The Great Hydration

“Three indictments have been filed to date. First, the firm registered as Krabbe & Bouche, Partners, has engaged in commercial treaties with alien governments while subject to revocation of licence. Second, the firm registered as Krabbe & Bouche, Partners, has engaged in geological interference of the planet designated Tenacity, to the detriment of its inhabitants, in defiance of Clause Four of the Statute of Alien Treaties. Third, the firm registered as Krabbe & Bouche, Partners, has incurred costs to the state in respect of the state’s obligation to remedy such criminal acts.”

He paused again to allow this statement to sink in.

Shelley, battling bravely, once more spoke up.

“Commissioner, the firm of Krabbe & Bouche, Partners, strenuously denies all these charges. In the first place, the firm of Krabbe & Bouche, Partners, immediately appealed against the revocation of its licence, and not having been informed of any outcome of such appeal, does not consider the revocation to be in force. Secondly—”

Shelley was following the strategy that any argument is better than none, however flimsy. Amundsen was having none of it. He shot Shelley a threatening glance.

“I have not yet finished.”

“Sorry sir,” Shelley muttered.

Amundsen went on, “Hereunder are appended the persons answerable for these charges.

“Karl Henry Krabbe, resident upon the star vessel Enterprise.

“Boris Oliver Bouche, resident upon the star vessel Enterprise.

“Roncie Reaul Northrop, resident upon the star vessel Enterprise.”

Northrop spluttered. “That’s ridiculous! I’m a bondman! I’m not responsible!”

“Normally, that would be correct,” Amundsen replied calmly. “A bondperson takes an oath of obedience and so is not accountable for acts ordered by his or her master. However you broke your bond when you informed on your masters to the Commission. You are therefore responsible for your part in the rehydration project, which was a substantial one.”

“If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t be here!” Northrop protested.

Amundsen remained cold. “The law is not to be trifled with. The charge stands.” He nodded to Shelley. “Now you may proceed.”

Shelley shuffled his papers. “As to the second charge, it has no substance. All my principals have done is to rectify a natural calamity which took place only a hiccup ago in geological time. I cite the precedent of Sauram, Runne and Harker, Partners, who diverted an asteroid on course for Alar IV. I further cite the precedent of Haynam and Khaire, Partners, who rendered assistance to T358 III after a comet struck, reverting and stabilising the climate. Neither of these operations was deemed illegal within the meaning of the statute.”

Northrop jumped up raving. “Why are you crucifying only me? What about the rest of the staff? Their bonds are null and void by reason of revocation of licence! Why aren’t all their names on the charge sheet?”

“It is a fine legal point, and one which has been amply dealt with by precedent,” Amundsen told him implacably, “and not in your favour. “You will resume your seat.”

“As for the third charge,” Shelley went on after Northrop had subsided in defeat, “it falls down with the second one.” He swallowed. “I now request that the Commission allow a submission from the long-term possessors of the planet, who are also signatories to our treaty.”

The Tenaciteans had been briefed previously on the form the proceedings would take. An aged Tlixix shuffled closer on the screen. A hoarse but dignified voice came through, rendered into comprehensible speech.

“What the Earthman says is true. Dehydration is not our world’s natural condition. If your laws are just, they will grant us the status quo ante.”

It fascinated Northrop, despite his predicament, to hear the creature speak in archaic legal phrases. It didn’t know any Latin, of course. The translator had simply cottoned on.

The lobsters were proving to be good lawyers.

Not so the Artaxa. One leaped to his feet and seemed about to attack the screen on which the hearing had been displayed. The translator rendered his protests in a reedy, aggressive tone.

“The Tlixix belong to the past! They are but one tribe, and we are many! It is our world, and has been waterless since the time of our arising!”

The Tlixix retorted in domineering fashion. “We own you. We created you from lower animals. You have no right to exist at all, except at our behest.”

The translator was unable to handle the stream of invective which this statement provoked. It issued a mish-mash of meaningless noise.

“May I say something?” Karl Krabbe asked, with a show of affability. “Frankly, I don’t know what this fuss is all about. There’s no doubt at all that the lobsters were the political masters of this planet when we arrived, and are biologically superior. You wouldn’t do business with somebody’s horse or pet dog, would you?”