Night Train to Rigel

Bayta said at last, “they’ll need to make their test at least a couple of months before the Filiaelian attack.”

“Right,” I said. “Which basically means any time from now on.”

She took another sip of her lemonade. “All right,” she said. “But if it’s entry procedures you’re interested in, wouldn’t we do better to go straight to Jurskala?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “A homeworld station—any homeworld station—will be too crowded for us to get a really good look at their setup. A regional capital like Kerfsis should have all the same stuff, but without all the busyness. We’ll take the shuttle out to the transfer station, look around a bit, then come back, pick up the next train, and move on.”

“To where?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’m guessing our warmongers will want a test subject a little more advanced than us or the Tra’ho’sej. That leaves the Juriani, Cimmaheem, or Bellidos.”

She pondered a moment. “The Bellidos might be a good choice,” she offered. “They’re farther out on the arm than the Terran Confederation, which makes them even more isolated.”

“Right, but at the moment we’re heading the wrong direction,” I reminded her. “Rather than spend time backtracking, we might as well continue on and check out the Juriani and Cimmaheem.”

“There are a lot of worlds out there,” she murmured, looking down at her glass.

I nodded agreement, taking another swallow of my tea as I let my gaze drift around the bar. There were Jurian foursomes occupying two of the tables, with a scattering of Shorshians and Bellidos taking up most of the rest of the space. In the far corner two Cimmaheem sat across from a lone human, their features obscured by the swirling blue smoke of a traditional skinski flambe as a hardworking vent fan kept the fumes from bothering anyone else in the room. “We can look through the system listings along the way and see if we can figure out what sort of test area our attacker might like,” I said. “But no matter how you slice it, we’re talking a lot of search area.” I raised my eyebrows. “I just hope you and I aren’t the only team on the job.”

“What do we do if we find them?” she asked, ignoring the gentle probe. “The attackers, I mean?”

“That’ll be the easy part,” I said. “All your Spider friends have to do is shut down Quadrail service to those worlds.”

There was something about the way she took her next breath. Nothing obvious, but still noticeable. “Maybe,” she said.

“What do you mean, maybe?” I asked, frowning. “It’s their train system, isn’t it? Why can’t they classify someone as persona non grata and refuse to stop at their stations?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe they can. I just don’t know.”

I studied her face, trying to read past that neutral expression. On everything else, she seemed so certain about what the Spiders could or couldn’t or would or wouldn’t do. Now, suddenly, she wasn’t sure if they could shut down a few Quadrail stations?

Because if the Spiders couldn’t do that, maybe they weren’t the ones in charge of the system after all. And that was not something I wanted to hear right now. “Well, however they want to deal with it is their problem,” I said. Even to my own ears it sounded pretty lame. “Our job is just to figure out the who and where.” I yawned. “And it’s probably time we got a little rest.”

“Yes,” she said, taking another sip of her lemonade and getting to her feet. “And don’t worry. I won’t tell the Spiders about… you know.”

“Thank you,” I said, standing up as well. Actually, I didn’t much care whether or not the Spiders heard about my crisis of confidence. My main reason for having this conversation somewhere other than in my compartment was to see if there would be any obvious fuss on the Spiders’ part when I moved out of range of their little Saarix booby trap.

But there hadn’t been any such reaction, or at least none I’d been able to see, which left me basically where I’d started. Maybe all the fuss would happen later.

Still, the conversation had given me at least a partial handle on Bayta. That was worth something.

And at the very least, the iced tea had been good.

FIVE:

Eight hours later, right on schedule, we pulled into Yandro Station.

I had set the compartment’s display window to show a dit rec of travel through the Swiss Alps, mostly because west-central EuroUnion trains and this kind of intrigue just seemed to go together. Now, as we angled downward from the main Tube into the station, I shut down the dit rec and turned the window transparent.

All the Quadrail stations I’d ever been to had looked pretty much alike, all of them variations on the same basic theme. Yandro’s was no exception, the variation in this case being the number and distribution of the support buildings. Only two of the thirty tracks spaced around the cylinder carried trains that actually stopped here, all others merely passing through on their way to more important places. Ergo, only two of the tracks had passenger stations and cargo loading cranes built alongside them.

Considering the minuscule level of traffic involved, even that was overkill. I found the old frustrations rising again like stomach acid as we pulled to a halt and I saw there were only six passengers waiting to board. At a trillion dollars to put in the station, Yandro’s colonists were going to have to sell a hell of a lot of fancy lumber to ever earn back that investment.

At the far edge of my view, I saw Bayta striding across the platform toward one of the two maintenance buildings, trying not to look too much like she was hurrying. She disappeared inside and I checked my watch, hoping she was doing the same. A fifteen-minute stop wasn’t very long, and for all their professed willingness to cooperate I doubted the Spiders would go so far as to make the train late for us.

Bayta apparently didn’t have any illusions in that regard, either. She emerged from the building with ninety seconds to go and crossed the platform in a sprint that would have done an Olympic runner proud. Even then, I wasn’t sure she’d actually made it aboard until she arrived at my compartment two minutes later, still breathing a little heavily. “All set,” she said as she dropped onto the curve couch. “The stationmaster will pass on the request. The data should be ready by the time we reach Kerfsis. It’ll be delivered to our compartment on the next train we take.”

“Good,” I said, checking my watch, now set to our particular Quadrail’s internal time. It was just after ten in the evening of the Spiders’ standard twenty-nine-hour day, with nine more hours to Kerfsis Station. Enough time for a good night’s sleep plus breakfast before we arrived.

I was just wondering if I should go to the bar first for a quick nightcap when the door chime sounded.

I looked at Bayta. “You expecting someone?” I asked in a low voice.

She shook her head, the comers of her mouth suddenly tight. “It’s not a Spider,” she said.

The chime came again. I thought about sending Bayta back to her own compartment, decided there wasn’t enough time to unfold the wall without the delay looking suspicious. “Washroom,” I ordered her, standing up and crossing to the door. I waited until she had disappeared into the cubicle, then touched the release.

It was a pair of Halkas: flat-faced, vaguely bulldoglike beings who could talk a man’s leg off at twenty paces and had a passion for Earth-grown cinnamon. “Whoa,” the shorter of them announced, his breath thick with the distinctive burnt-acetate smell of their species’ favored intoxicant. “This isn’t Skvi. It’s a Human.”

“I believe you’re right,” the taller one agreed, leaning forward and squinting as if having trouble focusing on me. “Interesting snouts on this species.”

“Can I help you?” I asked, stepping into the doorway just in case they had it in mind to come in without waiting to be asked.

The shorter one waved a hand, his hollow double-reed claw sheaths whistling like a distant oboe with the gesture. “We seek a friend,” he said. “A fellow Halka. Our apologies for the disturbance.”

“No problem,” I said, smiling genially as I gave his eyes a quick but careful look. “I hope you find him.”

“If he is here, then we shall,” he intoned solemnly, pulling his lips back in a smile which made his face look even flatter. Taking his companion’s arm, he turned and continued unsteadily down the corridor, tapping his claws rhythmically against the side wall as if trying to make sure it didn’t get away from him.