Balook

  Barb shrugged. "We'd better do more than think about Balook. He needs a lawyer."

  "We can't hire a lawyer. Our funds have been frozen, pending the trial. Mr. Duke's been going crazy!"

  "I know that!" she retorted sharply. "The State will provide one. Only—"

  "That's all we need. A third-rate assignee."

  "Give him a chance," she said, but her defense lacked conviction. "We don't even know who he is, yet."

  "Do we need to?"

  Her look was dismal. "What can we do, Thor?"

  He shook his head, seeing no real solution. If the senior personnel of the Project were unable to act, how could a pair of penniless teenagers? This incident had ruined everything. "We can pray for a miracle, maybe."

  "C'mon, kiss me."

  "Despair makes you romantic?" he asked, dismayed.

  "We're stymied with Balook. We're not stymied with each other. Let's do something about what's possible. Maybe the other will work out, somehow."

  Thor wasn't sure about the rationale, but hardly cared to argue. He kissed her, and then things did seem more optimistic.

  THE LAWYER WAS Mr. Twild: small, old, bald, and he carried an aura of incompetence about him. He took down every detail of the episode, but did not seem to have any dramatic notions for the defense. "We'll let the prosecution present the facts," he said.

  "Their facts will wipe out Balook!" Thor protested.

  "That depends on interpretation," Twild said mildly.

  "Interpretation!" Thor shook his head unbelievingly. "We can't interpret away that brat's death!"

  Twild merely looked at him, unmoved.

  Thor said no more. It was obvious that the miracle they had prayed for had not come to pass.

  THOR WENT TO the stable to check on the Baluchitheria. As he entered, his tension and concern seemed to slide off. He felt at ease with the huge animals. It wasn't just Balook; Theria and Blooky accepted him too, and made no demands beyond what he freely gave. How much better this world of the ancient animals seemed than the complex, deadly world of the human species!

  "I hope we can save you, Balook!" he said.

  He had arranged with Barb to have one of the two of them always with the animals, and the other watching the trial. That way they could be on top of both aspects of the situation. They had their radios, so they could keep in touch with each other, but it did mean that they were usually separated.

  There were Project personnel here, by court injunction. Apparently the judge was afraid that an adult would find a way to spirit Balook away before the trial, in effect jumping bail. Of course that was nonsense; only Thor or Barb could make the animals travel. Therefore no one associated with the Project said a word; they remained clear, physically and legally, lest the local authorities catch on that the surest way to confine the animals would be to remove Thor and Barb. If the worst came—but they never discussed that.

  All they really knew was that they were in the midst of love and death: the burgeoning love between the two of them, and the threatened death of the animal that had brought them together. It was a devastating combination, and trouble.

  TRIAL

  8

  IT WAS AN old-fashioned jury trial. Most trials these days were handled by computer, dispensing with the complicated paraphernalia and rituals. The evidence was assembled and analyzed and the verdict presented in rapid order. The months- or years-long waits of the past were gone; the moment the cases were assembled, they were decided. But in special cases, the archaic system could be requested and invoked. This was as special as a case could get!

  Barb sat in on the long, dull empaneling of the jurors, and radioed regular reports. Thor sat in the stable, watching the sightseers come and go. He had thought interest would slacken, but with the publicity of the trial it intensified. There were fewer children, more adults—and they came to stare at Balook. They seemed to be harder-eyed, less friendly. The death of the firecracker boy had transformed the atmosphere. Thor didn't like it at all.

  "Twild is challenging every prospect," Barb said on the radio. "He asks them if they feel an animal who kills a man should be executed, and when they say yes, he dismisses them for cause. The judge doesn't like it, but can't stop it. But they're all saying yes!"

  "They're against us," Thor said. "Now that the brat is dead, they think he was a poor innocent child, and Balook's a ravening monster. We can't get a fair trial here."

  "That's what I think. The public is fickle; they saw Balook as a terrific curiosity at first, then they were mad at him, then when Mayor Caldwell set up the sideshow they were positive, and now they've swung back the other way. I asked Twild why he doesn't petition for a change of venue, but he says that would not help, and not to worry."

  "Sometimes I wonder which side he's on," Thor muttered.

  "Twild is all we've got," Barb said dispiritedly. "I guess he knows what he's doing."

  "He's nailing Balook's coffin!" Thor retorted.

  She did not argue the case.

  Later, the news got worse. "The judge has called a halt," Barb reported. "He says they've got to empanel a jury before he dies of old age, and that no more jurors can be disqualified for believing an animal that kills a man has to be killed."

  "But that means a stacked jury!" Thor protested.

  "Twild says he's made his point, and there are other ways to defend Balook."

  "I hope so!" Thor said. "But is Twild looking for them?"

  Again she did not answer.

  Next day Thor took his turn in the courtroom. The jurors were there, and the prosecution presented its case. The lawyer for the State was a sharp young man with eloquent mannerisms, and seemed to know exactly what he was doing. Methodically he brought out witnesses to establish that Balook had run wild, had struck the boy, had stomped the car, had attacked the police floater and had fled the scenes of all these outrages.

  "But I made him do it!" Thor protested to Twild. "I made him run, so he wouldn't smash any more cars, I made him attack the floater because it was shooting at us—"

  "Were you in control when the boy was hit?" Twild asked him mildly.

  "No, not then. He had been spooked by the firecracker and everything. But—"

  "The prosecution's main case rests on that act. The rest is merely corroborative. All you could do would be to implicate yourself; you could not help the animal."

  Thor shut up, chagrined. Twild was right; the boy was Balook's responsibility, and the rest was more or less irrelevant.

  But there was no question about Balook's guilt in that one case. He had struck the boy, and that had been the cause of the boy's death. State experts were confirming that point now. Even Thor, if he should have to testify, would have to agree to that.

  Yet Twild seemed unperturbed. What sort of defense did he have in mind—if any? Thor's stomach was beginning to hurt.

  When the prosecutor finished presenting his case, it looked airtight. Balook had killed. The law was clear. Balook must die.

  Desolate, Thor left the courtroom. The trial was not over, but it seemed that it might as well be.

  NEXT DAY BARB took the courtroom again, while Thor perched on Balook, clinging like a lost soul to the huge neck. But it was the rhino's soul that was at stake. How lucky the animal was that he couldn't know the fate they were fashioning for him!

  "Thor!" Barb said urgently on the radio. "Twild's putting on a good case. You should be here."

  "How can I leave Balook? I may never have the chance to be with him again..."

  "All right, I'll tell you. Twild's showing that it was an accident. Films prove Balook never even saw the boy. It's like a car hitting a pedestrian in the right of way. If the pedestrian was at fault—"

  Hope flared. "Do you think it'll work?"

  "Well, Twild is coming across with a lot more moxie than we expected. It seems pretty convincing. I think we underestimated him. Maybe that's the way he likes it."

  But on cross-examination the prosecutor established that
Balook did not have the right of way. He had stepped over the guide rope at the same time as he struck the boy; the guilty foot was across, the other forefoot caught behind the rope. The boy had been in the reserved channel, but had just gone out of it, and was just outside it when struck. Balook was technically at fault, not the boy.

  "But the boy was dancing all around Balook's path!" Thor cried indignantly.

  "Not at the moment he was struck," Barb said glumly. "The film shows he had just ducked under the rope. It's just chance, but that's the way it is."

  So that defense had come to nothing. But Thor had to admit that it had been a good try. Had Twild carried it off, the charges against Balook would have had to be reduced. Maybe they had misjudged the man.

  "I don't understand this," Barb said later. "Twild's putting in evidence a lot of data about the Project. How it was organized, how the rhino egg was modified, the number of failures. How the real rhinos were used to nurse—"

  "I know all that!" Thor snapped. "What's the point?"

  "That's what I'm saying!" Barb snapped back. "I don't see the point—but that's what he's doing."

  "Well, I hope he knows what he's doing!"

  "Ditto here."

  In due course it became clear that Twild did know what he was doing. He made a strong case to show that the Baluchitheria were unique. There was no other grown male except Balook; no other female except Theria; no baby except Blooky. In all the world there were no others of this species, and had not been for millions of years. The diminished finances of the Project guaranteed that this would not be done again; the tide of experimentation had moved on.

  Barb held the radio up so that it picked up the lawyer's words directly.

  "Kill this animal," Twild said, his voice assuming new authority, "and you are not punishing an individual entity, whatever his technical guilt may be." He made it sound as if the prosecution had made a lot of fuss about nothing. "You are eliminating a unique creature. One that can not be replaced. You are eradicating an entire species. You are committing genocide." The last word sounded unutterably foul.

  "Genocide!" Thor echoed as he heard. "God, yes! There is no other Balook!"

  It was a stroke of genius. There were laws against the taking of life unnecessarily, animal life included. There were stronger laws against taking the last life of a species. To kill a man was wrong; to kill all men was worse. To kill one Baluchitherium was permissible in certain circumstances; to kill the last Baluchitherium was not. The reason for the inability of the Project to create more members of this species might be as much political and economic as scientific; that did not matter. If Balook died, so would the species. No species could deliberately be rendered extinct. Not legally.

  The perfect defense! Balook could have killed a hundred boys, yet be immune to execution. He was unique.

  "Except for one thing," the prosecutor pointed out. Balook was not the only one of his kind. He was one of two males. The other was Blooky.

  "But the species can't reproduce that way!" Thor objected. "Theria is Blooky's mother!"

  He knew that Barb was shaking her head at the other radio. "Incest means nothing to animals—or man either, when it comes right down to it. They can reproduce—theoretically."

  "But even if it were desirable to breed Blooky with his mother when he grew up, she would by then be too old," Thor said.

  "The court doesn't care about that," she returned darkly. "There would be one male and one female left. Legally, Balook is expendable."

  Was Blooky's life to be the forfeit of Balook's? It seemed so, ironically.

  Twild, seemingly undismayed, continued with another defense. He played up Balook's magnificence, his stature as an animal—and his limitations too. An animal could not comprehend murder; if he was dangerous, he should be restricted, not killed. A strong enough enclosure...

  Thor thought about that. No ordinary enclosure could hold Balook when he really wanted to get out. They would have to build something like the Chinese Wall— and the Project no longer had the funds. Balook couldn't stand to be tethered; he would break any chain, or break his leg trying. Which meant they would have to hamstring him, so that he could never run again...

  "No!" Thor cried aloud. Balook would be better off dead!

  To Barb he said: "I'm going to have to talk with Twild. He doesn't understand Balook."

  "All right," she agreed dubiously.

  Thor biked into town, using the machine he had rented for the duration. It was about as much as the Project could afford at the moment. It felt good to ride a bicycle again, and to share the paths with other bikers; it made him seem normal.

  He reached town and quietly entered the courtroom. Twild was showing slides of Balook, Theria and Blooky in various activities. They were magnificent animals, and Thor was sure the jury was being swayed. It would be easy to condemn a ravening monster, but hard to wipe out the magnificence of living Baluchitherium.

  But before Thor had a chance to talk with Twild, a woman entered and approached Thor. She was middle-aged and undistinctive; he did not recall seeing her before, though it was possible she had been among the thousands of visitors to the stable.

  "Mr. Nemmen," she whispered urgently. "You don't know me, but I went out to see your animals just now, and something's wrong. I think you'd better get out there, immediately."

  "I just left them," Thor said, irritated. "They were all right. Balook remains weak, but is healing nicely."

  "I mean the people," she said. "They're gathering a couple of kilometers away, carrying gasoline—I just happened to go by. When I saw that, I turned right about and drove here. Those beautiful animals—I'm afraid something's going to happen!"

  "Gasoline!" Thor was shocked. He knew what gasoline was; it was an old-time fuel once used in motors. Now it had only specialized applications. It was highly flammable, and even explosive when ignited in confinement. If it were spread about the stable region and lit, there could be a terrible conflagration. "They're going to lynch Balook!"

  "I don't know about that," the woman said. "But since that boy died, there's been strong feeling, and now that your lawyer's getting him off—"

  "We can't be sure," Barb said. "It might be coincidence. Maybe an old-fashioned motor show—"

  Thor doubted that. "Thanks for telling me!" he said to the woman. "I'll get right out there!"

  "We aren't all chameleons in our feelings," she said. "I think the majority of us would be satisfied to see the rhinos exonerated, but there's a violent minority that knows no law."

  He didn't even stop to see Twild. The woman was right: he had to check on it immediately. But Barb was right, too: he could not make any accusations until he was sure. If he cried "lynch" in court, and it was a false alarm—

  He fairly sailed along the road, making the best time ever. He was lucky that there was little traffic, for he did not want others to note his mission. He reached the compound without event.

  All was quiet. Only a few sightseers were there: a light day. The Baluchitheria were contentedly pulling down foliage in the pasture area. The trees of this region had been pretty much denuded below the nine meter level; soon the animals would have to be moved. No bad men were in evidence. Apparently it was a false alarm.

  Still, he wanted to be sure. He poked around—and discovered a barricade blocking off incoming traffic. A sign said CLOSED FOR REPAIRS.

  But the exhibition was not closed! The sign was a fake. It explained why there were so few visitors: as the earlier ones cleared out, they were not being replaced. But who had set it up?

  He checked the area the woman had mentioned, hiding as well as he could in the brush. It was there: gasoline in assorted containers, as though many people had scrounged for it. There were hard-eyed men standing guard.

  It added up. Get the sightseers out, then move in, dousing the stables with gasoline and setting them afire. Suddenly—no animals! And no proof, for the perpetrators would be gone as soon as the flames started.

&nb
sp; But still he lacked proof. If he called the police, it could turn out that there really was an antique motor exhibit being set up nearby. He had to wait until the lynchers made their move.

  At least he could prepare for it. If they were going to douse the stables with gasoline and burn them down, he could make sure the Baluchitheria could get out. No doubt the lynchers planned to make this seem like an accident; they would not shoot or do anything else to give themselves away. They would just sneak in, douse, light, and sneak out—while Balook burned. Then the outcome of the trial would be academic.

  But they surely knew that the animals were always attended. Were they planning to burn Thor too? Somehow he didn't think so. It would not be because of squeamishness, for obviously these were completely unscrupulous characters. It was that a human death would bring a much more thorough investigation, and they couldn't risk that. No, they would probably try to lure him off on some spurious pretext.

  How could he foil it? He had to remain with Balook, to guide him out, leading Theria and Blooky. If he tried to remain, they might shoot him with an anesthetic dart and bring him out unconscious anyway. In fact, they might do the same to the animals, to be sure they could not escape the fire by making desperate rushes. Mere darts could not put down Balook or Theria, but Blooky could succumb, and then the others might not leave. He had to play the seeming innocent—but then their plan would work!

  First, he could notify Barb. Their radio was on a private channel, and coded, so the message was unlikely to be intercepted. "Barb, I think that woman's right. They're planning to lynch Balook!"

  "I was afraid of that," she said grimly. "I'll call the authorities."

  "But I don't have proof. We can't risk a false alarm. Not with the emotional climate here."

  "We can't risk a lynching, either!" she retorted.

  "Right. So I'll fasten my radio on Balook and leave it on. If you hear anything suspicious, you notify the authorities. Fast!"

  "Why can't you just call me when anything starts?"

  "I'm afraid it won't be obvious." Quickly he described what he had already observed. "So if anyone calls me away on some pretext—well, I've got to go along. I want to spring this trap now—or next time I may not have the chance."