orbits as I have, Lek! It’s been one nasty surprise after another … The Galactic Milieu laid a heavy burden of trust upon the Simbiari race when it gave us Humanity as our first Proctorship. All through these difficult years, I have often in the desolate hours of night fought back the growing conviction that we are inadequate to the task.”
“Balderdash, Moti Ala.” A tentacle patted her silvery shoulder, and she felt suffused by a cheering psychocreative boost to her chlorophyll.
“No, seriously, Lek. I must still ask myself why Paul was afraid that his wife was alive. And why I was unable to look deeper into this fear or find any explanatory data for it in the mind of Paul’s son. It’s impossible that humans should be able to resist our metaconcerted coercive-redactive probing! Yet …”
“It is impossible. As thou sayest. Only our Lylmik mentors surpass us in the deep-probe function. Art thou suggesting that we refer this affair to them—express our misgivings and petition for delay of inauguration of the seven Remillard magnates?… Or wouldst thou go further and request an extension of the Proctorship?”
The two of them, by unspoken consent, reentered the parlor. The Chief squared her shoulders and made her decision.
“No,” she said evenly. “I would not go so far as that, Evaluator.” She returned to the formal vocal mode. “You will notify the Select Committee on Orb that the Earth Proctorship Magistratum issues a pro tempore acquittal of both Paul Remillard and his son Marc, who have been adjudged not proven of contriving the deaths of Teresa Kendall and Rogatien Remillard. Paul is also adjudged not proven of conspiring to conceive an illicit child. You will notify the Committee that the investigation into the disappearance of Teresa Kendall and Rogatien Remillard will continue. We will maintain covert surveillance of the boy, who may have a synchronicitous relation to the crimes.”
“I will transmit the decisions, Enforcer Chief. Meanwhile, we will expect to receive ongoing updates concerning the other case—the bizarre murder of Intendant Associate Brett Doyle McAllister. I confess I am both intrigued and mystified by the apparent draining of life force through intricate and symmetrical psychocreative wounds. The killing technique is curiously reminiscent of that of the so-called Vampires of Shigoomith-4, a preemergent race that most fortunately extirpated itself before attaining interstellar travel some forty-two Galactic millenaries ago.”
“Chaos take your extinct vampires!” the Chief exclaimed with asperity. “We have no useful data whatsoever in the McAllister case. No suspects once the seven Remillards and Marc were acquitted, no motive, no clues, not even a confirmed mode of death. Nothing except the fact that the victim was married to one of the Remillard Dynasty—just as Teresa Kendall was.”
“You still intuit that there might be a connection between the cases?”
“We shall keep open minds concerning the possibility.”
“These enigmatic Remillards!” Throma’eloo uttered a great sigh. “So talented. So controversial. So … important. One can hardly forget that in one hundred and thirty-one days, this same remarkable family will be among the first humans to become voting members of our Concilium. The fact cannot help but color one’s investigative judgment. If it were possible that members of the Remillard family had managed to conceal evidence during coercive-redactive interrogation, the very jurisprudence of the Milieu would require restructuring—taking for granted, as it now does, that the truth is always obtained through mental probing …”
Moti Ala Malatarsiss felt the finally admitted uncertainty hit her like a blow in the chops. “Thou dost think we ought to put it up to the Lylmik! Thou hesitateth to say so flatly out of a delicate regard for my ego, not wishing to undermine what thou perceivest to be my teetering self-esteem!”
“Poppycock, Moti Ala,” said Throma’eloo. “Thou art valiant as ever—only perplexed by this admittedly discrepant situation.”
“Right.” The Chief’s face began to glisten again. “So I’ve changed my mind. I want you to report the whole kit and caboodle to the Lylmik Supervisors. Let them decide whether to put their Remillard pets—or perhaps even the whole human race!—on hold until we find out what’s going on here. At the least, I would recommend that the Human Polity be put on probationary status in the Concilium for one Galactic year—a thousand Earth days.”
“I will do as you request, Enforcer Chief Malatarsiss.”
Throma’eloo Lek opened the door to the examination room. The disruptions of the aether had completely subsided. The boy was still lying on the couch, sleeping, and in his sleep he smiled. The Krondaku flowed closer, placed one of his minor prehensorial appendages upon the lad’s forehead, and tried to read the dream.
Marc’s eyes opened. His obdurate conscious barrier was already in place. He stared at the hideous Krondak visage with perfect composure. “Am I innocent?”
“ ‘Not proven guilty’ is the verdict we will submit,” said Throma’eloo Lek. “You have been acquitted. Do you feel able to walk?”
“Certainly.” The boy was smiling again, and he got up off the couch easily. “It wasn’t nearly as bad as I had been led to expect. Bad enough, though.” The smile vanished and the gray eyes were suddenly cold.
The Krondaku let his redactive probe slide lightly over the boy’s mental shield. It was perfect, an artifact worthy of his own race of metapsychic titans. Oh, yes—a conference with the Lylmik was indeed called for! He said aloud, “Do you resent what was done to you?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Marc’s voice was neutral. “I suppose I do concede the Magistratum’s right to probe me. But not … the vehemence of the operation. You slipped a block into my memory, but I know that you caused me great pain and forced me to expose my innermost thoughts to you. I think this was wrong. Most humans still believe that the will of the individual should be inviolable, that no one but God has a right to know a person’s most secret thoughts. But this is contrary to your Unity, isn’t it?”
“No. You misunderstand. I suggest that you study the principle of Unity more carefully, even though you are still far too immature to fully apprehend this most sublime concept, which is the very operational basis of the entire Galactic Milieu … A mind immersed in Unity is at once sovereign and coadunate. And incapable of committing the kinds of offenses you were suspected of. Since your race is still of
client status, noncoadunate and unUnified, we do not hold your will to be sovereign and untouchable. We are thus justified in having taken the most strenuous interrogatory actions in cases as serious as these.”
Marc nodded coolly. “Thank you for explaining, Evaluator.”
“You are welcome.”
Marc turned to the Simbiari official. “May I go now?”
“Please wait in the lift area for your escort to North America Tower.” Chief Malatarsiss was distant. “He will bring along your notice of acquittal.”
“Thank you,” said Marc. He left the room without haste.
The two exotics bade each other a perfunctory mental farewell, after which Evaluator Throma’eloo went out by another exit. The Chief went back into the parlor for more Kleenex to refill her platinum sabretache. For some reason, her face and palms had begun to sweat heavily again, and the next examinee was almost due.
13
SECTOR 15: STAR 15-000-001 [TELONIS] PLANET 1 [CONCILIUM ORB]
GALACTIC YEAR: LA PRIME 1-387-470 [1 SEPTEMBER 2051]
FOUR ENTITIES OF THE LYLMIK SUPERVISORY BODY WERE IN A slightly edgy mood, having spent a considerable time deliberating over the disturbing data transmitted by the Krondak Judicial Evaluator, Throma’eloo Lek. Since no conclusion could be drawn without the input of Unifex (and It was absent on one of Its extraGalactic mystery excursions), they decided a distraction was in order.
So they translated themselves to the chamber where the bodies were kept, and debated actually trying them on. It was a daunting prospect.
“One realizes,” Homologous Trend remarked with a touch of grumpiness, “that Unifex wishes to impress upon the entire Concilium the important status of the group of newly installed Human Polity magnates. But one might also question whether Unifex carries honorific condescension too far in requiring us Supervisors to assume the actual material aspect of humanity at the inauguration ceremony.”