Night Train to Rigel

compartment set aside for us, and we were settling in when the door chimed and a conductor paused in the doorway long enough to hand Bayta a data chip. “That the information on Rastra and JhanKla?” I asked as she pulled out her reader.

“The conductor didn’t know, but I assume so,” she said, plugging in the chip and peering at the display. “Yes, it is,” she said, handing it to me.

I glanced down the directory. “I don’t see anything here on the two Halkas who jumped me in the interrogation room.”

“They probably haven’t had time to pull that together yet.”

I grimaced. Still, half a loaf, and all that. “What’s happening with the Bellidos?”

“Two of them have the compartment just behind ours,” she said slowly “The other three have gone to the last of the third-class coaches.”

“We’ll want their profiles and history too,” I said. “Better add that to the Spiders’ things-to-do list.”

“All right,” she said, swaying momentarily for balance as the Quadrail started up. I looked past her at the display window, but there were only a few wandering drones on that side of our track. “I can talk to the stationmaster at the next stop,” she went on. “But it’s only four days to Sistarrko. They may not be able to get the data collected before then.”

“That’s all right,” I said, sitting down in the lounge chair. “I’ve got plenty to read already. You want to join me?”

“No, thank you,” she said, turning toward the door. “I’ll be in my compartment if you need me.”

“Hold it,” I said, reaching over and touching the switch that opened the wall between our rooms. “Let’s not use the corridor any more than necessary, okay? There are nosy neighbors down the hall.”

“Oh,” she said. “Right.” Stepping past me, she went into her compartment, pointedly tapping the control on her own wall as she passed it. I waited until the wall had closed; then, changing my mind, I got up from the chair and crossed over to the bed instead. Throwing my carrybags up onto the rack, I dimmed the lights, propped myself comfortably on the pillow, and started to read.

Given the haste with which the Spiders had thrown together the information package, I hadn’t expected anything too extensive or startling. I wasn’t disappointed. Rastra had been born to a good if not really highly placed family and had risen through the ranks of Guardians until he showed talent in mediating conflicts, at which point he’d been promoted to Resolver. He’d risen through the ranks there, too, being assigned to increasingly important posts until he’d been promoted to Falc and been given his current Resolver-at-large position, going wherever his government needed him. The Spiders had included his last five years’ worth of Quadrail travel, which confirmed he’d spent the past three months on the road with JhanKla, no doubt smoothing the High Commissioner’s path through the murky labyrinth of Jurian protocol.

JhanKla, in contrast, had been born pretty much at the top of the food chain, to one of the Halkan Peerage families. He’d been schooled and trained in the art of being an aristocrat, and upon completion of those studies had been handed a commissioner’s job on Vlizfa. He’d served there for three years, apparently with at least a modicum of competence, then moved on to a succession of more important posts on various Halkan worlds. The details of his promotion to High Commissioner weren’t given, but with Halkas that could be a result of merit, a fluctuation in family prestige, or even the serendipity of the right person dying at an opportune moment. Most of his Quadrail travel over the past five years had consisted of trips within the Halkavisti Empire.

As near as I could tell, comparing the two sets of records, there was no indication that he and Rastra had ever even been in the same solar system together prior to this extended visit to the Jurian Collective.

Something seemed to flicker at the edge of my vision. I looked up, but whatever it was had apparently passed. I looked around the room for a moment, then turned my attention back to the reader and swapped out the chip for the one holding the Tube security data.

I’d had just a few minutes to study the chip earlier, but even through a throbbing head I’d hit enough of the high points to be impressed. Now, as I dug into the details, I found myself even more so.

The Tube sensors spotted explosives, of course, including the explosive loadings of projectile handguns. Everyone knew that much. What I hadn’t spotted on my first pass was that the detectors also picked up a wide range of the more innocuous components that could be assembled into things that could go bang in the night. Even homemade explosives were apparently out.

There was also a wide variety of chemical and biological poisons and disease organisms on the list, both fast- and slow-acting varieties, many of which I’d never even heard of. Some were reasonably general threats to the galaxy at large, items like Saarix-5 or anthrax that attacked pretty much every carbon-based metabolism to one degree or another. Things that were more species-specific, like HIV or Shorshic shellbeast toxin, were also screened for.

All the standard tools of mayhem were on the list, from plasma and laser weapons with their huge energy signatures, to the thudwumper and shredder rounds I was most familiar with, to more subtle devices like dart throwers and even such passive devices as nunchaku fighting sticks and police billy clubs. If there was a weapon the Spiders hadn’t included, I couldn’t think what it might be.

There was obviously way too much for a single set of hatchway sensors to look for, but the chip had the answer to that long-standing puzzle as well. There were definitely hatchway sensors that checked passengers as they arrived from the shuttles, but the deeper and more subtle scanning was done as they made their way to the platforms, via sensors built into the Tube’s flooring and support buildings. In effect, each Quadrail station was a massive sensor cavity, discreetly protecting the passengers from each other.

And that was certainly not included in the building supplies that made up the major part of a station’s trillion-dollar price tag. All of it had to be added afterward, put in by the Spiders themselves. Perhaps, I decided grudgingly, the cost of a new station wasn’t quite the extortion I’d always thought.

Above the top of the reader, something again seemed to flicker at the edge of my vision. Again I looked up, and again there was nothing.

But this time I spotted something I hadn’t noticed before. Preoccupied with the data chips and my own musings, I’d neglected to opaque the window.

Frowning, I set the reader aside and turned off the room lights completely, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness I could see a faint luminescence begin to fill the window. For a moment I wondered where it was coming from, then realized that I was seeing a reflection of the Coreline glow from high overhead on the curved Tube wall surrounding us.

Getting to my feet, I walked over to the window, and for a minute I leaned against it and gazed out into the perpetual night of the Tube. How many thousand light-years of Quadrail track was there out there? I wondered distantly. Enough to link all the known inhabited worlds, certainly, with other lines probably already in place waiting for up-and-coming species like us to stumble across. Soon, perhaps, there would be Thirteen Empires, and then Fourteen, and Fifteen—

And without warning, a spot of brilliant red light flashed across my sight someplace far to the rear of the train.

I jerked in surprise as the light winked out again. It hadn’t been all that bright, I realized now, except relative to the soft Coreline glow and my own dilated pupils. I stared at the spot where it had been, wondering if that had been what had caught my attention earlier and what in the world it could be. Some kind of erratic running light? But Quadrails didn’t carry running lights, at least as far as anyone knew. Some kind of warning beacon, then? Out here in the middle of nowhere, I hoped to God not.

The light flashed on again. Experimentally, I turned my eyes slightly away, and this time I thought I could detect a slight flicker in it.

And as it winked off again, I suddenly understood.

My jacket was hanging beside me on the cleaning rack. I dug madly into the pockets, pulling out my reader and data chip pack and swearing under my breath as I tried to read the chips’ labels by the dim reflected Coreline light. Finally, I located the right one. Jamming it into the slot, I turned the reader on and pressed it against the window.

It was obvious now, with the crystal clarity only hindsight could bring to a situation. My playacting Bellido back on the Jurskala train hadn’t needed anything so esoteric as a tap into Spider computer or control systems to keep in touch with his buddies back in third class. He’d had a compartment window, a simple low-power laser pointer, a fluctuation modulator, and the whole Tube wall to bounce messages off of. No wonder his friends had been ready