Judgment at Proteus q-5

by Timothy Zahn

  “Exactly,” he said. “But more importantly, Earth and the rest of your people will be safe from the coming chaos.”

  “At least until you finish beating down everyone else?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I’m offering you and your people an alliance. In exchange for your services, we’ll leave your worlds and your people strictly alone.”

  I snorted. “Big offer. Your soldiers of choice are Modhran walkers, and we’ve managed to keep the Confederation pretty much free of them.”

  “Which isn’t to say we couldn’t import all we needed,” he pointed out. “Nonetheless, I repeat my offer: if you work for us, the coming war will pass your worlds by. Your people will be free to live their lives as they themselves choose. We would even grant them free run of the galaxy, to roam wherever they wish, with all the rights and privileges we intend to grant our own Filiaelian people.”

  “Sounds way too generous,” I said. “What would their task be in your New Order? Stoking the cremation furnaces or something?”

  “They would have no duties of any sort,” he assured me. “Only to live in contentment and freedom.”

  “And all this because of the value of my service to you?” I shook my head. “I have got to talk to the Spiders about raising my pay grade.”

  “Few people understand a warrior’s true value,” the Shonkla-raa said sagely. “Especially not his allies. Only his enemies have such clarity of vision.”

  “Probably has something to do with looking down the wrong end of a gun barrel,” I said. “This alliance you mentioned. Would you be willing to write a contract to that effect?”

  “Of course,” he said without hesitation.

  A shiver ran up my back. Either he was an extraordinarily good actor, or he fully meant the offer he’d just pitched. Every Filiaelian was brought up to respect legal contracts, and even a soulless Shonkla-raa should at least hesitate before declaring his willingness to commit fraud. “Good to hear,” I said lamely.

  “But I don’t ask for an answer now,” he went on. “Consider my offer. Consider also the odds against you, and the potential for destructive vengeance against your people should they join the rest of the galaxy in defying us.” He lowered his voice. “And observe, too, the way the Modhri acts and speaks to you. He’s not the ally he claims. He has his own objectives, and will pursue them in his own way.”

  “Don’t we all.”

  He eyed me a moment longer in silence, then stood up. “I’ll come to you again at journey’s end. At that time, I’ll expect your answer.”

  “I’ll be sure to give your proposal every bit of thought that it merits,” I assured him. “In the meantime, if I should want to discuss it further, who shall I ask for?”

  For a moment he eyed me, and I wondered how good his ear was at detecting Human sarcasm. “I am Osantra Riijkhan,” he said.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said. “And while I consider all of your points, you might want to consider a couple of mine. One, the old Shonkla-raa never conquered Earth. Maybe it was just the fact that we weren’t telepathic, like Usantra Wandek thought. But maybe there was something else. Something a little more dangerous.”

  “Such as?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “That’s why you might want to think about it. Fact number two: even with all their numbers and weapons, not to mention having the whole galaxy under their dominion, they were still destroyed.”

  “Irrelevant,” Riijkhan said calmly. “There were far more peoples and cultures arrayed against us than exist now.” He cocked his head. “Another possible consequence of defiance you would do well to remember.”

  “Oh, I will,” I promised softly, my stomach tightening. Those peoples and cultures didn’t exist anymore because they’d been obliterated in the Shonkla-raa’s death throes. “Do remember, though, that none of those genocided races were around to help me when I killed Asantra Muzzfor. I did that all by myself.”

  His nose blaze darkened. “Yes, the last message from Kuzyatru Station included that claim. I don’t find it believable.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “Neither did Usantra Wandek. Of course, he’s dead now, too, along with quite a few of his compatriots.”

  Riijkhan snorted. “Again, irrelevant,” he insisted. “The deaths you speak of weren’t a result of any great combat skill in your possession. You defeated them only through the use of a trick.”

  “Of course I used a trick,” I said. “That’s what tactics is all about. Coming up with tricks that work.”

  For a long moment he stared at me. Then, he gave a small shake that began at his head and ran, dog-like, through the rest of his body. “All the more reason for us to hire you,” he said. “I’ll see you at journey’s end, Frank Compton.” Turning, he strode from the bar and headed forward toward the first-class cars.

  I gave him a thirty-second head start. Then, downing the last of my iced tea, I headed off after him. I had the Modhri’s list of probable Shonkla-raa agents, but it never hurt to check out such things for myself. With luck, Riijkhan would take a moment to consult with his minions, or at least nod to them on his way back to his compartment.

  I reached the end of the dining/bar car, punched the release, and stepped through the sliding door into the vestibule. A few quick steps, another tap on the release at the vestibule’s other end, and I stepped into the rear of the number-one first-class coach car.

  And came to a sudden halt. Standing in a triangle formation facing me at the rear of the car were three of the four Shonkla-raa agents the Modhri had fingered for me, with only Scrawny absent. A few steps behind them, Riijkhan had turned back to face me. “You spoke of tricks and tactics,” he said. “I offer you the opportunity to demonstrate.” He gestured around at the scattering of closed sleeping canopies around him. “My apologies for not providing you with a proper audience.”

  Turning, he continued down the car to the end. He punched the release and kept going, disappearing as the vestibule door slid shut behind him.

  “And now,” the Filly in the center said, speaking softly as if concerned he might awaken one of the sleeping passengers. “Let us see how a Human fights.”

  “And how a Human bleeds,” the one on my right added.

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” I apologized. “The first rule of tactics is to never take on superior odds.” With that, I took two quick steps backward, slapped behind me at the door release, and ducked back into the vestibule.

  Apparently, rumors of my courage had preceded me. The door was already closing between us before any of them broke from their stunned paralysis at my unexpected demonstration of cowardice. I caught just a glimpse of them making a mad rush forward as the door finished sliding shut. Taking a half step backward, I waited.

  And as the door opened and the first of them came charging through, I snapped a kick into his upper torso.

  Emikai had warned me that a professional fighter might have had his heart sac area strengthened against such attacks. It was instantly obvious that this particular Filly, at least, wasn’t a professional fighter. He went down like an empty bag, slamming the side of his head hard enough against the floor to show he wasn’t faking. The second Filly faltered in his own charge as he stumbled over the obstacle that I’d unexpectedly dropped in front of him. A flash of surprise and malice crossed his face as he threw his arms up to protect his torso and heart sac.

  So instead I kicked him in his right upper-leg nerve center, collapsing the leg out from under him.

  Desperately, he threw his arms wide, trying to prevent himself from falling by bracing himself against the sides of the vestibule. The maneuver actually succeeded, stopping his fall just long enough for me to cock my leg back and send a kick to his heart sac. He dropped on top of the first Filly and lay still.

  Leaving the last Filly goggling at me as the vestibule door closed behind him.

  “Unless,” I said mildly, “you can find a way to decrease those odds.” I lifted my hands into one of the F
illy combat stances Emikai had taught me. “Shall we see how you do at one-on-one?”

  Apparently, Shonkla-raa minionhood didn’t include dying unnecessarily for the cause. With a final look at the two crumpled figures at his feet, he slapped the door release and hotfooted it out of there.

  I waited until the door had closed again behind him. Then, keeping an eye on my two downed attackers, just in case, I headed back toward the safety of my room. Osantra Riijkhan, I suspected, wouldn’t be very happy when he found out how the evening had gone.

  Then again, maybe he would.

  * * *

  I didn’t say anything to Bayta right away, since she was still talking to Terese and I didn’t want to worry the girl. But it was clear from the tension in Bayta’s face as I came in that she already knew. Apparently, the Spiders hadn’t been as absent during the confrontation as I’d thought.

  Bayta didn’t say anything, either. But within five minutes of my arrival she found an excuse to leave Terese in their half of our double compartment and to join me on my side, closing the dividing wall between us.

  The wall had barely snicked shut when she was up in front of me, her hands gripping my upper arms, her face tight with worry as she gazed into my eyes. “Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.

  “I’m fine,” I said, reaching up and resting my arms reassuringly on her shoulders. “They never laid a hand on me.”

  “I meant—” She broke off.

  “You mean what am I going to do when we reach Homshil and Osantra Riijkhan wants an answer to his recruitment pitch?” I asked, easing her back and sitting us both down on the curved couch that had folded out from the dividing wall as it closed.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice dark. “He may have more people and resources assembled by the time we get there.”

  I shrugged. “I’m sure he will. For that matter, he’s probably got more resources already on this train. That’s what that whole nonsensical attack was all about.”

  Bayta’s lip twitched. “I was wondering about that,” she said. “He only sent the agents we already knew about.”

  “Exactly,” I said, nodding. “Well, all except Scrawny, anyway.”

  “Scrawny?”

  “The Filly we were all set to charge through on Venidra Carvo if the Modhri hadn’t sent those two Tra’ho’seej to run interference for us,” I explained. “Not that he would have been much good in a fight anyway. But you’re right. The whole point of that exercise was to give us the illusion that Riijkhan was still being proactive without actually showing us any new cards.”

  “So he’s still here to watch us?”

  “That’s my guess,” I said. “And sneering bravado aside, he might also be a little bit worried. No matter how many minions he’s got on hand, the fact remains that he’s only one Shonkla-raa, and we’ve already demonstrated that we can take on lone Shonkla-raa and win. No, unless we push him too hard I think we can assume he’ll wait until Homshil before trying anything.”

  “And then?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I’ll take him up on his offer.”

  Her eyes were steady on me. “You are joking.”

  “There is something to be said for getting invited into the middle of your enemy’s planning sessions,” I pointed out. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to change sides.”

  “He won’t be happy about that,” she warned.

  “He can be as unhappy as he wants,” I said. “By the time the train reaches Homshil Station we’ll be long gone.”

  Bayta frowned. “We’ll be—? Oh,” she interrupted herself, her forehead smoothing. “A tender?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “One of the messages I sent from Venidra Carvo was to the Homshil stationmaster. About half an hour out from Homshil a tender is supposed to pull alongside and set up a—what did the defender call the thing the last time we did this? That portable airlock thingy of theirs?”

  “A side-extendable sealable passageway,” Bayta supplied.

  “Right—that,” I said. “The three of us—you, me, and Terese—will slip out the door into the tender. By the time the super-express hits the Homshil atmosphere barrier, we’ll already be past the station and on our way to Yandro.”

  A small shiver ran through her. “You still want to go there?” she asked quietly.

  “Not really,” I admitted. “But I don’t see any other option. We need to know how far the Modhri’s prepared to go to get out from under the collective Shonkla-raa thumb. If he’s willing to sign on to my plan, great. If he’s not … well, we’ll deal with that if and when it happens.”

  “A plan you haven’t yet told me,” Bayta pointed out.

  I gazed into her eyes, torn by indecision. How much should I tell her? How much could I afford to tell her? “The basic plan has two prongs,” I said. “The first part is to try to drop the Modhri out of the equation. If we can do that, the Shonkla-raa’s list of allies instantly drops by a factor of about a million.”

  “All right,” Bayta said slowly. “But how are you going to do that? Persuade him to send all his walkers into hiding?”

  “That’s one possibility,” I said. “I’m hoping to find something with a little more staying power, though.”

  “Such as?”

  “Still working that out,” I lied. “Anyway, once he’s out of the picture, all we need to do is raise ourselves an army.”

  Her face suddenly became very still, and it didn’t take any great insight on my part to guess she was thinking about the Chahwyn’s defender Spiders. A few of them might be of great assistance in this confrontation with the Shonkla-raa.

  An army of them would change the face and tone of Quadrail travel forever.

  “And since there’s only one species we know the Shonkla-raa can’t control,” I went on before she could say anything, “that means our army will be composed of us lowly Humans.”

  Her eyes did a quick double-take, and some of the fresh tension lines faded. But only some of them. “Humans?” she echoed.

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “Ironic, isn’t it? After being looked down on by pretty much everyone else for the past thirty-odd years, we’re going to be the ones who come charging over the hill to save the day.”

  “You really think…?” She trailed off, her usual impassive expression dropping back over her swirling uncertainties.

  “It’ll work, Bayta,” I said. I took her hand and squeezed it, savoring the warmth and strength as she squeezed back. “We’ll make it work.”

  She took a deep breath. “I hope so,” she said quietly.

  “It will,” I said. With an effort, I looked her straight in the eye. “Trust me.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  The rest of the trip was uneventful. We kept busy with the usual diversions: dit-recs, games, music, and of course the consistently superb food and drink. Unlike many of the first-class passengers, Bayta and I also made regular use of the exercise equipment, visits that served the dual purpose of helping us work off the calories as well as giving Terese a few precious hours of solitude. Bayta was always a little nervous about leaving the girl alone that way, but as long as she made sure there was at least one Spider watching over the girl she was able to keep her concern mostly in check.

  Through it all, I kept waiting for Riijkhan to make a return appearance. But having had his say he apparently saw no need to underline his point and went back to spending the bulk of his time in his compartment.

  Scrawny likewise spent the rest of the journey making himself scarce. Riijkhan’s other three minions, in contrast, seemed to be everywhere, dogging my steps, throwing furtive glances in my direction, and otherwise doing the stuff you apparently learn in Shonkla-raa minion school.

  For a while I tried watching them, hoping I could catch the subtle signs of recognition between them and the unknown agents I was still sure Riijkhan had aboard. But after a couple of weeks I gave up the effort. These three clearly had no clue who the rest of the team members were,
and with Riijkhan not giving me the chance to watch his own reactions the hidden agents were likely to stay that way.

  Bayta didn’t seem to be having much luck with her chosen project, either. Terese’s barriers were slowly coming down, but while she was willing enough to talk to Bayta their conversations still tended to be rather superficial.

  But at least the girl was talking. More importantly, there were no repeats of her earlier suicide attempts, even with her method of choice easily available in any of the train’s bars. Maybe her close brush with death had made her realize that there were better solutions to her problems.

  Or perhaps she simply realized that the Spiders were watching her even when Bayta and I weren’t.

  Our surreptitious exit from the train came off perfectly. The tender pulled close beside the super-express and extended its airlock to our car door, and Bayta, Terese, and I slipped through. By the time the super-express rolled to a stop at its designated platform, just as I’d predicted, we were riding up the station slope to the atmosphere barrier and heading back into the main Tube.

  After the luxury of Quadrail first class, and even more so after the hyper-luxury of the Halkan Peerage car, a Spider tender was a big step down. I watched Terese’s face as she looked around at the plain, open compartment: twin bunks at each end, a simple half-bath cubicle in the middle, and a compact food prep/storage area. It didn’t take a genius detective to see that she was seriously underwhelmed by our new accommodations.

  Fortunately, it was only a few hours from Homshil to Yandro at the tender’s enhanced speed, which meant she wouldn’t have to endure the Spartan accommodations for long. Even more fortunately, even if Riijkhan and his buddies guessed we were headed for Yandro, they could lie in wait for us forever at the station without ever spotting us.

  Because Yandro, unlike any other system in the entire galaxy, had two Quadrail stations.

  It was the result of a deal Bayta and I had made with the Chahwyn and Spiders nearly two years ago. We’d identified Yandro’s Great Polar Sea as the Modhri’s new homeland, and we needed a clandestine staging area to assemble an attack force without tipping off the watchers he had manning the transfer station. Hence, this little back door, which we’d funded with the help of Bruce McMicking and a trillion dollars I’d blackmailed out of the coffers of McMicking’s industrialist boss Larry Cecil Hardin.