Judgment at Proteus

NINETEEN

The transport was piloted by a couple of the specialized server-class Spiders who usually ran the Tube’s maintenance skiffs. Five minutes after we said our quick farewells to Emikai, Doug, and Ty, we were headed back out toward deep space. A half hour later, the tension aboard finally stared to ease.

Their tension. Not mine.

Because of those aboard, I was the only one who understood the enormity of the task facing us.

An unknown number of Shonkla-raa, in unknown locations. All of them endowed with tremendous personal strength and power, not the least of those powers being their ability to control the Modhri and confuse the Spiders. The whole lot of them bent on galaxy domination.

And standing against them, me.

I was resting in my seat with my eyes closed when a subtle wave of air across my face told me I had company. I opened my eyes to see Bayta sink wearily into the seat beside me. “How is she?” I asked.

“Still pretty upset,” she said. Her voice was as tired as the rest of her. “But I think she’s starting to calm down. A little.”

“Don’t expect her to get it all sorted out overnight,” I warned. “It’s not every day you find out you’re carrying Rosemary’s baby.”

“Rosemary’s baby?”

“Dit-rec horror drama you haven’t seen. Never mind.” I nodded toward the front of the transport and the two stationmaster-sized Spiders crouching behind the two pilots. “Anyone ask about the other passengers yet?”

“Minnario looked at them, but didn’t say anything,” Bayta said. “Terese has other things on her mind.”

I nodded. Minnario’s restraint was mere politeness, of course. He had to be desperately curious about the Spiders whom Bayta had called into a probable confrontation with the Shonkla-raa.

And if Minnario himself wasn’t curious, the Modhri inside him certainly was. Distantly, I wondered what the Modhri’s response would be if and when he finally saw a defender Spider in action.

Or if, indeed, he ever did. The Shonkla-raa could already stun defenders into immobility. If they ever found the right tone to take them over completely …

“Is this later yet?” Bayta asked.

I frowned. “Come again?”

“You said you’d tell me later why you thought the Modhri was on our side,” she said. “Is this later yet?”

“It’s close enough,” I said. “It was something Wandek said when he was congratulating himself on how they’d figured out you could talk telepathically to the Spiders and how they were going to strap you down until they figured out how you did it. In and around all the gloating, he also bounced several suggestions off me, starting with the thought that you might be a Human/Spider hybrid, then suggesting that you were an unknown alien encased in a Human shell, and finally speculating that maybe you were one of the people who actually ran the Spiders and the Quadrail.”

Bayta shivered. “Way too close. With all of them.”

“That he was,” I agreed. “But that’s the point. In retrospect, I can see he was throwing out every possibility he could think of in the hope that one of them would spark a reaction. He didn’t really know who or what you were.”

“And?”

“Think back,” I said. “He didn’t know who runs the Quadrail … but the Modhri does. Remember, back with EuroUnion Security Service agent Morse, when we were trying to beat the Modhri to the third Lynx sculpture?”

“The Quadrail siding,” Bayta murmured, her face suddenly rigid. “He saw a Chahwyn.”

“And since we know Morse is a deep-cover walker, it follows that the Modhri has surely figured out by now what it was he saw,” I said. “Furthermore, by now that information has certainly spread to every mind segment across the galaxy. If the Shonkla-raa don’t know who’s running the Quadrail, it can only be because the Modhri hasn’t told them.”

Bayta looked across the transport at the back of Minnario’s head. “But why not?” she asked. “Can’t the Shonkla-raa force him to talk?”

“Probably, but only if they think to ask the right questions,” I said. “In this case they didn’t, and the Modhri clearly didn’t volunteer it. That also means the Shonkla-raa’s telepathy is one-way, by the way—they can implant commands while they’re whistling their happy little tune, but they can’t read their slaves’ minds. Anyway, the point is that if the Modhri’s not on the Shonkla-raa’s side, he’s on ours.”

“Or on his own.”

“True,” I conceded. “But right now, I think that’s as good as we’re going to get.”

Bayta shook her head. “I hope you’re right.”

“Me, too,” I admitted. “But we’re safe, Terese is safe, and the Shonkla-raa haven’t got you to experiment on. I’m ready to call that enough victory for one day.”

For a moment Bayta was silent. “They wouldn’t have gotten what they were looking for, you know,” she said. “The Chahwyn auditory and telepathic frequencies. If they’d gotten close…” She trailed off.

I felt my stomach tighten. “Your symbiont?”

“Would have chosen to die,” Bayta said simply.

“Ah,” I said, the complete uselessness of the word making my stomach tighten even more. “I mean—”

“I know what you mean, Frank,” she said. She hesitated, then reached over and took my hand. “I do understand you, you know. Maybe better than you think I do.”

I gazed into her eyes, once again completely at a loss for words. What did she mean by that? I understand? Or we understand? What was it like, her life with a Chahwyn symbiont inside her, or interwoven with her, or however it worked? Were they truly one being, as she’d described it to me?

If so, what would have been the cost to her for her Chahwyn part to die?

I didn’t know. I couldn’t begin to know.

But I would fight, and I would die, to prevent her from ever having to find out. “It won’t happen,” I said. “I won’t let it.”

“I know,” she said. She lowered her eyes. “By the way. That kiss earlier?”

I swallowed. Here it came. “Yes?” I said warily.

“I just wanted to say that I enjoyed it. Very much.” Her lips puckered mischievously. “So did she.”

I was still trying to find something to say to that when she stood up and crossed back to where Terese was curled up in her seat.

She had resumed her place beside Terese, and I could tell from their head movements that they were talking again in low tones, when Minnario activated his chair and floated back to me. “May I have a word?” he asked.

“Certainly,” I said, shifting over to the aisle seat so that I would be closer to him. “I was just thinking about Emikai.”

“I’m sure the Shonkla-raa are doing likewise,” Minnario said soberly. “I believe he’ll prove to be a formidable opponent for them, provided he survives Director Usantra Nstroo’s investigation. To have had so many santras and msikai-dorosli slaughtered in his presence may be difficult to explain.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” I assured him. “He’s going to blame the whole thing on me.”

Minnario’s eyes widened. “On you?”

“Why not?” I said. “I was the one everyone saw waving my reader outside Hchchu’s office just before they were attacked by a group of watchdogs. Obviously, I must have used the same gadget against Wandek and his buddies.”

“Interesting,” Minnario murmured. “Simple, effective, and impossible to disprove.”

“Unless someone takes a close look at the watchdogs’ bodies,” I said with a grimace. “Even for Fillies, I’m guessing that kind of knife-hand engineering is pretty unorthodox.”

“Isantra Kordiss and the surviving Shonkla-raa should have sufficient rank to discourage any such investigations,” Minnario said. “You need not worry about the station’s remaining msikai-dorosli, either. Now that the Shonkla-raa are aware of my mind segment’s presence, they’ll certainly realize it’s in their best interests to keep the animals alive.”

“Ready to be pressed into service should the need arise,” I said ruefully. “One more good reason to avoid Proteus Station in the future. I hope Emikai hasn’t bitten off more than he can chew.”

“Only time will tell,” Minnario said. “But he may yet find unexpected aid in his battle.”

I eyed him. There was an odd hint of grim amusement about his face. “Is there a joke here I’m missing?” I asked.

“Yes,” Minnario said. “But the joke is not on you.”

I frowned … and then, I got it. “Which one of them is it?” I asked. “No, wait,” I interrupted myself. “It’s Kordiss, isn’t it? Our old buddy Blue One.”

“Exactly,” Minnario said. “You are amazing, Mr. Compton. Simply amazing.”

“Hardly,” I said with a snort. “I should have figured that one out hours ago. How else could you have known where the Shonkla-raa were keeping Bayta?”

“How else, indeed?” Minnario said with a nod. “Though I will admit I had a bad moment during her rescue when you threatened him with death.”

“Good thing Bayta zapped him with the kwi before it came to that,” I agreed. “Doubly good, actually, since that meant he missed the party in the docking bay. And the Shonkla-raa even provided the hypo you used to inject a piece of coral into him while he was unconscious in your room. I suppose the coral was hidden in the central cylinder of your chair’s thruster array?”

“Correct,” Minnario said. “Don’t be concerned, though. It’s not there anymore.”

“I know,” I said as another bit of the puzzle fell into place. “All those bathroom breaks you made Emikai stop for on your way to the docking bay. You dumped the rest of the coral into the station’s water system.”

“Where it will cement itself to the inside of one of the water reclamation tanks,” Minnario confirmed. “Thus avoiding the normal purification procedures.”

“Thus providing a larger base for the watchdog mind segment,” I said, nodding. “And for your new ally among the Shonkla-raa.”

Minnario’s mouth made a wincing motion. “Isantra Kordiss is not an ally, not in the way you assume,” he said. “He can’t be. If the colony settled into its normal resting place beneath his brain, he would react the instant any of his fellow Shonkla-raa used their control tone.”

“Oh,” I said, frowning. That wrinkle hadn’t even occurred to me. “That wouldn’t be so good, would it? So where is the colony?”

“Interwoven in the tissue around his left optic nerve,” Minnario said. “Regrettably, in many ways Isantra Kordiss will be of only limited use. I will see what he sees through that eye, but will not be able to access his other senses. Nor will I be able to offer suggestions for him to follow.”

I nodded. “He’s a spy, but not a saboteur. Excellent. Use him wisely.”

“I fully intend for us to do so,” Minnario assured me.

“Us?” I asked, frowning at the odd pronoun. “I thought you were an I.”

“I am.” Minnario hesitated. “By us, I was referring to myself … and you.”

“You and me,” I said, my voice sounding flat in my ears.

Minnario seemed to brace himself. “I’ve now experienced what it’s like to be a slave, Compton,” he said, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “You can’t possibly envision what it’s like. To have your mind and heart invaded, to hear the gloating arrogance of your master as he turns your hands to his own purposes. It’s the most horrible experience one can possibly go through.”

“I can imagine,” I sympathized, wondering if he appreciated the true irony here. I personally didn’t know what that was like, but the millions of people the Modhri had turned into walkers were living a version of that exact same slavery. The only reason they didn’t also get the gloating part was because the Modhri blacked them out when he took them over.

“No, you can’t,” he countered tautly. “I’ve had a taste of what will become of me if the Shonkla-raa ever again rise to power.” His gaze defocused, his expression that of someone seeing hell itself coming for him. “I can’t let that happen. I won’t be their slave. Not ever.”

An odd sensation formed in the pit of my stomach. Were we really heading where it looked like we were heading? “What exactly are you saying?” I asked carefully. “That you want me to help you take down the Shonkla-raa?”

Slowly, his eyes returned from the terrible future to the only slightly less ominous present. “You misunderstand,” he said quietly. “I was designed as a spy, not a warrior. I have none of a warrior’s skills or intellect. Even with your help—” He shivered and shook his head. “I could never defeat the Shonkla-raa.”

He leaned forward, a sudden new intensity in his eyes. “But you are a warrior. I’ve experienced your battles against me, and I’ve now seen your battles against the Shonkla-raa. Of all those I’ve encountered across the galaxy, you are the one who stands the best chance of pushing back this threat.”

He drew himself up. “I don’t ask for your help, Frank Compton. I instead offer you mine. Completely, totally, unconditionally.”

I looked past his shoulder to where Bayta and Terese were still talking quietly together. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s talk ground rules. I’m in charge. I give an order, you carry it out. I ask for intel, you supply it. Anything I want from you, you give me.”

“Accepted,” the Modhri said without hesitation.

“And I want to meet the governing body,” I added. “Or whatever you call the part of you that makes overall policy decisions. Not that I don’t trust your sincerity, but I’d like to see a little more weight behind this offer.”

“Also accepted,” the Modhri said. “But you need not worry about that. During the two weeks of Quadrail travel after we left the super-express I sent many messages to the segment-prime.”

“That’s the mind segment based on Yandro?”

Minnario’s mouth twisted in an ironic smile. “Yes,” he confirmed. “All the components of the Modhri—all the parts that make me what I am—all of me recognizes the danger. And all of me accepts your leadership in defeating it.”

“Okay,” I said, eyeing him closely. A sudden, right-angle turn in my universe … and yet, it somehow wasn’t nearly as brain-numbing as it should have been. Perhaps on some level I’d already seen where our temporary alliance aboard the super-express and Proteus Station had been going. “For the moment, I can give you a tentative yes. But I’ll still want to discuss things directly with the segment-prime.”

“Of course,” he said, and there was no mistaking the relief in his voice. Had he really been so terrified, I wondered, that I would turn him down? “The segment-prime will speak with you at any time of your choosing.” His misshapen mouth puckered. “And I expect you and Bayta will also need to consult with her masters among the Chahwyn.”

I inclined my head. “Touché, in turn,” I said. “One final warning.” I locked eyes with him. “From this point on, Bayta and I and any other allies I pull into this are off-limits to your recruitment efforts. If it even looks like you’re trying to get us into touching range of Modhran coral, the deal will be off.”

Minnario snorted. “Be assured, Compton, that that’s the easiest promise of all. Do you think I’d be foolish enough to risk dulling your capabilities by tainting your thoughts and ideas with my own? I need you—this war needs you—exactly as you are.”

“As long as we’re clear.” I puffed out a lungful of air. This entire conversation, not to mention the deal I’d just made, was skating right on the edge of certifiably insane.

And yet, the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. After all, the kind of infiltration and intel-gathering I had in mind for the Modhri was exactly what he’d been designed for in the first place.

Not to mention the fact that using those abilities against the philosophical descendants of the despots who’d created him rather appealed to my sense of irony. “Okay, then,” I said. “Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Minnario frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” I said. “A classic line from a Human dit-rec drama. Casablanca. Not important.”

“I will have to view that someday.”

“Yes, you should,” I agreed. “I think you’d like it.”

* * *

I had thought that Minnario might take the journey with us back to Earth. But we’d barely reached the safety of the Ilat Dumar Covrey Quadrail station when, stunned and dumbfounded by the fact that his supposed medical transfer to Proteus had actually been some kind of mix-up, he immediately booked passage aboard the next train for his proper treatment center in the Morak Trov Lemanab system. He accepted my thanks for his legal assistance, wished me well in any future problems with the Filiaelians, and headed off into the heart of the Filiaelian Assembly.

And as he traveled, he no doubt pondered this brand-new symptom he’d developed, this recurring problem of persistent mental blackouts.

“Do you think we can trust him?” Bayta asked quietly as she, Terese, and I made our way across the crowded station toward the platform where we’d be picking up our own train back to Venidra Carvo.

“He could have betrayed us,” I reminded her. “He didn’t. He could have infected us so that he’d have direct access to my allegedly brilliant strategic and tactical abilities. He didn’t do that, either. Besides, his reason for opposing the Shonkla-raa rings pretty true.”

“Because he doesn’t want to be a slave.” She eyed me. “I suppose you find that funny.”

“I find it ironic,” I corrected. “Not necessarily the same thing. And frankly, having now seen the Shonkla-raa in action, I’ll take any help I can get.”

“I’m not sure my people will accept this,” she warned, lowering her voice still further.

“They’ll be welcome to voice any objections,” I assured her. “Provided they can also offer some practical alternatives.”

“Mr. Frank Compton?”

I turned, tensing, my hand automatically reaching for the Beretta, which was already tucked away in a Spider lockbox ready to be loaded aboard our next train.

But it wasn’t a Shonkla-raa who was striding toward me, or any Filly at all, for that matter. It was a Halka, tall and regal, dressed in the distinctive tricolor layered robes of the Halkan Peerage. A couple of watchful and tough-looking bodyguards trailed at a respectful distance behind him. “I’m Frank Compton,” I confirmed warily. “Do I know you?”

“Senior Ambassador ChoDar of the Halkavisti Empire,” he identified himself formally. “No, we haven’t met. But I believe we may once have had an acquaintance in common. High Commissioner JhanKla.”

I suppressed a grimace. JhanKla and I had met, all right. He’d turned out to be a Modhran walker, he’d tried his best to kill me, and I’d ended up killing him instead. “Yes, the high commissioner and I did meet once or twice, Your Eminence,” I conceded.

“Yes, I thought so,” ChoDar said. “So very regrettable, his mysterious disappearance aboard that ill-fated Quadrail.” He shook his head, chasing the memories away. “But that is the past. Tell me, Mr. Compton, are you and your companions on your way back to our side of the galaxy?”

“Yes, we are,” I said, frowning. Given ChoDar’s rank and position and how thoroughly the Modhri had penetrated the upper echelons of Halkan society, it was almost a dead certainty that he was also a walker. What was the Modhri up to? “Why? Was there some place in the Assembly you thought I might like better?”

“By no means,” he assured me. “As it happens, I too have decided to return to my home. Since we travel the same route, and since you were a friend of High Commissioner JhanKla’s, I’d hoped you and your companions would share my Peerage car during the journey.”

And then I understood. A Halkan Peerage car was one of the standards of galactic elegance, dripping with luxury, comfort, and prestige. More importantly, Peerage cars were always connected to the rear of whatever Quadrail they were traveling with. Nestled snugly inside, we would be isolated, alone, and away from prying Shonkla-raa eyes. “That’s very generous of you, Your Eminence,” I said. “But I wouldn’t want to impose on your hospitality.”

“It would be an honor, not an imposition,” he said. “But I warn you: if you accept, be aware that you won’t be able to change your minds after we’ve left.” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “To be honest, I find Filiaelians to be sometimes wearisome. I have therefore requested the Spiders to omit the usual vestibule connector between our car and the rear baggage car of our train.”

I smiled tightly. Isolated, alone, away from prying eyes, and now completely separated from the rest of the train by a couple of meters of partial vacuum, a barrier even a Shonkla-raa whistle couldn’t penetrate. Unless Bayta and I were willing to be cooped up for the next two months inside a Spider tender, there was no safer way for us to get back to Human space.

The Modhri wasn’t just waiting around for me to make up my mind about accepting him as an ally. He was already behaving like one.

“Thank you, Your Eminence,” I said. “We would be honored to accept your hospitality.”

“I’m pleased,” he said. He smiled, and for just a second his face sagged and his eyes flattened with the telltale signs of a Modhran presence. The Modhri’s version of a knowing wink? “I look forward to whiling away the hours in pleasant conversation with you. An ambassador, after all, hears many things.”

“I’m certain he does.” I looked at Terese, who was oblivious to the true nature of the situation. I looked at Bayta, who understood the situation completely and still was far from sure this was a good idea.

“Especially my particular passion of Filiaelian high opera, and those who sing it,” ChoDar added. “Are you interested in such things, Mr. Compton?”

“Indeed I am,” I said softly. “I look forward to hearing all about it.”