Free The Star Beast by Robert A. Heinlein Page B

the extent of the damage?”
    Mr. Beanfield decided that he would rather lose a client than be buzzed in open court by that confounded toy. “Five bushes were eaten, your honor, in whole or in part. There was minor damage to the lawn and a hole made in an ornamental fence.”
    “Financial damage?”
    Mr. Beanfield said carefully, “The amount we are suing for is before you, your honor.”
    “That is not responsive, Mr. Beanfield.”
    Mr. Beanfield shrugged mentally and struck Mrs. Donahue off his list of paying properties. “Oh, around a couple of hundred, your honor, in property damage. But the court should allow for inconvenience and mental anguish.”
    Mrs. Donahue yelped. “That’s preposterous! My prize roses.”
    The needle jumped and fell back too quickly to work the buzzer. Greenberg said wearily, “What prizes, Mrs. Donahue?”
    Her lawyer cut in, “They were right next to Mrs. Donahue’s well-known champion plants. Her courageous action saved the more valuable bushes, I am happy to say.”
    “Is there more to add?”
    “I think not. I have photographs, marked and identified, to offer.”
    “Very well.”
    Mrs. Donahue glared at her lawyer. “Well! I have something to add. There is one thing I insist on, absolutely insist on, and that is that that dangerous, blood-thirsty beast be destroyed! ”
    Greenberg turned to Beanfield. “Is that a formal prayer, counsellor? Or may we regard it as rhetoric?”
    Beanfield looked uncomfortable. “We have such a petition, your honor.”
    “The court will receive it.”
    Betty butted in with, “Hey, wait a minute! All Lummie did was eat a few of her measly old…”
    “Later, Miss Sorenson.”
    “But…”
    “Later, please. You will have your chance. The court is now of the opinion that it has all the pertinent facts. Does anyone have any new facts to bring out, or does anyone wish to question further any witness? Or bring forward another witness?”
    “We do,” Betty said at once.
    “You do what?”
    “We want to call a new witness.”
    “Very well. Do you have him here?”
    “Yes, your honor. Just outside. Lummox.”
    Greenberg looked thoughtful. “Do I understand that you are proposing to put, uh, Lummox on the stand in his own defense?”
    “Why not? He can talk.”
    A reporter turned suddenly to a colleague and whispered to him, then hurried out of the room. Greenberg chewed his lip. “I know that,” he admitted. “I exchanged a few words with him myself. But the ability to talk does not alone make a competent witness. A child may learn to talk, after a fashion, before it is a year old, but only rarely is a child of tender years…less than five, let us say…found competent to give testimony. The court takes judicial notice that members of non-human races…non-human in the biological sense…may give evidence. But nothing has been presented to show that this particular extra-terrestrial is competent.”
    John Thomas whispered worriedly to Betty, “Have you slipped your cams? There’s no telling what Lummie would say.”
    “Hush!” She went on to Greenberg. “Look, Mr. Commissioner, you’ve said a fancy lot of words, but what do they mean? You are about to pass judgment on Lummox…and you won’t even bother to ask him a question. You say he can’t give competent evidence. Well, I’ve seen others around here who didn’t do so well. I’ll bet if you hook a truth meter to Lummie, it won’t buzz. Sure, he did things he shouldn’t have done. He ate some scrawny old rose bushes and he ate Mr. Ito’s cabbages. What’s horrible about that? When you were a kid, did you ever swipe a cookie when you thought nobody was looking?”
    She took a deep breath. “Suppose when you swiped that cookie, somebody hit you in the face with a broom? Or fired a gun at you? Wouldn’t you be scared? Wouldn’t you run? Lummie is friendly. Everybody around here knows that…or at least if they don’t they are stupider and more irresponsible than he is.