by Timothy Zahn
“Because he doesn’t want to be a slave.” She eyed me. “I suppose you find that funny.”
“I find it ironic,” I corrected. “Not necessarily the same thing. And frankly, having now seen the Shonkla-raa in action, I’ll take any help I can get.”
“I’m not sure my people will accept this,” she warned, lowering her voice still further.
“They’ll be welcome to voice any objections,” I assured her. “Provided they can also offer some practical alternatives.”
“Mr. Frank Compton?”
I turned, tensing, my hand automatically reaching for the Beretta, which was already tucked away in a Spider lockbox ready to be loaded aboard our next train.
But it wasn’t a Shonkla-raa who was striding toward me, or any Filly at all, for that matter. It was a Halka, tall and regal, dressed in the distinctive tricolor layered robes of the Halkan Peerage. A couple of watchful and tough-looking bodyguards trailed at a respectful distance behind him. “I’m Frank Compton,” I confirmed warily. “Do I know you?”
“Senior Ambassador ChoDar of the Halkavisti Empire,” he identified himself formally. “No, we haven’t met. But I believe we may once have had an acquaintance in common. High Commissioner JhanKla.”
I suppressed a grimace. JhanKla and I had met, all right. He’d turned out to be a Modhran walker, he’d tried his best to kill me, and I’d ended up killing him instead. “Yes, the high commissioner and I did meet once or twice, Your Eminence,” I conceded.
“Yes, I thought so,” ChoDar said. “So very regrettable, his mysterious disappearance aboard that ill-fated Quadrail.” He shook his head, chasing the memories away. “But that is the past. Tell me, Mr. Compton, are you and your companions on your way back to our side of the galaxy?”
“Yes, we are,” I said, frowning. Given ChoDar’s rank and position and how thoroughly the Modhri had penetrated the upper echelons of Halkan society, it was almost a dead certainty that he was also a walker. What was the Modhri up to? “Why? Was there some place in the Assembly you thought I might like better?”
“By no means,” he assured me. “As it happens, I too have decided to return to my home. Since we travel the same route, and since you were a friend of High Commissioner JhanKla’s, I’d hoped you and your companions would share my Peerage car during the journey.”
And then I understood. A Halkan Peerage car was one of the standards of galactic elegance, dripping with luxury, comfort, and prestige. More importantly, Peerage cars were always connected to the rear of whatever Quadrail they were traveling with. Nestled snugly inside, we would be isolated, alone, and away from prying Shonkla-raa eyes. “That’s very generous of you, Your Eminence,” I said. “But I wouldn’t want to impose on your hospitality.”
“It would be an honor, not an imposition,” he said. “But I warn you: if you accept, be aware that you won’t be able to change your minds after we’ve left.” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “To be honest, I find Filiaelians to be sometimes wearisome. I have therefore requested the Spiders to omit the usual vestibule connector between our car and the rear baggage car of our train.”
I smiled tightly. Isolated, alone, away from prying eyes, and now completely separated from the rest of the train by a couple of meters of partial vacuum, a barrier even a Shonkla-raa whistle couldn’t penetrate. Unless Bayta and I were willing to be cooped up for the next two months inside a Spider tender, there was no safer way for us to get back to Human space.
The Modhri wasn’t just waiting around for me to make up my mind about accepting him as an ally. He was already behaving like one.
“Thank you, Your Eminence,” I said. “We would be honored to accept your hospitality.”
“I’m pleased,” he said. He smiled, and for just a second his face sagged and his eyes flattened with the telltale signs of a Modhran presence. The Modhri’s version of a knowing wink? “I look forward to whiling away the hours in pleasant conversation with you. An ambassador, after all, hears many things.”
“I’m certain he does.” I looked at Terese, who was oblivious to the true nature of the situation. I looked at Bayta, who understood the situation completely and still was far from sure this was a good idea.
“Especially my particular passion of Filiaelian high opera, and those who sing it,” ChoDar added. “Are you interested in such things, Mr. Compton?”
“Indeed I am,” I said softly. “I look forward to hearing all about it.”
TWENTY
An hour later, as snug and safe as we could reasonably hope to be under the circumstances, we headed out.
It was a potentially stressful situation, given the fact that we were all essentially strangers to one another. But ChoDar was a senior ambassador, and within minutes of our train passing through the station’s atmosphere barrier it was clear that his rank and title hadn’t just been someone’s idea of a last-minute New Year’s gift. He started by personally giving us a tour of his car, chattering away genially the whole time. He introduced us to his two guard-assistants, the servitor who handled most of the day-to-day servant work, and his chef. He even allowed us a tantalizing sample of the sauce the latter was working on for our dinner, a Halkan courtesy that was usually reserved for close friends. By the time he showed us to our sleeping compartments even Terese’s tension had eased noticeably.
Dinner, two hours later, more than lived up to what the samples had promised. Again, ChoDar was the perfect host, keeping the conversation going and filling in any potentially awkward gaps with highly entertaining stories of his experiences traveling around the galaxy on behalf of the Halkavisti Empire.
After dinner came drinks in the lounge and more stories. Terese seemed to be fading rapidly—not surprisingly, given the stress of her pregnancy plus the hell she’d just been through on Proteus—and I made a point of keeping an eye on her.
Sure enough, midway through my second iced tea her eyes drooped closed, and her body slumped limply in her contour chair.
“Spice-broiled pipita often has the same effect on me,” ChoDar commented cheerfully, gesturing to the sleeping girl. “Shall I have YhoTeHeu carry her to her compartment?”
“No, she should be all right here,” I assured him, going over for a closer look at her. She seemed all right.
On the other hand, we really had no idea what Aronobal and the rest of the Shonkla-raa ghouls had done to her back on Proteus. Tomorrow, I decided, I would take a few skin and blood samples from her, unpleasant though that kind of task was to me, and run them through my reader and its sophisticated sensors.
“She certainly should be comfortable enough,” ChoDar commented, fondly patting the arms of his own chair. “These chairs are every bit as restful as the sleeping-room beds.” He yawned, a Halkan facial gesture that those unfamiliar with the species invariably assumed was an angry snarl. “In fact, if you’ll forgive such unhostlike behavior, I feel a small nap of my own coming on.”
“No apology or forgiveness needed,” I assured him. “In fact, I’ve been wondering myself how these chairs sleep.”
“Do try it, by all means,” ChoDar urged sleepily. “We’re all friends here, after all. Until later.”
He closed his eyes. I waited, and within a minute his breathing settled into the long rhythmic pattern of sleep.
I took a deep breath. “Hello, Modhri,” I said quietly.
Even in sleep, ChoDar’s face betrayed the slight but distinctive sagging of Modhran control. “Hello, Compton,” he murmured back. “A greeting to you, as well, Bayta.”
“Good evening, Modhri,” Bayta said. Her voice was polite enough, but I could tell she still wasn’t happy with this whole cozy relationship.
“Before we turn to other matters,” the Modhri said, “be first assured that the Shonkla-raa did nothing of long-term hazard to your companion. My mind segment on the Ilat Dumar Covrey station included two doctors. By the time our train left they had discussed the various medicines and procedures that my Eyes on Kuzyatru Station h
ad seen and concluded that she is in no danger.”
His mouth twitched. “No additional danger, rather,” he amended. “She still carries the same genetic disorders that she had when she first came to the Filiaelian Assembly.”
“Yes,” I said, feeling a pang of guilt. Which was ridiculous, of course. Bayta and I had saved her from deadly danger out there.
Or had we?
Because we knew now that what the Shonkla-raa wanted was her unborn son. Part of that goal would have been for the boy to grow up into a productive, influential member of Human society. And the simplest way to do that would be to make sure he had a living, healthy mother.
Did that mean that, except for our interference, they would have cured her genetic problems?
But I couldn’t afford to think about one young girl’s future. Not when the future of every person in the Twelve Empires depended on us.
“We appreciate the information,” I said to the Modhri. “If we succeed in our endeavors, we may yet be able to deal with her medical problems.”
“We may hope so,” the Modhri said. “But now to the business at hand. May I ask how you intend to proceed? Particularly now that you may no longer travel freely through the Filiaelian Assembly?”
“I can travel through it just fine,” I corrected. “I just can’t leave the Tube.”
ChoDar snorted gently. “A meaningless distinction, since the Shonkla-raa will not be in the Tube.”
“Oh, they’ll be here, all right,” I said, grimacing. “As long as we’re here, there will be Shonkla-raa haunting every station and probably every train between here and Homshil.”
“Perhaps,” the Modhri said. “That will still leave the bulk of the enemy outside your area of operation. And as you’re already aware, my own presence in the Assembly is limited to traveling non-Filiaelians.”
“True,” I said. “But I have a few allies of my own I may be able to press into hunting duty.”
ChoDar inclined his head doubtfully. “You’ll need more than a few,” he warned. “The Assembly is an incredibly huge place.”
“But Shonkla-raa throats aren’t exactly easy to hide,” I reminded him. “Speaking of which, have you spotted any aboard this train? Or are we too far back to be in contact with the rest of your mind segment?”
“No, my other Eyes are spread out sufficiently to maintain a single segment with this Eye,” the Modhri said. “I haven’t yet seen any Shonkla-raa, though there may be one or more secluded inside first-class compartments.”
“They’d do better right now to use agents like Dr. Aronobal who aren’t actual Shonkla-raa,” Bayta murmured. “We wouldn’t be able to identify them so easily.”
“Good point,” I agreed. “And with the chaos we left back on Proteus, I’m guessing that’s all they were able to get on our train in time anyway.”
“What then do we do?” the Modhri asked.
“We watch and wait,” I told him. “If their agent is clever enough to avoid identification, there’s nothing we can do.” I cocked an eyebrow. “On the other hand, if we can identify him…”
ChoDar’s head nodded slightly, as a sleeping person might. “We can make him one of my Eyes.”
Abruptly, Bayta stood up and strode out of the lounge toward the sleeping rooms.
“My apologies,” the Modhri said quietly. “That was insensitive of me.”
“That’s all right,” I said. “She’s still getting used to this.”
“And you?”
I shrugged. “I was in Intelligence work long enough to know that you sometimes have to deal with one threat at a time. Right now, the Shonkla-raa are holding down the number-one spot on that list.”
“And after they’re defeated?” the Modhri asked, a sudden edge of nervousness to his voice. “Will our war then resume?”
“Do you want it to?” I countered.
ChoDar sighed. “I am what I am, Compton. You are what you are.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Personally, I’m a big believer in the idea that people can change.”
ChoDar smiled faintly. “And that, I believe, is the great strength of your people. No matter how powerful the forces arrayed against you, you never give up.”
“It’s definitely a strength,” I agreed. “But it can also be a weakness. I’ve seen people latch so hard onto a pre-conceived notion that they don’t let go even when reality no longer supports it.”
“Let us hope that neither of us ever so blinds himself,” the Modhri said.
“Indeed,” I said. “Anyway, by the time we have all the Shonkla-raa nests identified and located, I’m hopeful that we’ll have the capability of destroying them.”
ChoDar’s breathing changed, just slightly. “You have a plan?”
“I always have a plan,” I said, allowing just a bit of smug confidence into my voice. “Nothing I’m ready to share at the moment.”
For a moment he was silent. I wondered if he was going to take offense at my going all dark and mysterious on him, especially when we were supposed to be on the same team now.
But he didn’t. Maybe he knew that pressing the issue would be a waste of time. Maybe he simply trusted me. “I’ll look forward to hearing it when the time is right,” he said instead. “Have you any plans for the present?”
“I’ll start by sending out word to my various allies from the Spider message center at the next station,” I said. “Some of them are a bit tricky to locate, so I’ll need to start the process as soon as possible. In two weeks, when we reach Venidra Carvo and transfer to the super-express, I should have pings from all of them and will know where to send their individual orders and search areas. I’ll do that, and by the time we reach Homshil we should have preliminary reports from all of them.”
The Modhri seemed to ponder that. “Then some of your allies are already here in the Assembly?” he asked. “Otherwise, they will barely have arrived in Shorshian territory by the time we reach Homshil.”
“Let me worry about the timing and locations,” I said. “For now, all you need to do is keep an eye out for Shonkla-raa agents.”
“I will,” he promised. “When we reach the next station and you leave the car to deliver your messages, will you wish me to provide escort for you?”
“I’ll let you know when we get there,” I said. “Fillies in general aren’t all that good at distinguishing one Human face from another, and I may be able to just slip through whatever search party they’re able to throw together.”
“As you wish,” the Modhri said. “I’ll await your instructions.”
“Good.” I stood up. “And now, I think I’ll turn in. It’s been a long and rich day.”
Again, a faint smile creased ChoDar’s face. “That it has,” he agreed. “Shall we let the other two sleep here?”
The other two: Terese, and ChoDar, the body he was currently inhabiting. Even now, hearing the Modhri talk about his current host in the third person could still creep me out. “Fine with me,” I said, forcing my voice to stay casual. “As you pointed out, the chairs are quite comfortable.”
“Indeed,” the Modhri said. “Sleep well, Compton.”
ChoDar took a deep breath, and the sagging of his face disappeared as the Modhri retreated again into the recesses of the Halka’s brain. “You too,” I murmured.
My compartment door was open when I arrived. Bayta was sitting on the couch, gazing moodily out the display window at the featureless Tube landscape rolling past. “You heard?” I asked as I sat down beside her.
“Most of it,” she said. “Who exactly are these allies you were talking about?”
“The Modhri himself, for starters,” I said. “Korak Fayr and his Belldic commando squad. Also Bruce McMicking, who’s always up for a good fight. One or two others. The Spiders. You.”
“Most of whom are nowhere near Filiaelian space right now.”
“Well, there’s Logra Emikai,” I reminded her. “He’s certainly become an ally. But aside from him, you’re probably right. Th
ough you really never know where Fayr might pop up.”
She took a deep breath, let it out in a long, silent sigh. “You don’t really have a plan, do you?”
“Sure I do,” I said. “We draw the Shonkla-raa out of hiding, kill them, then destroy any records they may have left about their procedures.”
“Those are goals,” she pointed out. “Not plans.”
I shrugged. “I’ll admit there are still a few details to be worked out. Don’t worry, we’ve got time.”
“You really think you can trust the Modhri?”
“For the moment, yes,” I said firmly. I might not have a real plan yet, but that one, at least, I had no doubts about. “He helped us on the super-express and at Proteus, and enlightened self-interest should keep him firmly on our side.” At least, I didn’t add, until we got back to Yandro for my requested face-to-face with the segment-prime.
At that point, things might change. Drastically.
“And once we’ve destroyed the Shonkla-raa?” she asked. “What then?”
“I have a couple of ideas,” I said evasively. “I think we can make it work.”
“Make what work? A truce? An armistice? Peace?”
“We’ll make it work,” I said again.
“All right,” she said, her tone suggesting more dutiful acceptance than genuine agreement. “The next stop is six hours away. Do you want me to help you encode the messages you said you wanted to send?”
“No, I can do it,” I said. “They’re mostly just the preliminary heads-up notes to get Fayr and McMicking ready to move. The more detailed stuff can wait until Venidra Carvo.”
“When you will have a plan?”
I reached down and took her hand. “It’s going to work, Bayta,” I said quietly. “Trust me.”
She gave me a forced smile. “I always have, Frank,” she said, just as quietly.
“Then that’s settled,” I said, trying for a touch of levity that didn’t quite come off. “And now, it’s time we both hit the sack. Come on, I’ll walk you back to your room.”
She smiled, a real one this time. “What, the whole ten meters?”
