Aliens, Tosoks, have finally made contact with Earth, but there are only seven of them, and they've arrived in a disabled spaceship. The Tosoks are intelligent and surprisingly easy to communicate with, and are happy to tour Earth and see what humans have to offer. But during a stop in Los Angeles, one of the human scientists traveling with the Tosoks is gruesomely murdered, and all evidence points to the alien Hask. The Los Angeles Police Department is determined to indict Hask for the crime, even though the aliens have little concept of laws or crime as we understand them. The only thing the U.S. government can do is secretly procure the services of Dale Rice, a leading civil rights lawyer, and hope he can clear Hask of the charges. But as the trial progresses, evidence indicates a cover-up by one or more of the aliens. Humanity's survival — not just Hask's fate — might hinge on the jury's verdict.
For Justice, though she’s painted blind, is to the weaker side inclined.
The Navy lieutenant poked his close-cropped head into the aircraft carrier’s wardroom. "It’s going to be another two hours, gentlemen. You should really get some sleep."
Francis Nobilio, a short man of fifty with wavy hair mixed evenly between brown and gray, was sitting in a vinyl-upholstered metal chair. He was wearing a two-piece dark-blue business suit and a pale blue shirt. His tie was undone and hung loosely around his neck. "What’s the latest?" he said.
"As expected, sir, a Russian sub will beat us to the location. And a Brazilian cruise ship has changed course to have a look-see."
"A cruise ship!" said Frank, throwing his arms up in exasperation. He turned to Clete, who was leaning back in a similar chair, giant tennis-shoed feet up on the table in front of him.
Clete lifted his narrow shoulders and grinned broadly. "Sounds like a big ol’ party, don’t it?" he said, his voice rich with that famous Tennessee accent — Dana Carvey did a devastating Cletus Calhoun.
"Can’t we cordon off the area?" said Frank to the Navy man.
The lieutenant shrugged. "It’s in the middle of the Atlantic, sir — international waters. The cruise ship has as much right to be there as anyone else."
"
The lieutenant left, doing a neat step over the raised lip at the bottom of the door.
"They must be aquatic," said Frank, looking at Clete.
"Mebbe," said Clete. "Mebbe not. We ain’t aquatic, and we used to land our ships at sea. This very aircraft carrier picked up an
"My point exactly," said Frank. "We used to land our ships at sea, because that was easier than landing them on land, and—"
"I thought it was because we launched out over the ocean from Canaveral, so—"
"The Shuttle goes up from Canaveral; we bring it down on land. If you’ve got the technology, you come down on land — if that’s where you live; the Russians came down on land from day one."
Clete was shaking his head. "I think you’re missing the obvious, Frankie. What was it that boy said a moment ago? ‘International waters.’ I think they’ve been watching long enough to figger it’d be a peck o’ trouble landin’ in any particular country. Only place on Earth you can land that ain’t nobody’s turf is in the ocean."
"Oh, come on. I doubt they’ve been able to decipher our radio or TV, and—"
"Don’t need to do none o’ that," said Clete. He was forty years old, thin, gangly, jug-eared, and redheaded — not quite Ichabod Crane, but close. "You can deduce it from first principles. Earth’s got seven continents; that implies regional evolution, and
Frank blew out air, conceding the point. He looked at his watch for the third time in the last few minutes. "Damn, I wish we could get there faster. This is—"
"Hang on a minute, Frankie," said Clete. He used one of his long arms to aim the remote at the seventeen-inch color TV mounted on the wall, turning off the mute. The aircraft carrier was picking up CNN’s satellite feed.
"…more now on that story," said white-haired Lou Waters. "Civilian and military observers worldwide were stunned late yesterday when what was at first taken to be a giant meteor skimmed through Earth’s atmosphere over Brazil." Waters’s face was replaced with grainy amateur video of something streaking through a cloudless blue sky. "But the object flew right around the Earth well inside our atmosphere, and soon almost every public and private telescope and radar dish on the planet was trained on it. Even the U.S. government has now conceded that the object is, in all likelihood, a spacecraft — and not one of ours. Karen Hunt has more. Karen?"
The picture changed to show a pretty African-American woman, standing outside the Griffith Park Observatory. "Lou, for decades human beings have wondered if we are alone in the universe. Well, now we know. Although the U.S. and Russian military aircraft that flew over the splashdown site earlier today failed to make public the videos they shot, a Moroccan Airlines 747 en route to Brasilia passed directly over the area about three hours ago.
That plane has now safely landed, and we’ve obtained this exclusive footage, taken by passenger Juan Rubenstein with his home-video equipment."
