Judgment at Proteus

THIRTEEN

Emikai was right on time the next morning, this time with an escort of six Jumpsuits instead of just two. Bayta and I were ready, and the whole crowd of us trooped off together.

Along the way I tried to engage Emikai in conversation, but he was strangely taciturn this morning. About all I could get out of him was that the patrollers still hadn’t located Terese, Dr. Aronobal was still missing, and there’d been no further progress on last night’s phony evacuation drill, Tech Yleli’s murder, or the various assaults on me.

Our escort was even quieter, responding to my greetings or conversational openers with no more than three or four syllables each. Bayta wasn’t much better, and we weren’t very far along our way before I gave up the effort entirely. You’d have thought they were the ones functioning on four hours of sleep, not me.

My strategy of leaving a half hour earlier than the last time was only partially successful. Again, Chinzro Hchchu was already seated at the prosecutor’s table when we arrived, as was Minnario at our table. Three of the four guardlaws were also there, with Usantra Wandek the only one missing. Eyeing his empty seat as I crossed the stone floor toward Minnario, I wondered briefly if he, too, had been up late. Maybe consulting with his Shonkla-raa buddies about Blue One’s disappearance.

As had happened the last time I’d been in this room, both Doug and Ty stayed at my side instead of dividing themselves up between me and Bayta.

[Good morning,] Minnario greeted me as I sat down. [I trust you had no further adventures on your way home last night?]

“It was actually rather boring,” I assured him. “Anything new on our guest?”

[Unfortunately, yes,] he said, lowering his voice as he glanced casually around. [The passkey wouldn’t open the door this morning. I’m guessing that it’s designed to only be good for a single day, or even just a few hours.]

“Damn,” I muttered. Stupid, stupid, stupid, and I should have seen it coming. “Fine. We’ll just have to get hold of someone else’s passkey.”

[How?]

“Working on it,” I assured him. “I also have a statement I want to make to the court as soon as possible. Will the Slisst Protocols have a problem with that?”

[No, I don’t think so,] Minnario said, peering oddly at me. [What sort of statement?]

“If we’re lucky, one that should get this whole thing closed down,” I told him. “If not in a flat-out acquittal, at least in complete and utter confusion.”

[That sounds like quite a statement,] Minnario said, his odd expression going a little odder. [Perhaps you should share it with me before we present it to the court.]

Across the room, the door opened and Wandek entered the room. “Too late,” I murmured. “Trust me, though. You’re going to love it.”

The opening ceremonies were pretty much the same as last time around. After they were finished, Hchchu informed the guardlaws that it was indeed Dr. Aronobal who had informed him of my dual identity as Frank Compton and Frank Abram Donaldson. Unfortunately, since Aronobal had now disappeared, he continued, it would be impossible for the guardlaws to ask her any questions as to how or where she’d obtained that information.

And then it was my turn.

“I have a point of order to raise,” I said, rising to my feet. “I confess my relative ignorance of the Slisst Protocols on this matter, and I beg the guardlaws’ indulgence and clarification.”

{Continue,} Wandek said, his voice wary.

“Thank you,” I said. “My question is in regard to this court’s right to jurisdiction in this matter.”

That one got them. Two of the guardlaws shifted in their seats, while the third sent a sharp look over at Hchchu. Wandek, in contrast, kept his eyes unblinkingly on mine. {This is an old argument, Mr. Compton,} he said, {and one which numerous courts have ruled on over the last three centuries. All those rulings have been against you.}

“But you haven’t even heard my question,” I protested politely.

{I don’t need to,} he said. {You seek to claim that since the six victims of your crime were santras, with the genetic variations that often accompany that title, they cannot be considered true Filiaelians.}

{Even at the time of the Slisst Protocols it was accepted that Filiaelian was a wide-spanning title,} one of the other guardlaws put in. {If a person has Filiaelian blood and Filiaelian appearance, he is indeed a Filiaelian.}

“So it’s the appearance that matters?” I asked.

{Not at all,} Wandek said, shooting a brief glare at the other guardlaw. Hardly surprising, really—allowing me to get away with framing the argument in terms of appearance was a quick road to a possible legal minefield.

Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t actually the direction I was headed. And though he didn’t know it, he and the whole Slisst Protocols were already in the middle of that minefield. “So what is it that makes a person a Filiaelian?” I asked.

{His heart,} Wandek said. {Not the physical heart, of course—that can be altered in any way desired. I speak of the way he views life.}

{A Filiaelian’s identity is in his heart, his mind, and his soul,} the other guardlaw added. {No matter what genetics were worked on you, Mr. Compton, you would never and could never be a Filiaelian.}

“I see,” I said slowly, as if trying to work it through. “So it’s basically a person’s mind that makes him truly Filiaelian?”

{Yes,} Wandek said.

“Good,” I said. “Then if the court will indulge me, I’d like to tell you about a strange being who is even now attempting to conquer the galaxy.

“A creature who calls himself Modhri.”

* * *

I laid it out for them. All of it: the Modhri’s history, his nature, his essence, and the fact that all six of the Fillies on New Tigris had been Modhran walkers.

I left out the details of the war itself, of course, including how long Bayta and I had been involved with it. I also didn’t talk about the true nature of the Spiders, and I absolutely didn’t even hint at the existence and importance of the Chahwyn. The details of our various cases, as well as why the Modhri had been interested in New Tigris in the first place, I also kept to myself.

Still, even without all of that, the recital was clearly riveting. The guardlaws listened in silence, the darkening and paling of their blazes betraying their swirl of emotions. Most of my attention was on the guardlaws, but out of the corner of my eye I could see Hchchu sitting just as unmoving at the prosecutor’s table. Beside me, Minnario listened with fascination, and even Doug and Ty seemed entranced by the firm, resonant sound of my voice.

Finally, I ran out of things to tell them. “The bottom line is this,” I said. “Since the beings I fought on New Tigris were, at the time of the combat, Modhran walkers and not Filiaelians, I claim that no regular court of the Assembly has jurisdiction over the case. I therefore request that I be released without prejudice until such time as a proper court can be established to deal with what is surely an extraordinary and unprecedented situation. Thank you.” Nodding to each of the guardlaws in turn, I sat back down.

Beside me, Minnario stirred. [A most interesting argument,] he murmured.

“Thank you,” I said, inclining my head to him.

[I didn’t say it was good,] he warned. [Merely interesting.]

Wandek looked down the table at his fellow guardlaws, and for a couple of minutes they all murmured back and forth. Then Wandek straightened up and looked back at me. {No,} he said flatly.

Even Minnario seemed taken aback. [I beg your pardon?] he said.

{The six murdered Filiaelians came from Kuzyatru Station,} Wandek said. {That’s already been established. Even if this Modhri truly exists—and without actual proof, we cannot grant that as fact—even if it exists, it has no presence here. We therefore have no choice but to conclude that the murdered Filiaelians were not so infected.}

I cleared my throat. “Perhaps I wasn’t entirely clear on how the Modhri operates,” I suggested. “His polyp colonies are designed to hide within a walker’s body where they can’t be detected.”

{Perhaps not by Humans or Shorshians or Juriani,} Wandek retorted with an edge of offended pride. {But they cannot hide from Filiaelians.}

{Usantra Wandek is correct,} Hchchu spoke up. {As assistant director of Kuzyatru Station, I can confirm there is no such alien presence aboard.}

“But that’s the point: you can’t confirm that,” I persisted. “The polyps simply lie in place, unmoving and undetectable—”

{But they still live,} Hchchu interrupted. {Which means they must absorb nutrients and secrete waste products. Both processes leave subtle but detectable indicators that a full biochemical scan would be able to find.}

“And how often would something that complete be done?” I scoffed.

{Four times a year,} Hchchu said. {On everyone.}

I stared at him. Of all the answers he might have given, that was probably the last one I’d expected. “What do you mean, everyone?” I asked.

{Everyone aboard the station,} he said. {Every resident, every patient, every visiting lecturer, doctor, or researcher. Everyone.}

“Four times a year,” I said, stalling for time while I tried furiously to get my brain in gear. If that was true, then maybe he was right. Maybe the Modhri hadn’t penetrated Proteus Station.

But the Shonkla-raa were here. Surely they wouldn’t have set up shop without having the Modhri here along with them. Would they? “Is that a Proteus Station year, or a Sificarea Standard?” I asked.

{The latter, of course,} Hchchu said. {A Kuzyatru Station year is over eleven Sificarea Standards. Once every three Sificarea Standards would hardly be a useful monitoring schedule.}

“No, of course not,” I murmured. “May I ask the reason for such extensive bio testing?”

{The widespread genetic manipulation practiced aboard Kuzyatru Station can by its very nature create instabilities and anomalies,} Wandek said, his tone shifting subtly into what was probably his lecturing doctor mode. {It can also lead to drastic changes in infectious disease organisms. Testing everyone aboard allows such problems to be detected and dealt with before they can escalate into general risks.}

{In addition, the vast majority of Filiaelians aboard take advantage of our facilities to have genetic work done,} Hchchu added. {There is absolutely no doubt that a preoperative scan would detect something as large and obvious as alien polyps.}

I grimaced. He was right on that one, too. Even Human medical scans were that good. “And the testing is universal, and not random?” I asked, just to be sure.

{Yes,} Wandek confirmed.

“I see,” I murmured. Maybe the Chahwyn’s threat assessment had been right, after all. If the whole Assembly was as careful about watching out for biochemical anomalies as Proteus Station, I could see how even the Modhri might find it impossible to make any headway here.

{Have you anything else to add?} Wandek asked.

Grimacing, I stood up again. “Despite your precautions, the six Filiaelians were Modhran walkers,” I said. “If they were clean when they left Proteus, they must have become infected somewhere on their way to New Tigris.”

{Where was it done?} Wandek countered. {How was it done? Such a statement requires proof, and that burden rests upon you.}

“I know,” I said. Minnario had been right: an interesting defense, but obviously not a very good one. “That’s why I’m formally requesting full records of the Filiaelians’ itineraries, from the time they left Proteus Station until their arrival on New Tigris. I’d also request a one-week recess to give me time to analyze the data.”

{Impossible,} Wandek said. {Such an itinerary doesn’t exist, except perhaps in the records of the Spiders and the Quadrail.}

“Then let me query the Spiders,” I offered. “I could laser a message to the Tube—”

{Request denied,} Wandek cut me off. {This is a clear and outrageous attempt to delay these proceedings. Such tactics will not be tolerated.}

{A moment, Usantra Wandek,} Hchchu spoke up. {I, for one, am curious about Mr. Compton’s claims.}

{When the combat has been decided, you’ll be free to indulge that curiosity,} Wandek said acidly. {Until then, the proceedings will continue on their proper schedule.}

Hchchu looked at me. {In that case, I hereby request a one-week recess.}

Even from my distance I could see the sudden mottling of Wandek’s blaze. {You request a delay?} he demanded.

{Yes,} Hchchu said. {I wish to send a request to the Spiders for the itinerary Mr. Compton has requested.}

{On his behalf?} Wandek said, sounding both astonished and outraged.

{On my behalf,} Hchchu corrected. {I’m the prosecutor in this trial. I have the right to sheathe one weapon while I examine the possible use of another.}

Again, Wandek looked down the table at his fellow guardlaws. But if he was looking for support on this one, he wasn’t getting it. {Very well,} he said stiffly. {But I remind you that all four of us have other duties aboard this station. If during your delay we’re called to other activities and cannot resume our duties here, the Slisst Protocols require the trial to be ended and the Human given his freedom.}

{I’m aware of the law,} Hchchu assured him. {I’m willing to take that risk.}

For another moment Wandek locked eyes with him. Then, with a snort, he turned to me. {The combat is ended for one week, or until such time as Chinzro Hchchu is prepared to resume,} he announced formally. {The defendant is free to return to other activities.} He paused. {Or rather, to return to the investigation of Tech Yleli’s murder as you have been ordered by Assistant Director Chinzro Hchchu,} he added, with a last glare toward Hchchu.

Stuffing his reader back into its pouch, he left his seat and strode past me out the door. His three fellow guardlaws were right behind him.

I looked across at Hchchu. He was again looking at me, a twitch of his hand indicating that I was to stay put. I gave him a small nod in reply, then turned half around in my seat and gestured in turn to Bayta.

She was already headed across the room toward me, Emikai at her side, her face taut with a whole mix of emotions. “What are you doing, Frank?” she demanded. “Why did you tell them about the Modhri?”

“Why shouldn’t the Fillies get in on the fun?” I countered. “They’re under the same threat as the rest of us, and all the fancy testing in the galaxy won’t change that.” I gestured around us. “Besides, the more paranoid eyes there are watching everyone’s every move, the harder it’ll be for the Shonkla-raa to take another crack at us. So. Next thing on the agenda—”

I broke off as Bayta’s eyes shifted warningly to something past my shoulder, and I turned again as Hchchu walked up to us. “If you would, Mr. Compton,” he said, “I would like to see you for a few moments in my office.”

“Isn’t that slightly improper?” I asked. “You being the prosecutor and me being the defendant and all?”

“It won’t be a problem,” Hchchu assured me. “If you come with me, I believe I can provide you with the itinerary you asked for.”

I felt my eyes narrow. “That was fast,” I said. “You have an instant pipeline to the Spiders I don’t know about?”

Hchchu’s eyes flicked to Bayta and Emikai. “I would prefer to discuss it in private,” he said.

I was about to tell him his preferences weren’t a high priority for me when I took a good look into his eyes.

He was frightened. More than frightened, in fact. He was terrified.

And anything that terrified the assistant director of the Fillies’ showcase space center was something I’d damn well better look into. “Bayta, why don’t you and Logra Emikai head back,” I said casually. “I’ll get the itinerary from Chinzro Hchchu and rejoin you.”

“What about our other friend?” Bayta asked. “He’s going to want to see us.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” I said. I could hardly tell her I’d moved our prisoner to Terese’s room, not with Hchchu standing right there. “Go ahead—I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

[I’d like to go with you, if I may,] Minnario spoke up.

“I would prefer to speak with Mr. Compton in private,” Hchchu repeated, his voice making it clear that that was an order.

[I’m his attorney and advocate,] Minnario said, his voice making it clear that he didn’t care. [Besides, as Mr. Compton has already pointed out, you and he are on opposite sides of the arena. The presence of a third person will be as much for your protection as for his.]

Hchchu sighed. “Very well,” he said reluctantly. “Follow me.”

He turned and strode off toward a door on the side of the courtroom. I gave Bayta an encouraging smile and followed.

The door led into a corridor that was similar to all the others I’d traveled through on Proteus, yet at the same time was subtly different. The unobtrusive color scheme was more vibrant, and the patterns of grooves and sculpted florets that decorated the upper walls and ceiling were more elaborate than I’d seen elsewhere. Officers’ country, I decided, the place where Proteus’s senior staff worked and played.

We’d made two turns into an even more elaborate hallway when I suddenly realized that, once again, Ty had deserted me, leaving Doug trotting alone at my side.

Did that mean Bayta going off the rails again? Or was it just a precaution?

Either way, I needed to do something quick before Hchchu noticed I was a watchdog shy of my quota and sent some patroller to bring Ty back. “You definitely have a nice part of the station here,” I commented, picking up my pace a bit.

“This is the main administrative center for Kuzyatru Station,” Hchchu explained, picking up his own pace to keep up with me.

Which was exactly what I’d hoped he would do. Now, with Doug and Minnario both trailing behind us out of Hchchu’s view, he hopefully wouldn’t notice Ty’s absence until it was too late to be worth the effort of getting him back. “How many administrators and staff are there?” I asked.

“Too many administrators; not nearly enough staff,” he said, with the first touch of humor I could remember ever hearing from him. “My office is down here.”

He turned into a short hallway guarded by yet another of the ubiquitous receptionists and receptionist desks that Proteus Station never seemed to run out of. At the far end of the corridor he pushed open the door—a real, hinged, hardwood door, not one of the sterile sliding types—and gestured me inside.

I got three steps before the sheer grandeur of the place brought me to an abrupt halt.

It wasn’t the office per se. The place was nice enough, and certainly roomy enough, but the large central desk and display cases and curved plant stands along the walls and scattered around the floor were of only simple design.

It was the view through the floor-to-ceiling window across from the door that had grabbed my full attention. Against a brilliant blue sky I could see the tops of a cluster of slender, impossibly green trees, surrounded by a ring of pillars that reminded me of stylized Filly hands reaching for the sky, the whole view embedded in a soft, drifting mist. To the right of the trees, the blue sky faded into the star-scattered blackness of deep space.

“You like my view?” Hchchu asked dryly.

“Very much,” I said. Ungluing my feet, I headed across the room for a closer look.

“It is merely one of the many domes scattered around Kuzyatru Station,” Hchchu said as he angled away from me toward the desk. “Though perhaps more elaborately furnished than most.”

It was indeed a standard Proteus dome, I saw as I reached the window, of apparently the same size as Terese’s medical dome and the neighborhood center where Yleli’s funeral services had been held. But unlike both of those, this particular dome was arranged as a park. The trees were part of a central pocket-forest area, surrounded by the sculpted reaching hands I’d seen and, lower down, a series of narrow fountains, the source of the floating mist. Arranged around the fountains were some smaller trees, flower beds, and clusters of bushes, all woven together with meandering pathways lined with chairs and benches. On the far side of the central area, I could see a bit of what looked like a small children’s play area. Other windows lined the rest of the dome at my same level, all of them privacy-shielded to allow the occupants to look at the park without anyone from the park being able to see in.

“Here,” Hchchu said from behind me.

I turned. Hchchu was now seated in the desk chair and was holding a data chip toward me. “What is it?” I asked as I gave the view one last look and walked over to him.

“The itinerary I promised,” Hchchu said.

I glanced at Minnario, who had pulled his chair up to one corner of the desk. He was gazing at the data chip, an intense expression on his face. “You really need to work on your sense of drama,” I told Hchchu as I plucked the chip from between his fingers. “Here you have the perfect chance to sit at your desk, gazing steely-eyed at your computer display as you sift through vast quantities of data—”

“Why should I do that?” Hchchu interrupted. “The itinerary was already prepared because I was the one who sent them.”

I felt my mouth drop open, a sudden chill running through me. If Hchchu had been the one in charge of their mission … “You sent them to New Tigris?” I asked carefully.

“No, nor to any other world in Human space,” he said. “Please; sit down.”

I glanced again at Minnario, resisted the urge to also glance at the closed door behind me, and sat down in one of the guest chairs across from Hchchu. “Maybe we should start at the beginning,” I suggested.

“The beginning is with you and your tale of the Modhri,” Hchchu said, opening one of the desk’s drawers and pulling out a reader. “Here—you will need this.”

Only it wasn’t just any reader, I saw with mild surprise as I took it, but my very own reader, the fancy, gimmicked gadget that Hchchu and the Jumpsuits had taken away from me the minute I’d stepped aboard Proteus. “Thanks,” I said, turning it on and plugging in the chip. “I was telling the truth, you know.”

“Indeed I do,” Hchchu said grimly. “Rumors and stories of this Modhri have circulated for many years throughout the highest levels of the Filiaelian Assembly. Yet we have seen no evidence of penetration into our species, not even in travelers or diplomats who have spent extensive time outside our borders.”

“Actually, that makes perfect sense,” I agreed, pulling up the file.

“How so?” Hchchu asked. “If the Modhri’s goal is to control the galaxy, why leave us untouched?”

“Because he’s ambitious, but he’s not stupid,” I said, skimming the itinerary. The six Fillies had taken a Quadrail from Proteus to Venidra Carvo, boarded a super-express train for Homshil, and from there had visited three more places in the Jurian Collective. There was no mention of New Tigris, just as Hchchu had said, or of any other world, for that matter. “He knows all about the genetic work and biochemical testing you do,” I continued. “Right now, stealth and secrecy are his greatest weapons, and he’s not going to risk certain exposure by infecting a Filiaelian diplomat who’s probably going to be tested the minute he gets back home.”

“Yet if you are right, these six Filiaelians were infected,” Hchchu pointed out. “Why? And where?”

“I don’t know the where,” I said. “It could have been anywhere along the way, basically any time after they left Filiaelian space.” I gestured toward my reader. “Or possibly after this listing ends. I notice that the last stop is over two months before they showed up on New Tigris.”

“Yes, their reports stopped at that point,” Hchchu said heavily. “Their mission, if you hadn’t already guessed, was to search for evidence of this Modhri in Halkan and Jurian space. They had sent back several reports that seemed to indicate they had discovered the rumors were true, and were near to capturing a sample to bring back for study. But then the reports suddenly stopped, and all my subsequent messages to them were left unclaimed.”

“Sounds like they found him, all right,” I said. “And as to the why, they were infected because they were needed. There’s something in Filiaelian physiology that apparently links uniquely with the Modhran hive mind, giving him an ability he apparently can’t get from anyone else.”

“What ability is this?”

“Sorry, but I can’t tell you that,” I said. “Even if I could, I don’t understand it myself well enough to explain it.”

For a moment Hchchu sat in silence. Then, he gave a soft, whinnying sigh. “Stealth and secrecy, you say,” he murmured. “Yet they were infected, Filiaelians who would soon have returned to the Assembly. Does that mean that a new phase is about to begin? Is the Modhri finally ready to launch a full assault on the Filiaelian people?”

Briefly, I thought about telling him that there was a group of Filiaelian people who would not only welcome the Modhri’s incursion but was actively working to facilitate it. But he didn’t need that extra news dumped on him. Not yet. “I don’t know what his current plan is,” I said instead. “But aside from his existence, you know now two other important facts. One: the reason he hasn’t yet penetrated the Assembly isn’t because there’s something about Filiaelians he can’t connect with. We know now that you’re as easy a target for him as anyone else in the Twelve Empires. You may be able to spot him, but only after the fact.”

“And the second thing?”

“That you’re not only vulnerable, but also uniquely useful. But that also means he’s not going to try a full assault on the Assembly until he’s damn sure he’s ready.”

“Yes,” Hchchu murmured. “Something else strikes my thoughts. If the Modhri is wary of allowing himself to come under Filiaelian scrutiny, it follows that, no matter what happened on New Tigris, the six santras would not have been permitted to return to Proteus alive.”

I winced. That one hadn’t yet occurred to me. “Which probably explains what happened to the two that I know were taken alive,” I said. “They were undoubtedly killed in custody by their polyp colonies to make sure you never got a chance to properly examine them.”

“Indeed.” Hchchu peered suddenly at me. “How exactly do you fit into all this, Mr. Compton?”

“I’m just a simple Human who got caught up in the whole thing and is trying to make a difference,” I said, more or less truthfully. “Along the way I’ve run into a few others who recognize the Modhran threat and are working to stop him.”

“No.” Hchchu shook his head. “I have been studying you, Mr. Frank Compton, learning all I can about you.” He pointed at my reader. “That device, for instance, is more than it appears. No, you are not simply a lone, isolated soldier in this war. You also are more than you appear.”

I felt my stomach tighten. I knew how special I was, the Modhri and Shonkla-raa knew, and now Hchchu had figured it out as well. I might as well take out a full-page ad and paint a bull’s-eye on my back. “I’m flattered that you think that,” I said. “But in reality—”

{There you are,} a familiar voice growled from behind me.

I turned around, to see Wandek standing in the open doorway glowering at Hchchu. {I’ve been looking all over for you,} he continued, pushing the door closed behind him and striding across the room toward us.

{Is there a problem?} Hchchu asked, sounding confused.

{Indeed there is,} Wandek said. He strode past Minnario and continued around the end of the desk.

And without warning, he swept his right hand outward, catching Minnario with a backhanded blow across the Nemut’s conical mouth. The force of the impact spun him and his chair a quarter turn around and sent him flying out onto the floor.

I was still goggling at the sheer unexpectedness of it when Wandek took another two steps to Hchchu’s side and drove his stiffened hand into the assistant director’s torso.

“Don’t,” Wandek warned, turning to face me as Hchchu collapsed without a sound onto his desk.

I was already scrambling to my feet, kicking my chair backward out of my way. A quick leap up onto the desktop, a kick to Wandek’s head or torso before he could move away—

“No, no—let him try,” another voice came from the door.

I froze, my knees still bent for my leap, and turned my head. Stalking across the room toward me were a pair of Shonkla-raa. The one in the lead, the one who had spoken, was Blue One. “Please,” he said softly, his eyes burning with hatred as he stared at me, “let him try.”