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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Your Honor, may I suggest the recovery of these Fuzzies be entrusted to Colonial Marshal Fane, and may I further suggest that Mr. O'Brien be kept away from any communication equipment until they are recovered." "That sounds like a prudent suggestion, Mr. Brannhard. Now, I'll give you an order for the surrender of the Fuzzies, and a search warrant, just to be on the safe side.
A ten-year-old human child would look dangerously large to a Fuzzy, and if they thought they were menaced they would fight back savagely. They were still alive and in the city. That was one thing. But they were in worse danger than they had ever been; that was another. Fane was asking Brannhard how soon he could be dressed. "Five minutes? Good, I'll be along to pick you up," he said.
Max Fane met them at the courtroom door with a pleasant greeting. Then he saw Baby Fuzzy on Jack's shoulder and looked dubious. "I don't know about him, Jack. I don't think he'll be allowed in the courtroom." "Nonsense!" Gus Brannhard told him.
Gerd van Riebeek was looking chagrined; Ernst Mallin was smirking. Gus Brannhard, however, was pleased. "Jack, they haven't any more damn definition than we do," he whispered. Captain Greibenfeld, who had seated himself after rising at the request of the court, was on his feet again. "Your Honors, during the past month we at Xerxes Naval Base have been working on exactly that problem.
"They scheduled the Kellogg trial first," Gus Brannhard was saying, "and there wasn't any way I could stop that. You see what the idea is? They'll try him first, with Leslie Coombes running both the prosecution and the defense, and if they can get him acquitted, it'll prejudice the sapience evidence we introduce in your trial."
The charges were read, and then Brannhard, as the Kellogg prosecutor, addressed the court "being known as Goldilocks ... sapient member of a sapient race ... willful and deliberate act of the said Leonard Kellogg ... brutal and unprovoked murder."
Gus Brannhard was nervous, showing it by being overtalkative, and that worried Jack. He'd stopped twice at mirrors along the hallway to make sure that his gold-threaded gray neckcloth was properly knotted and that his black jacket was zipped up far enough and not too far. There were two men in the Chief Justice's private chambers.
"But, your Honors," Coombes protested, "we can't go through the farce of trying a dead man." "People of the Colony of Baphomet versus Jamshar Singh, Deceased, charge of arson and sabotage, A.E. 604," the Honorable Gustavus Adolphus Brannhard interrupted. Yes, you could find a precedent in colonial law for almost anything.
Of course, they're Company-controlled; they're playing it for all it's worth." "Have they been veridicated?" Brannhard demanded. "No, and the city cops are keeping them under cover. The girl says she was playing outdoors and these Fuzzies jumped her and began beating her with sticks. Her injuries are listed as multiple bruises, fractured wrist and general shock." "I don't believe it!
Colonial Marshal Max Fane was as heavy as Gus Brannhard and considerably shorter. Wedged between them on the back seat of the marshal's car, Jack Holloway contemplated the backs of the two uniformed deputies on the front seat and felt a happy smile spread through him. Going to get his Fuzzies back.
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