Everybody's an alien somewhere!
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"What the Hell do you mean, it's got a lawyer?" the Captain demanded,
his normally pale complexion flaming into a brilliant flush.
"Just that. He – or she, it or whatever – when I read its rights, at
the part about being entitled to a phone call, it asks why. I say, joking
like, oh, maybe you wanna call your lawyer. So it asks for the number of a
good one and I toss it the phone book." The Sergeant shrugged, "It finally
figures out how it's put together and scratches at it for a few minutes,
then says it's ready for its call. Half hour later, that old souse, Attorney
White, shows up, demands to see his client. In private."
"And you let him?" the Captain's eyes bulged out so far they threatened
to dislodge his glasses.
"Shit, yes! I ain't getting reprimanded again for denying no son of a
bitch his goddamned constitutional rights. Even if the bitch he's a son of
probably is short an eye, got an extra ear, and not enough fingers, and her
mouth where her asshole oughta be, just like him... It."
"Oh, you idiot! Those rules don't apply to it; the constitution don't
cover space quadrapussies. Or whatever the plural of 'puss' is."
"Dunno – never had more than one at a time."
"Very funny. Well, no matter how you say it, the rules don't apply."
"Says you. The rules say illegal aliens, and it's illegal and for damn
sure it's alien – don't matter where it comes from. You show me where it says
that crap don't count if you're born on another planet, and I'll run that
shyster outta here pronto."
The Captain shook his head in disgust, "Of course it doesn't actually
say that in those words, but use a little common sense..."
"Common sense?" the Sergeant snorted, "Give me a break, Cap! How can you
even talk about immigration law and common sense in the same breath?"
"You've got a point there, Sarg. Maybe the phones have cleared up – Man,
I'd love to dump this on immigration!" The Captain picked up the phone,
muttering to himself, "Or the state police, the feds, or even the damn army.
Even though the Sergeant realized the Captain hadn’t really been talking
to him, he replied, “Well, immigration ain’t here and we ain’t even supposed
to call them let alone hold anybody for them,” and he wandered out.
Just as the Captain slammed the phone down in disgust, the Sergeant
returned, closing the door behind himself. "Phones still out?" he asked.
"Yeah," the Captain replied, "The operator tried every routing. It works
fine in town, but no calls in or out, to anywhere. The damn lines must be
down in both directions."
"More than that. Wireless phones don't work either and the radio's dead,
too; even satellite’s out – I just checked. Looks like our visitor wiped out
a lot more than old farmer Brown's orchard: everything electronic in the
whole state – maybe the whole country!"
"Oh, shit,..." the Captain stopped, interrupted by the knock on his
door, then yelled, "Come in, whoever, or whatever, the hell you are."
The door opened and a short, fat, sloppy individual waddled in, clad in
clothing obviously designed for a smaller body, a long time ago. "Good day,
Captain. Just thought I'd say hello before I left with my client." Attorney
White waved cordially and turned, starting to pull the door closed behind
"Wha...? Wait a damn minute, shyster," the Captain sputtered,"What the
hell do you mean you're leaving with your client? You ain't taking that...
that thing nowhere!"
The lawyer stopped and turned back, a look of bewilderment on his face,
"Really, Captain? Why? What charge are you holding him on?"
The Captain stared at the lawyer. "Illegal entry – what do you think?
Plus all the damage the crash did."
"Is that all?"
"Yeah, that's all. For now."
“You know as well as I do you shouldn’t have held him as long as you
already have for an immigration violation, and the damage is a civil matter:
there is no such crime as ‘reckless operation of a space vehicle,’” White
replied. “Anyway, what do you expect the disposition of the ‘illegal entry’
charge to be?" he inquired sweetly.
"Disposition? Same as always, it'll... Oh. Oh, shit!"
"Precisely. Do you honestly believe immigration has any way to deport my
client back to his country of origin?"
"Well, it can use whatever the hell it used to get here. Just point that
sucker back the other way and blast off!"
"My client informs me that his... ah, medium of travel is no longer
functional, which is how he ended up here in the first place. But, in any
event, you should know deportees are not required to furnish their own
transportation. So I ask again, do you or immigration have any way to deport
my client back to his country of origin?"
"Well, I mean – no. Hell, we don't even know where it came from."
"Then, since the sole criminal charge against my client is ‘illegal entry’ and
the only possible sanction is deportation – which you have just admitted nobody
can effect – no one has any grounds to hold him, and I demand you release him
immediately. Should you fail to do so, forthwith, I assure you the very
first thing he will learn about our customs is how to file a lawsuit for
violation of his civil rights."
"But – but,... this don't make any sense. It's a alien, for Heaven's
sake – a real alien, from another planet! I can't just let it walk right out
"More like hop out, I should say. And of course it doesn't make any
sense – it's the law." White shrugged, then added, "I presume we're free to
leave – or should I write down your badge numbers for the lawsuit? By the way
Captain, my wife remarked just the other day on what a lovely home you have.
I'm sure she'd enjoy living there; that should do nicely as my fee. Hmm, my
client will be needing a home as well – where do you live, Sergeant?"
The Captain stared helplessly, then shrugged mute acquiescence, picked
up his phone and barked a brief command.
The Sergeant chuckled as the lawyer shut the door behind himself. He was
still chuckling a few moments later when the slap... slap sounds of a heavy
man walking slowly went past the office door, accompanied by whish, rasp,
thump... whish, rasp, thump.
The Captain shook his head, still flushed an alarming shade of turquoise,
uttered a sibilant stream of profanity, then, as was his wont when
frustrated, removed his glasses and fiercely cleaned all three lenses with
his lower inner working tentacles.