Read Online Alan E. Nourse - The Bladerunner by Alan E. Nourse, Karl Swanson - Free Book Online
Authors: Alan E. Nourse, Karl Swanson
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precedent."
"Well, we'll see what a jury says about it," Billy said angrily. He turned to the read-in console, pushed the button to activate the defense side of the court and then typed out defendant appeals judgement.
The print-out clattered briefly, grounds for appeal?
Without Billy touching the console the defense printed out: cruel and unusual punishment for misdemeanor offense, defendant demands jury
trial, release on bond pending trial date. Billy nodded approval; it was the only plausible approach. After a moment the prosecution side printed out: appeal noted. defendant will be notified when trial is scheduled. to be released on suitable bond pending trial.
Billy leaned back in his seat with an audible sigh of relief. But the Health Control man, still smiling, was holding a whispered conference with the police sergeant. Then he tapped out a message for the computer:
prosecution protests cash bond on grounds of arrest record. reasonable doubt defendant will appear for trial.
Moments later the court print-out went into activity again. Billy watched as the words appeared on his print-out:
protest sustained. defendant to be assigned to continuous personal electronic surveillance via broadcasting trans-sponder until trial date in lieu of other bond.
It was incredible and unheard of, but it was there. He was being assigned a transponder whether he accepted the computer-court's original sentence or appealed it; the net result was exactly the same. As he lurched to his feet the sergeant moved to block his escape and two more policemen came through the door. The sergeant opened a leather case and withdrew a small chrome-plated device that looked like a wrist watch with no face on it. Seizing Billy's right wrist, he clamped the transponder in place and turned the tamper-proof seal. Then, as Billy stood staring at the device in disbelief, the Health Control man stood up, still smiling, his briefcase in his hand. "Great talking to you, Billy," he said blandly. "Any time you'd like to shake that thing, just let us know that you want to talk. Meanwhile, don't do anything you wouldn't want us all to know about, because we'll know about it."
Moments later Billy Gimp was out on the street, clutching a computer-printed sheaf of instructions regarding the function and inviolability of the transponder. The rules were all there, plainly written; any attempt to tamper with the seal or remove the device without authorization was an automatic felony offense, and would generate an alarm signal that would be picked up by the nearest police copter or other police unit and bring swift investigation. The purpose of the transponder was surveillance and crime prevention, and Billy could be observed as closely as Health Control desired for a period of six months or more. Frightened and confused at the sudden turn of events, Billy took a ground-bus, disembarked within a few blocks of his room, and soon turned into the familiar Lower City street.
No wonder the Health Control man had been smiling, Billy thought. He had been outmaneuvered from the start, and Health Control had been certain of the outcome from the moment Billy had been arrested. They had led him along, and now he was trapped in an electronic web from which there was no appeal, and from which he could not even risk momentary contact with Doc. Indeed, on the surface it seemed that Health Control had clamped down hard on Billy. Yet something deep in his mind was still insisting that it was not him they really wanted. If they had wanted him and him alone they could have placed him incommunicado in a prison cell until an accelerated jury trial could have been arranged.
Only one thing seemed possible: that Health Control was really basically interested in trapping Doc, yet for some reason could not move directly against him; and that consequently they were using Billy, Doc's bladerunner, in some scheme to entrap him. And that meant that somehow, in some way, he had to warn Doc that
"Well, we'll see what a jury says about it," Billy said angrily. He turned to the read-in console, pushed the button to activate the defense side of the court and then typed out defendant appeals judgement.
The print-out clattered briefly, grounds for appeal?
Without Billy touching the console the defense printed out: cruel and unusual punishment for misdemeanor offense, defendant demands jury
trial, release on bond pending trial date. Billy nodded approval; it was the only plausible approach. After a moment the prosecution side printed out: appeal noted. defendant will be notified when trial is scheduled. to be released on suitable bond pending trial.
Billy leaned back in his seat with an audible sigh of relief. But the Health Control man, still smiling, was holding a whispered conference with the police sergeant. Then he tapped out a message for the computer:
prosecution protests cash bond on grounds of arrest record. reasonable doubt defendant will appear for trial.
Moments later the court print-out went into activity again. Billy watched as the words appeared on his print-out:
protest sustained. defendant to be assigned to continuous personal electronic surveillance via broadcasting trans-sponder until trial date in lieu of other bond.
It was incredible and unheard of, but it was there. He was being assigned a transponder whether he accepted the computer-court's original sentence or appealed it; the net result was exactly the same. As he lurched to his feet the sergeant moved to block his escape and two more policemen came through the door. The sergeant opened a leather case and withdrew a small chrome-plated device that looked like a wrist watch with no face on it. Seizing Billy's right wrist, he clamped the transponder in place and turned the tamper-proof seal. Then, as Billy stood staring at the device in disbelief, the Health Control man stood up, still smiling, his briefcase in his hand. "Great talking to you, Billy," he said blandly. "Any time you'd like to shake that thing, just let us know that you want to talk. Meanwhile, don't do anything you wouldn't want us all to know about, because we'll know about it."
Moments later Billy Gimp was out on the street, clutching a computer-printed sheaf of instructions regarding the function and inviolability of the transponder. The rules were all there, plainly written; any attempt to tamper with the seal or remove the device without authorization was an automatic felony offense, and would generate an alarm signal that would be picked up by the nearest police copter or other police unit and bring swift investigation. The purpose of the transponder was surveillance and crime prevention, and Billy could be observed as closely as Health Control desired for a period of six months or more. Frightened and confused at the sudden turn of events, Billy took a ground-bus, disembarked within a few blocks of his room, and soon turned into the familiar Lower City street.
No wonder the Health Control man had been smiling, Billy thought. He had been outmaneuvered from the start, and Health Control had been certain of the outcome from the moment Billy had been arrested. They had led him along, and now he was trapped in an electronic web from which there was no appeal, and from which he could not even risk momentary contact with Doc. Indeed, on the surface it seemed that Health Control had clamped down hard on Billy. Yet something deep in his mind was still insisting that it was not him they really wanted. If they had wanted him and him alone they could have placed him incommunicado in a prison cell until an accelerated jury trial could have been arranged.
Only one thing seemed possible: that Health Control was really basically interested in trapping Doc, yet for some reason could not move directly against him; and that consequently they were using Billy, Doc's bladerunner, in some scheme to entrap him. And that meant that somehow, in some way, he had to warn Doc that
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