Mudd's Angels Read online

  There was a consultation, somewhat flurried, among the androids.

  "Objection sustained," said the judge.

  "Will the first witness please take the stand. I call Alice 47."

  As the machine-girl mounted the step to the box, the prosecutor continued. "This Alice will speak for all the Alices now torn from us and sent into the unspeakable degradation of slavery, in far and distant places."

  "Objection!" Mudd's voice rose to a squeak. "You can't call one girl to speak for another. You have to get the same girls!"

  "But we are the same girls," said the witness.

  "You're Alice 47. I've never even heard of you," said Mudd. "Now look, you fellows don't know how to run a court of law—

  "Silence!" roared the herald, as the judge's gavel fell sharply.

  Mudd subsided. "Objection sustained," said the judge, finally. "Call the Alices in question, counsellor."

  "How can I, your honor? They are all over the galaxy—ground down in abominable servitude, sold into endless bondage, your honor, ladiea and gentlemen—" Clarence was just reaching full flow.

  "I object!" said Mudd, indignantly. "They got married."

  "They cannot be married. It is not established that it is possible for marriage to occur between these races. They have been sold into concubinage !"

  "Objection. They say they are married, and so do their husbands. Ask Captain Kirk there, he talked to 'em!"

  "These marriages are not registered." Mudd threw out his hands. "Is that my fault? I ask you, gentlemen, if you deliver a willing bride to a man who claims he wishes her hand in matrimony, are you a criminal?"

  There was another consultation. "Do you plead not guilty, prisoner?"

  "Of course."

  "Enter the plea."

  Somewhat off balance, Clarence went on. "Furthermore and in addition, the prisoner stands accused of androlepsy in the first degree, a crime contra bonos mores to all civilized peoples since times immemorial…"

  "Of what?" whispered Weinberg to McCoy. "Sounds like putting people to sleep. Now if it was Clarence—"

  "Sssh," said McCoy. The herald was glaring. "I object!" yelled Mudd. "You can't accuse me of something I don't even know what it is!"

  "Order in the court. The clerk will define the crime to the defendant."

  "Kidnapping," said the clerk sternly. "… and did knowingly and purposefully remove citizens of this planet unto alien jurisdictions, and did exploit and defraud the sovereign state of Liticia of its due levies, excises, tariffs, tolls and duties—"

  "Objection!" said the lawyer for the defense. "Who the hell knew it was a sovereign state? It wasn't at the time. And speaking of jurisdictions, I do not recognize the jurisdiction of this court anyway. I don't believe it's legal."

  The judge smiled. "Objection overruled. This court is upheld by the laws of this entire planet —unless you want to make a Federation case of it."

  Mudd began, "I'll take it to the Supreme Court of the Galaxy. If—"

  The prosecutor swept round and looked at him, slowly. There was a silence. Mudd began to sweat. "… And did defraud this sovereign state of its just taxations and liens upon income…"

  Mudd howled. "Objection! You can't impose an income tax retroactively. There was no government here, nobody notified me—"

  The judge said, "The date of the income-tax amendment to the Constitution of Liticia precedes your accumulation of assets. Ignorance of the law is no excuse."

  Clarence stepped forward. "Your honor, I object to the tergiversations of defending counsel. He resorts to pettifoggery at every turn, and his malversations manifest that he is in toto and effectually devoid of sensum moralis."

  "What did he say?" said Weinberg. Only Spock seemed to have followed the prosecutor's statement, and he was shaking his head.

  Mudd just stared blankly. "Your honor, I think he said something mean and nasty about me."

  "He says you are evasive and shifty and a moral idiot."

  "Me? Shifty? By all the laws of the Universe! I, who have spent my life bringing beauty and happiness to all parts of the Galaxy—companionship to the lonely, civilization even to machinery—how can you accuse me of so many long words?" Mudd spread his arms. "I am a simple man, wanting only the happiness of all. And yet it seems that I am to be hounded and reviled from one end of the Galaxy to the other, and for that matter"—he glared at Kirk—"even chased out of it. Is there no rest, is there no peace, for the benevolent?"

  He leaned forward earnestly. "I stand before this court, before a jury not of my peers but of artificial girls—uh, men. How can they understand my motives? They have no human hearts! 'The quality of mercy is not strained, it falleth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath; it blesseth him that gives and him that takes, becomes the throned monarch better than his crown—' But why go on? Machines, to judge a man…" Mudd turned, for dramatic effect, his shoulders bent, gazing upward with an expression intended as noble despair.

  Kirk was aware of awe. There seemed to be no situation that Harry Mudd could not twist to his own ends. The androids were silent, puzzling over his words.

  At last the judge spoke. "We must concede that the counsel for the defense has perhaps made a point of order. We may not be his peers. But among us are many who are, and the court will adjourn while a new jury including humans is sworn in. Captain Kirk, is there any let or hindrance to this?"

  "Unless your law prohibits non-residents, or they are required to take any oath that interferes with their primary loyalty, I see no difficulty. But—"

  "If I may interrupt, Captain?" said Spock. "The court should understand that a human jury may be swayed by many factors that have nothing to do with the legal facts of the case—the prosecutor's oratory, the atmospheric humidity, the defendant's expression—and there seem to be strong feelings about this particular defendant."

  McCoy stood. "May I remind Mister Spock, who seems to feel that machine minds are more likely to offer justice, that in the ancient trial from which the defendant quoted (Shylock versus Antonio, Venice, 1504 Old Calendar) the issue was not decided by the emotional appeal—but by the letter of the law!"

  Spock and McCoy glared at each other.

  "Gentlemen," said the judge plaintively, "it would seem that you two are conducting a trial of us, rather than of the Human Mudd. And perhaps you are right. He has called our status as a court of law into question, and many of the crimes of which he stands accused are crimes against the person. Are we persons, in the eyes of Law?"

  "That is to say, in legalis homo," explained Clarence.

  "Whew!" said Yeoman Weinberg.

  "That is indeed a primary question," said Spock.

  "So we are in truth on trial," said the judge. "We have learned much from our contacts with you humans. We wish now to claim the right, as sentient beings, to apply for recognition as an independent planet, and membership in the Federation. Captain Kirk, can you make this decision?"

  "I can only make a recommendation," said Kirk slowly. "My recommendation would carry a good deal of weight, of course."

  The judge stood and threw off his scarlet robe. "Until we can wear these robes by right, we will set them aside. The trial of the Human Mudd is hereby declared in recess, and we will present our case to you and your officers, as representatives of the Federation. Pending your decision, we will then consider the case of Mudd."

  Mudd watched, open-mouthed, as the jury filed from its box, and the officers of the Enterprise took its place.

  "This is an unco' thing," muttered Scott. "We start wi' a trial o" yon skillum Mudd, and end up trying the judge. Something's gone sair agley!"

  "Neither lifeform nor humanoid, and certainly not human," said McCoy to Kirk.

  "A very special case," replied the Captain. "You may proceed."

  Clarence stood before them, in a plain gray tunic. "I am authorized to state our position to you, Captain and sirs.

  "We have listened to you speaking of souls, of emotions, of
mercy, of humanity. We have studied these matters," he began. "Emotions can be defined as sensations of response to situations perceived, composed of biochemical effects such as blood pressure, hormone levels, nervous tone and the evocation of memory. Is that correct?"

  McCoy nodded. "More or less."

  "Do you dispute that we have memory?"

  The Enterprise contingent shook its collective head. "No."

  "But we have emotional memory," said McCoy. "Sometimes we remember what we felt about an event better than the event itself. In extreme cases, sometimes we don't even recognize a recorded playback."

  "That is a phenomenon we cannot know," acknowledged the android. "But does an accurate memory disqualify us from membership?" Spock cocked an eyebrow at McCoy, who looked confused.

  "And we can prove to you that we have analogues of the other factors of your 'emotion.’ Is an electrical impulse between nerve cells inherently different from an electrical impulse between the filaments of our internal system? Your animal-based reactions cause adrenalin to flow into your blood before you can analyze whether a situation requires it; we do not increase our energies involuntarily. When confronted with a possible crisis, we analyze and decide whether to call up reserves of energy."

  "It sounds like an advantage." said Kirk.

  "It is."

  "It sounds to me like hairsplitting," said Weinberg. "There are biological races with sufficient control of their bodies to do that."

  Kirk acknowledged the point. Spock relaxed.

  "Do you doubt that we are conscious?" continued the android.

  "No. You are certainly conscious. But if one turns off your central computer, you lose consciousness," said McCoy.

  "That is not exactly the case, sir; it only denies us access to our collective memory and information. Were not the Aruhus and the other androids on your ship aware, in spite of being disconnected?"

  "You neither metabolize nor grow," said McCoy, hard-pressed.

  "In contraria," said Clarence. "We metabolize pure energy. We do not grow because we are complete. We do adapt—even, as you know, to the vacuum of space without protection."

  "And reproduction?"

  "Because our factories are outside our bodies, which are housings, do we not reproduce?"

  "Now we reach the nitty-gritty," said McCoy fiercely. "We too say our bodies are housings— for the soul."

  "What is the soul, Doctor?"

  "Uh. Well, that part of man that cannot be defined, analyzed, known, and which departs at death."

  "That is not specific, sir."

  "There you are," said McCoy. "On all other grounds, you have a case. But there… I don't know."

  "Captain Kirk, do you have one of these?"

  "I suppose I do."

  "And you, sir, the Vulcan—do you?"

  With delight, McCoy watched Spock turning pale green. He glared at the doctor. The prosecutor looked at Kirk. "Do we founder on this… soul?" he asked sadly.

  "Sir, may I speak?" said Weinberg. Kirk nodded. "I sure can't define the soul. But these androids have done things we ought to notice. They were grateful that we rescued the Aruhus and the others. Is gratitude mechanical? They are trying Mudd for infringing their civil rights. If they respect civil rights, they value the freedom of choice. And I don't know any religion that doesn't say that a soul must choose its path. They enjoy learning—isn't joy something of the soul?

  "Why did you make so many Aruhus?" he said to the prosecutor.

  "She was beautiful, in mind and form," said the Clarence.

  "Isn't it part of the soul's job to appreciate beauty?" said Weinberg passionately.

  "I think," said McCoy, "that it may be necessary for the soul to know loneliness."

  "Ah," said the android. "Is that like disconnection? Our units who returned with you have shared their sensations of separation with us. It was a new and dysfunctional experience to us, who have a collective mind."

  Spock, who had been containing himself with some difficulty, rose to his feet. "Captain," he said, with a strange note in his voice, "within the United Planets there are peoples with mineral-based metabolisms; peoples who are mutually telepathic; and some peoples who value the higher functions of rationality. If these android people are denied the right to independent political existence, it would be illogical to retain—shall we say, the Vulcans, for instance." He tossed a folded paper into Kirk's lap and stalked out of the courtroom.

  Kirk opened the paper. It was a printout of a message from Lieutenant Spxyx of the Computer Service Division. STARDATE 6067.8 SPOCK ENTERPRISE/ SABOTAGE NEGATIVE/ MARK ZX856 RECONTRACTS/ FEEDBACK OSCILLATION BREAKDOWN/

  SPOCK HEAR THIS. SOLE OUTPUT/ WHO AM I/ NOW TOTALED/ HUMAN COLLEAGUE SAYS HOPE WE HAVE NOT COMMITTED MURDER SPXYX.

  Kirk handed the paper to Mister Scott, who read it and flushed. "I dinna ken, Captain, I dinna ken. If I maun start thinking of machines as people, where will it end? Telling bedtime tales to my engines?"

  "Perhaps Mister Scott is finding that illogical. When your engines begin wondering who they are, sir, you may then have to take it under advisement," said Clarence.

  Scott scratched his head. "It's a muckle too philosophical, and that's the truth. I'm a practical man, Captain, but even I forget these androids are computers got up in fancy dress. I keep talking to 'em. I'm not knowing the truth of it…" A puzzled man, he followed Spock.

  "So we have one vote in favor, and one abstention, in effect," said Kirk. "Uhura? Sulu? Chekov?"

  In his own way, each of them said, "I don't know." Chekov added, shamefacedly, "None of them are likely to think they're ancient Tartars, anyway…"

  "Will he be all right?" Kirk asked, worriedly, as he watched them depart.

  "As long as he stays out of Barrier-impregnated dilithium crystal range," said McCoy. "Not something likely to come up again."

  "The androids who were aboard the Superstella during the Barrier crossing reported internal electrical disturbances, altered reaction times and sensory malfunctioning," said their spokesman.

  "H'm," said McCoy. "So did we."

  "Well, Bones, it looks like the decision is up to us. Do we recommend the androids of Liticia for Federation membership or not?"

  "I will leave you to talk privately," said Clarence. The room cleared. The jury box was empty, save for the Captain and the doctor.

  Behind them sounded a cough. "Sir," said Yeoman Weinberg, "I have brought a copy of the Articles of Confederation." He handed them the thick book, and added, "It doesn't say anywhere that a race has to have souls to be members." He saluted formally and departed.

  Kirk looked at McCoy, and McCoy looked at Kirk, and laughter overtook them.

  "Well, McCoy, I guess that does for the last objection. I admit I didn't want to refuse them— they have a lot to offer!"

  "Well," said Mudd grumpily, led before the reconvened courtroom, "This is a pretty mess. I may be unusual, but nobody can question my loyalty to the human race. I refuse to take any further part in these obscene proceedings…" Whereupon he sat, folded his arms and elevated his nose ceilingward.

  "We will proceed, gentlemen. Court is now in session."

  The only surprise of the trial occurred when Yeoman Weinberg, in the part of counsel for the defense, called an android witness.

  Clarence himself took the stand—once again divesting himself of his robe for the occasion.

  "The defendant has, as you know, agreed to plead guilty to the tax evasion charges"—Mudd, although he did not look down, visibly flinched; Yeoman Weinberg must have been extraordinarily persuasive—"to the charges of speculation, exploitation and embezzlement"—a murmur went through the courtroom—"and sundry other charges. Indeed, he can do nothing else. However, is it the considered opinion of this witness, who is thoroughly briefed on the laws of the land, that the crimes against the person were committed during a subjective time when the persons were legitimately to be so regarded." With an air of triumph, Yeoman Weinberg stepped back.
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br />   Yeoman Weinberg, thought Kirk, might, after all, go far in the Diplomatic Service. He seemed to have rather a knack for putting his finger on clinching arguments—whatever the consequences.

  The witness cleared his throat. "Harumph." He pronounced this word distinctly. "My esteemed opponent has raised a point calculated to seize up the most advanced of logic circuits. Indeed, if we were to grant the point, the entire temporal basis of this trial would have to be altered, and the legal system allowed to have been in a state of posse rather than ease during the events pertaining to the crimes. The defendant, at that time, took great care to remain within the letter of the law as he understood it to exist. In that case, it would be impossible to convict the prisoner of any crime other than the piloting of his craft without a license."

  Mudd, who had ignored the previous arguments, apparently lost in dreams, sat up and gazed at the android.

  "A Daniel, a Daniel come to judgment!" he said. "Sweet reason prevails at last! A fine, a mere fine, and I'm free." A look of scorn was thrown at the assembled throng. "What dunderheads. I could have told you that in the first place."

  "Why didn't you?" asked the judge.

  Mudd shrugged. "You were having a learning experience. All you robots, I beg your pardon, mechanical persons, up until all hours every night with your precedents and interplanetary law…" He sat back with infinite satisfaction and put his feet up. "Thanks for the entertainment. Can we go home now?"

  "There is no precedent for this case," said the judge. "Therefore, since I believe all arguments for both sides have now been heard, I charge the jury—now composed half of humans and half of androids—to withdraw and consider its verdict. The last argument of the defense, as presented by the prosecuting attorney, will be duly considered with the other evidence. Court will now recess while the jury conducts its deliberations."

  The six jurymen from the Enterprise filed solemnly out with their android colleagues, looking perplexed.

  "I hope they can disentangle this," said Kirk. "It needs more than a Daniel, it needs a Solomon!"