Order! Order!" he shouted. "The First Criminal Justice Court for the planet of Cardomon
is now in session, the Honorable Kaila Flexer presiding. All rise."
Levon remained seated, he was tied into his chair and couldn't rise. Faithful to
his promise to resist, four colonists had struggled to carry him into the room, now he
was disheveled and aloof, staring blankly and offering no response. Ruben stood behind
his left shoulder and Chilperic behind his right. They wore caps like Homer's and had
short wooden clubs holstered on their belts.
Kaila entered and ascended the bench. She nodded to Homer, sat and rapped her
gavel one time.
"Be seated," Homer called out.
The crowd took their places and Kaila looked over the room. It was a conversion
of the main hall, the bench and the counsel tables filled the dance floor. Court Clerk
Naomi worked from a desk onstage, immediately behind Kaila's right shoulder. Most
spectators sat down front and close, a handful occupied the balcony, Luenda, Peter,
Achen, and Marcus were chaperoning the children in a separate section.
"The People of Cardomon versus Levon, presumed a native of Brahe," Homer announced.
Kaila asked: "Is counsel ready?"
"Yes, your Honor," Lucy said.
"My client refuses to accept these proceedings," Jolrae said.
"We understand, but the Court has declared you his proxy. Are you prepared?"
"I am."
"Very well, let's carry on." She turned to Naomi, "Present the charges."
"Your Honor," Jolrae interrupted.
"Counsel?"
"It is a long list of gruesome particulars-quite tedious and disturbing. In light
of overwhelming physical and eyewitness documentation, defense is prepared to accept the
charges as stipulated: fifteen acts of rape, twenty-two acts of forced oral copulation,
forty-three other sexual violations, twenty acts of unlawful detention, one hundred twelve
violent assaults, including eighteen at gunpoint, plus a dozen odd charges of vandalism and
public sanitation violations. To all of the preceding we plead 'no contest'."
Kaila nodded, "Does the Prosecution wish to speak?"
"We accept the plea, your Honor."
"Very well," Kaila continued. "My staff has prepared a sentencing report on Levon."
She faced the defendant, "This is your final opportunity to speak to this Court."
Levon closed his eyes and feigned sleep.
"We find you unfit to enjoy the blessings of human society. It is beyond the purview,
and the inclinations, of this Court to order you put to death. Therefore, you will be
confined for the remainder of your natural life. We have no desire to visit you with cruelty
and reasonable accommodations will be made for your comfort and well being-bear in mind that
this is an underdeveloped colony. You may petition this Court for a review of your
disposition every five years. Are there any questions?"
"No, your Honor," Lucy said.
"No," Jolrae said.
She rapped the gavel a second time. "Court is adjourned."
That night there was a conference on the picnic lawn overlooking the pond. The
Homestead crowd was large: Marcus, Synoveh, Luenda, Peter, Jody, Hildy, Chowder, Taralisa,
Suthra, Naomi, Bobol, Ishkaharma Cahilla, Bernal and Achen. It was a long parley, they
concurred in disappointment at the results of the hearing, agreeing that Levon had escaped
his due punishment. None saw a reason that he should live another day. The violation of
the Hearth had been too extreme and there was no atonement. Action must be taken, and
planning ideas were tossed around.
They understood that moving against Levon could divide the colony, perhaps
violently, but they pressed on. They wanted to move covertly, by subverting the guard,
but Homer, Ruben and Chilperic were highly motivated and seemingly incorruptible. Jody
suggested they work at night, distracting the guard while another party dismantled the
jail's exterior wall to obtain the prisoner. It was a clever plan and well received.
Working on further details the meeting went nearly till dawn, most of the company fell
asleep on the lawn. Marcus, Peter and Jody went to the kitchen to fix breakfast and tea,
Achen, Taralisa and Suthra were scheduled to teach later in the morning so they went
for a two-mile warm-up run to recharge their metabolisms and get into gear.
"Hey Ruben."
"Jody. How you be doing?"
"Fine, fine, fine. Nice cabin."
"Ahh, just a shack. Come in, can I get you anything?"
"Glass of water?"
"Sure thing, seat yourself-I'll be right back."
It was just a shack indeed, and an untidy one as well. Dirty dishes were on the
table, papers drifted across the room, spilling from a loose stack on the wooden bench.
Looking for some seat space, Jody picked up the papers and arranged the stack
on the floor, tucked away from traffic. He sat down and looked at a sheet of the papers,
it was covered in lines of hand scrawled verse. It looked like a rough draft of a song and
he tried to decipher it, but the penmanship was poor and there were many scratch-outs-he
couldn't find a consistent rhyme or meter.
Jody heard a noise and looked up. Ruben was standing in the doorway, holding a
glass of water. "Writing music?" Jody asked.
"Scribbling-not very good."
"If you say so. I'm always looking for new songs."
"Here's your water," Ruben said, extending his hand with the glass.
"Thanks."
"So what's going on?"
"Recruiting for my choir-you're an excellent tenor."
"No thanks-I'm not a drunk."
Jody smiled, "Only ex-drinkers and sobers are welcome in my chorus. I try to help
some guys, but it's really about the music. I like your voice. Maybe we can help you with
your songs."
Ruben was interested and sat down on a footstool. "You think so?"
"Sure. Bring some ideas to one of the practice sessions, we'll see what they sound like."
"I don't get up to Homestead very much."
"I know, but I want to start a Firstown choir. It's why I'm in town. I'll be at the
Hospice all week and holding auditions and practice sessions. Drop by-we start at
second nine, or thereabouts."
"Oh no."
"What?"
"I'm guarding Levon-I'm on the overnight watch this week. I can't make it, I'm
afraid."
"That's a shame-I was counting on you."
"I'm sorry."
"Me too."
"You can't do it some other time?"
"Nah-everybody's too busy in town, can't get folks together except at night. Then
we have to quit around midnight so the kids can sleep. It's too bad."
"Why not practice at the jail?"
"Can we?"
"Sure. Nobody to disturb except Levon. And there's lots of space in the
warehouse-good acoustics, too."
"You don't think Kaila or Homer would mind?"
"They don't even have to know."
"Unless Levon tells them."
"Nobody listens to him."
"What a great idea. I'll talk with the group-maybe we can start tomorrow."
"I'm looking forward to it-it's so boring in there at night."
"I bet it is. You don't hang out with Levon?"
"I avoid him. I keep the rounds, look in on him twice an hour and stay out
in the warehouse."
"Does he do anything?"
"He's always exercising-jumping, push ups, pull ups-it's tiring to watch."
"He was a nice guy when he first got here. Put on some funny juggling displays."
"Guess he had you fooled."
"Guess so."
Ruben was correct, the acoustics in the warehouse space surrounding the jail were
superb. Bass notes and overtones carried with a wooden richness, smoky and thick, the
altos and sopranos filled the high-ceilinged room with sparkle and freshness; the room
was 'alive' and not full of chaotic echoes. The Firstown talent pool was also deep; Jody
auditioned one hundred thirty-two singers and only rejected nineteen voices. Organizing
the choir was a monumental challenge, he divided it into groups and subgroups, working
with the best talents, training them as teachers and directors.
Meanwhile each night, as practice began, a small demolition team got moving.
The exterior wall was made of metal panels screwed to columns, it covered a layer of
insulation foam and the inner surface was heavy wallboard. Working as quietly as
possible, the Homestead actionists took out the screws, inserting temporary pins to
keep the wall intact. Using hand tools, and under the stealthy conditions, the job
stretched on for weeks.
Two nights after they started Levon heard the sound of the work. Curious, he went
to the window and tried to look out, standing on his tiptoes. He could just make out the
backside of somebody crouched against the wall. "Who's out there?" he yelled.
Peter stood up and put his face in the center of the window, grinning with a lurid
light in his eyes. "It's yer death comin'."
"It's about time."
"Y' can't wait, huh?"
"I'm already dead in this shit hole."
"Yeah, ain't it a shame? Maybe we can remind y'a little bit about bein' alive 'fore
we do ya in. Make yer ending memorable fer ya. How'sat sound?"
"Come in here alone and find out."
Peter's look was rueful. "Wish I could. Ain't had a real fight since I got to
this planet."
"What are you waiting for?"
"I ain't got th' key. Why do y' think I'm takin' th' wall apart?"
Levon was amused, and imagined an opportunity. "So how long then?"
"Lotta screws in this wall-gonna take time."
"Can I help?"
Peter laughed, "Y' could choke on yer food an' die! Save us lotsa trouble."
"Fuck you."
"Y' ain't fuckin' nobody no more. Yer th' fucked one, now." Peter decided there was
no more fun in gloating, so he turned back to the work.
"Hey, asshole! Come back here!" Levon shouted.
Peter ignored him.
Levon kept shouting and started hitting the wall with his fists. There was a booming
echo throughout the warehouse. His hands bruised and the noise was unsatisfying so he went
into the bathroom space and wrenched the seat from the toilet, bringing it out to hammer the wall.
Now the noise rattled and clanged, he smashed the window glass and pounded as hard as
he could.
The peephole in the door opened, Ruben's eyes and nose appeared. "What's going on there?"
Levon ran to the door waving the toilet seat. "They're outside-they want to kill me!"
"Who's outside?"
"Peter-a bunch of assholes. They're taking the wall down."
"What are you trying to pull?"
"Go take a look."
"You are a pain!"
Levon slammed the seat against the door.
Ruben jumped. "All right-I'll look." He shut the peephole. A few minutes later his face
showed up in the window. "There's nobody out here."
"Of course there isn't. They ran off. Look at the wall-they were fucking with it."
"I don't see anything."
"Fucking moron." He threw the toilet seat at the window and it crashed off of the bars.
Ruben went away and soon the sound of choir practice resumed.
The next day Homer made his rounds on guard duty, looking through the peephole.
Levon was waiting. "Hey, Homer."
"What do you want?"
"Did Ruben tell you about last night? They're gonna break me out and kill me."
"He told me you broke the window and the toilet."
"Look at the wall outside-they're taking it apart."
"If you insist."
Homer went around the outside of the building and spotted the tampering immediately. He
stopped to think about what he saw. Homer was devoted to nonviolence, during the debates he was
the most passionate advocate against capital punishment. But, like all colonists, his loathing
for Levon surpassed all boundaries of reason and ethics. And the idea of keeping a human monster
alive with Cardomon's resources sickened him.
All that was required was to say nothing and soon the Levon situation would end. Homer
thought about it, consulted his conscience and that voice was untroubled. He went back into the
warehouse and opened the peephole. "There's nothing out there. Stop wasting my time."
Levon was divided in his mind, night after night, listening to the scratching and
scraping sounds outside the wall; on the one hand death would end a pointless existence but it
would also be a triumph for his enemies. If, in the moment that they broke through, he were able
to overcome his executors, he imagined there still was a chance to conquer. Alternately he
cursed the workers outside or attempted to charm them-whichever, the actionists mostly ignored him.
He was a smart man and held a rough idea of the wall's construction and how the job must
proceed. The metal panels were eight feet by twelve, with a screw every two inches around the
perimeter and along the columns. Hand turning the screws was time consuming. Levon learned the
sound, fourteen iterations of 'scritch' as a screw unturned, taking three and one half minutes,
then two minutes of scabbling sounds finishing with a sharp tap as the screw was extracted and the
temporary pin inserted. After three weeks of the sounds there was silence and Levon assumed that
they were ready.
He had little in the way of weapons-even the toilet seat was gone and never replaced. He
tried to dismantle the bed frame and make a spear or bludgeon but it defeated his efforts. When
the moment arrived he would have only fists.
Choir practice always went past midnight and Jody stayed for individual sessions going
for another hour or so. Ruben was a good tenor and his songs, after some thoughtful massage, turned
into workable music. Jody and Ruben were both pleased with the results and indulged the songs late
into the mornings. What started with distracting Ruben's guard became serious music for Jody and
the deception faded from his sensibility. Four weeks after organizing the Firstown choir Jody
began planning concerts.
The actionists wriggled the metal panel loose with pry bars and stood back when it fell.
The sound was 'FOOM!' when the heavy wall covering hit the ground, shaking the warehouse like an
earthquake.
The sound woke Levon and he dashed to his feet, facing the wall.
Ruben opened the peephole. "What is it now?"
"They're coming for me."
Jody came up next to Ruben, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You don't need to be here,
we're taking the prisoner."
Four actionists with sledge hammers knocked in the insulation and wallboard, showering Levon
with debris and he ducked. When he straitened up Marcus took him by the right arm and Hildy grabbed
his left one.
Levon twisted, got his right arm free and clawed at Hildy's face, kicking at his shin. Marcus
threw a leather bag over Levon's head and cinched the drawstring.
Levon fell at Hildy's feet and Marcus knelt on his spine. Hildy tied Levon's wrists and ankles
and they lifted him to his feet. Marcus removed the leather sack. "Let's go," Marcus said.
Levon could only hobble and they decided to carry him, with Hildy and Marcus holding his
shoulders, Peter and Ishkaharma lifting him at his knees. Levon thrashed like a fish in a net, Hildy
lost his grip and Levon crashed headfirst onto the floor.
"This is stupid," Ishkaharma said, dropping her side of his legs; Peter kept his grip. "We
should just strangle him here," she finished.
"We don't want to leave the body," Marcus reminded her.
"Then make him stop kicking."
Marcus stooped over Levon, "You'll hurt less if you don't struggle."
"Fuck you."
Marcus sighed, "Oh well. Let's try again."
They lifted him again, Levon continued to twist and thrash but they held on. It was a difficult
job but they carried him through the opening in the wall. There was a handcart waiting, they put their
burden in its bed and trundled away with him.
Ruben turned around and faced Jody as the sounds of the smashing in wall echoed forth. He was
shocked and betrayed and showed it, swinging at Jody with his right fist.
Jody dodged aside and took a defensive crouch.
Ruben faced him, staring. "All this choir work, just bullshit?"
"No, man. You're good-we're all glad to sing with you."
"What now?"
"Keep singing. Without Levon to guard you've got the time."
"I didn't want to be guard, you know-Kaila and Homer forced me."
"So it's over."
"They'll think I helped you."
"I could tie you up, so it looks like we jumped you."
"Nah, that's all right."
"You want to come with us?"
"I like it in town-I have a couple girlfriends. They're pregnant."
"Cool, man. I like kids."
"I can manage with Kaila and Homer, I think. I won't be in trouble."
Jody relaxed his posture. "I will be."
"Like old times for you."
"No. These are new times."
"We all took bets that you'd drink yourself to death."
"What did you lose?"
"I didn't-I knew you would turn sober."
"Thank you. Why?"
"Because Mel trusted you."
All of Old Firstown rattled when the wall panel hit the ground. Charlene woke and turned, giving her
husband a shake on the shoulder. "Homer, what was that noise?"
Homer was already awake, but let her think otherwise. It was a noise he had been waiting up
nights anticipating. "Something woke you?"
Charlene got up and went to the window. "There was a big noise outside-a boom." She opened
the window and screens to lean out and look. "Somebody is over by the warehouse with the jail."
Homer joined her, leaning his chin on her left shoulder. He didn't know what to tell her.
Charlene turned from the window. "I'm going to see." She put on her robe and slippers, then went
toward the door.
"Don't go, Charley."
"What is it, Homer?"
"It's better if we don't know."
"But you already know, don't you? Don't start lying to me."
"They're taking Levon away-to kill him."
"Homestead?"
"Yes."
"And you are letting them?"
"I won't waste my energy trying to stop them. Not for Levon."
Charlene sat on the bed and looked up at him. "There was a trial, and a sentence. You're part of
the Court, you have a duty."
"Those are our friends taking him away."
"But it's killing!"
"I've only been guarding him for a couple of months and I've been disgusted with the idea the
whole time. Keeping useless prisoners is wrong. Killing Levon is good for the colony."
"No, Homer. Think about it, we're throwing away the rule of Law."
"I won't go out there."
"Then I will." She got up and went for the door.
Homer followed as she ran toward the jail. The actionists were just rolling the cart away when
Charlene approached. She was yelling and waving, trying to stop them.
Luenda and Ishkaharma restrained Charlene, holding her arms in firm grips. She struggled
momentarily, then gave up in emotional exhaustion. "Don't do this!" she yelled one last time.
"Charley," Homer said. "Let them go."
Charlene screamed and sobbed. Luenda and Ishkaharma released her arms and she fell to her knees, crying.
Homer knelt beside her and tried to put his arm over her shoulder but she shrugged it off. Then she
rose to her feet and walked silently back to the Biology hut. She went to the bedroom and locked the door
in Homer's face.
They drowned Levon in a scour hole on the bottom of the river, somewhere in the Vale. They covered
his body with heavy rocks and never spoke of it again.
"I'm not satisfied, Homer. Tell me about your involvement." Kaila said.
"There was none."
"Charlene was cagey, but she told me you definitely knew what was happening."
"I figured it out. I know those people and how they think."
"That's not good enough. It looks as if Jody was the mastermind behind this crime. You and he
have a long history. It's been clouded, but cordial of late."
"Am I charged?"
"No, not quite enough evidence. But I can no longer trust you as an officer of my Court."
"I never wanted the job."
"I am so tired of that attitude! The whole colony demands a sense of order, but everybody resists
its most basic application. They make me Judge and stand back to watch Justice appear like a magic act.
And you have about the highest social ethic on the planet-support me, damn it!"
Homer looked down at the table in front of him, shamed to silence.
"I have to issue warrants for some of my best friends, capital murder warrants-it was a vast
conspiracy. Do you think I enjoy that?"
"No, but..."
"But what, Homer? Will you rationalize this thing? We are not alone-the Galaxy is watching.
Next planetary year we'll celebrate our tenth standard anniversary and the Planetary Foundation
will conduct a review-but you know all of this. By all but one criterion-food security-we are a
failed colony."
"We're making progress-all things considered."
"We're gaining a reputation for anarchy. Who would invest or immigrate?"
"Hermione Chockswindae has confidence."
"Technically, Hermione Chockswindae is a criminal, wanted on Hesperia. They could demand
extradition."
"That's for the Administrator to decide."
"He's certain to be challenged-in my Court."
Homer smiled ironically, "How does power feel?"
"I hate it."
"It's lonely."
"So, what about the colony, Homer? How will we demonstrate to the Galaxy that we are
a civilization?"
"By surviving, and growing, and teaching."
"We have a long ways to go, and we're stumbling already."
"You sound like Lucy...or Sikar."
"Your friends in Homestead are more like Sikar. They've usurped the Law."
"A minute ago you called them your friends."
"I did, didn't I? I won't make that mistake again."
"You're only torturing yourself."
"Leave me, Homer. You're dismissed."
"Okay." He pushed his chair back, stood and walked from the room, out into the main space
of the Community Hall-still decked out for Democracy.
Kaila was fighting tears and losing. She wanted to run over the entire colony and scream
into each face 'WhattheHelldoyouwant?' until she fell from exhaustion. She wanted to disappear, she
wanted a hug. She wanted strength and stoicism, but found instead the mask of objectivity. It
was rigid, and set lines in her face.
Charlene was in the kitchen, sipping chamomile, when Homer came in. She looked at him,
he was tense, shifting uneasily. "I'm sorry, Homer..."
"Charley..."
"I'm not comfortable right now. There's a big part of me that just wants to give you
a hug and say 'It's all right'. But my guts are very unhappy with you, with Homestead and with a
lot of things that I thought I understood."
Homer sat next to her, casting lost-child eyes upon his wife, leaning forward so they were
knee-to-knee,
"I'm sorry," she said again.
Homer was crying, Charlene cried, they hugged, awkwardly, uncertain of where it led.
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