Judgment at Proteus

TWENTY-NINE

“I understand,” Morse said quietly from beside me, “that the whole thing’s being filed under the heading of a tragic accident.”

I nodded silently as I gazed across the station at the rows of bodies, and the grim-faced soldiers and medics from the transfer station carrying the stretchers to the shuttle hatchways.

Two hundred and fifty-six dead. Five survivors, aside from McMicking, Hardin, and me, all of them in critical condition. The Quadrail schedule crashed, with ever-growing disruptive ripples flowing out across the galaxy in both transportation and the critical area of interstellar messages and communication.

An accident.

“What about the passengers on the train?” I asked. “Are they saying anything?”

“Nothing of interest,” Morse said. “Bayta was able to get all the display windows opaqued before anyone saw anything.”

I nodded. “Small favors.”

He nodded back. “Bloody small.”

For another minute we stood in silence, watching the grisly cleanup duty. The Shonkla-raa bodies, not surprisingly, had all been spirited away by the Spiders before emergency teams had even been called. Under other circumstances, I reflected, such subterfuge would have been futile, given how many witnesses had seen them.

In this case, most of those witnesses were already dead, and the rest of us weren’t talking.

“Is Bayta still with Losutu?” I asked.

“Yes, I think so,” Morse said. “The others are down the hall, keeping Hardin company while the Cohn aerator cleans out his lungs. Looks like most of the damage is repairable.”

“Good to hear,” I said. I didn’t have any particular affection for the man, but we’d lost enough people for one day.

“Yes,” Morse said. He hesitated. “McMicking is also telling him everything about the Shonkla-raa.”

I grimaced. But there was no way we were going to hide this one under the rug. Not from Hardin. “I trust he made it clear that Hardin needs to keep all this secret?”

“Very clear,” Morse said. “Under pain of death, actually.”

“Which probably doesn’t mean much to Hardin.”

“Coming from McMicking?” Morse smiled tightly. “More than you might think.” He nodded toward the medical center. “Go on over, if you’d like. I can handle any last-minute questions Colonel Savali might have.”

“Thanks,” I said. I took a deep breath, wincing at the brief stab of pain in my lungs and ribs, and headed toward the medical center.

Sam and Carl, naturally, were right behind me.

In any normal disaster of this magnitude, a medical facility this size would have been swamped. Here, with barely enough survivors to fill a vacationers’ travel van, the place was eerily empty.

Losutu’s body had been put on the bed in one of the treatment rooms, laid out almost as if he was lying in state. Seated in a chair beside him, gazing expressionlessly into space, was Bayta.

Pulling another chair over, I sat down beside her, trying to ignore the two defenders as they tapped off into the corner behind us. “Hi,” I said quietly.

She didn’t answer. I reached over and took her hand. It was cold, and felt as lifeless as the body in front of us. I thought of telling her it was okay, or that we’d won, or any of a hundred different and stupid platitudes.

Instead, I just held her hand and kept quiet.

I don’t know how long we sat there. Probably no more than five minutes. Finally, she stirred. “Two hundred and fifty-six innocent people,” she said quietly. “I killed them, Frank. I opened the atmosphere barriers, and I killed them.”

“You had no other choice,” I reminded her gently.

“Didn’t I?” she asked. “I keep thinking there must have been something else I could have done.”

“Every soldier who’s ever been in combat has had those doubts,” I told her. “Once it’s all over, when you’re out of the heat of battle and the need for split-second decisions, you always think back and wonder what you could have done differently. Sometimes those thoughts are legitimate, and you realize too late that doing something else would have changed the outcome. But usually they’re not.”

I nodded toward the wall and the station beyond it. “For whatever it’s worth, I’ve been out of the heat of battle for over four hours now, and I still can’t see anything else you could have done. Nothing that wouldn’t have gotten all of us killed and still not saved any of the lives that were lost. I can’t think of anything McMicking, Morse, or I could have done, either.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t worry about the cost? That the cost was inevitable?”

“The cost was determined by the Shonkla-raa, not you,” I said firmly. “It was defined the minute they chose this time and place for their attack. It’s like the terror wars—an enemy who uses innocent civilians as shields has already decreed that some of those civilians will be killed. If you’re going to fight someone like that, you either have to accept that there’s going to be heavy collateral damage, or you have to capitulate. Those are your only choices.”

She sighed. “It was still my idea. My plan. I can’t just brush all those deaths aside.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” I said. “They were people, and they deserve our honor and respect. Part of that respect is to minimize such deaths wherever you can. The other part is to make sure they died for a reason, that their lives were given so that others might live. In this case, those others are going to number in the billions.”

“Will they?” Bayta asked, the last word almost a sob. “We haven’t stopped them, Frank. Not today, not any other time we’ve tried. They just keep coming and coming. Sooner or later, they’re going to win.”

“No, they aren’t,” I said, reaching into my pocket. “Because—”

I broke off. There were footsteps coming toward our door. Shifting my hand to a different pocket, I got a grip on the kwi.

The door opened, and McMicking and Hardin walked in. “Yes, they’re here,” McMicking called to someone still out in the hallway.

“Hail the conquering hero,” Hardin said with only a hint of sarcasm. His eyes flicked to the two defenders, then came back to me. “How are you holding up?”

“A little lung and ear damage,” I said as Rebekah and Terese walked in and joined the party. “Nothing a layered QuixHeal regimen won’t solve. You?”

“My lung damage sounds a little more serious than yours, but the doctor said I’ll be all right,” he told me. “McMicking tells me you’ve been fighting these Shonkla-raa bastards and their allies ever since you left my employ. He also tells me you were hoping to get Director Losutu to help you raise a private army.”

“You offering to take his place?” I asked.

“I may be,” Hardin said. “I didn’t know Losutu well, but I respected the man.” Almost reluctantly, I thought, his eyes drifted to Losutu’s body. “Besides which, the damn horse-faces had the same thing planned for me. He and I both got identical messages, seven days ago, asking us to come up here and meet with a high-ranking usantra about some big deal they were thinking about offering Earth and Hardin Industries.”

“Fortunately, I returned from my own trip a few hours before the meeting was to take place,” McMicking put in. “I lasered a message to Earth before leaving the station, just as a matter of routine, and when they lasered back that Mr. Hardin was on his way to meet with some Filiaelians I decided I’d better stick around.”

“Good thing you did, too,” I said.

“So you’re still going with this army thing?” Terese asked hesitantly. “I mean … you really think an Earth army can fight them?”

I took a deep breath, looking at each of their faces in turn. It was time, I knew. It was finally time. “No, we’re not doing the army plan anymore,” I said. “Not after what happened here today. Bayta’s right—we can’t beat them this way. ”

“Sure we can,” Hardin said. “We just need—”

“No, we can’t,” I said bluntly. “Furthermore, I’m not going to subject the people of the Confederation to any more of this kind of butchery.”

“So we’re just giving up?” Terese demanded.

“Not at all,” I said. “We can’t fight them, so we’re going to isolate them.”

“How?” McMicking asked.

“There are three super-express lines between this side of the galaxy and the Filly side,” I said. “Plus probably a couple hundred local lines linking their worlds with the Shorshic Congregate. I propose we destroy every one of those links, starting with the super-express Tubes.”

“Frank?” Bayta murmured tensely. “Do you really want to be talking about this?”

“She’s right,” Hardin seconded. “We need the Quadrail, Compton. We need the commerce, the transportation—”

“And we’ll keep all that,” I cut him off. “All we’re going to lose is the Filiaelian Assembly. The Shonkla-raa are Fillies? Fine—let the Fillies deal with them.”

“Supposing we agree in principle,” McMicking said, eyeing me closely. “How would you do that?”

I hesitated. If Bayta hadn’t liked the first part of my speech, she was going to absolutely hate this part. “I know where there are a group of warships,” I said, lowering my voice. “Big warships, leftovers from the first Shonkla-raa war sixteen hundred years ago. We’ll activate one of them, fly it out to the super-express Tubes, and blow them up.”

“Wait a minute,” Hardin said, straightening up a bit. “There are starships out there? Real starships, that travel faster than light and everything?”

“Not on their own, no,” I said. “But I’m told there’s a way to piggyback with Quadrail travel. I think we need to fly in synch with one of the trains, only on the other side of the Tube wall—something like that. Don’t worry, we’ve got time to figure it out.”

“Where are these ships located?” Rebekah asked, her expression a mix of cautious trust plus outright disbelief that I would ever talk about such things out loud. It was probably the same expression Bayta was wearing right now. Not that I dared to look.

“That’s where we start getting clever,” I told her. “They’re buried near a place called Proteus.”

“Proteus?” Terese asked, her eyes widening. “Proteus Station? The place we just got chased out of?”

“Actually, no,” I said. “But I’m hoping that’s what the Shonkla-raa will think.”

Terese shot a bewildered look at Rebekah. “I don’t get it.”

I sighed. “Look. The word about the ships is bound to get out. The Modhri will know about them—he has to; we’re going to need his help in tracking the Shonkla-raa’s movements—and sooner or later the Shonkla-raa will grab a walker and ask him what I’m planning.”

A look of comprehension blossomed on Rebekah’s face. “And he’ll say the warships are near Proteus.”

“Exactly,” I said. “We know the Shonkla-raa are really sloppy about asking the right questions. With luck, they’ll jump to the conclusion Terese just did and scramble to meet us at Proteus Station. By the time they realize their mistake, we’ll be on our way to cutting them off from the rest of the galaxy forever.”

“Where are the ships actually located?” Hardin asked.

“On a world called Veerstu, in the Nemuti FarReach,” I said. “Not too far from a place called the Ten Mesas.”

“Excellent,” Hardin said briskly. “I have some interests in the FarReach. I should be able to get the people we need in there without attracting attention.”

I frowned. “What people?”

“Were you planning to fly this warship around all by yourself?” Hardin asked. “I, on the other hand, have whole battalions of pilots, navigators, and engineers.”

“Of course—why didn’t I think of that?” I said sarcastically. “And their licenses for ancient Shonkla-raa spacecraft are current?”

Hardin’s lip twitched. “I hadn’t thought about that,” he admitted.

“Fortunately, we should be able to give them a head start,” I said, taking Bayta’s hand. “Bayta’s studied the Shonkla-raa language. She can at least teach your pilots how to read the controls and gauges.”

Bayta stirred, and I sensed her getting ready to protest that she wouldn’t know ancient Shonkla-raa if it took out ad space on her eyelids. I squeezed her hand warningly, and she remained silent.

“But it will take a while for them to slog through all of it,” I continued. “Eight weeks, maybe a little more.”

“Two months is a hell of a long time in warfare,” Hardin pointed out. “Are we expecting the Shonkla-raa to just sit on their hands while we’re off deciphering their hieroglyphics?”

“Yes, actually, we are,” I said. “Because while Bayta’s playing language professor, I’ll be sending a message to Osantra Riijkhan offering to reopen negotiations for me to go over to their side.”

Hardin snorted. “You really think he’ll buy that?”

“Why not?” I said. “He’s already offered protection for the Confederation in return for my services. After today’s object lesson, it would only make sense that I might be reconsidering his offer.”

“That’s an easy enough game to play as long as you can stay on Earth,” McMicking pointed out. “What happens if he wants to meet with you somewhere else, where we can’t protect you?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” I said. “Are we agreed, then?”

There was a moment of silence. “There are a lot of details we haven’t touched on,” Hardin said. “But we’ve got time to work those out. Fine. Hardin Industries is in.”

McMicking half lifted a hand. “So am I.”

“You’re part of Hardin Industries,” Hardin reminded him dryly. He cocked an eyebrow at me. “So are you, Compton, if you want to be.”

“You mean reinstatement?” I shook my head. “Thanks, but it’s bad enough I have to work with a man who employs people like our friend from the super-express. I don’t think I could handle being on the actual payroll.”

Hardin hissed out an impatient sigh. “I already told McMicking, Compton. Now I’ll tell you. He was working entirely alone. Yes, he was working for me; and yes, I had him on a very loose leash. Too loose, as it turned out. But as you may recall, I gave you the same freedom when you worked for me.”

“Leashes aside, you’re also the one who created his neat little bag of tricks,” I reminded him.

“And you should be damn glad I did,” he countered. “Those bouncy marbles McMicking used against the Shonkla-raa out there? They came onto the Tube as protective bubble wrap.”

I frowned at McMicking. “Bubble wrap?”

“Two-centimeter-diameter air-filled plastic spheres set between two thin sheets of plastic,” he confirmed. “The stuff looks and acts just like normal protective wrap, except that the spheres are three-hundred-kilo test weight. Pull the two enclosing sheets apart, and the spheres drop out, ready to use.”

“Very neat,” I said.

“The point is that I may have equipped the bastard, but I never authorized his plan,” Hardin said. “That was all him.”

“Fine,” I said. “My point is that I’m not working for Hardin Industries anymore. I’ll work with you, but not for you.”

Hardin grimaced, but nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “Would you be willing to at least accept a ride back to Earth? My torchyacht is faster than anything you could rent at the transfer station, and a lot more secure.”

“That one I’ll be more than happy to accept,” I assured him. “Why don’t you and McMicking go find Morse and see if he can talk Colonel Savali into letting us leave the station. Terese, you and Rebekah might as well go with them. We’ll be along in a minute.”

“Right,” McMicking said before anyone could object. “Mr. Hardin?”

“Just make it fast,” Hardin warned me as he headed toward the door. “I’m suddenly not liking this place very much.”

“We’ll be right there,” I promised.

They filed out, the door closing again behind them. “You do realize,” Bayta said into the silence, “that I don’t know enough ancient Shonkla-raa to teach a fifteen-minute class.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I wasn’t going to have them spend more than fifteen minutes on it anyway.”

She frowned. “Then why an eight-week delay?”

“Two reasons,” I said. “First, there is an actual course of study I want Hardin’s people to take. And second, we need to give the fleeing rats a place to flee to.”

“Which fleeing rats?”

“All of them,” I said. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the data chip I’d been about to show her before McMicking and the others interrupted. “The thing that’s been nagging at me the whole time was why they chose Terra Station for this confrontation, and why they made it so big. Why in the world would they risk this kind of exposure in a full-blown battlefield assault?”

I handed her the data chip. “So while Morse and I were taking a breather from all the official questioning, I slipped over to the message center to see if the Spiders had anything for me.”

Bayta fingered the chip, making no move to pull out her reader. “And?”

“It’s my version of the same news the Shonkla-raa must have gotten before we arrived,” I said. “A report from Logra Emikai saying that the Shonkla-raa gene-manipulation facilities aboard Proteus Station have been completely destroyed.”

Bayta’s eyes widened. “Already?”

“Already,” I confirmed. “And when I say completely I mean down to the last DNA molecule. He planned it well, and was able to bring in some of his old friends to assist. That, plus the intel the Modhri provided him, let them launch a single coordinated raid and take down everything.” I tapped the chip. “And there’s more. Emikai and Director Usantra Nstroo were able to find enough proof of the Shonkla-raa activities that a quiet alarm has now been sent out across the entire Assembly. Within weeks, months at the most, the Shonkla-raa are going to be hunted down and captured.”

“Or killed,” Bayta murmured.

“That’s up to the Fillies,” I said. “The point is that with their handy genetic assembly line on Proteus up in smoke, there aren’t going to be any new Shonkla-raa anytime soon. With their hoped-for future numbers wiped out, and with my well-established knack for thinning their current ranks, they apparently decided I needed to be taken out, one way or another, no matter what the cost. Hence, today’s desperate gamble.”

Bayta gazed down at the data chip in her hand. “So what you’re doing now is baiting them,” she said. “You’ve set up a plan you don’t intend to carry out, hoping they’ll now come to you.” She looked at me, her face pale. “And kill you.”

I sighed. “For whatever it’s worth, I don’t like this any better than you do,” I said. “But like you said, we need to get them out into the open.” I shrugged. “This was the best bait I could think of.”

“I know.” Bayta took a deep breath. “I hope you’re right.”

“Aren’t I always?” I countered, trying for a levity I didn’t feel. “Ready?”

She braced herself, and I could tell she was dreading the thought of walking the gauntlet of dead bodies out there. “Ready,” she said, standing up and handing me back the data chip. “I never liked this war, Frank. But now, I’m starting to hate it.”

“No one who’s in the middle of a war likes it, Bayta,” I said, gently stroking the back of her neck. “But it’ll be over soon.”

She shivered. “Or at least, our part will be.”

I swallowed. “Yes,” I agreed. “It will.”

* * *

We were standing on the platform, waiting while Morse used his EuroUnion Security Service badge to persuade Savali to let us leave the station, when I saw the scrawny Filly from our ill-fated train emerge from the message center. I watched as he turned his back on us and headed toward one of the trains heading toward the Bellidosh Estates-General.

The message I’d sent Riijkhan had gotten through.

And with that, the last of my cards had been played. All that was left was to play out the hand, and see how those cards stacked up against everyone else’s.

To see whether we would live or die.

Across the platform, the Shonkla-raa agent boarded his train. Distantly, I wondered if I’d ever see him again.