Where the Ships Die by William C. Dietz Page A

analyzing Milford's faculty and playing to their weaknesses. Now, having spent the last few hours watching the magistrate, he had some theories. Judge Tal felt no sympathy for those who came before her, or if she did, hid it well. Sad stories and equally sad appearances had no effect on the sentences handed out. Only three people were found innocent, and every one of them had demonstrated the poise and bearing of the upper classes. So Dorn mounted the platform like a visiting dignitary. He kept his chin up, his back straight, and looked Tal right in the eye. "Good afternoon, your honor... my name is Dorn Voss."
    Tal's eyelids hung at perpetual half-mast. They rose a quarter of an inch. "Read the charges."
    The guard, who had already read the boilerplate hundreds of times, did so again. "The defendant stands accused of vagrancy, a lack of visible support, and homelessness."
    The woman eyed Dorn in a speculative manner. "You heard the charges, Citizen Voss ... how do you plead?"
    Dorn stood even straighter. "Not guilty, your honor. I am a minor, my parents own a business, and I have rooms at the Starman's Rest. A call to the hotel or the Milford Academy will verify my story."
    Tal tapped a stylus against her lips and looked thoughtful. "Yes, I'm sure it would, just as some com calls, intersystem record checks, and the expenditure of a modest amount of shoe leather would substantiate at least some of the other claims heard today. Unfortunately, niceties such as those cost money ... more money than the good citizens of Oro have to spend. That's why we rely on identification cards and other evidence of solvency, such as credit chips or cash. Do you have any of these in your possession?"
    A lump had formed in Dorn's throat and made it difficult to swallow. The half-lie came easily. "No, your honor, my residency card and money were lost when I fell in the river."
    Tal shrugged. "That's what they all say ... give or take a few details. Tell me Citizen Voss, or whatever your real name is, what college did your mother attend?"
    Dorn felt his heart leap. Could it be? Did the Judge know his mother? If so, this might be the break he'd been hoping for. "The University of Mechnos, your honor."
    Tal nodded approvingly. "Very good! Mary and I were classmates. Too bad about her death. The story made the news the day before yesterday. Including the fact that Mary graduated cum laude from the U of M. She even had a son about your age ... though cleaner, I suspect." The magistrate turned toward the nearest guard. "Guilty as charged. Five years compensated labor. Take the imposter away."
    The guard gestured toward the stairs. Dorn ignored him. "Dead? My mother's dead? How? When?"
    But the magistrate ignored him, the guards grabbed his arms, and Dorn was half guided, half carried off the platform. The beating started the moment his feet touched the ground. The blows came hard and fast. The teenager tried to defend himself, fell under the assault of baton-style whip handles, and lay huddled on the ground.
    The punishment might have been worse, and lasted even longer, had it not been for the prisoner who shouted obscenities and tried to attack the judge. A guard called for help, her comrades rushed to the rescue, and Dorn was left alone. He made sure that they were truly done with him, got to his feet, and stumbled toward the area where the others waited. He hurt all over, but nothing was broken.
    Dorn chose a hunk of concrete and took a seat. A man moved in the boy's direction, saw the expression on his face, and thought better of it. Dorn turned his back on the other prisoners, thought about what the judge had said, and felt an overwhelming sense of grief. Sobs racked his body as tears ran down his cheeks. His mother was dead, and quite possibly his father as well. That would account for a number of things, including the lack of communication and the cessation of financial support.
    Still, why hadn't he heard from the family lawyers by now? Or,