The capital state of Devrum expelled me for being artful. A little blasphemous considering the Gannon ancestry's fundamental role in building Devrum's superior defense system; there is still some thanking to be desired. I feel betrayed, especially so when the defenses were used against the people we swore to protect. That's not at all what we had agreed on, and Chief Truitt should have known I would retaliate. The bitter rivalry lasted two years and ended with my expulsion to Napique, a neighboring state. It's here that my plan to return home to Devrum is coming to a close. Truitt and I have some unfinished business.
"Black market trading is just shameful, and the same for all those affiliated with it," he said. Supreme Judge Taverett of Napique leans over his great podium to look over me like a vulture. "But to sell body parts is nothing short of diabolical!"
"My client," says my attorney, Dax, "is a very sick man-"
"There will be no objections to that," the prosecutor quips.
"He's out of line!" Dax whines.
"Quiet!" Taverett pounds his gavel. "I want to hear this."
Dax clears his throat. "Mr. Gannon is entering an insanity defense. Our county psychologist will have no problem vouching for this."
"What's his defect?"
"Chronic Sarcasm," I say. No one laughs.
"You're on thin ice, Gannon." Taverett points his gavel at me. It looks like a mallet used for meat tenderizer. "You lost your right to speak during our last session."
I chuckle and Dax elbows me in the ribs.
"Anyone with sight can see this man is ill," Dax says. It's true what they say, that lawyers are gifted in the art of lying.
"Prosecuting a man who needs help from the state and was not offered it until now - until too late - will not look so good in the morning paper."
"That's if he is indeed insane, and I'm not buying it. Where's the psychologist's statement?"
"Here, Your Honor." Dax reaches into his briefcase and rummages through a plethora of papers, selecting two that are paper-clipped together. "You should find everything in order."
"I highly doubt it." Taverett skims the contents and laughs. "Is this a joke? Do you believe I'm that naive?" There's a surge of anger and he tosses the papers back at Dax. He leans further over the podium and into my face. "Am I expected to believe NPD, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, can so negatively influence a man's morality? Get out of here!"
"Wait!" I cry out just as the bailiff takes me by my cuffed wrists. "I'm property of Devrum - a born native. If my insanity plea is void then my prosecution is the sole responsibility of the state I was born."
Taverett's brows furrow and he looks flustered. He waves the bailiff over and exchanges a few words, then the bailiff disappears and moments later returns with a manual that Taverett thumbs. He sighs. "Well, I'll be....Property of the capital you are. Mr. Dax, I'll expect to see a report this evening. I'm shipping your client back to Devrum first thing tomorrow. He's their problem now...or again. The records of your expulsion, Mr. Gannon, are confidential. Do you mind filling me in?"
I grant him a smile. "Let's leave it at whatever I did was great enough to expel me from the state and in the highest confidence of Chief Truitt who celebrated my departure."
"You don't humor me," said the stolid Taverett and turned to his bailiff. "Show him out and have him sign for his belongings. This waste is no longer my problem."
"I have a question, Your Honor, if you don't mind." The bailiff, holding me firmly, stops sometime after myself and I almost stumble.
"What?"
"Do you think I was charging too much for those kidneys?"
"Take him out of here!"
The bailiff pushes me ahead of him and Dax runs out after us, papers slipping out of his grip along the way. Judge Taverett disappears behind the massive oak doors of Court Room #1 and, for a moment, I feel like putting away the smile.
"George!" Dax calls out and runs after the bailiff who has me by the arm. We're standing in front of the elevator. "A moment with Mr. Gannon, please."
George looks at me and sighs. "Hurry it up. I'll be watching from over there."
"Not like running will get me very far," I say.
"You're a pain in my-"
"Thanks George," says Dax, panting. "I'll take over now."
George gives me a look and starts off across the lobby to a fountain. Dax and I watch him a moment, then take to our own business.
"That insanity plea was a joke," he says.
"Did you actually think anyone in that room would take it seriously?"
"No, of course not." He runs his fingers through a mess of brown hair. "I lost sleep for that laughable defense, Zion."
"Try sleeping in a prison cell with a roommate who suffers from habitual rambling. Sorry for my lack of sympathy, but life's a-"
"Hurry it up!" George is across the lobby pointing to his invisible wristwatch.
"God, he's an eager bootlicker, ain't he?" I say, putting on a smile and waving in reply. "Does Taverett feed him dog treats?"
"Stop making enemies, Zion. You need as many people on your side as fate allows."
"Fate was never on my side come to think of it. But thanks for the advice. Bootlicker and I will be great pals."
Dax lifts his hand like a schoolboy. "We're done here, George! Thank you!" He looks back at me. "I think fate is what gave you that train to Devrum in place of a death penalty."
"Keep trying, pal. I refuse to join your church."
Dax laughs. George appears behind me and takes a hold of my arm. We enter the elevator and I watch the image of Dax nodding vanish behind the doors. One step closer to Devrum. One step closer to Chief Truitt.
