“Here, your honor. Cyrus Andrews.”
“Thank you. Are you prepared to act?”
“Yes. I’ll need a recess to consult with my principal.” “Naturally. Well, Mr. Stuart? Shall the court appoint Mr. Andrews as your counsel? Or associate counsel?”
“No!” Again Betty answered.
“I was addressing Mr. Stuart, Miss Sorenson. Well?” John Thomas glanced at Betty. “No, your honor.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll answer that,” Betty put in. “I talk faster than he does; that’s why I’m counsel. We won’t take Mr. Andrews because the City Attorney is against us on one of these silly things they’ve got about Lummox. . . and the City Attorney and Mr. Andrews are law partners when they are not fighting sham battles in court!”
Greenberg turned to Andrews. “Is that correct, sir?”
“Why, yes, we’re law partners, your honor. You will understand that, in a town this size. . .”
“I quite understand. I also understand Miss Sorenson’s objection. Thank you, Mr. Andrews. Stand down.”
“Mr. Greenberg?”
“What is it now, young lady?”
“I can get you part way off the spot. You see, I had a dirty hunch that some busybody would try to keep me out of it. So we fixed it up ahead of time. I’m half owner.”
“Half owner?”
“Of Lummox. See?” She took a paper from her bag and offered it. “A bill of sale, all legal and proper. At least it ought to be, I coped it out of the book.”
Greenberg studied it. “The form appears correct. The date is yesterday. . . which would make you voluntarily liable to the extent of your interest, from a civil standpoint. It would not affect criminal matters of earlier date.”
“Oh, pooh! There aren’t any criminal matters.”
“That remains to be determined. And don’t say ‘pooh’; it is not a legal term The question here is whether or not the signer can vend this interest. Who owns Lummox?”
‘Why, Johnnie does! It was in his father’s will.”
“So? Is that stipulated, Mr. Postle?”
Mr. Postle whispered with Mrs. Stuart, then answered, “So stipulated, your honor. This creature called ‘Lummox’ is a chattel of John Thomas Stuart, a minor child. Mrs. Stuart’s interest is through her son.”
“Very well.” Greenberg handed the bill of sale to the clerk. “Read it into the record.”
Betty settled back. “All right, your honor. . . appoint anybody you want to. Just as long as I can have my say.”
Greenberg sighed. “Would it make any difference if I did?”
“Not much, I guess.”
“Let the record show that you two, having been duly warned and advised, persist in acting as your own counsel. The court regretfully assumes the burden of protecting your rights and advising you as to the law.”
“Oh, don’t feel bad, Mr. Greenberg. We trust you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” he said drily. “But let’s move on. That gentleman down at the end. . . who are you?”
“Me, Judge? I’m the Galactic Press stringer around here. Name of Hovey.”
“So? The clerk will supply a transcript for the press. I’ll be available for the usual interview later, if anyone wants it. No pictures of me with this creature Lummox, however. Are there any more gentlemen of the press?”
Two others stood up. “The bailiff will place chairs for you just beyond the rail.”
“Yes, Judge. But first. . .”
“Outside the rail, please.” Greenberg looked around. “I think that’s all. . . no, that gentleman down there. Your name, sir?”
The man addressed stood up. He was dressed in formal jacket and striped gray shorts and held himself with self-conscious dignity. “May it please the court, my name, sir, is T. Omar Esklund, Doctor of Philosophy.”
“It neither pleases nor displeases the court, Doctor. Are you a party to any of these issues?”
“I am, sir. I appear here as amicus curiae, a friend of the court.”
Greenberg frowned. “This court insists on choosing its own friends. State your business, Doctor.”
“Sir, if you will permit me. I am state executive secretary of the Keep Earth Human League.” Greenberg suppressed a groan but Esklund did not notice as he had looked down to pick up a large manuscript. “As is well known, ever since the inception of the ungodly practice of space travel, our native Earth, given to us by Divine law, has been increasingly overrun by creatures. . . ‘beasts’ rather let us say. . . of dubious origin. The pestilential consequences of this unholy traffic are seen on every. . .”