loway had killed anybody, it had been a
couple of thugs who'd tried to steal his sunstones; it hadn't even gotten
into complaint court. This time he might be in trouble. Kellogg was a
Company executive. He decided he'd better try the case himself. The
Company might try to exert pressure.

The next charge was also homicide, from Constabulary, Beta Fifteen. He
read it and blinked. Leonard Kellogg, willful killing of a sapient being,
to wit, Jane Doe alias Goldilocks, aborigine, race Zarathustran Fuzzy,
complainant, Jack Holloway, defendant's attorney of record, Leslie
Coombes. In spite of the outrageous frivolity of the charge, he began to
laugh. It was obviously an attempt to ridicule Kellogg's own complaint out
of court. Every judicial jurisdiction ought to have at least one Gus
Brannhard to liven things up a little. Race Zarathustran Fuzzy!

Then he stopped laughing suddenly and became deadly serious, like an
engineer who finds a cataclysmite cartridge lying around primed and
connected to a discharger. He reached out to the screen panel and began
punching a combination. A spectacled young man appeared and greeted him
deferentially.

"Good morning, Mr. Wilkins," he replied. "A couple of homicides at the
head of this morning's docket--Holloway and Kellogg, both from Beta
Fifteen. What is known about them?"

The young man began to laugh. "Oh, your Honor, they're both a lot of
nonsense. Dr. Kellogg killed some pet belonging to old Jack Holloway, the
sunstone digger, and in the ensuing unpleasantness--Holloway can be very
unpleasant, if he feels he has to--this man Borch, who seems to have been
Kellogg's bodyguard, made the suicidal error of trying to draw a gun on
Holloway. I'm surprised at Lieutenant Lunt for letting either of those
charges get past hearing court. Mr. O'Brien has entered _nolle prosequi_
on both of them, so the whole thing can be disregarded."

Mohammed O'Brien knew a charge of cataclysmite when he saw one, too. His
impulse had been to pull the detonator. Well, maybe this charge ought to
be shot, just to see what it would bring down.

"I haven't approved the _nolle prosequi_ yet, Mr. Wilkins," he mentioned
gently. "Would you please transmit to me the hearing tapes on these cases,
at sixty-speed? I'll take them on the recorder of this screen. Thank you."

He reached out and made the necessary adjustments. Wilkins, the Clerk of
the Courts, left the screen, and returned. There was a wavering scream for