Judgment at Proteus

by Timothy Zahn

Only in recent months had we discovered that the Modhran homeland might be down but was far from out. Somehow, somewhere, he’d managed to stash away a lot more of his coral elsewhere on Yandro.

  And now we were going to that same homeland, to face the segment-prime that we’d hit so hard and with such devastation.

  I could only hope the segment-prime wasn’t the type to hold a grudge.

  * * *

  Seven hours after leaving Homshil, we pulled into Yandro’s second station.

  The place was just the way I remembered it: a barely noticeable wide spot in the Tube with a single siding, a single hatchway leading out into the vacuum of space, and a handful of service buildings scattered around. If any passengers even spotted it as their train roared through, they would naturally conclude it was some sort of maintenance area.

  Two Humans were waiting near the hatchway as the tender door irised open and Bayta, Terese, and I stepped out. One, an older woman with pure white hair, was stretched out on a sort of mobile recliner, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling with the slow rhythm of sleep. Our sector-prime contact, presumably, once again by prearrangement via my messages from Venidra Carvo. The second Human, a male, was standing beside her with his back to us. Beyond the hatch, a pair of Spiders stood motionlessly. “Modhri?” I called as we approached the Humans.

  “Yes,” the man confirmed, turning around to face us.

  And as Bayta jerked to a stunned halt, I felt my eyes widen.

  Because the man wasn’t just the old woman’s nurse or attendant. He was EuroUnion Security Service agent Ackerley Morse. A deep-cover Modhran walker, who also happened to hate my guts.

  And his presence here was most certainly not by prearrangement. At least, not my prearrangement.

  “Hello, Compton,” he continued, his voice calm as he nodded to me. “And to you, Bayta,” he added, nodding to her as well. “It’s been a while.”

  “Indeed it has,” I managed, flicking my eyes quickly across his clothing in search of a concealed weapon. If the Modhri had in fact lured Bayta and me here in order to kill us, they couldn’t have picked a better tool than Morse.

  Trained agent that he was, he picked up on my visual frisk. “Oh, relax,” he said, his tone in that irritating range between chiding and amused that I especially hated. “You must remember that even this little side door has the complete set of Spider weapons sensors.” He nodded at the two Spiders standing in the background. “And the complete set of weapons enforcement specialists.”

  I focused on the Spiders for the first time, a chill running through me as I spotted the pattern of white dots across their spheres. Only stationmasters and defenders had such patterns.

  And here, where no one came except by invitation, there were no stationmasters.

  Once again, Morse read my glance and its significance. “Yes, they’re defenders,” he confirmed. “Or so I assume. If you’d like, I could pick a fight with one and find out for certain.”

  “No, that’s all right,” I said. “Try not to take this the wrong way, Morse, but what the hell are you doing here?”

  “I’m part of the Modhri delegation, of course,” he said, his civilized voice turning slightly brittle. “One of his representatives to these negotiations.”

  “Really,” I said, not trying to hide my skepticism. Having a group of walkers spread out over a super-express or a Filiaelian space station could be very handy. Having a group of them at a conference was completely superfluous. “Are you expecting her to seize up and die or something?” I added, nodding toward the sleeping woman.

  “No fears,” the woman murmured, her eyes still closed. “This Eye is healthier than she appears.”

  Her hand lifted limply, gesturing toward Morse. “But Agent Morse is no longer merely an Eye. He is something new.”

  I eyed Morse. “I can hardly wait to hear this.”

  “Oh, you’ll like it,” Morse promised. “I’m now—” He paused, his eyes turning again to Bayta. “Actually, I’m now the Modhran version of you.”

  I stared at him … and then, abruptly, it clicked. “You mean you’re aware of him?” I asked disbelievingly.

  “Not only aware, but in something of a partnership,” Morse said dryly. “And I must say, Bayta, that it’s given me a much greater appreciation for the way you’ve had to live your life.”

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” I said, feeling like I was still two steps behind. “You’re in a partnership? With the Modhri?”

  “Correct,” the old woman said. “I have pledged to Agent Morse that he will have autonomy in all his actions, and that I will communicate with him but not control or influence him.”

  I eyed Morse. “And you’re guaranteeing this how?”

  “The same way anyone ever guarantees anything,” Morse said. “He’s given his word.”

  “His word,” I said flatly.

  “Like the word you gave him that you’d help his war against the Shonkla-raa,” Morse said pointedly. “Plus I know now how to spot the signs that he’s cheating.”

  “Interesting experiment,” I said. “And we’re doing this why?”

  Morse snorted. “Why do you think?” he demanded. “You’ve stated over and over that you don’t think the Modhri can survive without taking over everything in sight. This—me—is to show that he can.”

  “Really,” I said, studying his face. Certainly there were none of the subtle signs of Modhran control that I was familiar with. “Well, as a good-faith gesture, I’ll admit it’s impressive.”

  “It’s more than a gesture,” the woman insisted. “It’s a step toward my future.”

  “Is it?” I countered, gesturing at the old woman. “What about her? You haven’t told her what she’s carrying inside her, have you?”

  The woman’s lip twitched. “It was deemed that she would be unable to accept the truth,” the Modhri said reluctantly.

  “He’s got that right,” Morse put in gruffly. “I can tell you it was a hell of a surprise to have my mind suddenly talking back to me. Thought I’d finally gone round the bend.”

  “I can imagine,” I said. “But if you’re the Modhri’s future, it does rather bring up the question of what happens to the Modhri’s past. What happens to all the walkers like her who can’t handle the shock?”

  “What do you wish me to do?” the Modhri countered. “Order the colonies within all of those Eyes to die?”

  “And if I gave you that order?”

  The woman’s face tightened. “Don’t ask me to do that,” she warned, her voice dark and grim. “Don’t ever ask me to do that. Ever.”

  “Take it easy,” I said, thrown a little by the Modhri’s reaction. “And watch your tone. You’ve agreed to follow my orders, remember? Besides, none of your individual colonies are of lasting importance.”

  “Don’t ever ask such a thing of me,” the Modhri said again.

  “Don’t push it, Compton,” Morse warned quietly. “You know what happens when a mind segment starts losing pieces.”

  I grimaced. I did, too. It was the loss of two of his component parts to the murderer on our first super-express that had pushed that mind segment into making an alliance with me in the first place. “I understand your feelings,” I said. “But this is war. The odds are very high that some of us won’t live through it. Possibly none of us. You say you’ll follow my orders. But will you still say that when your walkers start dying and your mind segments feel their lives slipping away?”

  “Compton, what the hell are you doing?” Morse asked. “You trying to kink the whole deal?”

  “I’m trying to make sure he’s fully counted the cost,” I said. “The Modhri is like a wolf. He’s predatory, driven to grow and take over everything around him. That could make him an unreliable ally, especially if he’s going to argue every order on the grounds that it could hurt a little.”

  “Compton—”

  “It also makes him an unpleasant friend,” I continued. “You’d have a hard time findi
ng people who would want a wolf living with them. You’d never know when something would set it off, and you’d suddenly be turned into lunch. Or a mindless puppet, rather.”

  “I am what I am,” the old woman said, the sadness in her voice even more pronounced. Clearly, the Modhri was wondering if I was having second thoughts about our deal. “I am what I was created to be.”

  “And if you’re talking about me, I have no problem with our current relationship,” Morse added.

  “I understand that,” I said, nodding. “But you’re an extraordinary person. Most people, as I say, wouldn’t live with a wolf.” I raised my eyebrows. “But a lot of people are more than happy to share their lives with a loyal, trustworthy dog.”

  I looked back at the old woman. “Tell me, Modhri. What would you do if you were offered the chance to change from a wolf into that loyal, trustworthy dog?”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “I don’t understand.”

  “You said you were the way you were created,” I told him. “So are all the rest of us. But none of us has to stay that way. We can change. You can change. The question is whether you’re willing to do so.”

  For the first time the woman’s eyes opened. “How?” she asked.

  I braced myself. The next thirty seconds would make or break this whole deal. “You invite in the Abomination.”

  “The what?” Morse asked, frowning. “What the hell is—?” Abruptly, he broke off. “Oh,” he said in a suddenly subdued tone.

  “What’s an Abomination?” Terese asked.

  “It’s exactly what I just said: a calm, loyal dog to the Modhri’s wolf,” I told her. “Modified coral, modified walkers. They actually call themselves the Melding—Abomination is the Modhri’s term.” I frowned at Morse as something suddenly hit me. “In fact, now that I think about it, the Melding is exactly the same format that the Modhri’s running with Agent Morse right now.”

  “It would change me,” the old woman said, her voice trembling now. “I would never again be the same.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” I said, putting all the soothing confidence and sympathy into my voice that I could. “And I understand that change can be frightening, especially a change of this magnitude. I also know you fought the whole idea of that change once before.”

  “You were there,” Morse murmured.

  “Very much so,” I agreed. “But the situation’s changed. It’s no longer a choice of living as the Modhri or living as the Melding. It’s a question of living free or as the Shonkla-raa’s slave.”

  The woman shivered. “It can’t work,” she murmured tautly. “It would change me. It can’t work.”

  “Yes, it can,” I assured the Modhri. “It will. The Melding’s a cooperative partnership, which is what you’ve stated you want to be.”

  “And the Melding coral isn’t truly alien to you,” Bayta added quietly. “It’s only a modification of what you already are. The change won’t be nearly as large or as terrible as you think.”

  “But whatever the change, it will be permanent,” the Modhri said.

  “Probably,” I conceded, watching the old woman’s face. The Modhri was teetering on the edge, fear and hope pulling in opposite directions.

  I braced myself. Time to play my final card.

  “There’s one other thing to consider,” I said. “Bayta’s right about the Melding coral being similar to yours. But it’s not identical, and as a result the people in the Melding run on a slightly different telepathic frequency than you do.” I paused, waiting for the Modhri to find the obvious conclusion for himself.

  Morse got it first. “The Shonkla-raa may not be able to control them,” he said, an edge of cautious excitement in his voice. “Or to control us once we’ve combined with them.”

  “That’s my hope,” I said, nodding. “Now, it may be that the Shonkla-raa will still be able to affect the Melding the same way they do the Spiders and Bayta, which pretty much freezes them in confusion. But having your Eyes standing around like statues instead of actively shooting at us will go a long way toward making you useless as a weapon.”

  “Agreed,” the Modhri said. The fear was still in his voice, but the hesitation was gone. He was doing this to get out from under the Shonkla-raa’s thumb, and any step in that direction was a good one. “I accept your offer. How do we proceed?”

  “We start by bringing the same offer to the Melding,” I said. “Bayta and I will do that. While we’re gone, I suggest you send some of your Eyes to Homshil, Jurskala, and other major Quadrail centers in the area. The more mind segments who get the word, the faster we’ll be able to get the whole Modhri community up to speed on the plan.”

  “You think that’s wise?” Morse asked. “The more we spread the word, the easier it’ll be for some wandering Shonkla-raa to grab an Eye at random and find out what we’re up to.”

  “Let them,” I said as casually as I could manage. I was, in fact, counting on the Shonkla-raa doing that very thing. “Knowing that we’re going to alter the Modhri’s character won’t do them a damn bit of good until they know what direction that alteration will take.”

  “Because they can’t adjust their control tone and telepathic frequency until they know what ours will be,” Morse said, nodding. “They might be able to adjust long-term, but not short-term.”

  “And with luck, short-term is all we’ll need,” I agreed. “As for you, I’m thinking I’d like you to come along with Bayta and me. Ride shotgun, and all that.”

  Morse’s forehead creased. “Are you sure? I’m as vulnerable as anyone else.”

  “In theory, yes,” I said. “But as far as I know, the Shonkla-raa have never tried their bag of tricks on a Human walker before. You might surprise them.”

  “Or I might not,” Morse warned.

  “It’s worth the risk,” I said firmly.

  “You’re the boss.” Morse’s eyes flicked to Terese. “Or I could let you two go and I could escort Ms. German back to Earth.”

  “Yes, let’s do that,” Terese spoke up before I could answer.

  “Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “We know the Shonkla-raa still want you, and we also know they have some sort of force on Earth that hunts for pregnant women to exploit. We can’t risk you going back yet.”

  “And how is that your decision?” Terese demanded.

  “Because right now we’re the only ones who can protect you,” I said.

  “Is it me you care about?” she shot back. “Or this?” She jabbed a finger toward her belly.

  “We care about you both,” I said.

  “Yeah, that’s what Aronobal said, too,” she said acidly. “My life isn’t your business, Compton, and I’m done with this.” She gestured to Morse. “You—take me back to Earth. Now.”

  “I’ll be happy to take you back to the Terra Quadrail station, if that’s what you want,” Morse said gravely. “But as you just heard, I have other important duties I need to perform. I can’t take you all the way to Earth.”

  “Fine,” Terese said. “I can get back on my own.”

  “Of course,” Morse said. “But Compton’s right. Once our protection is removed, the Shonkla-raa and their agents will have little trouble taking your child.”

  Terese snorted. “They can have him.”

  “And since he’s not yet developed enough for them to risk removal,” Morse continued smoothly, “they’ll need to take you along with him. And to keep you for several more weeks.”

  “Until they think it’s safe enough for them to cut you open and take him out,” I added.

  Terese swallowed hard. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

  “We’re trying to give you the realities of the situation,” Morse said. “Staying with Compton and Bayta may be uncomfortable for you. But it won’t be nearly as uncomfortable as being in Shonkla-raa hands again.”

  Terese looked like she was ready to chew sand. But she just sighed. “Fine,” she muttered. “Whatever.”

  “So it’s settled,” I sa
id. “Bayta, Terese, Morse, and I will head out to talk to the Melding, while you send some Eyes to play Paul Revere.”

  “And then?” the Modhri asked.

  “I’ll let you know once I’ve talked to the Melding,” I said.

  “You must have some thoughts,” the Modhri persisted.

  “I have a few,” I said. “It would be best if we didn’t discuss them just yet.”

  “Compton—”

  “No, he’s right,” Morse said. “The Shonkla-raa can’t freeze him and demand he give up state secrets. They can do that with us. The less we know, the better.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “Bayta, we’ll take the tender back to Homshil and pick up a regular train.”

  “I suppose this Melding’s halfway across the galaxy,” Terese said sourly.

  “Not nearly that far,” the Modhri assured her. “They’re in an unspecified system near Sibbrava in the Cimmal Republic. Approximately a ten-day journey from here.”

  Terese stared at the old woman. “You already know where the Melding is? I thought they were a big fat secret.”

  “I know only the approximate area,” the old woman said. “Not the precise location.”

  “The Modhri knows a great deal about the galaxy,” I said. “It’s one of the things that makes him such a useful ally. Bayta, get the tender fired up, and let’s get moving.”

  * * *

  The last couple of weeks aboard the super-express had seen a slow but steady opening up of Terese’s defenses, at least toward Bayta. That relaxation of tension had faltered a bit during the seven-hour trip to Yandro, but I’d put that down to Terese’s very reasonable annoyance at being hauled out of her comfortable surroundings and loaded aboard a Spider tender.

  Now, as we left the hope of a quick return to Earth behind and headed back toward Homshil in that same tender, I discovered her walls had once again gone up.

  A logical, rational person would have blamed me. Terese, who was neither, blamed all three of us.

  I was used to it. Morse didn’t seem to care very much one way or the other.

  Bayta was devastated.

  She tried to hide it, of course. But I could tell. She’d worked so hard to get Terese to open up, and to be a friend to her, that she couldn’t help but take the teenager’s rejection personally.