by Timothy Zahn
But then, Bayta was already squarely in the Shonkla-raa’s crosshairs. She would be in danger no matter where she was.
It was complete and utter rationalization, of course. But right now, rationalization was all I had.
Sighing, I lay back down beside her. This time, it took me considerably longer to fall asleep.
TWENTY-FOUR
Terese was ecstatic at the thought of Rebekah joining our little group on the trip back to Yandro. I was a little taken aback by her enthusiasm until I discovered that Rebekah had promised her that the two girls could share a compartment, which meant Terese would have ten glorious days without having to look at either Bayta or me except at mealtimes.
I wasn’t happy about that. Neither was Bayta. But it was clear that this was the deal the Melding was offering, and I could take it or leave it.
We took the transport back to the unfinished station, where the twenty volunteer members of the Melding plus all their coral were distributed among the five tenders we’d seen parked there earlier. The Spiders had meanwhile brought in a sixth tender, which was soon loaded with the five members of my group and the three small crates of Melding coral that I’d asked for.
We gave the other tenders a three-hour head start, which I hoped would be sufficient to slip them past whatever observation net the Shonkla-raa had set up between us and Yandro. Then, with Terese and Rebekah chattering together like a couple of kids—which, of course, they were—we headed out.
We arrived at Sibbrava three and a half hours later. Once again, I’d timed things carefully, and the express train I’d been aiming for was no more than ten minutes out.
Unfortunately, aside from the double compartment that the Spiders routinely held in reserve whenever Bayta and I were in the area, the rest of the compartment car was booked solid. Apparently some major medical conference had just ended, and the first- and second-class sections of the express were bulging with Jurian, Halkan, and Belldic doctors. The latter group, according to the Spiders, had taken three double compartments all by themselves, using the fold-down upper berths as Bayta and I had with Terese to pack themselves two per compartment and four per double. I made a mental note that if I wanted to order any Belldic cuisine on this trip, I’d better grab it quick before everything got snatched up.
Back when we’d left Shorshic space for this end of the galaxy the Spiders had been able to add another compartment car to the train. Unfortunately, here at Sibbrava there was neither the time nor the car available for such a modification. That left half our reserved compartment for Terese and Rebekah, and the other half for Bayta, with ordinary first-class seats for Morse and me.
Bayta didn’t like that a bit, and offered several times to share her side of the compartment with me. Each time I gently but firmly refused. It wasn’t the arrangement I would have picked, but there were certain tactical advantages in having Morse and me separated from Bayta, but still in communication with her via Rebekah and the Modhri/Melding consciousness that she and Morse now shared.
I was careful not to point out that it also gave me a freedom of movement that I wouldn’t have if I was cooped up in a compartment with her.
We boarded, I got Bayta and the girls settled, made sure the crates of coral were secure, then headed back to the first-class coach car. Morse had found our seats, which had started out in opposite rear corners, and had moved them across the car to a spot where we could keep an eye on our fellow passengers and both the front and rear doors. He also gave me a quick head count on our current allies: two walkers in our first-class coach car, one of whom was among the crowd of Jurian doctors returning from the conference, plus eight more in second class who hadn’t been able to find seats in first.
The first day passed uneventfully. I kept an eye out for Riijkhan or any of the other Shonkla-raa whose acquaintance we’d already made, but I didn’t spot any of them. I did see a Filly who looked remarkably like our old friend Scrawny going into one of the compartments when I went forward to escort Bayta and the two girls to dinner. But later that evening, when I got a closer look, I realized it wasn’t him.
I’d expected to sleep badly that first night, stuck out in the open in a coach car. But to my surprise, I actually slept soundly and straight through. It wasn’t until I woke up in the morning that I recognized what my subconscious had already concluded: that the Modhran mind segment in our compartment was on guard, keeping close watch on Morse and me. The only way for the Shonkla-raa to short-circuit that watchfulness would be to take control of the walkers, and for that they would have to use their very obvious and distinctive control tone. I already knew that tone, and it was highly unlikely that I would sleep through it.
The second day also passed without incident. Morse periodically fed me updates from the Modhri, and on my frequent visits to the girls’ double compartment Bayta gave me similar reports from the Spiders. There were several Fillies aboard, with five in particular that I tagged as possible Shonkla-raa. Unfortunately, all five wore the high collars of the bishreol remak, a Filiaelian medical sect, and none of us were able to get a proper look at their throats.
Still, if they were Shonkla-raa, they were keeping their heads down. As the train settled down for the night I began to wonder if the enemy was still on their watch-and-wait game.
Late afternoon on the third day, the watchful waiting came to an abrupt end.
* * *
Morse and I had gone to the bar for a pre-dinner drink, and were in the middle of a quiet conversation on general strategy and tactics when he suddenly stiffened. “Uh-oh,” he murmured. “Here we go. One of our possible Shonkla-raa in first has just announced that there’s going to be a birthday celebration in the dining car in ten minutes, and the guest of honor is offering a certificate good for ten thousand free Quadrail light-years to everyone who shows up and offers a toast.”
“Nice,” I said, grimacing. Ten thousand light-years was the equivalent of a week’s journey. Even ultra-rich travelers who thought nothing of dropping hundreds of thousands on first-class Quadrail tickets weren’t likely to pass up a freebie of that magnitude. “They taking him up on it?”
“What do you think?” Morse said grimly. “They’re currently making a mad dash—a civilized mad dash, but a mad dash nonetheless—for the rear door. Do you want the Modhri to keep his two Eyes in there?”
“No, better let them go with the rest of the crowd,” I told him. The fewer potential obstacles to what was about to happen, the better. “Let’s head back and see what the Shonkla-raa have in store for us this time.”
We were nearly to the bar’s exit when the leading edge of first-class passengers appeared, heading past toward the dining half of the car. Rather than try to swim upstream against them, we stayed where we were. The last of them passed, and Morse slipped through the opening into the corridor. “You coming?” he asked.
“Go ahead,” I said. “I’ll catch up.”
A frown flicked across his face. But he nodded and disappeared around the corner as he headed forward.
I turned and hurried back to the server Spider behind the bar counter. “Relay,” I said quietly toward the expressionless gray globe hanging from its seven legs. “Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country. Repeat: now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country. Acknowledge.”
The Spider hesitated, then dipped his globe in response. “Acknowledge,” he said in his flat voice. Nodding, I turned and hurried back across the bar and down the corridor to the vestibule. I popped the door, crossed the vestibule, popped the far door, and stepped into our coach car.
Morse was waiting for me about twenty meters in, his posture unnaturally stiff. Standing with him were three of the five Fillies we’d tentatively tagged as Shonkla-raa.
Only it wasn’t so tentative anymore. They’d thrown open their high-collar bishreol remak disguises, revealing the telltale Shonkla-raa throats.
And filling the car was the high-pitched whistle I’d h
eard way too many times recently.
“There you are,” one of the Shonkla-raa said conversationally as I stopped just inside the vestibule door. “Please, come in. The party’s just getting interesting.”
“I’m sure it is,” I said, looking around as I walked slowly toward them. The promise of free Quadrail travel had cleared out the car, all right. Aside from us, the only two passengers still here were a Cimma with his back to us, who seemed to be thoroughly engrossed in the dit-rec drama playing on the display window in front of him, and a thin, elderly Human male sleeping in his chair, a furry blanket on his lap and a matching pillow tucked behind his head. I couldn’t tell if his chair’s music player was running, but if it was I had no doubt that the free travel announcement had missed him completely.
In fact, if the volume was high enough, there was a good chance that whatever unpleasantness the Shonkla-raa were about to unleash would also go unheard. “You realize we were expecting something like this, don’t you?” I said, turning my attention back to the Shonkla-raa.
“For whatever good that preparation has done you,” the Shonkla-raa said, looking around the empty car. “Amazing, isn’t it, how easily manipulated the peoples of the galaxy are?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “I see two who managed to resist your bribe attempt.”
The Filly snorted. “Not because of any integrity on their part, I assure you. I have no doubt we would be completely alone right now had they been physically able to hear our offer.”
“Maybe,” I said, stopping a couple of long strides short of their little group. “Though considering your preferred method of attack physically able to hear is an interesting turn of phrase. Might turn out to be a significant metaphor, too.”
“You may cling to such hopes if it pleases you,” the Shonkla-raa said, his eyes flicking to the sleeping man. “But rest assured that if that Human was a Modhran Eye, all the music in the galaxy would not protect him from our call. He, too, would be standing here with us right now.” He gestured toward Morse. “As is your former ally.”
I grimaced as I studied Morse’s face. So much for the hopeful theory that Human walkers might require a different command frequency. He was clearly locked up, tight as a drum and ready to dance to the Shonkla-raa’s tune. “That’s one for your side, I suppose,” I conceded. “By the way, where’s Osantra Riijkhan? He always struck me as the sort who’d never miss an opportunity to gloat.”
“Unfortunately, our guess was slightly incorrect as to where these supposed new allies of yours were located,” the Shonkla-raa said. “Osantra Riijkhan was caught out of position and unable to join us in time. The honor of your final defeat has thus come to me.”
“Well, don’t go counting your chickens, because I’m not yet ready to hand over my sword,” I warned. “Regardless, it’s considered a basic courtesy for the challenger to offer the challenged his name.”
The color of the Filly’s blaze was fluttering a little, probably from all the Human cultural references I was throwing at him. But his voice was clear and steady enough. “Forgive me,” he said, inclining his head. “I am Isantra Yleli.”
I stared at him. “Yleli?”
“I’m pleased you remember his name,” Yleli said, clearly enjoying my bewilderment. “Yes, the late Tech Yleli was one of my kinsmen.” His blaze darkened. “That was why we knew his murder would be the ideal bait to draw you and the alien woman Bayta into our Kuzyatru Station trap.”
A shiver ran up my back. I’d known how ruthless the Shonkla-raa were. But this was a level of cold-bloodedness far beyond anything even I had expected.
And I’d deliberately brought Rebekah into reach of these people. Rebekah, Terese, and Bayta.
But there was still a chance. I had to hold on to that. “I’m constrained to point out that his murder, convenient though it might have been for you, didn’t exactly result in a Shonkla-raa victory. As I recall, it ended in a rather resounding Shonkla-raa defeat.”
His blaze went considerably darker this time. “They were careless,” he said stiffly. “We won’t make that mistake again.”
“Of course not,” I said. “But thank you for the demo. I imagine you’ll want to settle back in under your rocks before the rest of the passengers finish toasting the birthday boy and come trooping back.”
“There’s no hurry,” Yleli assured me. “It is, after all, a very long and complicated toast. And the demo is far from over.” He gestured to one of his two companions.
The other nodded silently and turned, heading forward toward the compartment car. He reached the vestibule, popped open the door, and stepped inside.
I tensed. The instant the door closed behind him, his contribution to the control tone holding Morse in place would be cut off. That would leave just the other Shonkla-raa still broadcasting. If I could get to him before Yleli could pick up the slack …
But Yleli was already a step ahead of me. The vestibule door was still sliding closed when he raised his own voice in the whistling control tone. “What now?” I asked, wondering if I could get him to stop whistling and explain or gloat some more.
But again, he was smarter than that. He ignored the question, keeping up his part of the siren song. Grimacing, with nothing else I could do, I settled in to wait.
The seconds stretched into minutes. Morse’s face changed once during that time, lines of puzzlement or concern rippling briefly across his face. But if Yleli noticed, he didn’t bother to ask about it. To my right, the Cimma snuffled a couple of times, and I realized he’d fallen asleep with the dit-rec drama still playing in his chair’s sound system. Maybe he’d been asleep all along. Behind me, the old man gave a wet-sounding snort of his own and shifted a little in his own journey through dreamland.
And then, after about three minutes, the vestibule door opened again and Terese stumbled into view, her face ashen white. Behind her was Rebekah, her eyes as glazed in their own way as Morse’s, walking toward our little group like a person in a slow-motion dream.
Behind them, her eyes not nearly so glazed, her expression a mixture of fear and determination, her arm held firmly in the Shonkla-raa’s grip, was Bayta.
“You said earlier that was one for our side,” Yleli said as the newcomers came up behind him. “I believe this is now four for our side.”
I studied Rebekah as she and the others came to a halt. The impression I’d first had of her as a sleepwalker was still holding. Her movements were slow and reluctant, and I noticed that she took an extra step after the Shonkla-raa came to a halt, as if she was slightly out of synch with her new masters’ commands. Maybe that was the Melding itself, or possibly her polyp colony plus the inertia of the extra coral tucked away in the compartment.
Still, the fact that Rebekah was moving, albeit slowly, didn’t add up to much of a victory for our side.
Not that I was going to admit that to Yleli. “Looks more like three and a half to me,” I said. “Or maybe two and two halves. Rebekah doesn’t look like she’d be of much use in a fight, and you’re barely getting Bayta to walk.”
“I admit your new allies are a challenge,” Yleli said. “But have no fear. We’ll have them under full control soon enough.” He half turned to look at Bayta. “As for Bayta, a bit of study on her and we’ll soon have her people’s command tone, as well.”
“Not likely,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a double flicker of subdued light from the Tube wall outside the display window on that side. “I also seriously doubt that Rebekah and her Melding cohorts will ever be of any practical fighting use to you.” I gestured at her. “You might as well attack Buckingham Palace with a bunch of stick puppets. In fact, let’s give it a try.” I started forward, veering to the side to avoid Yleli and Morse, and headed toward Rebekah.
The sheer unexpectedness of the move apparently caught Yleli by surprise. I got to within two steps of Rebekah before he took a quick step to his side, putting himself between her and me. “Stop!” he ordered, his hands sn
apping up into their stabbing configurations.
“What’s the problem?” I asked, stopping as ordered and forcing my hands to stay at my sides. The last thing I wanted right now was to give him even half an excuse to attack me. “You think you can control her well enough to fight? Fine. Prove it.”
“Move back,” Yleli said, all trace of his earlier mocking levity gone. He’d probably heard enough of my exploits from the Proteus survivors to know that even the most casual move on my part should be viewed with suspicion.
So had his two friends. Even as I obediently took a step backward they circled around Morse and the women to flank me. “You have the wrong idea,” I said mildly.
{Remove him to the baggage area,} Yleli said, his voice all icy business now as he switched from English to Fili. {Secure him there—we may yet have need of him alive. When you return we’ll transfer the coral to our compartment for closer study.} One of the other two Shonkla-raa acknowledged, and they both started toward me.
And at that moment, the vestibule door behind them at the forward end of the car slid open and a dozen Bellidos streamed in, chattering away among themselves, the soft plastic status guns in their shoulder holsters bouncing rhythmically against their sides as they walked. The whole Belldic doctor contingent had apparently decided to head en masse to the dining car for an early dinner.
One or two witnesses apparently weren’t a problem for Yleli, given that he hadn’t bothered to completely clear out the coach car before confronting us. But even a Shonkla-raa had to hesitate at the logistical challenge of killing and disposing of this many beings. He snapped a quiet order that stopped his two buddies in their tracks, flashed me a warning look, then went as still as a hunter in a duck blind as he watched the line of doctors strolling toward us.
Not that the Bellidos themselves showed the slightest awareness that anything unusual was unfolding in front of them. A couple of them glanced incuriously at our group, then returned to their conversations. A couple of others looked around and at the ceiling, frowns briefly crossing their striped chipmunk faces as they tried to locate the source of the command tone whistle filling the car.
