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Updated: June 12, 2025
"No, and they signed for him, too." Brannhard downed what was left of his drink, got a cigar out of his pocket and lit it. "Now, we're going to go to Mallorysport and get the rest of them back." "But.... But the Chief Justice signed that order. He won't give them back just because we ask him to." Brannhard made an impolite noise. "I'll bet everything I own Pendarvis never saw that order.
"The Zarathustra Company isn't the defendant," O'Brien argued sullenly. "Not of record, no," Brannhard agreed. "But isn't the Zarathustra Company's scientific division headed by one Leonard Kellogg?" "Dr. Kellogg's been relieved of his duties, pending the outcome of the trial. The division is now headed by Dr. Ernst Mallin."
Leslie Coombes should have known better than that; in colonial law, you can find a precedent for almost anything. "How much do you bet, Leslie?" Brannhard asked, a larcenous gleam in his eye. "Don't let him take your money away from you. I found, inside an hour, sixteen precedents, from twelve different planetary jurisdictions." "All right, your Honor," Coombes capitulated.
"They don't know why I didn't stop it. They think Pappy Jack let them down." "Have they gone, Jack?" Brannhard asked. "Sure?" Then he rose, reaching behind him, and took up a little ball of white fur. Baby Fuzzy caught his beard with both tiny hands, yeeking happily. "Baby! They didn't get him!" Brannhard disengaged the little hands from his beard and handed him over.
She looked across at Coombes; if looks were bullets, he'd have been deader than Kurt Borch. "Why would they sacrifice four Fuzzies merely to support a story that was bound to come apart anyhow?" Brannhard asked. "That was no sacrifice. They had to get rid of those Fuzzies, and they were afraid to kill them themselves for fear they'd be charged with murder along with Leonard Kellogg.
Everybody at the tables could face the judges, and also see everybody else by looking into the big screen. A witness on the chair could also see the veridicator in the same way. Gus Brannhard looked around, when he entered with Jack, and swore softly. "No wonder they gave us two hours for lunch. I wonder what the idea is." Then he gave a short laugh. "Look at Coombes; he doesn't like it a bit."
Coombes glanced toward the table where he and Brannhard were sitting, caught sight of Baby waving to himself in the big screen and turned to Fane with an indignant protest. Fane shook his head. Coombes protested again, and drew another headshake. Finally he shrugged and led Kellogg to the table reserved for them, where they sat down.
I know, the law and the evidence and nothing but the law and the evidence, but the evidence is going to filter into his conscious mind through this hostility. He's called a conference with Brannhard and myself for tomorrow afternoon; I don't know what that's going to be like."
"But I hope you know what you're doing. You're turning a couple of cases of the People of the Colony into a common civil lawsuit." Gus Brannhard laughed. "What else is it?" he demanded. "Friends of Little Fuzzy versus The chartered Zarathustra Company; I'm bringing action as friend of incompetent aborigines for recognition of sapience, and Mr.
We did pick up the two car cops, but they don't know anything on anybody but Woller." That was good enough, as far as it went, Brannhard thought, but it didn't go far enough. There were those four strange Fuzzies showing up out of nowhere, right in the middle of Nick Emmert's drive-hunt.
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