Intergalactic Terrorist (New Dimension Book 1) (33 page)

Chapter 54

Night time fell on the Overseer’s judgement ship. How anyone could tell that it was night time was never quite known. In space it is a constant night. It was enough to drive a lover of the sun slightly doolally. But the ship operated by the universal clock and therefore just guessed that, even though the stars were always out, this particular set of stars meant that it must be night. The lights dimmed and people went to bed.

    Usually.

    Not this night however. This night there was to be a trial and it was to be broadcast on every goggle-box in the galaxy. It wasn’t often that a terrorist was brought to justice. Especially by the Overseer himself!

    Princess An’ishia and Professor Amirous entered the large, clinical medical bay. A Waabba doctor (the most groomed Waabba in existence as it was very unprofessional for a doctor to moult on their patient’s faces as he was checking their tongues and making them say ‘Ahh’) welcomed them.

    “What can I do for you?” he asked politely.

    The princess and the professor looked at him distrustfully. He may be a doctor but he worked for the Overseer. No doubt he was actually some sort of doctor of death. It troubled An’ishia that Amirous had agreed to work on this ship. Amirous was not too troubled. He never thought of trouble. He didn’t think of anything other than science. His brain was a mess of equations.

    “We need a pregnancy test,” said Professor Amirous chirpily.

    “Very good,” said the doctor. “Would you like the one that shows a little blue cross for positive, or the one that shows a red skull and cross bone?”

    “We were actually looking for something a little more in-depth,” the Professor continued. “You see… we need to find out what species the baby is.”

    The doctor smiled. “I have just the thing.” He pulled out a large, very uncomfortable looking instrument with twiddly bits and flashing things on it.”

    “What the devil am I meant to do with that?” An’ishia asked in shock.

    The doctor blushed. “Well… you sort of… spread you legs and stick this part in your -”

    “I think we get the picture,” butted in Amirous, taking the instrument from the doctor.

    “You have got to be kidding me?” said the Princess. “Isn’t there something a little less… intrusive?”

    “It is the best on the market. Very accurate.”

    The Princess huffed, sat down on a bed and stared at the disturbing thing in her hands. She looked up at the two men eagerly standing over her.

    “Could I have some privacy?” she asked.

    The two men coughed and turned away muttering to themselves about test tubes and Bunsen burners.

    An’ishia pulled a curtain across the bed and, with a look of thunder on her face, dropped her knickers and spread her legs.

Outside the judgement ship, attached to the hull, a dark shadow moved. X7421a turned its metal head and stretched out its metallic arm, a large suction pad at the end kept it from floating off into space.

    It used its x-ray heat vision to scan various areas of the ship, checking the patterns emitted from every moving thing onboard. It was looking for the unwelcome.

    It could not find it. The unwelcome did not appear to be on this ship. X7421a buzzed in anger. Its sole purpose was to bring justice to the galaxy, yet for some reason this particular criminal, the unwelcome, was managing to evade him.

    There was something else. His sensors were picking up another moving thing onboard. Another one it recognised. It focussed in with its x-ray headlight eyes. There! Something moved, walking between a number of others. Its hands and feet in chains.

    This was the one that had been travelling with the unwelcome! This was the one that had destroyed X7421!

    The Mechanoid would serve justice on
him
instead!

Chapter 55

The lights were dimmed. The soft music that had been playing ceased. The cameras were rolling. The atmosphere was chilly at best.

    One bright spotlight shone down onto a small, circular podium. Those that watched held their breath, their eyes focused onto that point of light.

    Into the spotlight stepped Charlie Pinwright. He was chained by the feet and hands and looked seriously depressed.

    “Entering for judgement is the accused. One Charles Mortimer Pinwright,” boomed a loud voice seemingly from nowhere.

    The darkened crowd gasped and muttered amongst themselves as Charlie stepped onto the podium. Sayings like, “So he’s the scumbag is he?”, “I hope he rots,” and “I imagined him to be taller,” reached his ears. His eyes narrowed at the intensity of the light. In the darkness around him, he could just make out the figures staring at him. There were lots of them. Many, many faces staring back at him. Charlie’s world shrunk. His knees turned to jelly and his throat became drier than a camel’s rump.
Everyone
was staring at him! And not just those in this dark room. He knew that millions, possibly billions around the galaxy were watching from their homes.

    He, Charlie Pinwright, the man who no one ever remembered, the man that was somewhat forgettable, was soon to be the most recognised man in the universe!

    Charlie was scared.

    The lyrics, ‘this is what it feels like to be lonely, this is how it feels to be small,’ repeated over and over in his mind. He guessed this really was how it felt when your world meant nothing at all.

    “You may be seated,” said the unknown voice.

    Charlie was led by two guards over to a table inside a crude cage where he sat, or more slumped, down into a cold, hard metal chair.

    Slowly the lights began to rise and for the first time Charlie was able to take in his surroundings.

    He was in a courtroom but like none he had ever seen before. As a child he remembered sitting in a courtroom with his mother as his father was on trial. He was too young to fully remember what it had all been about. On one of the few occasions his mother had ever bothered with him, she had told him that his father had murdered ten men in a jealous rage after they had all asked her to dance at the local disco. She told him he had taken a chainsaw to their necks and then ran through the streets naked kicking their heads like footballs.

    Of course some years later Charlie had learned that his father had never murdered anyone and was in fact in court facing a penalty for not paying parking tickets.

    The only other time he had been in a courtroom was when he had been called to jury duty. He had spent four minutes at the trial before feeling far too important and passing out.

    This courtroom was circular and made of metal. Everything was metal and everything had a nasty sheen to it. This was the Overseer's courtroom so it made sense. The Overseer had a nasty sheen to him.

    Sitting before him was the Overseer himself, raised up on a high platform. To his left and right sat a Lampan and a May’orn taking down notes and never uttering a single word, both wearing very strict and serious faces. There was no jury. Only the audience. And an audience is all it could be called for this courtroom had the general feeling of a circus. Rows of raised benches, like in a cinema, lined the walls. Popcorn and hot dogs on sale in the foyer.

    Members of all the different species of the galaxy stared out excitedly, ready to see Charlie brought to justice. The trial had been opened to anyone willing to pay the spectator’s fee of one hundred and fifty knobs. Many ships had docked with the judgement ship, their owners ready for a nights entertainment.

    The loud voice boomed out again and Charlie noticed it emitted from large speakers around the room. “Please stand for the Overseer, lord of darkness.”

    The crowd stood. The Overseer beckoned them to sit with his hands, chuckling to himself. He loved to throw in that
lord of darkness
bit. It made for good entertainment.

    “
Accused,
” he said to Charlie, “
you stand here charged with terrorism of the highest level. How do you plead?
”

    That voice was so haunting, so lifeless that Charlie almost shouted guilty just to get the whole thing over with.

    “Now, remember your instructions,” said the odd man next to him. He was Charlie’s defence lawyer and he was a Mush-Kin, therefore had light purple skin, eyes that stuck out of the side of his head, a separate piece of face underneath his chin that contained his mouth and an extra long neck. And his name was Mr Pow.

    “J... j... just do what I said and everything will work out fine,” he continued.

   Charlie cleared his throat and shouted out loud for all to hear. “Innocent!”

    The courtroom gasped as one.

    Mr Pow sighed. “That is not what I said you should do,” he grumbled.

    “Well I
am
innocent,” said Charlie sitting back down. “And we are going to prove it!”

    “H... h... highly doubtful,” said Mr Pow, his voice quite squeaky and full of stutters. “This court has already deemed you g... g... guilty.”

    “Then what is the point in you being here?” Charlie snapped.

    “My j... j... job is to make you a little bit less guilty.”

    Charlie sat back and groaned. This man who he was trusting to help him seemed like a bit of a tool. Plus he had only met him five minutes ago. Plus his eyes, mouth and neck were really freaking him out right now.

    “
Charles Pinwright of the…
Human
race apparently,
” continued the Overseer, “
you claim to be innocent. Believe me when I tell you that this court will end tonight knowing that that is not true. Mr Crueltine… your first witness please.
”

    Mr Crueltine stepped forward with a large sneer on his face. It was not his fault. A couple of years ago a crazed man on trial for setting a donkey on fire had been sentenced to death and given him a Chelsea grin.

    “Shit,” Mr Pow whispered in Charlie’s ear. “That’s the p... p... prosecution. You’re well and truly f... f... f… screwed now!”

    Mr Crueltine was a dedicated Zax-lar, a beaked man with grey/green skin, two very large black eyes and a heart made of stone.

    “May my first witness take the stand?” he asked, his voice quiet, with a hissing afterthought like a snake.

    On to the stand a badly burnt Jaal stepped. Charlie gulped.

    “Please state your name and profession,” asked Mr Crueltine.

    The Jaal stared at Charlie and said, “My name is Reverend Horta Kimfin and I am a… well… a Reverend.”

    “And in your own words please, what did the accused do to you?” asked Mr Crueltine pointing a long, thin finger at Charlie.

    Reverend Kimfin scowled. “Along with his partner and their fire-breathing pet monster,” he began, “Charlie Pinwright destroyed our church and killed several of our priests. He laughed as he watched them die.”

    “That is just not true!” Charlie shouted, standing suddenly from his chair.

    “S... s... sit down Charlie,” whispered Mr Pow, desperately clawing at Charlie’s almost rotten shirt.

    “I will not! Not while that
priest
tells his dirty lies!”

    “Lies?” asked Mr Crueltine.

    “Yes!” Charlie bellowed. “I did
not
laugh while they died!”

    “
But you did destroy the church and kill the priests,
” said the Overseer very matter-of-factly. “
Next!
”

    Mr Crueltine thanked Reverend Kimfin as he left the stand. Kimfin was pleased that Charlie would soon face justice. Beff would be ready for him on the other side and hopefully with a large pointed stick that would be thrust in places Charlie never even knew he had.

    Of course Reverend Kimfin was not the only person to come forward to testify against Charlie. The next to the stand was Baggus Governor Rolphan who happily explained about the deaths of the people in the market place, the destruction of the bank and breaking Greebol out of jail. He also blamed Charlie for the appearance of the Elves' ship, the destruction of the castle of commerce and surrounding buildings of lesser commerce and the brutal, undignified, obliteration of his own amazingly massive and highly indulgent mansion.

    Charlie didn’t even bother protesting. He already knew he was finished. As did Mr Pow who also decided to keep quiet. There didn’t seem to be any point in even trying.

    Then to the stand entered the Intelimal Mayor, Rajar. He explained, his trunk a-swinging, about the killing of the rarest of rare creatures, the brutal destruction of his village and allowing the most wanted hunter on Intelligeous Prime to escape.

    Somehow throughout the four hour long court session, Charlie also found himself to blame for several plagues, a spate of assassination attempts, five thefts and a particularly shocking streak across a football pitch.

    “So as you can see,” said Mr Crueltine to the crowd whilst walking backwards and forwards wagging his finger, “Charlie Pinwright is a dangerous man, sent here from this planet of his that he calls
Earth
, probably to wipe us all out. He is a collaborator of bounty hunters and a terrorist of the most dangerous level and we do not abide terrorism! If there is any justice in this galaxy then this man should be punished severely for his disgusting crimes! Ladies and gentlemen I rest my case.”

    He smiled, a genuine one this time, the scars at either side of his beak stretching even further up his cheeks giving the impression of a mad clown. Still, it seemed to have the desired effect. If the onlookers were not convinced by his words then they believed him just because most were really scared of clowns.

    This crowd, although many scared of clowns,
had
believed his words. There was no doubt that Charlie was guilty. Mr Crueltine took a bow. The crowd exploded into rip-roaring cheers. There was even a Mexican wave. Somewhere towards the back a beach ball was thrown.

    Amongst the jovial crowd, three figures remained in their seats, unable to join in the celebrations. Princess An’ishia, Vegora Vrall and Professor Amirous took no joy in watching the Human, with whom they had come to befriend, or at least accept, be blamed for things that they knew not to be true. But there was nothing they could do to help him. They all knew at the end of the day it all came down to the Overseer. And his mind seemed made up, unless Mr Pow could somehow miraculously turn this around with his closing speech. They looked on, fingers crossed in anticipation.

    “I th... th... think we all know,” Mr Pow began, attempting to do the whole walk whilst talking to the crowd thing, but ended up tripping over his own over-large feet and hitting his head on a rafter, “that Charlie P... P... Pinwright is a guilty man.” He looked around nervously. “And that is all I have to say on the matter.”

    Princess An’ishia slapped her hand to her face. Charlie was doomed.

    The voice from the speakers rang out once again. “All rise for the verdict.”

    “
Charles Mortimer Pinwright,
” said the Overseer slowly. It sounded like he was smiling behind that perfectly black, perfectly smile-less mask. “
I find you guilty of intergalactic terrorism.
”

    “Ridiculous,” scoffed Charlie. “I’m no more a terrorist than you are a nice man.”

    The Overseer looked at him. “
Fair enough,
” he said at last. “
In that case I find you guilty of being a bounty hunter.
”

    “That was hardly by my doing,” Charlie protested. “You can’t really blame me for that.”

    The Overseer cocked his head to one side. “
Are you a Human?
” he asked finally.

    Charlie frowned. “Yes,” he answered.

    “
In that case I find you guilty of that instead. I sentence you to life in the prison ship Reformatory. You will remain there until you die. I understand scabies is the death of choice in Reformatory at the moment.”

    An’ishia, Vrall and Amirous gasped. This was bad. A man like Charlie would find himself the prison bitch in a place like Reformatory. He wouldn’t last ten minutes.

    The guards grabbed Charlie roughly and began to drag him from the room. His world spun. The crowd jeered and mocked, throwing rotten vegetables in his direction and screaming profanities. Mr Crueltine stared with a smug look on his beaked face. He always won. Mr Pow shrugged his shoulders, what was one more lost case to the worst lawyer in the galaxy? The Overseer’s mocking laugh could be heard echoing through the room.

    Charlie felt dizzy. It was that feeing he knew all too well; the feeling you feel before you pass out.

    A figure in the crowd managed to lean over and slap Charlie on the back. “I am sure you will find a way out of this,” said the strange looking Waabba, before he was pushed back into the throng by one of the guards.