The Domino Pattern

contract status.”

“You don’t sound very hopeful,” I said.

“I’m not,” he admitted. “But I have to try.”

We reached the rearmost of the first-class cars, and as we entered I casually glanced around. Osantra Qiddicoj was seated in a corner by himself, his eyes closed, his breathing slow, his mind presumably emptied.

The Modhri was open for business.

“You go on ahead,” I told Kennrick, taking Bayta’s arm and bringing the two of us to a halt. “I want to see how Osantra Qiddicoj’s doing.”

“Yes, poor guy,” Kennrick said, peering over at Qiddicoj. “I hear those Filiaelian stomach things can drag you down for weeks. He’s looking better, though.”

“Hopefully, he’ll be recovered by the time we reach Venidra Carvo,” I said. “Thanks again for coming to our rescue.”

“Any time.” With a nod to Bayta, Kennrick continued on forward.

I could feel the taut muscles in Bayta’s arm as I steered us toward Qiddicoj’s seat. “You okay with this?” I asked her quietly.

“Would it matter if I wasn’t?”

“Sure,” I said. “I could take you back to your compartment and do it alone.”

She straightened her shoulders. “I’m all right.”

There were a pair of empty chairs nearby. I pulled them over to Qiddicoj and we sat down. “Hello, Modhri,” I said.

“Good afternoon, Compton,” the Modhri said, Qiddicoj’s eyes remaining closed. “And to you, Bayta, agent of the Spiders.”

Bayta didn’t answer.

“Let’s start with last night,” I said. “I’d like your take on just what the hell happened.”

For a long moment the Modhri was silent. “It was very strange,” he said at last. “I was …I could hear and see what I was doing, and I knew it was a lie. And yet, I could not stop myself.”

Which was, I knew, the hallmark of a good hypnotic drug. “At least you were able to slip in the clue about the hypnotic,” I commented. “So who was feeding you your lines?”

“I don’t know,” the Modhri said, a hint of frustration edging into his otherwise emotionless voice. “The voice spoke to my Eye Prapp, but spoke from behind him. I never saw who it was, neither before, during, nor after.”

“Did you recognize the voice?” I persisted. “Male, female, species—did you get anything?”

“Nothing,” he said. “But I do remember that a faint whistling sound seemed to underlie my attacker’s words.”

I looked at Bayta. I’d heard a whistling sound that evening, and so had Emikai. Now the Modhri had joined the club.

Obviously, that was significant. I just wished I knew how. “I don’t suppose you have any idea how the hypnotic got into your system. Any of your systems,” I amended. “I assume what gets into one walker affects the whole mind.”

“It does,” he confirmed. “Unfortunately, I have no idea how that was done.”

I sighed. If dead ends were money, Bayta and I could retire rich. “You really ought to try to be more alert,” I told the Modhri.

“I will,” the Modhri promised. “And may I say that I’m pleased you are still alive.”

“I’m reasonably pleased about that myself,” I said. “Okay, back to the business at hand. What can you tell me about Master Colix’s last day?”

“I’ve been pondering that question since his death,” the Modhri said. “Unfortunately, there’s little I can tell you that you don’t already know. He ate his sunrise and midday meals alone. No one approached his table during either time. Sundown was eaten with Master Bofiv and Master Tririn.”

“Master Tririn told us Dr. Witherspoon and Terese German were seated nearby at that latter meal,” I said. “Did Master Colix have a good view of them?”

“He did, and neither of them approached the table,” the Modhri confirmed. “They seemed interested only in each other.” Qiddicoj’s nostrils flared briefly. “Perhaps too interested.”

I felt my ears prick up. Terese, and Witherspoon? There was at least a forty-year age difference there. “What makes you say that?” I asked.

“He touched her in a very intimate way,” the Modhri said, and I could hear the contempt in his voice for primitive Humans who didn’t know any better than to display their affection in public.

“Where exactly did he touch her?” I asked.

A hand lifted limply from Qiddicoj’s lap. “Here,” he said, his fingertips touching his lower abdomen. “And here,” he added, moving the fingers upward a short distance.

I frowned. There wasn’t a single Human erogenous zone in either place. “Are you sure?” I asked, holding my hand a couple of centimeters above Bayta’s abdomen. “He was touching her right here?”

Qiddicoj’s eyes flicked briefly open, then closed again. “Yes,” the Modhri confirmed.

“I see,” I said, bringing my hand back. “Well, well.”

“What is it?” Bayta asked.

“At least one corner of this mess is suddenly making sense,” I said. “This dinnertime get-together wasn’t a meeting. It was a medical consultation.” I tapped my own abdomen. “Remember Terese’s stomach trouble?”

Bayta’s eyes widened a little. “Are you saying …?”

I nodded. “Our young friend Terese German is pregnant.”

Bayta shot a look at Qiddicoj. “What in the world is she doing alone on a Quadrail heading for the far end of the galaxy?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” I agreed. “And it’s clear now that our Filly friends Aronobal and Emikai are definitely involved with her.”

“Why do you say that?” the Modhri asked.

“Because if they are, a few more of the pieces fall into place,” I told him. “Emikai’s concern for the air in Terese’s car, for starters—air quality would be especially important for a woman carrying a baby. And then there’s Dr. Witherspoon’s reaction after di-Master Strinni’s death, when I asked him about his rendezvous with Terese.”

“Yes,” the Modhri murmured thoughtfully. “He was very reluctant to speak of her.”

I frowned. “You remember that?”

“The polyp colony within an Eye lives for a short time after the Eye’s own death,” he explained.

“Ah,” I said, a shiver running up my back. I’d always suspected that was the case, but to have it confirmed in such a coldly clinical manner was a little disconcerting. “What you couldn’t see was that Witherspoon kept looking at Aronobal during that conversation, as if he wasn’t sure how much he was allowed to say. Physician/patient privilege is pretty much a standard of Human law these days, but other species handle it in different ways. And Witherspoon was only brought in as a consultant, after all.”

“You think Dr. Aronobal was concerned about Ms. German’s stomach trouble?” Bayta asked.

“That’s my guess,” I said. “I’m sure she knows about morning sickness, but the duration and intensity of Terese’s bouts may have thrown her enough to want a Human doctor to take a look.”

I looked back at Qiddicoj. “Speaking of death and Modhran afterlife, why did you try to finger me—no pun intended—with Strinni’s silly dying clue?”

“My apologies,” the Modhri said, a touch of embarrassment in his tone. “At the time I believed you to be the one killing off my Eyes. I wanted to raise that same suspicion in others so that they would keep watch on your future actions.”

“That makes sense, I guess,” I said. “You have no such suspicions now?”

“None,” the Modhri assured me. “To return to Master Colix’s sundown meal. His individual was birrsh, and the common was po krem, which he ate with prinn scoops.”

“Yes, Tririn’s already given me the menu,” I said. “Any chance either Bofiv or Tririn spiked any of the