Illegal Alien

Hask brought the two handles together — the molecular chain and its beads were reeled in as he did so — and he placed the unit back in a pocket. He then reached out with his front hand and plucked the floating disk of meat out of the air. Very little blood had been shed — a few circular drops had come free as the molecular chain went through the meat, but something — a vacuum cleaner, perhaps — had sucked them down into the Y-shaped support.

"What kind of critter is that?" said Clete. His arm was visible again, pointing at the skinless snake.

"It is not an animal," said Hask. "It is meat." The image bounced as Clete pushed off the wall to have a closer look at what Hask was holding. Clete apparently wasn’t good at maneuvering while weightless; Hask had to reach out with a leg — which bent in a way that would have snapped the joint had Hask been human — to stop Clete’s movement. Clete thanked Hask, then took a close-up shot of the piece of meat. It was clear now that it did have a skin, made up of diamond-shaped plates just like Hask’s own hide. But the skin on the meat was thin and crystal clear.

"Meat, but not an animal?" said Clete’s voice. He sounded perplexed.

"It is just meat," Hask said. "It is not an animal. Rather, it is a product of genetic engineering. It has only what nervous system is required to support its circulatory system, and its circulatory system is simplicity itself. It is not alive; it feels no pain. It is simply a chemical factory, converting raw materials fed to it through the wall receptacle into edible flesh, balanced perfectly for our nutritional needs. Of course, it is not all we eat — we are omnivores, as you are."

"Ah," said Clete. "Y’all couldn’t bring animals on your long space voyage, but this lets y’all enjoy the taste."

Hask’s front eyes blinked repeatedly. "We do not eat animals on our world," he said. "At least, not anymore."

"Oh," said Clete. "Well, we don’t have the ability to create meat. We kill animals for their flesh."

Hask’s tuft waggled as he considered this. "Since we do not have to kill for food, we no longer do so. Some say we have sacrificed too much — that killing one’s own food is a release, the outlet nature intended for violent urges."

"Well, I’m an old country boy," said Clete. "I’ve done my share o’ huntin’. But most people today, they get their meat prepackaged at a store. They don’t ever see the animal, and have no hand in the kill."

"But you say you have killed?" said Hask.

"Well, yes."

"What is it like — to kill for food?"

The camera bounced; Clete was apparently shrugging as he held it. "It can be very satisfying. Nothing quite so delicious as a meal you tracked and bagged yourself."

"Intriguing," said Hask. He looked at his disk of meat, as though it were somehow no longer all that appetizing. Still, he brought it to his front mouth, the outer horizontal and inner vertical openings forming a square hole. His rust-colored dental plates sliced a piece off the edge of the meat disk, and to the jury’s evident surprise, two long flat tongues popped out of the mouth after each bite, wiping what little blood there was from Hask’s face.

"You eat the meat raw?" said Clete.

Hask nodded. "In ancient times we cooked animal flesh, but the reasons for cooking — to soften the meat, and to kill germs — do not apply to this product. Raw meat is much more flavorful…"

"That’s fine," said Linda Ziegler, rising in the darkness. The bailiff pushed the pause button, and a still image of the floating Tosok, holding the now half-eaten piece of raw flesh in his hand, jerked and flickered on the monitors. The lights in the courtroom were brought back to full illumination; jurors and audience members rubbed their eyes.

Linda Ziegler then introduced into evidence one of the Tosok monofilament tools — the one that had belonged to Hask. There was no way to demonstrate that it was the specific one that had been used in the murder; forensics had been unable to find any evidence of that, and so she didn’t bother pursuing this line of questioning.

Of course, Hask possessed a new monofilament tool now; the mothership had dozens in its stores. A smaller version of the Tosok meat factory had been installed at Paul Valcour Hall; Hask needed one of the tools in order to feed himself, and Dale had successfully argued that one accused of killing with a knife is normally not denied access to cutlery.

Still, there was no doubt that the shipboard videotape, and the presentation of Hask’s cutting tool in court, had a huge impact on the jury.

And so, with smug satisfaction, Linda Ziegler returned to her seat and said, "Your Honor, the People rest."

*23*

Hask and Frank had returned with Dale to Dale’s twenty-seventh-floor office. As soon as they arrived, though, Hask excused himself to use the bathroom. Like humans, Tosoks eliminated both solid and liquid waste, and with some difficulty they could make use of human toilets.

Once Hask had left the room, Frank leaned forward in his usual easy chair.