by Timothy Zahn
And then I caught sight of a figure approaching on the other glideway. He was too far away for me to tell whether he had a Shonkla-raa throat, but from his stiff posture and air of alertness I suspected he wasn’t just some random citizen returning from dinner.
Suddenly, it wasn’t two against one, but three.
And now I was well and truly trapped. If I did nothing, the third Filly would shoot past me, step onto the unmoving part of the corridor, and I would be bracketed. If I ran, no matter which glideway I chose, there would be an opponent on my tail within seconds.
Better to make a bad choice, I decided, than to lose by default. Clenching my teeth, I stepped back onto my original glideway and headed as quickly as I could toward the fast edge. So far only one of the Shonkla-raa had demonstrated he was carrying any weapons, and I would rather be facing him when he threw his next bola than have my back to him.
But once again, the Shonkla-raa had thought things through. The one with the bolas had already stopped moving toward the corridor; but instead of attempting to close the distance to me he was merely standing there on his section of glideway, waiting for me to pass him by on my faster section.
At which point, I realized, I would be only about half a glideway’s width away from him. Even with the speed differential, I would be pretty damn impossible to miss.
But there was nothing I could do, nowhere I could go. I crouched down, making myself as small a target as I could, angling my arms into defensive combat positions in front of me. If I could catch the bola on my arms and torso and keep it away from my legs I would at least still have the theoretical option of running. I swept to and past him, and he raised the bola to throw.
And abruptly jolted forward as something slammed hard into his back. Even as he tried to regain his balance, a second object slammed into him, jarring the bola loose from his hand and sending him flailing forward to crash face-first onto the glideway.
I looked across at the other glideway. While my full attention had been on the Shonkla-raa with the bola, the Filly approaching from the other direction had closed the distance between us and stepped off onto the corridor floor.
Only it wasn’t a third Shonkla-raa, as I’d thought.
It was Emikai.
Even as my brain registered that fact, he swiveled around, brought the gun in his hand to bear on the remaining Shonkla-raa, and fired.
But his target was already in motion, diving toward the glideway’s fast end and taking Emikai’s pancake-sized projectile in a glancing blow off his shoulder instead of getting it full-force against his torso. The pancake ricocheted off the wall, did another bounce off the ceiling, and went wobbling off somewhere behind me. The Shonkla-raa himself hit the glideway chest-first, lay there just long enough for the speed gradient to spin him around and align him along the glideway the way it had already done twice to me, then rolled his way quickly over to the fast track. The other Filly, the one Emikai had first shot, had also managed to get himself to the same part of the glideway and was following his comrade as fast as it could take him.
“Compton!” Emikai called. “Let them go.”
I didn’t need any persuasion. I crossed the glideway, watching as the two prone Fillies disappeared off into the distance, and stepped off.
Emikai hurried up beside me. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “Thanks for the assist.” I looked down at the weapon in his hand, short-barreled but with a long grip and an extended magazine. “Nice toy. What does it fire?”
“They are called expanders,” he said. “Expanding impact disks, non-lethal but with a high degree of stopping power.”
“A beanbag gun,” I said, nodding. “We use them sometimes in the Confederation. I usually prefer snoozers—you can get a higher magazine count with them. But of course they don’t have any stopping power to speak of. I don’t suppose there’s any chance I can persuade Captain Lyarrom to issue me one?”
“I doubt it,” Emikai said. “I only have one myself because I have been temporarily reinstated as an enforcement officer aboard Kuzyatru Station.”
I felt my eyebrows creeping up my forehead. “Congratulations,” I said. “Someone recognized your skill and merit?”
“Someone recognized the anomalies in the evacuation drill coverage,” Emikai corrected, his voice going grim. “This has them seriously concerned.”
“No doubt,” I agreed, wondering what the hell he was talking about. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“Exactly my point.” Emikai looked over his shoulder. “But come—I believe your msikai-dorosli is going to need our assistance.”
I’d almost forgotten about Doug. I turned to see him limping toward us on three legs, his fourth partially tied to his belly by the balls and cords still glued to him. “So he is,” I agreed, starting toward him. “Tell me about this evacuation drill.”
“They are safety drills that are scheduled at irregular intervals, each usually involving a single sector or subsector,” Emikai explained as he fell into step beside me. “They are supposed to be announced in every public area within the drill region, with a duplicate message sent to each comm within the area.”
“Which area was involved?”
“Subsector 25-F-4, extending from the medical dome outward to the edge of the sector and for five corridors to either side of this one.” He looked at me. “The area we are currently in.”
I stared at him, a creepy feeling running through me. “My comm never went off,” I said. “Neither did Minnario’s.”
“Nor was it announced in this corridor,” Emikai said, his voice and blaze going dark. “Or in the side corridor leading to Attorney Minnario’s quarters. That was the discovery that led me to request a weapon and come looking for you.”
“I’m very glad you did, too,” I said. “How many comms besides Minnario’s and mine were left out of the general announcement?”
Emikai sighed. “As best as could be established, none.”
No wonder I’d had the whole place to myself. “Cute. Seems a little like overkill, but still cute. Any idea how they pulled it off?”
“We know some of it,” Emikai said. “The order for such drills comes from the office of the sector overseer. This one seemed to follow the proper protocol, which is why it was passed and activated.”
“So they know how it’s supposed to be done,” I concluded. “That tells us they’re either highly placed locals, or else have a connection to highly placed locals. What gave away the show?”
“As it happened, I was working a deep-level analysis at the time and my search picked up an anomaly,” Emikai said. “I investigated, and discovered that instead of originating in the overseer’s office, the message had merely been echoed from that site.” He looked sideways at me. “It had originated from the computer in the late Tech Yleli’s apartment.”
“So they have a computer whiz on their team,” I said thoughtfully. “Bayta told me earlier that the station computer hadn’t been able to identify our friend Blue One. Now we know why. Either somebody slipped him into the station without the computer noticing, or else scrubbed him out once he was in.”
“An unpleasant and ominous ability, indeed,” Emikai mused.
“Yeah,” I grunted. “Tell me about it.”
We reached Doug and crouched down beside him. “What are these things, anyway?” I asked as I gave one of the red balls an experimental tug. It seemed to be glued solidly to both his feathery belly fur and his pineapple back. “I’d think something like this wouldn’t be welcome here.”
“The kristic is a weapon for hunting small game,” Emikai said. “Upon sharp impact the balls secrete a strong adhesive through micropores. And they are most definitely not welcome aboard. They are forbidden, in fact.”
“So whoever it is who sneaks people aboard Proteus also likes playing with cargo manifests,” I said. “Is there any way to get the things off him?”
“The security nexus wi
ll have a solvent,” Emikai said, pulling out his multitool and popping out a knife blade. “Cutting the cords should enable him to walk properly.”
“Good idea,” I said. “I’d rather not have to carry him.”
“Yes.” Emikai set to work cutting through the cords. “I have a question. One which you may not like.”
“I get those all the time,” I assured him. “Go ahead.”
“How well do you truly know your assistant Bayta?”
“Extremely well,” I said, frowning. “Why?”
“I told you I was working on a deep-level analysis when the drill order came through,” he said. “I was attempting to backtrack the message you told me appeared on your computer, the one that instructed you to go to the dome just prior to Tech Yleli’s murder.”
“What did you find?”
“That there is no record of you having received any such message,” he said. “Not through the Kuzyatru Station system, or from any computer aboard.”
“Which just means our friends are better at this stuff than I thought.”
“That is one possibility.” Emikai cut through one of the cords and started working on the next one. “There is another.”
“That I’m lying?”
“That the message did not travel through the system because it originated on your computer.”
I snorted. “Right,” I said. “Doug sent it. Or maybe Ty—he’s the more literary of the two.”
“Or Bayta did.”
I shook my head. “Not a chance.”
“Are you sure?”
I opened my mouth to tell him that of course I was.
Only I wasn’t. There was no way I could be. Not with all the battles and other contact we’d had with the Modhri since this whole thing began. Certainly not with him lurking somewhere aboard Proteus. There was always the possibility, however small, that he’d gotten to her.
Or that he’d gotten to me.
And if there was a Modhran colony inside me, then it was all over. Any thought I had, any conclusion I came to, any plan I hatched—I would never know whether any of it was truly real, or pure illusion. I would be nothing but a puppet dancing on the Modhri’s strings, carefully and cleverly rationalizing every order he gave me, no better than any of his thousands or millions of other walkers.
No better, and a whole lot worse. Because unlike all those other walkers, I was in a position of authority and power unlike anything the Modhri had ever had before. I was in contact with Bayta, agent of the Chahwyn, and through her with the Spiders and the Chahwyn themselves. My words and actions could fatally affect the Chahwyn efforts against not only the Modhri but also his Shonkla-raa masters. Like it or not, I was a pivot point around which the fate of the galaxy teetered.
And then, the dry ice that had formed in my veins turned to liquid nitrogen. Because there was another, even more horrifying possibility.
What if the Modhri wasn’t involved in this at all? What if it was Bayta’s other half, the Chahwyn symbiotically encased within her? What if the defender Spiders aboard the super-express had reported back on my flagrant breaking of Quadrail rules, and the Chahwyn had decided I’d become a loose cannon that needed to be dealt with? What if they’d decided it was time that they took over the operation personally?
What if they’d decided to start with Bayta?
I looked sideways at Emikai’s profile. The Modhri, I knew, could take direct control over his walkers’ bodies without their permission or knowledge. Could the Chahwyn inside Bayta do the same?
Or was such a thing even possible? The way Bayta described it, her Human and Chahwyn halves were in close, permanent, conscious contact. But now that I thought about it, I realized that my understanding of their relationship was built mostly on my own assumptions.
I shook my head, a short, violent, brain-clearing movement. No. Bayta was my ally, and my friend. She wouldn’t betray me that way. Not unless she herself had also been betrayed.
Meanwhile, Emikai was still waiting for an answer. “No,” I said as firmly as I could. “She’d never do something like that.”
Emikai tilted his head slightly. “I know you would prefer to think not.”
“It’s not a preference, it’s simple logic,” I insisted. “What reason could she possibly have had to do that? To give me a reason to go over to the dome in the middle of the night? Ridiculous. I’m not a prisoner—I don’t need an excuse or reason to leave my quarters.”
“I make no suggestion as to reasons or motivations.” Emikai nodded at Doug. “But do you not also find it curious that one of the two msikai-dorosli assigned to you by Chinzro Hchchu has chosen to remain instead with Bayta?”
I grimaced. So Emikai had picked up on that, too. And if he had, had Hchchu or the Shonkla-raa? If so, what had they made of it? “What makes you think Hchchu didn’t assign us one each?” I countered.
“Did he?”
“I’m actually not sure,” I said. “I was concentrating on other things at the time and wasn’t paying attention to the nuances of his words. Even though I’m the one under indictment, maybe he figured we both needed watching.”
“Perhaps,” Emikai said. “But surely you noticed that both msikai-dorosli stayed close to your side during the preliminary hearing, when Chinzro Hchchu was present. Clearly, they understood that they were both supposed to watch you.”
“Yes, I noticed that,” I conceded. “I assumed it was just the grandeur of the setting and circumstances that had them both sticking with me at the time.”
“Perhaps,” Emikai said. “But turn that thought around. Perhaps it is at other times, not in Chinzro Hchchu’s presence, that they sense your companion needs to be watched.”
“Even if they were ordered to do something else?”
He shrugged. “It is known that the lower animals sometimes have senses and instincts beyond those of us who are fully sentient. Those senses can allow them to perceive and understand things we ourselves cannot.”
Like when Bayta stopped being Bayta and became a Modhri? Or a Chahwyn? “I’ll think about it,” I said. “You about done there?”
The last cord snapped. “Yes,” Emikai said, putting away the multitool. “Do we go to the nexus?”
“Yes,” I said, straightening up and looking around the deserted corridor. Round two was over. I wondered what the Shonkla-raa had in mind for round three. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
* * *
I called Bayta on our way, confirmed she was still safely in our room, gave her a thumbnail of what had happened, and told her to stay put.
The Jumpsuits in the security nexus seemed decidedly annoyed that someone had smuggled a kristic aboard, and made all the usual police-type noises about looking into it, bringing the perpetrators of my assault to justice, etc. I’d made plenty of the same noises during my time with Westali, and I knew not to expect much to come out of it. Especially since they also had to admit they’d still made no progress in locating Terese.
I also wasn’t surprised that they turned down my request for a gun.
Still, they were efficient enough about getting the kristic glue balls off Doug. An hour after arriving at the nexus we finally headed out, with Emikai insisting on escorting me back to my quarters. We stopped by one of the restaurants on our way to pick up some dinner, and at long last I was finally home.
“Do not forget the court proceedings at ten tomorrow,” Emikai reminded me as Bayta undid the inner lock and opened the door. “I will be here an hour before that time to escort you.”
“Better make it an hour and a half,” I said. “Minnario said we lost points last time by being the tail end of the parade.”
“An hour and a half it will be.” Emikai eyed me. “Until then, I suggest you remain here.”
“With the door double-locked,” I agreed. “Don’t worry, I’ve had more than enough excitement for one day. Farewell, and thank you again.”
“Farewell.” Nodding to each of us, he turned and strode down t
he hallway, his gun bouncing at his hip.
I stepped inside, waited for Doug to pad his way in behind me, then closed the door and double-locked it. “I hope you’re hungry for Shorshian beef and rice squares with imported Human chili sauce,” I said as I crossed the room toward the dining area. Ty, I noted, was already sacked out on the bed in his usual spot by the headboard, apparently completely unaware of the ordeal his buddy had been through this evening. Briefly, I wondered if the animals were intelligent enough to share that kind of information, and whether Doug would bother, and whether Ty would care.
“Never mind the food,” Bayta said, taking my arm in a firm and very worried grip. “How are you?”
“They never laid a hand on me,” I said. “That’s actually true, by the way. Which isn’t to say they didn’t try.”
For a long moment Bayta gazed into my eyes, her face drawn and pale and tense. Then, reluctantly, she let go of my arm and sank down into one of the dining table chairs. “What are we going to do, Frank?” she asked. “I’ve never felt—how do I explain it? Pulled in so many directions at the same time.”
“Our Shonkla-raa friends have definitely been busy little bees,” I agreed, sitting down across from her. “And you’re right, one way or the other we’re being chased all over the countryside.” I opened up the bag. “Maybe it’s time we cut through some of the ground clutter.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think I know how I can end this stupid trial once and for all,” I told her. “Or at least get it postponed to the point where we can effectively cross it off our list of things to do. Once that’s done, we can concentrate on turning Proteus upside down until we find Terese.”
Bayta shivered. “If she’s still even aboard the station. Or if she’s still…”
“She’s alive, and she’s aboard,” I said firmly. “They want her baby, remember?”
“They want him alive,” Bayta murmured. “They may not care about her.”
“At this point, the simplest and safest life-support system for Terese’s baby is Terese,” I said. “Anyway, there’s no point in thinking or worrying about any other possibilities, so we won’t. Understand?”
