Night Train to Rigel

The Halka staggered back in shock and agony, his grip loosening around Losutu’s neck. The other Halka gave the little twitch I was starting to associate with sudden shared pain in the group mind; and then I was on him, slamming my forearm and elbow hard against his neck. He staggered back as well, and I returned my attention to the first alien, gripping the hand still resting against Losutu’s throat and twisting it around, pushing against the joint to topple him backward onto the floor between the two restrooms. Another blow to the second Halka’s throat, a hard kick to the first’s midsection as he tried to scramble to his feet, and it was over.

“You all right?” I asked Losutu as I helped him to his feet. “It’s all right,” I added to McMicking as he skidded to a halt beside me.

“I think so,” Losutu said, his eyes wincing over his mask as he rubbed the back of his head. “I wasn’t expecting you to do that.”

“Neither was the Modhri,” I said, guiding him back down the aisle to where Bayta and the stretcher waited. “There are definitely some drawbacks to fighting with untrained labor.”

“Like missing golden opportunities,” McMicking grunted, gesturing toward the far door. “They should have charged while we were distracted.”

“That wasn’t the point of this exercise,” I said grimly. “Or didn’t you notice that the Halka was very careful not to bump Losutu’s oxygen mask?”

“I get it,” McMicking said, nodding. “Cute.”

“What’s cute?” Losutu asked.

“They were hoping we’d use up more of our Saarix to free you,” I told him, picking up the leash control and getting the stretcher moving again. “Two cars to go. Any bets on where they’ll be waiting?”

“I say they’ve got both of them stocked,” McMicking said as we reached the far door. “Remember, they don’t know how much Saarix we’ve got left.”

“Good point,” I said. “Maybe we can use that.”

“How?” Losutu asked.

“You’ll see,” I said. Pushing open the door, I rolled the stretcher through into the vestibule. McMicking moved to point position and opened the door into the next car.

Once again, they were waiting for us, a silent line of aliens completely filling the aisle, with others standing in the seating areas ready to take their places if necessary. The four Juriani in front were carrying a large piece of twisted metal, a misshapen sphere and three segmented poles pointed at us like spears. It took me a second to realize it was what was left of a Spider.

“What now?” Losutu muttered.

In answer, I held out my hand. “Hello, Modhri,” I called. “Before you do anything rash, you and I need to have a little talk.”

TWENTY-TWO:

For a moment there was no response. I watched as a series of expressions flicked across the faces of the assembled crowd, then faded away into a stony mass glare. “What have we to talk about?” the first Juri in line called back.

“I want to offer you a deal,” I told him.

“Frank?” Bayta murmured uncertainly.

“Quiet,” I told her. “I know what I’m doing.”

The Juri clicked his beak. “You think you have anything left to bargain with?”

“Sure,” I said. “You see, I can let you win this round. Or, I can make it a complete waste of your time and energy.”

The Juri cocked his head slightly. “Explain.”

I gestured to the still-smoldering stretcher. “I have enough Saarix-5 to destroy every walker you have between here and the rear of the Quadrail,” I said. “You’ve seen the stuff in action. You know what it can do.”

“Even if you kill them all, you will still die,” he reminded me.

“I know,” I said. “The point is, so will you.”

A ripple ran through the assembly. “You see the problem,” I went on. “If this mind segment dies now, without passing on the information that we have the data chips, you’ll never quite be able to relax.” I gestured toward the crowd. “In fact, I suspect that’s why you started attacking us so aggressively in the first place. You suddenly woke up to the fact that we were heading straight for the Peerage car and JhanKla’s private coral outpost. If we destroy all the walkers and the coral, this mind segment is history.”

“Very well, I agree,” the Juri spokesman spoke up. “You may return to your compartments to await your deaths in peace.”

“Such a generous offer,” I said dryly. “Fine, but we need to get something from the baggage compartment first.”

Another ripple went through the crowd. “No,” the Juri said flatly.

I shrugged. “Okay by me.” Reaching to the lower rack, I found the carrybag Bayta had already blown and pulled it out. “Here,” I said, hiding the damaged handle with my hand as I held it aloft for the Modhri to see. “You want to pass this back to the middle of the room where it’ll work the fastest? Or shall I just throw it back there myself?”

“Wait,” the Juri growled. “What is it you want from the baggage car?”

“My pinochle deck,” I said with exaggerated patience. “What do you care what we want? We’re going to die anyway, right?”

Again he paused… and suddenly I felt Bayta grip my arm. “Frank—that Spider,” she whispered urgently. “He’s still alive.”

I focused on the tangle of metal the Juriani were holding. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” she insisted. “He’s dying, but he’s still alive.”

And the Spiders were the ones who could control the Quadrail. If we could get it back to our first-class compartment, maybe we wouldn’t have to do a Wild West crawl along the top of the train after all.

“Very well,” the Juri said. “You may pass.”

The crowd began to shuffle out of the aisle into the seat areas. “Hold it,” I said. “If you think we’re just going to walk your gauntlet, forget it. Everybody back to the second baggage car and stay there. And I mean everybody.”

“I have given my word,” the Juri protested.

“Like I’m going to trust that,” I said pointedly. “Come on, move it. And leave that thing right where it is,” I added, pointing at the crumpled Spider. “It looks way too much like a weapon for my taste.”

Silently, the Juriani hoisted the Spider up onto the tops of the seats beside them, then joined the rest of the walkers in backing up toward the rear door. I watched as they filed out, alert for any last-second tricks. The door closed behind the spokesman, and I heard Losutu mutter something under his breath. “I don’t like this,” he said. “They gave in way too easy.”

“Agreed,” I said, returning the carrybag to its rack. “McMicking?”

“I’ll check it out.” Gripping his nunchaku warily, he started slowly down the aisle, checking between the rows of seats for hidden surprises. “All clear,” he called when he reached the end. “Let’s move before he changes his mind.”

I nodded and moved the stretcher forward, stopping as I came alongside the dying Spider. “Director, you want to give me a hand with this?” I asked, getting a grip on the deformed sphere.

“What are we doing with it?” Losutu asked, gathering the legs together and cradling them over his forearms like a bundle of firewood.

“We’re taking him with us,” I said, starting forward again. “Bayta says he’s still alive.”

“Can he stop the train?” Losutu asked.

“Not from here,” Bayta told him. “But if we can get him to the engine, either he or I will be able to control