The Third Lynx

Inside, seated at the far end of the typical three-chair triangle setup and flanked by a pair of Spiders, was a Chahwyn.

'Hello, there.' I greeted him. 'Nice to see some of you getting out a little.'

'Sit down, Mr. Compton,' the alien said in a grave but melodious voice. He extended a hand, the forefinger visibly lengthening as he pointed to one of the chairs.

Silently, I stepped to the indicated seat as Bayta took the third. The Chahwyn were a humanoid species with pale skin, mostly hairless except for tufts of catlike whiskers extending out from ridges above their eyes. Their limbs and fingers were long and thin, their facial features flat and bland.

Or at least they were normally flat and bland. Their whole physique was so malleable that the only other Chahwyn I'd ever met had been able to pass himself off as Human, at least for a short time. Like that first Chahwyn, this one was wearing soft shoes and an elaborately draped togalike robe.

The two Spiders standing stiffly beside him were also tantalizingly familiar. They were of a type I'd seen on my first visit to a Quadrail siding, about the size of a stationmaster but without the usual stationmaster markings. I still didn't know what class they were.

The Chahwyn waited until Bayta and I were seated. 'We had not wanted to have this meeting, Mr. Compton,' he said. 'But the Elders have concluded we have no choice.'

One of the Spiders stirred and tapped its way toward me, and I saw now that it was walking on only six of its seven legs. As it reached me the seventh leg unfolded from beneath the shiny sphere and I saw that it was holding a folded piece of paper. 'What's this?' I asked as the leg extended itself toward me.

'The substance of a message between two of Earth's leading Humans of wealth,' the Chahwyn said. 'Read.'

I took the paper and unfolded it; and as I read I felt my eyebrows crawling higher up my forehead with each line. 'What is it?' Bayta asked.

'Apparently our good friend Larry Hardin is still sore about that trillion dollars we squeezed out of him a few months ago,' I said, leaning over and handing her the paper. 'He's sent out a lovely little chain letter warning all his trillionaire buddies to steer clear of me.'

'I trust you see the problem,' the Chahwyn said. 'Mr. Hardin's friends will tell their friends, and their friends will tell their friends, and so on.'

'And what, the next thing you know people will be pointing to me in crowds and asking for my autograph?' I asked.

'There's more,' the Chahwyn said. 'I understand another Human has died violently in your presence aboard one of our Quadrails.'

'That wasn't my fault,' I said stiffly. Having people turn up dead around me was definitely getting to be a bad habit.

'Regardless, the result is that it raises your visibility,' the Chahwyn said. 'Your usefulness in this war is dependent upon your ability to remain anonymous.'

'Anonymous to whom?' I countered. 'The Modhri's known about me for the better part of a year now. We've managed to muddle through.'

'Anonymous to those who might notice or detain you for purposes of their own,' the Chahwyn said. 'The purposes of Mr. Morse, for example.'

'I can handle Morse,' I insisted. 'And if it's anonymity you're worried about, just fix me up with a few false IDs. Names might stick for a while, but faces fade.'

'I'm sorry, but the decision is made,' the Chahwyn said. 'We will regret losing your services.'

I looked at Bayta. Her face was set in a tight mask. 'What exactly are you saying?' I asked.

'In the idiom of your people'—the Chahwyn's eyes flicked to Bayta, as if probing her mind for the correct phraseology—'you have been fired.'

ELEVEN :

For a long moment I just stared at him, unpleasant memories swirling into view. Two years ago Western Alliance Intelligence had fired me for rocking the boat on the Yandro affair. Six months ago, Larry Hardin had done likewise, though for very different reasons.

This one made three firings in a row. Another bad habit I needed to work on. 'Bad idea,' I said, putting on my diplomat's face. 'This war is a long way from being over.'

'We know that better even than you do,' the Chahwyn said, a little stiffly. 'As I say, we'll regret losing your services.'

'You may do more than just regret it,' I warned. 'Not to be insulting, but I don't think you and the Spiders can handle the Modhri without me.'

'There are others with your capabilities,' the Chahwyn said. 'A suitable new partner for Bayta will be found.'

I looked at Bayta, my throat tightening. Somehow, my brain hadn't yet made it to the obvious conclusion that if I was finished with the Spiders and Chahwyn, I was finished with Bayta, too.

She'd obviously gotten there ahead of me. Her eyes were locked solidly on a patch of floor midway between her and the Chahwyn, carefully avoiding mine. 'You bring in someone cold and you could end up regretting it,' I warned.

'You were brought in cold,' the Chahwyn reminded me.

'And you damn near ended up regretting it,' I said bluntly. 'You can't count on being lucky twice in a row.'

'Bayta will know whether or not he can be trusted,' he said. 'You will be returned to—'

He broke off, his head turning sharply toward Bayta. Her eyes, I noted, had now risen to his.

And as they stared at each other in rigid silence, I had the eerie feeling that a battle was taking place.

I gave it about half a minute before I decided I'd been left at the kiddy table long enough. 'Excuse me,' I spoke up. 'I hate to break in on a private conversation, but I think I can demonstrate that you need me, and not just some random leftover Intelligence hack.'

With an effort, the Chahwyn pulled his gaze away from Bayta. 'There is nothing more you can say,' he said, an edge of annoyance audible beneath the music of his voice. Probably as close to actual violence as a Chahwyn could get. 'We'll regret losing—'

'Yes, you said that already,' I growled. 'A word of advice: take a good look at the nine-pack of Lynx, Hawk, and Viper sculptures that were dug up on the Nemuti planet Veerstu a couple hundred years ago.'

'The Spiders have already concluded such a study,' the Chahwyn said. 'It has been delivered to you.'

'Yes, I read it,' I said. 'Now I'm telling you to do one.'

The eye-ridge tufts twitched. 'What exactly do you expect us to find?'

'I don't know,' I said patiently. 'That's why I want you to do the study.'

'You must at least have a theory.'

I'd already spun Unpleasant Theory Number One for Bayta, the idea that the Modhri might be planning to barter the Nemuti collection for a new homeland. Time to trot out Unpleasant Theory Number Two. 'I'm simply wondering if there might be something in the sculptures—some rare mineral or enzyme or something—that would allow Modhran coral to grow in something besides arctic-temperature water.'

I heard Bayta's breath catch. I couldn't blame her. If the Modhri could create a homeland without that restriction, the oceans of the galaxy would literally be open to him. He could go to ground, and we wouldn't find him again in a thousand years of trying.

'We will search the records,' the Chahwyn said. His voice was still melodic, but I had the feeling that some of the air had gone out of his tires, too.

'I suggest you do it fast,' I said. 'So …?'