Thistle hung around the courtroom for a while trying to figure out what to do. She then asked one of the clerks if she could see the Judge. The clerk was at a desk behind a window.
He said, “I’ll check.”
A few minutes later a uniformed officer came up to Thistle. She was sitting in the hall.
“Thistle Tragg?” he said.
She looked up and said, “I’m Thistle.”
“The Judge will see you now.”
Judge Black again noticed Thistle’s striking beauty as she entered his chambers. He’d seen her at Derek Smithy’s arraignment. She was somewhat tall, about 5'9", almost skinny, and had straw colored hair, short and straight.
“Sit down Tragg,” he said.
He watched carefully as she did so.
“He is my prisoner,” Thistle said. “I want to bring him back to my planet.”
“Smithy?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if he’s not executed--I suppose you can, but you’ll have to wait until then.”
“So, if he’s not executed, I can have him.”
“Yes, assuming there is no other sentence, or if he’s acquitted.”
“So, if he’s acquitted I can have him.”
“Sure. Absolutely.”
“I would like to guard him. Is there any problem with that?”
“No problem. Go ahead. Guard him all you want.”
“Thank you. What are the chances he’ll be acquitted?”
“Not good. I’ve just been informed Yolanda Bigg is the D.A.”
“So?”
“Well, they say if you land Bigg, you land hard.”
“What, she’s tough?”
“The toughest.”
“Oh, great.”
Thistle waited outside the courtroom for Derek Smithy’s trial to begin. She had captured him at her mother’s strawberry farm. She had thought Derek was just a stray, only to find out that he was from Earth, and on the run from charges that carried the death penalty, sexual harassment. Something he did at a Christmas party. He said he wasn’t guilty. The charges to her seemed ludicrous. Yet here, on the Traveling Community Space Station, they seemed very serious.
Derek was the only man she had ever met who had been free. She wanted to keep him. He was good looking, after all. Yes, she said to herself, as she waited in the hall, at least that much was true.
And then there he was, being led into the courtroom. She followed, right behind the Assistant District Attorney, Yolanda Bigg.
Yolanda was not only tough, she came just as advertised, big. Some said, huge. Six foot three, she hovered around 220 pounds. She had a tendency to use everything, even her size, to her advantage.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” she said to the jury. “Do any of you have a problem with the fact that I’m a big girl? I mean, let’s face it. I’m overweight. Sorry, I just can’t help it. I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but I just can’t get a handle on it. Just got way too big an appetite. Any of you jurors have a problem--maybe, offended by my size?”
The flickering image of the jurors appeared on a screen on the wall. They said nothing. Some of them shook their heads “no.”
Smithy’s attorney, Jud Bo, stood up and said, “Objection, your honor. This has nothing to do with the prosecution’s weight.”
“Overruled,” Judge Black replied. “Maybe that’s her point.”
“I agree, Judge,” Yolanda Bigg said, smiling slightly, as she enjoyed the sight of Jud Bo falling for one of her old tricks.
“Some people are offended by big people,” she continued. “O.K., I admit it. Fat people. But this case is about the evidence. Can everyone agree to decide this on the evidence?”
The wall monitor video of the jurors showed several of them nodding in agreement.
“Fine. But just to be safe, I’m going to promise not to eat until this thing is over. That’s my pledge.”
Bo stood again and said, “Objection!”
“Overruled,” Black said. “She has a wide latitude.”
“Around my waist,” Yolanda said, winking to the jurors, some of whom could be heard chuckling.
A bailiff whispered in Judge Black’s ear.
“Recessed to nine a.m. tomorrow morning!” he roared.
2
Thistle started to check in through the slammer, the new weapons detector they had on board, and she realized it would take too long. She decided to leave her large suitcase in her room and just go through to the cellblock with a small leather bag. As it was, it took a good 30 minutes for the security guard to examine her electronic equipment, not to mention her cosmetic case.
As she walked down the hall to Derek’s cell, she thought to herself how weird this culture was--all these men walking about-the empty cells. The only one occupied was Derek’s.
Where she came from, all men were incarcerated. Not here though. She continued down the hall.
Derek’s cell was the last one on the end near a wall. Video monitors turned to follow Thistle as she approached him.
When she stepped in front of his cell, she saw him lying down on a cot. He had a printout of a news report in his hand.
His head was propped up on a rolled up blanket. He turned to look at her.
She turned away and started putting her things down in a corner opposite his cell. She sat down on the floor and looked around. The whole place was painted white. The bars were metal. The toilet in the middle of Derek’s cell obviously provided him with little privacy.
“What are you doing?” Derek asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m just sitting here. I’m guarding you, actually.”
Derek thought about this for a few moments. He thought that he should be annoyed, yet, for some reason, it amused him. He had been in his cell for several hours, all alone.
“You don’t need to guard me. I’m not going to get away,” he said.
She just stared back at him.
He couldn’t meet her gaze. It was too powerful--too strong. He went back to reading the news report. He tried to, anyway. But he just couldn’t. He read the same sentence over and over. It didn’t make any sense.
He put the news report down. She had a headset on. She looked up and took it away from her right ear.
“Did you say something?” she said.
“No. No, I didn’t.”
He now watched her going through her suitcase. He noticed she had a T.V. monitor, a keyboard, and several electronic devices. He watched her take out a sweater and a pair of pants, roll them up and place them in the corner. She then lay down on the floor and put her head down on the rolled up sweater and pants.
After a few minutes she turned on her side and took off her headphones. He could hear music coming from the headphones, very indistinctly. She closed her eyes. In a few minutes she was asleep. Asleep!
Derek couldn’t believe it. She snorted a few times, and snored lightly.
He was now on the edge of his cot, sitting up, staring at her. He noticed the remarkable curve of her hips. Her arms curled up in front of her. He wished he could go into such an untroubled sleep.
3
Thistle entered the back of the courtroom.
Smithy’s lawyer was addressing a flat video screen attached to the right-hand wall. He seemed nervous.
The video protected an image of about twenty people.
It was a live broadcast.
Thistle turned to a guard near the door and whispered to him. “What is that?” she asked, pointing to the screen.
“That’s the jury. They’re picking the jury.”
“What do you mean, picking the jury?”
“Selecting the jury. They’ll get it down to 14. Twelve and two alternates.”
“They’re not here. Why aren’t they here?”
“Not enough people around here. The jury pool is about 300. You need hundreds for a criminal trial.”
Bo and the prosecutor were now standing before Judge Black.
She heard the gavel slam down and Judge Black say, “Adjourned to the Pre-Sirius Station.”
Smithy was led out of the courtroom. Thistle followed him.
After Smithy was checked through to the cellblock area, two security guards stopped Thistle as she went through the detector.
“Where are you going?” one of the guards said. He had a craggy face. He was tall, ugly and mean looking.
“I’m going in to guard my prisoner.”
“Says who?”
“Judge Black gave me permission.”
“He did?” He now looked her over carefully and glanced at the other guard. He grabbed her arms and said, “See if she’s got a tail.”
“A tail?” the other guard asked.
“Yeah. See if she’s got a tail.”
The other guard pulled up her blouse in the back where it was tucked into her slacks, tugged back her belt and looked down her pants.
Thistle was speechless. She couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Do you see a tail?” the craggy faced guard said, staring Thistle in the eye.
“No tail,” the other guard said.
“Turn around,” he said, spinning her with his hands. “Hold her,” he said to the other guard, who now tried to grab her arms.
Thistle pulled away and the other guard got her in a bear hug. Smiling. Grinning.
She now felt the craggy faced guard pull at her pants from behind, as if he was looking down her pants. He now grabbed at the back of her panties, and looked down there as well.
She struggled to get away and pushed hard against them.
“You can’t do this,” she exclaimed. “I want to see your superior.”
They let her go, and she tucked in her blouse. The two guards smiled at her.
“I’m in charge of security here,” the craggy faced guard said. “Just making sure you’re not a Meddler. Meddlers have tails, that’s all. Just doing our job.”
“Shouldn’t they have a woman do that?”
“You’re not on Antigone now, girl. You want to go in there, you’re subject to search.”
“You’re going to search me?”
“No. You’re all right. Go ahead.”
Thistle was burning mad. She went into the cellblock, but she was starting to lose her stomach for the whole deal.
She sat down and started to think things over.
Smithy was sitting on his cot. “What happened?” he said.
Thistle said nothing, but dried her eyes. She had shed a few tears. She was very angry.
“I heard something going on,” he said. “Are you O.K.?”
“Just shut up,” she said. “I don’t want to talk to your kind right now.
She looked up to see a huge woman standing next to her, holding out papers. “You’re being subpoenaed. You have to appear at the Pre-Sirius Station. Sign this.” The woman held out a pen. Thistle now recognized her as Yolanda Bigg, the prosecutor.
Thistle signed a copy of the subpoena and gave it back to her.
“What if I don’t show up?” Thistle said.
“You’ll end up in a cell next to him,” she said and nodded towards Smithy. “I’ll call you when you’re needed.”
4
After Thistle told Smithy about the “tail” incident, he shook his head in dismay.
“It’s not right. There’s something wrong with that. Meddlers don’t have tails.”
“That’s what they said.”
“You should see a lawyer. Maybe sue those guys.”
“Are there any lawyers around here?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you see my lawyer, Bo? He’s a lawyer.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Sure. You should. Heck, he’ll be here this afternoon. I’m not sure though, because I think I’m going to the Pre-Sirius Station.”
At that moment Smithy noticed Loooms, his old shipmate, rolling in a large green plastic locker.
“Well, what do you know? Here they are,” Smithy said. “Couldn’t they find anyone else?”
He had thought Loooms was his friend.
“Just don’t give me any hassles,” Loooms said.
In a few minutes Smithy was secured into the
locker with his things.
“I’ll see you over there,” Smithy said to Thistle. “When Bo comes in you can talk to him.”
Thistle sat in the corner and watched Smithy being rolled out of the cellblock.
She quickly realized she didn’t want to be left alone with the guards. She picked up her things and followed Loooms as he wheeled out Smithy inside the locker.
As she passed by the guards, she heard the older, ugly faced guard say, “No tail.” Then she heard the other guard say, “Yeah. No tail.” They started chuckling.
Thistle followed Loooms down the narrow corridors to the shuttle gate.
Loooms stood the locker on end and said to Thistle, “It’ll be about an hour. Maybe more.”
Thistle went back to her room and got the rest of her luggage.
She questioned in her head whether what she was doing was foolish--a foolish quest. Yet, she was subpoenaed. She had to go. Yes, but everything was going wrong. Now it looked like they wanted her to testify against Derek. That’s not what she wanted. If he were executed, she wouldn’t be able to take him back. Take him home to meet her mom.
5
Thistle, Bo and Loooms headed out in the large shuttle bus.
Soon, behind them, the Traveling Community disappeared into Sirius’ bright glow. Above, Amore’s white starlight contrasted with Sirius harsh yellow light.
You knew you were getting close to Sirius when you saw Amore, its twin star.
But none of the passengers had any interest in what starlight shone upon them.
“Where’s Smithy,” Thistle asked Loooms.
“In storage,” he said, just before they all passed out from the G-forces and the medication.
6
Smithy was on his back, on his cot, in his cell. His eye was on the clock on the wall. Then he noticed the security camera lens turn toward the door.
It was Thistle.
Smithy got up and went to the bars of the cell. Thistle leaned against the wall across from him.
“Any trouble getting in?” he said.
“No,” she said. “No trouble.”
“The guard here is a woman,” Smithy said.
“Yes,” Thistle said, and smiled. “I noticed.”
Smithy shook his head, realizing how stupid his comment was.
“You like her?” Thistle said.
Smithy was surprised. He never even gave the guard a thought.
“She’s okay, I guess.”
“Are you worried?”
“Worried?” Smithy repeated.
Actually, Smithy wouldn’t call it that. He couldn’t explain it. The gnawing, rotten feeling in the bottom of his gut wouldn’t go away. The feeling you get when you are in very bad trouble.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said to Thistle.
She looked down the hall.
Smithy walked to the other end of his cell. He leaned against the wall.
“Do you see the fancy accommodations I have?” he said, nodding towards his bed.
Thistle leaned forward and looked closer.
“You have sheets?” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “Synthetic, artificial sheets. Quite cold, actually.”
They both stared at the cot. Thistle was now leaning against the bars, arms crossed in front of her. She had Khakis on, knee-high socks, a checkered blouse and a tan vest.
He inched over to the front right corner of his cell, a few feet away from her.
“Will you stay tonight?” he said.
She looked toward the guard. She didn’t respond.
He moved closer.
“What’s it like on that planet of yours?” he said. “I mean, do you have a lot of prisoners?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t have any prisoners.”
“What do the women do for men? I mean, if the men are all prisoners.”
“Those are our men.”
“So, you don’t have a prisoner?”
He moved towards her and she backed away to the wall across from the cell.
“Listen,” he said, “if you can get me out of here, I’ll be your prisoner.”
“They won’t let you go,” she said.
He held out his hand. She glanced at him, but Smithy couldn’t read her attitude. “Take it,” he said.
Still, she ignored him. He held out his hand for a full minute. She made no move. Finally, his arm dropped to his side. She looked over now. To his surprise, she seemed disappointed.
He held out his hand again. “Come on,” he said. “Take my hand.”
With just the tinge of a smirk, she pushed off the wall across from him. She took his right hand in her left hand, gently, tentatively. He pulled her slowly toward him. He held out his other hand. She took his other hand and they pressed against each other, with the bars between them. Silently, they kissed. He moved his arms around her and held her close.
“Stay with me tonight,” he said.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Tonight. Forever. You know, for me, it might be forever.”
“What’s forever?” she said.
“For the rest of my life,” he said. “Is that good enough? It might not be that long. Won’t tie you up. Willing to risk the rest of my life with you?”
She smiled. “Is this your usual line?”
He had to laugh, thinking of the nurses in flight school, and the lines he’d used on them.
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s my condemned prisoner line.”
Oh, what the heck, Thistle thought to herself. Maybe, he would be executed. If it didn’t work out, chances are, she’d never have to see him again.
