The Domino Pattern

can’t just go charging in after him. We have to figure out what his plan is, and outthink him.”

Emikai looked at the door where Kennrick and Bayta had vanished. “And if we cannot?”

“We can,” I said grimly. “We will.”

For a long moment Emikai and I just stared at each other. Then, his shoulders slumped a little and he nodded. “She is your assistant,” he said. “He is of your people. I yield to your authority.”

“Thank you,” I said. I squeezed my hands into fists to force out some of the adrenaline flooding my system and tried to think. “Okay, here’s what we do. First of all, we need to make sure not to spook Kennrick again. Go find a conductor and tell him to alert any Spiders between here and Kennrick’s compartment to make sure none of the other passengers tries to play hero.”

“What if the conductor won’t listen to me?”

“He will,” I said. If he didn’t, he would surely check telepathically with Bayta, who would just as surely confirm the order. “Next, we need to isolate Kennrick from other potential hostages. Tell the Spider to start figuring out where we can temporarily put the rest of the passengers in that car.”

“I will obey,” he said. “What about you?”

“Someone needs to talk to Kennrick and find out exactly what he wants.” I squared my shoulders. “I guess that’s me.”

———

I forced myself to take my time, not wanting to come within sight of Kennrick before he reached his goal lest he think I was crowding him. I passed through the exercise/dispensary, shower, and storage cars, bypassed the dining car with its mostly oblivious patrons, and reached the first coach car.

I’d made it barely five steps inside when a hand darted in from my right, grabbed my arm, and spun me around.

And I found myself staring into the angry eyes of a Tra’ho government oathling. “What did you do?” he demanded.

I took another look at his face, with its sagging jowls and the slight flatness of the eyes. “Later, Modhri,” I said shortly, reaching over to pull his hand off my arm.

“Not later,” he insisted. “Now. What did you do?”

“What did you do?” I countered. “That stunt could have gotten Bayta killed.”

“And so you allow the weapon to work?” he shot back. “How does that benefit either of us?”

“What makes you think I control the weapon?” I growled, glancing surreptitiously around the car. Fortunately, the rest of the passengers were already gathered in small knots, talking quietly but nervously among themselves, with little attention to spare for us. Kennrick’s passage must have made quite an impression.

“Do not lie,” the Modhri bit out. “I know the weapon must be activated. There was no Spider present. The agent herself would not have done so. That leaves only you.”

“And since when do I have—?” I broke off, a jolt of understanding abruptly hitting me. “No, you’re wrong,” I said. “Bayta did activate it.”

“Why would she foil my attempt to rescue her?”

“Because your attempt didn’t have a chance,” I told him. “And because she was thinking ahead.”

“To what?”

“To the next real chance we have, whenever that is,” I said, smiling tightly. “Don’t you get it? Kennrick now thinks he has a functional weapon.”

The other’s face worked as he thought it through. Then, slowly, the anger faded from his eyes. “Indeed,” the Modhri murmured. “So the next time he thinks to use the weapon, it will fail?”

“Or at least the next time he tries to use it when Bayta judges we have a real chance of success,” I said. “That doesn’t mean one of us won’t get zapped if we try something stupid again.”

“Understood,” the Modhri said. “What’s our next move?”

“I’m going to go talk to him,” I said. “Try to find out what he wants, how he expects to get it, and hopefully find a chink in his armor that we can exploit.”

“Dangerous,” the Modhri rumbled. “But necessary. What do you wish me to do in your absence?”

“For the moment, just hang back and let me work,” I said. “If the kwi was still on its lowest unconsciousness setting, your Jurian walker should recover in an hour or two.” I leveled a finger at him. “But I mean that about letting me work. We will nail him, but we’ll do it my way. Understand?”

“I’ll await your instructions,” the Modhri promised reluctantly. “Good hunting to you.”

“Thanks.” I nodded. “In the meantime, if you really want something to do, you could help soothe your fellow passengers. You might also start getting them mentally prepared for some changes in their traveling conditions. We’re going to evacuate the rest of that car’s compartments, which will mean an influx of displaced travelers settling down in here and the other coach cars.”

“I can do that.” The Tra’ho’s eyes shifted to the front of the car. “What is this?”

I turned to look. Maneuvering his way awkwardly through the vestibule door was a pale, frail-looking Nemut in a Shorshic vectored-thrust-powered support chair. His truncated-cone-shaped mouth had a slight distortion in it, and one of his angled shoulder muscles seemed frozen in a permanent off-center hunch. I’d seen him a few times since we left Homshil, mostly eating solitary meals in the dining car. “Trouble?” I asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” the Modhri said. “His name is Minnario, journeying to a Filiaelian clinic in hopes of finding a genetic cure for his congenital difficulties. But I’ve never seen him leave his compartment except for meals, which he always takes alone.”

Something pricked at the back of my neck. “Do you know which compartment he’s got?” I asked.

“No,” the Modhri said, his oathling topcut wobbling back and forth as the Tra’ho shook his head. “None of the conversations I’ve overheard has mentioned that.”

Minnario finished getting through the door and started down the center of the car, his head turning slowly back and forth as he studied the passengers. His eyes passed me, then paused and came back. His fingers shifted on the chair’s control box, and he altered course in our direction.

“Wait here,” I told the Modhri, and moved ahead to intercept. “Are you looking for me?” I asked as we neared each other.

Minnario looked down at a plate that was fastened to the chair’s control box by a slender stem. [Are you the Human who chases the other Humans?] he croaked in slightly lisping Nemuspee as he brought the chair to a halt.

“I am,” I confirmed. “You have a message for me?”

There was another pause as he again studied the plate. I took a final couple of steps toward him and saw that it was running him a transcript of what I’d just said. Apparently, deafness was another of his congenital defects. [I was told to give you this,] he croaked. Reaching to a pouch in his lap, he carefully extracted a Quadrail ticket. [The key to my compartment.]

“Let me guess,” I said grimly. “Your compartment connects to the male Human’s?”

[I don’t know where the male Human goes,] he said. [I was asked to give you my key, and told I could move into this one.] He held up another ticket, this one glittering with the diamond-dust edges of a first-class, unlimited- use pass. Bayta’s ticket. [Is that all right?] he croaked. [Should I remain here instead?]

“No, that’s all right,” I said, taking his ticket from him. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I may ask to come in later to collect some of the female’s personal effects.”

[Certainly,] he said when the transcript had finished scrolling across the plate. [Is there trouble? The female seemed frightened.]

“There is, but it doesn’t concern you,” I assured him. “Thank you for this.” Stepping past him, I continued forward.

The corridor of the rear compartment car was empty. I made my way through it, then entered the equally deserted corridor of the middle car. I located Minnario’s compartment and used his ticket to open the door. “Hello?” I called carefully.

“There you are,” Kennrick’s muffled voice came back. “Don’t just stand there—come on in.”

I stepped into the compartment, letting the door slide shut behind me. The room was a typical Quadrail