Shock the Monkey, page 27
In a momentous display of determination, thousands left their humble homes, venturing forth on a great pilgrimage across the trash fields, toward the palace—but on the way, encountered two mystical pilgrims heading in the opposite direction, prophets of past suffering and future prosperity. Word was, the two mysterious prophets were pursued by hundreds of overfed Splunges that had imprinted on the pair, believing them to be their parents. Tales immediately began to spread of K’Ratz and K’Nell, two holy harbingers of the future (even though they claimed to be from the distant past), who brought an extinct species back from the dead.
The mob of three cities crossed the hallowed ground of the no-dump zone that encircled the palace, and there they stopped outside the imposing palace walls, lining the edge of the moat. People from hundreds of different sentient species, at first brought together by a lack of hope, found themselves united by prospects of a future where they were more than mere squatters on a planetary vacant lot.
And so the people held a vigil, their hearts intertwined with the fate of their planet. They didn’t know what form the Tribunal’s justice would take, but one thing was certain—it would be a catalyst for change. The planet had endured eons of neglect. The time had now come for retribution, redemption, and, praise K’Ratz and K’Nell, rebirth!
The three stoic granite judges stood before the new owner of the troubled planet: the chief justice in the center, flanked by the Left Hand of Justice to his right and the Right Hand of Justice to his left, which was confusing and intentionally so.
“Claire Jensen, earthling, you have been charged with 10,492 blatant violations of the Galactic Code of Planetary Rule,” announced the chief justice, slamming down a massive tome the size of a dictionary on the empty throne in the center of the courtyard—because when addressing violations, a digital version simply did not carry the satisfying thump of a sizeable book.
The Right Hand of Justice stepped forward. “This planet is a dump, its many squatters are uncared for, most of its indigenous life has gone extinct, and pollution is creating a toxic primordial ooze from which some very nasty things may someday evolve. How do you plead?”
“My client pleads not guilty!” announced Ogden, who was Claire’s self-appointed (and self-important) legal counsel.
All three justices chuckled, which, coming from stone heads, sounded a bit like a landslide. “I’m sorry,” said the chief justice, “but ‘not guilty’ is not an acceptable plea.”
“It’s not?” said Ogden. “So what is?”
“Guilty!” shouted the Left Hand of Justice, who was beginning to sound like a Pokémon who couldn’t say anything but its name.
“There’s also ‘mostly guilty,’ ‘somewhat guilty,’ and ‘shamelessly guilty,’ to mention but a few,” offered the Right Hand of Justice.
“But what if I’m not guilty of anything?” Claire blurted.
That made the judges landslide once more with bitter mirth. “Silly princess,” said the chief justice. “Everyone is guilty of something.”
Then Ogden turned to her. “If we’re going to get you off,” he whispered, “we’re going to have to come up with something much more clever than innocence.”
Meanwhile, on the sidelines—and feeling very much sidelined—Sahara clenched her fists in frustration.
“Letting Ogden do this is a terrible idea,” she whispered to Noah. “He’s going to get her killed!”
“Maybe not,” said Noah. “Ogden’s her best chance at a good defense because he thinks like an alien.”
“It should be me, not Ogden…,” mumbled Raymond, only semiconscious from his body-snatching ordeal yet still vying for Claire’s affection.
Jad watched the trial, sad and sullen, from beside Noah, profoundly broken by the terrible news of Triastra. But even with such weight, Jad tried to help.
“The Magmadog from my world can melt stone with its breath,” Jad said, “which means I have that power. If I do it right, I can melt all three judges.”
“Uh… melting the Tribunal of Ancients would probably just make things worse,” Noah pointed out, then put a gentle hand on Jad’s rear shoulder. “But it was a good thought.”
Forlo watched the proceedings with increasing dread. Although he really did not know the girl, and he had only first encountered humans for the first time a few days ago, he felt her termination would be a terribly sad thing. And what would become of his world without leadership? Was his world destined to be a rubbish heap that no one wanted to claim?
As for Andi, she said nothing. Not even a string of broken symbols on her handle. Noah put his arm around the charred, dented suitcase. He didn’t know if she could sense it, or even if she had any awareness at all in her low-power state, but he embraced her all the same.
Ogden, it seemed, was out of angles, because now he just stomped his foot and said, “This isn’t fair!”
“Fairness and justice don’t always go hand in hand,” said the chief justice.
“Or claw in claw,” said the Right Hand of Justice, in the name of inclusivity.
The Left Hand of Justice just pursed his thin lips, as he had nothing to add beyond a hastily reached verdict.
“But I never even knew this planet existed a week ago!” insisted Claire.
“Perhaps not, but you are under the jurisdiction of the world in which you were crowned and are obliged to abide by its laws,” said the chief justice. “Whether or not you knew of this world’s existence is of minor significance.”
Minor significance.
The phrase rang in Sahara’s head. There was something there. Something important. Her heart started to pick up speed. Her intuition was piqued, and she had to figure out why.
Minor significance.
“Sahara, what is it?” asked Noah, sensing her gears turning—not in the way Andi’s did, but in a very human way.
“Not sure yet. Let me think.” Sahara found her thoughts drifting to Mr. Ksh—and how he said this was a real estate transaction, plain and simple. But real estate had rules.
Minor… significance…
Sahara gasped and stood. “That’s it!” Then she propelled herself into the line of judicial fire.
“Stop these proceedings!” Sahara said. “I have new evidence the court hasn’t heard.”
Ogden gaped at her. “Excuse me, but I am the accused’s legal counsel! Anything you have to say, you tell me, and I will present it!”
“Get over yourself!” said Sahara, and shoved him out of the way. “Claire is only fourteen,” Sahara told the judges. “On Earth that is considered a minor, and minors can’t sign legal documents without a parent or legal guardian’s co-signature. And since Earth was the jurisdiction in which the contract was signed, that makes the star certificate she signed at her birthday party null and void!”
Claire gasped. “She’s right!”
Ogden gawked. “Yeah, she is.”
The judges were silent for a moment, then the chief justice said, “Excuse us.” The three turned to one another, their mumbles sounding like seismic activity, and finally they turned back to face Sahara. “This is easily resolved,” said the chief justice. “We shall bring her parents here, and compel them to sign a pre-dated contract, closing this particular loophole.”
“Well,” said Sahara, turning to throw Noah a secret little wink, “you could certainly do that under normal circumstances… but when the Usurpers abducted Claire, they used an age-regression weapon. Claire’s parents are infants now.”
“That’s right!” said Ogden. “Which means—”
“That they won’t be able to give their permission until they are no longer minors themselves!” blurted Noah, jumping to his feet.
“Which won’t be for more than seventeen Earth years!” Sahara concluded, with a little triumphant bow.
“Well played,” Ogden had to admit. “Well played. But I would have gotten there eventually.”
The judges had another little seismic sidebar—and the kids knew, by the morose look on the Left Hand’s face, that they had won.
“Seventeen Earth years might be convenient for you,” the chief justice said, “but our docket is already full. Therefore, it has been decided that we shall revisit this matter in precisely one galactic rotation from today. Anyone not present will be held in contempt of court.”
“That’s still not fair!” complained Claire, who had still yet to process the whole business of her parents being babies.
But it was Ogden who realized what they were saying.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” said Ogden, “but isn’t a galactic rotation around two hundred thousand Earth years?”
“Yes…,” said the chief justice.
“But you must know the span of a human life is a whole lot shorter than that,” said Sahara.
“We do…,” said the Right Hand of Justice.
“So…,” concluded Ogden, “you’re using a loophole within the loophole to let her off the hook.”
The Left Hand of Justice offered them a slim, resigned smirk. “Guilty,” he said.
32
Siblings of the Stars
THE HORDES OF CLAIRIANS WATCHED AS THE MOUNTAIN TOOK TO the skies, leaving their world, and spiriting the Tribunal of Ancients off to judge other interstellar crimes. Murmurs rose within the crowd as they anxiously awaited news from within the walls of the palace. Or at least the walls that hadn’t been crushed by the mountain.
One might think that there would be an air of celebration within the palace. But it was more like an air of relief.
The courtyard was a mess of fallen chairs and bird droppings. While Forlo went off to assess the Usurpers’ ship, Ogden, Raymond, and Sahara struggled to get the crown off Claire’s head, but it seemed to have somehow fused to her skull, becoming a part of her.
Finally, they gave up and decided it would take greater engineering than they currently had to remove it. Perhaps Andi would have been able to help, were she not currently a suitcase. The four sat, exhausted, among the courtyard debris. A Rigelian ultra-dove came to perch on Claire’s shoulder, perhaps nostalgic for the dress or thinking she had more Usurpers to feed it. She didn’t have the patience and shooed it away.
“What is it they say? ‘Heavy is the head that wears the crown’?” said Sahara.
“It’s not heavy, it’s made of light,” said Claire. “But it itches!”
Across the courtyard, by the fountain, they could hear Jad sobbing. Noah sat by Jad’s side, trying to help his friend bear the grief of a world lost.
“There are worse things than having a crown stuck on your head, I suppose,” said Claire. Then she heaved a sigh worthy of a planetary ruler and took a long look at Ogden, to the point that Ogden checked if there was something unsightly hanging out of his nose.
“I don’t think I ever really thanked you for buying me the star, Ogden.”
“Thank me?” Ogden was bowled over by the very idea. “I’d think you’d want to throw me out of an airlock!”
Claire shrugged. “Yeah, maybe,” she said. “But when you bought it for me, you didn’t know any of this would happen.”
Then Raymond shoved his way between them. “I fought a Usurper for you, Claire,” he said. “Are you going to thank me?”
“Thank you, too, Raymond.” Then Claire shook her head as she looked at the two of them. “You’re both very odd boys,” she said. “But you know what? I’m starting to realize I kind of like odd boys.”
“Join the club,” said Sahara, tossing a glance toward Noah to prove her point. Then she went off to see how Noah was doing in his efforts to console Jad.
“So,” said Ogden, rubbing his hands together like a greedy supervillain, “does this new realization mean that—”
“No,” said Claire, and turned to Raymond, “and no to you, too.”
Ogden began to bluster. “But you said—”
Claire put up her hand to stop him. “I know what I said. But ‘liking’ and ‘liking’ are two very different things.”
“Yes,” argued Ogden, “but the first is a step closer to the second, isn’t it?”
Claire had to consider that. “Could be,” she finally said. “Give me two hundred thousand years to think about it.”
“Fair enough,” said Ogden. “Fair enough.”
Noah sat with Jad on the other side of the fountain, helping Jad come to terms with the greatest loss anyone could ever imagine. How do you get past such a thing? Even with the defenses of a million different creatures?
“Jad, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
Jad took a long moment before answering, “At first, I was mad at you, but then I realized if it was me, and it was your world that was destroyed, I wouldn’t want to tell you either.”
“It’ll be okay,” Noah said. “Even though it can never be okay, somehow it will be. Because we adapt. I mean, that’s what you and me are all about, right? Adapting.”
“But I can’t stop thinking of my ecto, endo, and exo. What you call your mom and dad.” Jad turned away for a second, wiping away the tears. “Do you think my parents ever loved me?”
Noah knew that question intimately. He asked himself that every day. And on most days he came up with the same answer. “Mine did,” Noah said. “In spite of what they were trying to do to my planet, they loved me. I’m sure yours did, too. And they would have come back if they could.”
“Yeah, but how do you know?”
“I don’t. And maybe I never will. But isn’t it better to believe the best of them than the worst?”
Jad smiled. There was sadness in that smile, but sincerity and gratitude as well. “There must have been other Triastrals off-planet when my world was terraformed,” Jad said. “Maybe I can find them.” Then Jad hesitated. “Or maybe I should just go with you.…”
But Noah remembered something Miss Luella had said and shook his head. “No, Jad. Friends don’t let friends be sidekicks.”
Jad nodded with understanding, then put a hand firmly on Noah’s head, and Noah returned the gesture.
That’s when Sahara arrived, looking a little sheepish. “Am I… interrupting something?” she asked.
“It’s how Triastrals shake hands,” Noah explained.
“Yeah,” said Jad. “It’s also how we reproduce.”
Noah withdrew his hand with springbok speed. “AAAAGH!”
And Jad laughed. “Gotcha!”
Noah smiled. The fact that Jad could still laugh was a very good sign.
Forlo returned to inform everyone that the Usurper ship had enough fuel in its RTR drive to get back to Earth. “The coordinates are still in the computer, Your Highness,” Forlo told Claire. “So it will drop off your friends in the same spot where you yourself were first abducted.”
“The scene of the crime,” said Noah. “It’ll be crawling with FOBE agents.”
“After what we’ve been through,” said Sahara, “Agent Rigby and her Nowhere Men don’t scare me.”
“Forlo, you said it will drop off my friends,” said Claire, a bit concerned. “Don’t you mean my friends and me?”
“I’m afraid your presence here is still required, Your Highness,” Forlo insisted. “The legality of your reign might be in question, but the people don’t know that. If they learn that this world now belongs to no one, and that it truly is an abandoned wasteland, it will crush them. For their sake you absolutely must hold to your role.”
Everyone looked to Claire, awaiting her decision.
“But… but what if I don’t want to?” Claire’s voice wavered, torn between this responsibility and her desire to simply go home.
It was Sahara who realized what needed to be done. Stepping forward, she spoke with conviction. “This planet doesn’t need a crown princess—and it certainly doesn’t need a landlord,” she told everyone. “What it really needs… is a First Citizen.”
Forlo stood in the middle of the parapet—the walkway directly above the palace gate—and gazed down at the crowd that had assembled across the moat. He had to find the right words to say to them and had no idea what they’d be.
He’d always been a smooth talker. As First Citizen of B’light, he viewed his duties as something of a salesman, always presenting the best side of the city to strangers, even if it was a fictional, augmented-reality side. But now he had to take over the reins of an entire planet, and there was no way to sugarcoat the challenge ahead.
He gave a little wave to the assembled, which they returned with cheers and hurrahs. Then he spoke. He needed no microphone because his voice rang loud and true.
“Greetings, fellow Clairians. Her Royal Majesty Crown Princess Claire has appointed me as our planet’s First Citizen. And as my first duty, I am happy to inform you that the Usurpers have been erased from our world!”
A huge hurrah from the crowd lasted a full minute. Finally, when the clamor died down, he continued.
“Today, we stand upon the precipice of a new era…,” Forlo’s voice soared. The gathered multitudes raised their eyes, as if to follow the sound of his words, and for the first time in forever, their eyes were filled with something like hope.
“Today, my dear companions, we celebrate a triumph that shall resonate through the stars and inspire civilizations across the heavens.”
Then someone in the crowd shouted, “Yeah, but what are we going to do with all this garbage?”
“Yes, well, we can discuss that later.” Forlo cleared his throat and continued. “We are a testament to the power that resides within every sentient being, the power to stand against adversity and forge our own destiny.”
Then someone shouted, “Can we change the names of our cities to something less blatantly depressing?”
“Certainly,” said Forlo, “but we can talk about that another time!”
