The Weapon - Lex - part 10
By Diana the Valkyrie
Discovery
Update: 25/10/2003 to valkyrie05


I read the mountain of papers, I worked through the public court records, I
tried to absorb everything I could about the case, and it was while I was
doing that, that I realised something quite interesting. Although this was a
class action suit, and the initial kick-off had been from Roberts and Williams
Attorneys-at-law, the thing was that the agreements with the several
plaintiffs, wasn't entirely on a contingency basis. In other words, Roberts
and Williams would get paid whether they won or lost, and that is very
surprising in this sort of case. Usually, the law firm takes the case on the
basis that they get a percentage of the proceeds if they win, nothing if they
lose. It's a good way to get work for staff who would otherwise be idle, the
staff have to be paid their salary anyway, and if they win the case, or get a
settlement, then the law firm gets income they wouldn't otherwise get.

But in this case, they weren't only on a percentage. And that meant that
either the people suffering property damage had agreed to pay them win or lose
(which was *highly* unlikely) or else the funding was coming from somewhere
else. The reason why it was highly unlikely that the guaranteed cash was
coming from the people, was that on the face of it, this lawsuit was unlikely
to produce any money. Because everyone knew that she didn't actually have any,
or any assets. This had been emphasised very strongly at the time of the "Live
Long and Prosper" fund. Everything was owned by the fund, not her.

So who was backing this suit? I felt that this was something I wanted to know,
and that I'd ask for as part of the discovery process.

Discovery? Oh, that's rather wonderful. It's where you ask for all the
documents, emails, notes, and (if only it were possible) thoughts of the
people on the other side of the case, in the hope that you'll come across
something that weakens their case and strengthens yours. That, of course, is
why shredders were invented, but in the modern world, it has become remarkably
difficult to destroy information, there's always an extra copy someplace that
you didn't erase. Nixon discovered that a long time ago.

And although discovery is usually a double-edged sword, in this case there was
nothing for the plaintiffs to discover, since Wendy probably didn't write
emails to herself. Whereas who knows what I'd find if I fished a bit.

It was getting late. I was drafting my discovery subpoena when Wendy came
back. "It's not a big city, but it's a lovely place," she said. "What have you
been up to," I asked. She sat down.

On nothing. Just cross-legged in midair, it's one of the most casually
intimidating things she does. It's not that she's making any kind of overt
threat, she's just demonstrating how totally out of our league she is. "I
helped Jimmy Painter fix a puncture in his bicycle, I stopped Harry Banston
from backing his car into a lamppost, I took the other end of Mary Radford's
sheets and we folded them up, I ..." "You were out helping people and making
friends." "Yes. Yes, you could say that. Well, I like helping humans. What's
your hobby?"

"Wendy, you'll be all over the local newspapers tomorrow." "So? What's wrong
with that?" "Well, I was hoping that we could avoid publicity." "You must be
joking. I'm news. Just standing in one place I'm news. So I might as well fly
around and help a few people." "I suppose."

"And I've brought you back your supper." "Supper?" I looked out the window -
it was dark outside.

I'd gotten so engrossed in the case preparation, I'd lost track of time. She
showed me a few aluminium foil containers. "I was in the kitchen with Mrs
Trowcaster, and I showed her how to make a great curry. And we made enough for
her family, plus some for you." She gave me a plate, fork and spoon. The plate
looked familiar. I looked at it closely. "I didn't like to ask to borrow a
plate from her, so I popped home to get one of yours."

It's a whole different way of thinking. She just doesn't think like we do.
Rather than ask to borrow a plate, she flies ten thousand miles to get one of
mine. I don't think I'll understand this woman if I live to be a hundred. No,
wait. Woman is the wrong word. She's an alien. She's something, but she isn't
a woman. Not even a she, come to think of it, she'd told me they didn't have
sexes.

I've never been able to relate to women. No, let's be honest, I seize up like
a rusty nut when a woman is around. I think the reason I was able to cope with
Wendy, was precisely because she wasn't a woman, and although she sort of
looked like one (I say sort of, because when she deployed those huge wings,
she didn't look remotely like a woman, more like an angel maybe) she didn't
behave like one. Well, she did sort of.

But on the other hand, she didn't. Yes, I know I'm not making sense. So, *you*
try applying logic to a situation like this, I can't. So I didn't apply logic,
I applied the spoon and fork, and they applied very well indeed.

Maybe one day, someone will make a long list of all the amazing things that
the Guardian of Humanity can do, like going round the world twice in an
eyeblink, or creating universes. But I bet that at the top of the list, comes
"Makes a great curry".

The jet lag hit me like a sledgehammer after I'd eaten. It would have hit me
while I was eating, but with Wendy's curries, you're torn between wanting to
get the great food into your mouth, and trying to stop your tongue being
crisped by the hot curry. Wiping your eyes and nose slows you down a bit, too.

The ice cream afterwards helped, of course. And she used the kettle in the
room to make coffee. It was only instant, but I wasn't about to complain to
the cook.

Then I brushed my teeth, which has almost zero effect on the aftertaste of a
Wendy curry, and bedded down on the sofa.

"What are you doing," she asked. "Going to sleep." "But you aren't in bed,"
she pointed out. "No, that's true," I admitted. "Why not," she continued,
relentlessly. I could see that I wasn't going to be allowed to squirm out of
this. "Look, Wendy. I did suggest twin beds, but you insisted on a double. So,
obviously, you sleep in the bed, and I'll be fine on the sofa." "You're
barmy," she said.

"Wendy, I'm too tired to argue, it's been a long day, plus nine hours time
difference." She sat on the end of the sofa, and started counting off on her
fingers. "Number one, I don't sleep and you do, so what on earth is the point
of me having the bed and you having the sofa?" I admitted that she had a good
point there.

"Right. So we won't need number two."

I got off the sofa, and lay down in the bed. It was infinitely more
comfortable to lie down one, seeing as how it was actually designed for that
purpose. "What was number two, by the way?" I asked.

Then Wendy got into bed with me, and moved towards me. "Uh," I said.

"Number two, you don't really think that anything's going to happen unless I
want it to, do you?"

Well no. I guessed I was about as capable of forcing Wendy to do anything as I
was to stop the tide coming in.

Then she reached for me. "Come here, I want to hold you." I retreated. "Number
three." She didn't actually say what number three was, but I guessed it would
be something along the lines of "and you don't actually think you can stop me
from cuddling you?"

There comes a time when you have to stop fighting. There comes a time when you
have to surrender to the inevitable. That time is around eleven pm on a day
when you got up at seven am, got jetlagged to the tune of nine hours, and got
into bed 24 hours after you woke up. Did I mention that I'm a coward?

"I give up," I said. She pulled me over to her side of the bed, and held me
close. Her arms were around me, her legs twined around mine, and the blankets
seemed to have disappeared, to be replaced by something thick and feathery.

I didn't just say that I was surrendering. I really meant it. I was exhausted,
this really felt very comforting, and I was asleep within minutes, enfolded in
the hold of my friend, the Guardian of Humanity, Wendy. My last thought before
falling into the lap of Morpheus was that if I could choose just one person to
have as a friend, it would be this one.