The Trial, Part 2a
With Mal, Zoe, Jayne, and Kaylee in jail, Inara and the others are planning and plotting and possibly scheming.
Inara's shuttle had become the war room for the remnants of Serenity's crew, as they planned a strategy to secure the release of Mal and the others. Inara sat propped up on her bed, still looking tired, but more energetic than before. Simon sat on the stool with ready access to the cortex screen, while River and Ip Neumann occupied the sofa.
"He could hardly have chosen a worse world to land escaped slaves on," Ip told them. "Even though there's a very active Abolitionist Society here, Persephone is one of the few worlds where certain forms of slavery are still officially tolerated."
"I thought slavery was abolished throughout the Alliance," Simon said. "I mean, I understand that it might exist on fringe places like 泥球 Ní Qiú and 尘球 Chén Qíu —the Alliance has hardly any presence there at all, and those places are clearly under the control of the terraforming companies, whose financial interest inclines them to make use of slave labor. But here on Persephone?
"Here on Persephone, domestic slavery is entrenched," Inara replied. "For generations, wealthy families have passed along generations of domestic servants—slaves, not indentured. The law only makes human trafficking illegal."
"The recruitment, transportation, transfer, harboring, or receipt of persons, by means of threat or use of force or other forms of coercion, abduction, fraud, or abuse of power, or by means of the giving or receiving of payments or benefits, for the purpose of exploitation, shall constitute human trafficking," River recited. "Exploitation shall include the exploitation of the prostitution of others or other forms of sexual exploitation, forced labor or services, slavery or practices similar to slavery, servitude, or the removal of organs."
Ip Neumann shuddered at the mention of the removal of organs.
"Well, that's the legal definition of trafficking and exploitation," Inara replied. "But here on Persephone, the exact wording of the law has been adapted to local customs—that is, to suit the purposes of the traditional slave-owning families."
Simon was the first to catch her meaning. "So as long as they aren't sold—"
"That's right," she answered. "They are traded, bartered, gifted and bequeathed, but not technically 'sold'—so the slave-holding families of Persephone hold their heads up high in the firm belief that they are not breaking the human trafficking laws. Most of the people in power—the chief of police, judges, prosecutors, legislative councilors—either own slaves themselves or are from slave-holding families. What are they going to do, lock up Mother for slave trading? So the chief of police agrees not to arrest the prosecutor's Aunt Mildred, and the prosecutor agrees not to charge the police chief's brother, and they all go about their business in the usual way. That is why Mal is in such danger. He is from off-world, and has no local connections to shield him. They'll be eager to show Parliament that they do enforce the anti-trafficking laws, so they'll throw the book at him."
"So what he needs is a hearing in front of a judge who is sympathetic to the anti-slavery movement—" Ip offered.
"And a top-notch lawyer," Inara finished. "Preferably one who is well-connected. I'll see to that."
"I'll contact the Abolitionists and see who they recommend," Ip said. "Perhaps we can find a way to have his case come before the right magistrate."
"What are you doing, Inara?" Simon asked, as she rose from her bed and made her way to where he was seated at the cortex screen.
"Getting on the cortex. I wasn't planning on this, but I'm going to have to schedule some clients here on Persephone. I'll need to work my contacts and call in some favors."
. . .
Prosecutor Ficker sighed. Interviews with Reynolds's crew had not been very fruitful, and Reynolds himself had declined to talk at all without a lawyer present. The usual tough talk, belligerence, and threats of consequences if he didn't talk, had all seemed to faze him not a bit. In fact, the man had even seemed amused at the threat of violent consequences if he didn't spill. The man hadn't retained a lawyer—couldn't afford a lawyer—and a court-appointed lawyer couldn't be expected until after Reynolds was arraigned on charges. There seemed no chance of getting him to incriminate himself.
Reynolds's first officer, Zoe Washburne, had been tight-lipped. She had verified that she was Reynolds's second-in-command, and that there had been thirty-two persons aboard the ship besides crew, but gave very little information otherwise. The only other facts gleaned from the interview with her were that Serenity had landed at Eavesdown Docks with water tanks, food stores, and fuel nearly depleted.
The crewman, Jayne Cobb, had been even less helpful. The man was clearly the dumb muscle of the crew, and at first the prosecutor had hoped he was dumb enough to spill everything. But the man acted as if his job description were physical intimidation, rather than hauling crates. He'd sat in the interview room with muscle-bound arms crossed, drumming his fingers and maintaining a stony silence and belligerent stare.
The mechanic, on the other hand, had been quite loquacious. The thing was, not a bit of it was useful as incriminating evidence. By her account, the captain was a knight in shining armor, rescuing defenseless unfortunates, giving them charity out of the goodness of his heart, sacrificing his own few small comforts for the sake of the so-called passengers. He'd spent the voyage mixing with the slaves (the prosecutor had to remind himself to refer to them as "slaves", even though the little mechanic had referred to them throughout her encomium as "passengers") dispensing good cheer and soup—soup! for 耶稣 Yēsū sake—while efficiently and responsibly captaining his ship. As evidence it was brilliant—if the captain had been a candidate for beatification. As evidence of wrong-doing—not so much. The prosecutor had suspected that the mechanic must be romantically involved with the captain, but when the interviewer had suggested exactly that, she'd immediately responded, "What, me and the Cap'n? Oh, hell no!" accompanied by a snort of laughter so natural that the prosecutor found himself unable to maintain that theory. She truly believed her captain to be a good man. The prosecutor, of course, intended to prove otherwise.
. . .
Kaylee had never spent a night in prison before, and although she knew the Captain would fix things and they'd all be released, she didn't want to spend another day in lock-up. She didn't really have any friends on Persephone, other than the folks she met when she went with the Captain to that fancy shindig some time ago—the shindig with the strawberries and the hot cheese and the floaty chandelier, and the punching. Oh yeah—the punching, she recalled, crestfallen. So she was very surprised when she was pulled from her cell and told she had a visitor.
It was Ip Neumann on the other side of the glass barrier, and she was never so glad to see a friendly face in her life.
"Ip!"
"Kaylee, I'm glad to see you," he replied. "I'm here as an emissary from your doctor."
Kaylee gasped and her eyes went round. Ip proceeded to make inquiries as to her health and treatment in prison, but she knew these were just preliminaries. She answered his questions and waited for him to bring up the real business.
"How about your crewmates?" he asked.
"Ain't seen a one of them since they brought us here. I'm so worried about the Captain. They accused him of bein' a slave-trader!" she exclaimed, outraged. "Can you believe it? They don't got a clue. And I suppose they're accusin' us all of helpin' the Cap'n run slaves."
"Kaylee, you can help. Some time ago, I understand, you and the Captain attended a ball here on Persephone. Can you tell me the names of any society people either of you met and conversed with at that ball?"
. . .
Neumann conferred with the others back at Inara's war room. "She mentioned Hector Murphy, Banning Miller and her friends Destra, Cabot, and Zelle, George Blumenthal and his son Myron Blumenthal, John Hoepner, Warwick Harrow. Harrow was the Captain's business contact."
Simon searched with a portable sourcebox, while River checked the cortex. Simon's search turned up results first. "Murphy is a gentleman farmer…holdings in Elk Harvester Tractor Company…" Simon read. "Banning Miller's just a society girl, but her mother is Lady Eugenia Miller, a philanthropist."
"What are Eugenia's causes?" Neumann asked.
Simon checked. "She supports the Daughters of the Alliance, Purple Seal Alliance Veterans' Association, Patriots' Fund. Oh, that won't help at all."
"Found him!" River exclaimed brightly.
"Found who, River?"
She turned the cortex screen toward them, and they read, "Sir Warwick Harrow, magistrate of the 29th Circuit Court…"
. . .
Inara greeted the slender red-haired woman fondly. "Melissa, I would take it as a particular favor if you would take up the case of Captain Reynolds. There's no one on Persephone more respected than you in the area of human rights law, and that's exactly what this case is about."
"Inara, for you I'd do just about anything. Where would I be without your introductions, your referrals? You launched my career, and I appreciate it." She smiled fondly at her friend and benefactor, and the two settled down at her desk. "Let me look it up… Persephone vs. Malcolm Reynolds…" She studied the case listing closely for a few minutes, and then turned to Inara with a set expression. "Inara, I'm sorry, I can't do this. The man is accused of human trafficking. I've built my career taking a principled stand against human rights abuses, and slavery is one of the leading forms of abuse, right along with political persecution and torture. I can't defend a slaver."
"You can take this case, Melissa, because he's not a slave trader. He released these people from illegal slavery on 泥球 Ní Qiú, and was injured in the process. He transported them at his own expense to Persephone, even though he can ill afford it. He and the crew put themselves on short rations and restricted water use just to accommodate the needs of these people. And despite his injury, he went among the people throughout the journey, heartening them and keeping up their spirits. He contacted the SAHT here to receive the people and help them on their way. And as a reward for this labor of love, when he landed, he and his crew were seized and accused of slave trafficking. If I know him, he is now immersed in bitter reflections. He tried to do something right and his reward is what? Being thrown in jail and accused of practicing what he abhors."
"Now he sounds like an ideal client for me. So, Inara—what's the catch?"
Inara evaded the question. "I'll cover expenses. I'm certain he can't afford your rates."
"Inara, that's not the issue. I always do some pro bono work, and this sounds like the kind of case the SAHT would want to support. What's the real catch?"
"Captain Reynolds has a checkered past, one that does not bear close scrutiny. He's an ex-Independent, a sergeant, and the 'ex-' part of that is simply because the war is over. His life since the end of the war, I gather, has been a personal expression of independence from the Alliance—independence of its rules, restrictions—I think you take my meaning."
"Oh my."
"The longer he stays in custody, the more time the prosecution has to come up with a list of charges as long as my leg."
"Right. I think I know just what to do." Melissa Draper consulted her cortex screen. "The arraignment hearing is today. I will go over to court and introduce myself to my new client, and ask the magistrate for a delay."
"A delay?" Inara was astonished. Knowing that Mal's best chance was to get released from jail and off the planet before the prosecution figured out just what a marked man he was, she didn't see what good could possibly come from any delay. "How will that help?"
"The best chance for Captain Reynolds is to avoid a trial. We had better try to get the charges dismissed at the arraignment hearing, and send the Captain on his way before his past catches up to him. And I can't accomplish that without more information. I'll need at least a few days to interview the Captain and his crew. I'll petition to be allowed access to the detained passengers, but Immigration is very controlling, and they rely on their slow response time to discourage investigators." Melissa Draper was already closing her briefcase and standing up. "An army of researchers wouldn't hurt either," she added.
. . .
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glossary
泥球 Ní Qiú [name of a world]
尘球 Chén Qiú [name of a world]
耶稣 Yēsū [Jesus]
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