Final Appeal

There is little in life more disappointing than having the target of your desire snatched from your grasp at the last moment. Alex knew that feeling all too well. The third time was not the charm, as the saying would have one believe; neither were the fourth, fifth or sixth.

Alex smoothed her jumpsuit. It was a copy of the ones worn by everyone else around her, made smaller and shaped to fit her. The cool grey of the jumpsuit clashed with her warm, golden-brown skin, reddish brown hair, and bright brown eyes, but she’d gotten used to it.

“Are you okay, little one?” The querent wore a matching jumpsuit, though half a meter taller, with six sleeves that decreased in size from the top pair to the bottom, heavily sloped shoulders, and a collar that would look at home on an alpaca.

The creature that filled out the jumpsuit had pale blue skin under a thick layer of grey-white vellus hair. Large, oval, compound eyes reflected the light from the windows like a finely cut gem.

“You can’t call me that anymore, Gerla.” Alex crossed her arms in an exaggerated huff. “I’m an adult now. I don’t know for sure, but I’d guess I’m twenty-one or two in Earth years.”

“Yes, but I’m still bigger than you.”

“Not fair. I’m tall for a human, especially a human woman, but you’ll always be taller.”

“I’ll always be older as well.” Gerla petted Alex’s hair with one of their top hands. “You’ll always be the baby that was dropped off with me by the scout mission.”

“Baby nothing. I was seven and tending a flock of sheep by myself.” Alex sighed. “I guess I should be grateful that they brought me here instead of straight to the labs.”

“Almost as grateful as I am,” Gerla said.

Alex hugged the creature. “Quit being so sweet, Gerla. I’m trying to be mad at you for calling me little.”

“You can be mad at me after the hearing. We’ll have time for it then.” Gerla moved one compound eye close to Alex’s face and the nictitating membrane closed and opened over it. Alex recognized it as always coming before a serious question.

“What is it?”

“Why are you still trying?” the creature asked. “What do you hope to gain? Freedom to return to your home?”

Alex shook her head. “This is my home — here with you, and all my friends. I can’t even remember what my mother or father looked like, or the name of the hills where we lived.”

“Then why?”

Alex stepped back from Gerla and spread her arms. “What do you see when you look at me?”

“I see Alex—”

“No,” she cut them off, “when you really look at me. You see a human, the only one on this planet. At least the courts have finally decided I’m sapient, after completing all the normal schooling a thoran child would receive and learning all the official languages of Sular.

“Still not a citizen, though. Still an orphan, as they won’t let you legally adopt me.” She dropped her arms to her sides and a hardness overtook her face. “This is my last chance. The final appeal. I’ve overcome every obstacle they’ve thrown in my way, just for them to find new, inventive ways of denying me this last, simple thing.”

“A finding from the court means nothing,” Gerla said. “It also doesn’t matter that we share no DNA, you are my progeny, and I am your progenitor. Forever—”

“And always,” Alex finished. “But this is important to me.”

Gerla put an arm around Alex’s shoulders. “I’m behind you all the way.”

Alex nodded and checked the time on the wall display. “We’re up.”

The heavy white doors opened with a soft hiss and Alex marched into the courtroom, head held high. She stood at the tall bench which reached her armpits.

A bailiff brought over a small step for her, so she would be tall enough to talk into the microphone and she accepted it with a polite smile. Unlike the other appeals as she worked her way up in the system, this courtroom was packed with spectators.

There was a steady murmur that spread through the crowd as she entered and continued until the bell of court rang and brought them all to their feet. The judges entered and sat at their bench, above the courtroom where they looked down on the proceedings.

The bell rang again, and the spectators sat. The attorney for the state tilted their head towards Alex and slowly closed and opened their nictitating membranes. Alex returned the silent greeting as best she could with a head tilt and slow blink.

The lead judge spoke. “We are gathered to hear the case of Alex, semi-sapient specimen, petitioning for Sulari citizenship. Is that correct?”

The state’s attorney made no move to correct the judge, so Alex herself did. “Your honors, the District of Corima court declared me fully sapient and capable of entering into legal contracts over four revolutions ago.”

“State’s attorney, is this correct?” one of the other judges asked.

“It is, your honors.”

“You would do well to keep your motions up to date. Seeing that this appeal was filed two revolutions ago, the state had ample time to update their position.” The lead judge flipped papers with their lowest, smallest hands, while their upper hands formed the pose for a query.

“Given that the State’s initial position was based on the plaintiff’s status as a semi-sapient, am I to take it that your arguments are all based on that as well?”

“No, your honors. Our arguments are valid regardless of the findings of the lower court on plaintiff’s sapience.”

“Very well. The court will hear the plaintiff’s arguments first.”

The four judges looked toward the plaintiff’s bench, and the one closest to that end raised their upper hands in query. “Are we to understand that you are representing yourself? Here? In the highest court in the land?”

“I am, your honors.”

“If you would indulge us, why?”

Alex tilted her head. “The reasoning for that will be become clear in my arguments, your honors.”

“Very well. Proceed.”

“I would first like to say that, contrary to the State’s fears, I do not plan on attempting to return to the planet of my origin and providing advanced technology to a savage world.”

“Objection! Assumption of motive,” the state’s attorney called out.

“Sustained,” the head judge said. “Please stick to the facts.”

Alex smiled. “I call your attention to plaintiff’s evidence items one through four. These are the rejection letters for my adoption from the Enclave, City, District, and State. In every one of them, the stated reason is that I may, and I quote, ‘Return to the planet of origin and provide that savage world with advanced technology.’ End quote.”

The state’s attorney seemed to shrink. Alex knew how old those documents were, and as she’d only found them after the last lost appeal — buried within the mountain of discovery her last attorney had largely ignored — was certain that they hadn’t thought they would be brought up.

“Which brings me to the point of self-representation. Besides missing these documents in discovery, my previous attorney was too expensive to continue with. Having no rights as a citizen, I can’t work to earn money. Being unable to support myself, I am, as an adult, still as reliant on Gerla, my state-appointed guardian, as I was a child.”

Alex looked at each of the judges in turn as she spoke. “I was brought here by a scouting party as a ‘biological sample’ eighteen revolutions ago. I did not come of my own volition, I did not volunteer, and I am not a refugee. I am, however, in every other sense, an orphan now. I don’t remember much of my family on Earth or even Earth itself.”

She took a deep breath. “If not for Gerla, I would likely have been dissected long ago. They taught me the languages of Sulari, how to read and write, and everything I needed to know to get by in thoran society, except for how to turn into a thoran.”

She swallowed hard. “In the Sulari constitution, citizenship is offered to every person, no matter where born, by naturalization of twelve revolutions. I remind the court, I have been here for eighteen revolutions.

“It is arguable that when that was written, one-thousand, two-hundred-eighteen revolutions ago, ‘person’ meant only thoran. As of two-hundred-nine revolutions ago, though, that no longer holds true.

“This court, in the case of The Senate versus Senator Burla, found that any sapient is entitled to the same protections offered to ‘persons’ in the constitution. If that truly is the case, why, historically, has that extended only to protection against abuse and not protection against disenfranchisement?

“I would like to also call your attention to the Sulari Book of the Law, volume four-hundred, Section thirty-four-eighty-two-point-nine, paragraph two. ‘Pursuant to Galactic Trade Laws, Sular will make no law nor finding that is in violation of the Galactic Rights of Sapients, as ratified on the seventh day of revolution three-thousand-twelve.’

“The Galactic Rights of Sapients, number eight, which has remained unchanged since then states, ‘Any sapient who is unable to return to their home world or another world of their species, shall be considered stateless. No member state of the Galactic Trade may refuse citizenship to a stateless sapient on request.’

“The state has already made it clear that I cannot return to my home planet, and my species only has the one. As such, the quoted laws make the state’s actions illegal and unconscionable.”

Tears began to pool in her eyes. “Your honors, I have no illusions about my position. In time, Gerla will grow old and feeble, no longer able to work. The state will provide for her retirement, but that retirement doesn’t cover feeding, clothing, and housing me.

“Further, that retirement is only the barest of essentials. Gerla has been a parent to me and taken care of me the majority of my life. I’m just asking for the right to take care of them in their old age. As a citizen, and as their lawfully adopted progeny, I can do that. As a ‘biological sample that happens to be sapient’, I can’t.”

Alex wiped her tears. “Thank you, your honors. Nothing more.”

She’d done her best, taken her best shot. Now it was down to the state’s attorney and the judges. Alex listened to the state’s attorney hem and haw over reasons why she shouldn’t be allowed citizenship. When it turned, inevitably, to travel to Earth with all the ‘dangerous technology’ of the thorans, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Finally, the state’s attorney ran out of steam, and the judges left the chamber to discuss and make their decision. This was the part she hated the most, the waiting.

The wait was short, the judges returning in a matter of minutes. The lead judge said, “I have some questions for the plaintiff.”

“Yes, your honor.” Alex’s heart fell. This didn’t feel like it was going to be good news.

“How many of your previous attorneys brought up the original rejection letters?”

“None, your honor.”

“And how many of them brought up the Sulari constitution — specifically, naturalization?”

“One, your honor.”

“And did that one bring up The Senate versus Senator Burla?”

“No, your honor.”

They tilted their head. “And how many of your attorneys brought up the Galactic Rights of Sapients, and legal Section three-four-eight-two-point-nine, paragraph —” they flipped through their notes, “— paragraph two?”

“None, your honor.”

“Where did you study law?”

“In the law library of District of Corima. Gerla was kind enough to escort me there every spare moment for the last two revolutions so I could prepare for this.”

“No formal schooling?” one of the other judges asked.

“No, your honor. As a non-citizen, I’m not entitled to free education, and on Gerla’s salary there was no way we could afford it.”

The lead judge took over again. “If given citizenship, you mentioned you want to work. What kind of work would you do?”

Alex shrugged. “Anything. I’ll tend livestock, scrub floors, anything.”

They tilted their head again. “Have you considered a career in law?”

“I, uh — not until this moment.”

The judges whispered among themselves, then the bell rang again. The judges stood, and the spectators stood as well.

“It is the finding of this court that the plaintiff has neither the motive nor the means to return to their home planet. As such, the state has violated Sulari law, Section three-four-eight-two-point-nine. Plaintiff is awarded full citizenship immediately, and the rejection of the original adoption request is hereby overturned.”

The lead judge raised their upper hands in query. “Is your adoptive progenitor here today?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“One of the bailiffs will escort you to my office where I will be honored to perform your swearing-in ceremony and sign your adoption decree. As a citizen, I would highly recommend law school, and I hope to see you here again in the future, representing someone else.”