The hardest part of writing this, apart from finding the time, was deciding which part of Chanur to mangle first! :)
"Inadmissible"
A Fianna vs Chanur Riff
The cell was dimly lit and smelled of stale sweat and worse fluids. Fianna winced at the stained mattress, pulled it off the cot and flipped it, only to discover somebody else had already done so, and with good reason. Sighing, the dog flopped the mattress back into it's original orientation, then flopped himself on top of it. He called upon his innate canine power to sleep in practically any situation, and was soon dozing blissfully.
He was awakened a few hours later by a grunt of "visitor", and the rattle of keys in the lock. He sat up and propped himself up against the wall as Christine Sullivan, famed public defender, came in and sat down on the opposite cot.
"I've arranged for your wife to join us so we can go over your joint defense," Sullivan said.
"Don't they have rooms for that sort of thing?" the dog asked, looking distastefully around the cell.
"Well, yes, normally," Sullivan said, nodding in a peculiar, side-to-side manner that brought the word blonde instantly to mind. "But they consider you too dangerous to transport, so they're not letting you out of here until the trial date."
Fianna yawned, nodded, and wondered if his attention was really needed here, then heared a familiar excited bark. "Baby!" he exclaimed as the poodle was brought to the door of the cell, carried comfortably in the arms of Bull Shannon. The guard opened the door and let them in.
"Uh, Bull, didn't Harry say something about, uhm, not letting the p-o-o-d-l-e out of the c-a-g-e?" Sullivan asked nervously.
"Aw, it's okay,"
The poodle chirped a merry bark at the baliff, then Fianna got up and took her from him. "That'll do, precious," the caninoid snickered. "You're not the only one with a jealous bone, you know." The poodle licked her husband's face enthusiastically as hesat back down again, hugging her closely.
"So anyway," Sullivan began as
"No."
Sullivan blinked, then giggled. "Uh, guys, c'mon, they got you on tape,
and with public sentiment the way it is, you don't want this to go to trial,
even with the change in venue from
"They're not after us. Animals abusing animals has too many moral uncertainties for them. They're after that DJ in the next cell, something about a hog." Fianna got up and carried his wife to the small window facing out on the street in front of the jail, where they could see a circling crowd of picketers below. From the next window they could hear a steady litany of semi-obscenities.
"You assholes can all suck my bizzalls!" the voice cried. "Killing that hog was fizzucking legal, you stupid bizzitches! Even in jail, I'm still number one in every market I'm heard in! How do you like that, you bunch of dicks?!"
Fianna frowned and shook his head. "What an idiot," he muttered. "That's People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals down there. Doesn't he know the only thing with the power to battle a movement is-". He stopped suddenly, turned and looked at Sullivan. "Can I see your cell phone?"
"Uh, sure," Christine said, digging it out of her briefcase and handing it to him. As the dog began to dial one-handded, she asked, "Who are you calling?"
"The cavalry," Fianna said, smiling broadly.
********
Chanur was stretched out on the sofa bed in the offices of the Fianna Must
Die club, located in the basement of Thunderwolf's townhouse on
"No, dammit, she did not bite any of it off!" he'd yelled at he leather-skinned ichthiod while they examined him, after that unfortunate incidnte with the SnarfCooker 2002 Walk-In Microwave RD had sent over for the club cookout.
"So it was that short naturally?" Shark had laughed.
"God damn, that's a hell of a lot of tooth marks," Thunderwolf had said appreciatively, examing the bone visible through the gaping wound in Chanur's upper thigh. "You're sure she didn't clip it? The position's about right if you hang it on that side."
"Just think of it as 'combat circumcision'," TygrisHawk had interjected blithely, bringing gales of laughter from the other two while the explosive-laden kitten had merrily yelped, "I made a funny! I made a funny!"
Despite himself, Chanur grinned. Okay, he thought, it was funny. Besides, for reasons unknown, Peachyra had assigned herself as his personal nursemaid, applying bandages, getting drinks for him and the like. Kamanchee was assisting her, although Chanur fervently wished for him to get lost; the englishman's incompetence was costing Chanur much-desired attention from his nurse.
There was a soft knock at the door, and the object of this desire came inside and closed it behind her. There was a ceramic mug in her hand, steaming and filling the air with a rich, earthy aroma.
"Time for your tea!" Peachyra announced, pressing the mug into his hand.
"Thanks," Chanur said and took a sip. The flavor was powerful and bitter, but he tolerated it; a taste for powerfully bitter drinks was a sign of manhood, as was cultivating a taste for free-form jazz. Besides, the stuff was potent, burying the ache in his chewed body within a few sips.
"What's this stuff made from?" he asked.
"Pixie ring mushrooms," Peachyra responded. "Non-addictive and about twice as strong as morphine. That's why I have to keep Kam around, he's the only one who knows the ritual for collecting them without angering the pixies."
Chanur took another sip, nodded as the narcotic began to grip him. "Happy pixies," he remarked. Then he glanced at the clock. "CRAP!"
"What?!" Peachyra yelped at his sudden outburst, but Chanur ignored her as he dug in the seat cushions, finally surfacing with the television remote. He pointed it at the tv and clicked the set on, chortling as the screen filled with a green field, the words, "FIANNAS ON TRIAL" blazing out from it in bright white. Then the title faded out, replaced by a cluttered stage set and an anorexic-looking blonde woman seated at the newsdesk.
"Welcome back to CourtTV, and our on-going goverage of 'Fiannas on Trial'," the anchorwoman said. The scene cut to an angry, screaming mob outside the municipal courthouse, hundreds of women waving signs and calling for action. Chanur smiled contentedly.
"This was the scene at the court of Judge Harold T. Stone, awash in chaos as hundreds of Fianna supporters took to the streets," the voice-over said.
"WHAT?!" Chanur screamed, sitting up so fast he burst a half-dozen stitches. The television scene changed, focusing on a buxom young woman with curly brown hair, holding a sign that read, "Free the Fiannas!" Emblazoned on her red shirt in stark white letters were the words, "Tampa Bay Right to Bite".
"We are here to let Judge Stone know what we think of this prosecution!" she yelled at the camera. "This is a bald-faced attempt to infringe on a woman's right to chew, and we're not going to let him get away with it! Right girls?!"
"YEAH! RIGHT TO CHEW! RIGHT TO CHEW! RIGHT TO--"
The scene switched back to the announcer. "A few moments after taping this, a group of ASPCA members, led by Bob Barker, arrived to begin a counter-demonstration. They were badly outnumbered and fled the scene on foot after a grueling fist-fight. In the chaos, Mister Barker was captured by the Right to Bite protestors and torn limb from limb. No charges were filed against the group, however, when subsequent examination by the coroner indicated that he had been dead for some three years."
"In a related development, the Fiannas are now being defended by our own Johnny Cochran, with all related fees and expenses are being paid for by Right to Bite. Stay tuned to this channel for live coverage of the pre-trial motions phase of the proceeding, coming up tonight at 9 pm."
"I don't believe it," Chanur breathed at the screen.
"Wow, a movement to fight a movement," Peachyra said. "Be good to remember that if I ever piss off the Mushroom Liberation Army." She looked over at Chanur and noticed his empty mug. "Would you like another cup?"
"Never mind the cup," Chanur said numbly. "Just bring the whole pot."
********
"Look, sir, they're starting a bonfire!" Mac said from the office window.
"That's not a bonfire," Harry said morosely. "They're burning me in effigy."
"Sorry sir, my mistake," Mac said, his face split by a broad toothy smile that indicated it had been anything but a mistake.
"Geez, people, we're not even to the trial yet," Stone sighed as he slipped on his robe. "It's not even supposed to be our case, but we got stuck with it because day court's docket is too thick. And now I've got Johnny Cochran to deal with."
"Don't let them get you down, sir," Mac grinned. "At least we don't have any DNA evidence to deal with. Nobody is arguing that the Poodle bit this guy, just whether or not she had a right to bite."
"Thanks for clearing that up for me, Mac," Stone mumbled as they crossed the hall.
"Hear ye, hear ye, court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Harold T. Stone, presiding," Bull called as they entered the courtroom.
"Thanks, Bull. Please be seated," the young judge announced as he took his place at the bench. He looked out over the courtroom at a crowd of tee-shirt-clad militants, various feline predators, and several Thundercats. The defendants were a big green armored dog and an eight-pound toy poodle.
"Looks like a comic book convention in here," he quipped. Nobody laughed, so he dropped it. "Alright, gentlemen, what do you have for me?"
Johnny Cochran stood up from the defense table. "Your Honor, the defense wishes to file a motion to dismiss."
Stone nodded. He turned to Mac and said softly, "Maybe this won't be so bad after all. Typical defense strategy." To Cochran he said, "On what grounds, counselor?"
"On the grounds that the victim in this case, this 'Hani' creature, does not exist."
********
Chanur blew tea all over himself.
"WHAT?!" he yelled. "This is bullshit!! What do they mean, I don't exist?! Chrisdammit, I'm sitting right here!!"
The door flew open and Peachyra ran inside, Shark and Thunderwolf right behind her. "We heard a scream!" she yelled. "Are you okay?!" But all Chanur could do was sputter and wave his hands at the screen. Then he grabbed the teapot from the end table, pulled the cap off and slammed the contents.
"More," he said hoarsely and held the pot out to Peachyra.
"Of course," the herbalist said sympathetically. "All this aggravation must be making the pain worse. I'll be right back."
She left with Shark in tow. Once they were in the hall, the ichthyoid asked, "Shouldn't we warn him this stuff is hallucinagenic in high doses?"
Peachyra's smile was joined on her face by a narrowing of the eyes that took her expression from sympathetic to sinister in less than a heartbeat.
"That poofywoof has been running me ragged for almost a week, when all I offered to do was help out a little. Let him figure it out on his own."
********
"Your Honor, this is...ridiculous!" Dan Fielding objected in outrage. "This is worse than ridiculous, it's obstructionist! We have the video of the attack, we have reports from a half-dozen eye-witnesses! We even have this!" He pulled a sheet of paper from his briefcase and held it aloft. "A copy of the Endangered Species Act with 'Hani' clearly identified! This is nothing more than an attempt to stall while this, this primadonna tries to think of a genuine defense!"
"Mister Cochran, the prosecutor has a point. Isn't this motion just a bit disingenous?" Stone asked.
"Not at all, Your Honor," Cochran said evenly. "I am fully prepared to support my motion in both materials and precedence." So saying, Cochran gestured, and a contingent of red-clad women stood up, each bearing a large document boxes. They set the boxes on the courtroom floor in front of the bench, until the stack was five wide and three deep.
"Your Honor," Cochran began. "These boxes contain eye-witness accounts, sworn affedavitts, and over four hours of video taped evidence of creature living in the uplands of New York state, although it has been sighted in numerous other locations here and around the world. It is a creature with a long past, known to the Native Americans before the white european settlers first arrived on these shores. It has been observed by countless thousands of eye-witnesses, from every age group and every walk of life. It has even been placed on the Endangered Species list of at least one state, making it a felony to kill one. And, might I point out," he crossed the room and took Fielding's document from him and held it aloft as well, "Added legitimately, rather than pencilled in at the bottom with the initials, 'JR" beside it."
"The creature I refer to is, of course, the sasquatch, also known as Bigfoot," Cochran continued, thrusting the list back into Fielding. "And as you can plainly see, there is just as much evidence for the existance of Bigfoot as there is for this alleged 'Hani' creature. Now tell me, Judge Stone...do you believe in Bigfoot?"
"I object!" Fielding yelled.
"You can't object, Dan. This is a hearing, not a trial," Stone pointed out.
"Harry, this is absurd!" Fielding complained. "We have a video tape--"
"A video tape of what?" Cochran interrupted. "Of an alleged poodle attacking an alleged Hani in an alleged castle? I can run down to any dog pound in this city and be back with five poodles inside of an hour, all of them similiar to my client. And of course, this 'Hani' thing," Cochran broke off with a derisive snort. "I believe this whole incident was supposed to happen on a fanfic set? It's amazing what special effects can do these days."
"Our witnesses--" Fielding began.
"Witnesses? Which ones are you going to believe? The psychotic killer? The talking animals? Oh, how about the cartoon characters! Give me one minute to cross-examine that Lion-O guy and I'll have him begging for his momma, Fielding, and you damn well know it."
"Harry, please!" Fielding whined.
But Stone wasn't listening. His mind's eye as filled with his stuffed plush double dangling from the end of a stick, it's replica testicles trampled into the dirty tarmac as it was being lit on fire. Then he snapped back to reality.
"Oh, sorry Dan," he said hastily. "Um, after reviewing the facts on the matter, I believe Mister Cochran has a vaild point. Unless you can produce some hard evidence of this 'Hani' thing, I'm going to have to dismiss the case."
********
"SOMEBODY GET ME THE PHONE!!" Chanur wailed. Thunderwolf reached to his left and picked up his cell from the end table, then handed it to the Hani, who dialed frantically.
"Operator? I need the number for Night Court in New York City, please!"
********
"Your Honor!" Fielding gasped. "This preposterous! How am I supposed to prove this thing exists, if tape and witnesses aren't enough?!"
"Good question, Mister Cochran," Stone said. "What sort of proof would you consider valid?"
"All things considered, Judge Stone, a Hani would be too easy to produce as a fraud. I'm afraid nothing short of dissection would serve."
********
Staring wide-eyed at the screen, Chanur closed the lid on the cell phone and handed it slowly back to the smirking saberlion. Then he slumped back onto the bed and took a long hit off his teapot.
********
"I'm inclined to agree, Mister Cochran," Stone said. "Dan, do you have a Hani to offer up for scientific examination?" But the famed prosecutor had apparently lost all interest in the proceeding, concentrating instead on chatting up Cheetara by the rail, his eyes never leaving her breasts for a moment.
"I'll take that as a 'no'," Stone said, then tapped his gavel. "Case dismissed. Mister and missus Fianna, you're free to go."
The court erupted in raucus cheers as the freed prisoners leapt up and embraced joyfully, then followed their famous defender out the door of the courthouse to the press podium set up outside. Johnny took up a position at the microphone, the dogs cuddling merrily behind him, oblivious to the uproar and questions.
"Mister Cochran, Mister Cochran!" came a voice from the crowd. "Silverkat, cub reporter for Channel 6 News! Any comments on the proceedings?!"
Johnny raised his hands for quiet, then said slowly, "I would just like to say, this is a victory for the rights of females of all species, everywhere. The right to chew is inalienable, as we have proven once again today."
"I would also like to thank Mister Fianna for providing me with this book," he paused, holding up a leather-bound volume for the crowd to see. "This text, 'The Devil's Dictionary' by Ambrose Bierce, was instrumental in crafting our defense. I'd like to take a moment and read a passage to you." He flipped to a marked page and began to read:
"'Inadmissible, adjective. Not competent to be considered. Said of certain kinds of testimony which juries are supposed to be unfit to be entrusted with, and which judges, therefore, rule out, even of proceedings before themselves alone. Hearsay evidence is inadmissible because the person quoted was unsworn and is not before the court for examination; yet most momentous actions, military, political, commercial and of every other kind, are daily undertaken on hearsay evidence. There is no religion in the world that has any other basis than hearsay evidence. Revelation is hearsay evidence; that the Scriptures are the word of God we have only the testimony of men long dead whose identity is not clearly established and who are not known to have been sworn in any sense. Under the rules of evidence as they now exist in this country, no single assertion in the Bible has in its support any evidence admissible in a court of law. It cannot be proved that the battle of Blenheim ever was fought, that there was such as person as Julius Caesar, such an empire as Assyria.'"
"'But as records of courts of justice are admissible, it can easily be proved that powerful and malevolent magicians once existed and were a scourge to mankind. The evidence (including confession) upon which certain women were convicted of witchcraft and executed was without a flaw; it is still unimpeachable. The judges' decisions based on it were sound in logic and in law. Nothing in any existing court was ever more thoroughly proved than the charges of witchcraft and sorcery for which so many suffered death. If there were no witches, human testimony and human reason are alike destitute of value.’”
Cochran turned to face the smirking caninoid and his adorable spouse. “And as you thought, Fianna, it does indeed work in reverse as well!”
********
Chanur stared blankly at the screen as the scene cut to post-trial commentary from the a panel of experts, including a Harvard Law School professor and a Doctor of Nineteenth-Century Literature.
"It's not true," the Hani gurgled. "I'm real! I'm really real! Nobody made me up! I'm real, Chrisdammit, real!"
"You sure about that?" Thunderwolf rumbled.
"Huh?" Chanur said slurredly, turning his head in Thunderwolf's direction. The lion reached out and grabbed the Hani's chin and gently oriented the felinoid's oversized pupils on himself.
"I said, are you sure you're real?" Thunderwolf said slowly and distinctly. “Think about it. Remember ‘Arrival’? Your mom? Your sister? All fake, every bit of it, made up by some wise-ass named Chris, living in Wisconsin. So maybe the court was right. Maybe you aren’t real.”
Chanur stared at Thunderwolf, absolutely expressionless. Then, very slowly, he laid down on the bed, curled up into a fetal ball, and began to suck his thumb, still staring blankly into space.
Thunderwolf stood up. “Beer run,” he said, but as he walked out, he stopped and put his hand gently under Shark’s chin. He lifted the ichthyoid’s head and turned it left and right, looking at the faded claw marks the Hani had given the merman when he first “joined” the club. Then he winked at Shark and walked out, leaving the fish teary-eyed and hopelessly twitterpated.
“Well, we can’t leave him like this,” Peachyra said, indicating the catatonic felinoid on the bed. “I’ll give Zhie a call and tell her to warm up the electroshock machine. She ought to love this.”
********
Back
to Fanfic
Archive