Free The Star Beast by Robert A. Heinlein

clerk will record it. Decision later. Now as to that speech you wished to make: from the size of your manuscript I surmise that you will require about two hours?”
    “I believe that will be ample, your honor,” Esklund answered, somewhat mollified.
    “Good. Bailiff!”
    “Your honor?”
    “Can you dig up a soap box?”
    “Why, I believe so, sir.”
    “Excellent. Place it on the lawn outside. Doctor Esklund, everyone of us enjoys free speech…so enjoy yourself. That soap box is yours for the next two hours.”
    Dr. Esklund turned the color of eggplant. “You’ll hear from us!”
    “No doubt.”
    “We know your sort! Traitors to mankind. Renegades! Trifling with…”
    “Remove him.”
    The bailiff did so, grinning. One of the reporters followed them out. Greenberg said gently, “We seem to have trimmed it down to indispensables now. We have several issues before us, but they have in common the same sheaf of facts. Unless there is objection, we will hear testimony for all issues together, then pass on the issues one at a time. Objection?”
    The lawyers looked at each other. Finally Mr. Ito’s attorney said, “Your honor, it would seem to me to be fairer to try them one at a time.”
    “Possibly. But if we do, we’ll be here until Christmas. I dislike to make so many busy people go over the same ground repeatedly. But a separate trial of the facts to a jury is your privilege…bearing in mind, if you lose, your principal will have to bear the added costs alone.”
    Mr. Ito’s son tugged at the sleeve of the lawyer and whispered to him. The lawyer nodded and said, “We’ll go along with a joint hearing…as to facts.”
    “Very well. Further objection?” There was none. Greenberg turned to O’Farrell. “Judge, is this room equipped with truth meters?”
    “Eh? Why, yes. I hardly ever use them.”
    “I like them.” He turned to the others. “Truth meters will be hooked up. No one is required to use one, but anyone choosing not to will be sworn. This court, as is its privilege, will take judicial notice of and will comment on the fact if anyone refuses the use of a truth meter.”
    John Thomas whispered to Betty, “Watch your step, Slugger.”
    She whispered back, “I will, smarty! You watch yours.”
    Judge O’Farrell said to Greenberg, “It will take some time to rig them. Hadn’t we better break for lunch?”
    “Oh yes, lunch. Attention, everyone…this court does not recess for lunch. I’ll ask the bailiff to take orders for coffee and sandwiches or whatever you like while the clerk is rigging the meters. We will eat here at the table. In the meantime…” Greenberg fumbled for cigarettes, fumbled again. “…has anybody got a match?”
    Out on the lawn, Lummox, having considered the difficult question of Betty’s right to give orders, had come to the conclusion that she possibly had a special status. Each of the John Thomases had introduced into his life a person equivalent to Betty; each had insisted that the person in question must be humored in every whim. This John Thomas had already begun the process with Betty; therefore, it was best to go along with what she wanted as long as it was not too much trouble. He lay down and went to sleep, leaving his watchman eye on guard.
    He slept restlessly, disturbed by the tantalizing odor of steel. After a time he woke up and stretched, causing the cage to bulge. It seemed to him that John Thomas had been gone an unnecessarily long time. On second thought, he had not liked the way that man had taken John Thomas away…no, he hadn’t liked it a bit. He wondered what he should do, if anything? What would John Thomas say, if he were here?
    The problem was too complex. He lay down and tasted the bars of his cage. He refrained from eating them; he merely tried them for flavor. A bit grucky, he decided, but good.
    Inside, Chief Dreiser had completed his testimony and had been followed by Karnes and Mendoza. No argument had developed and the truth