Judgment at Proteus

“The law as practiced aboard Kuzyatru Station requires justice to be meted out in a timely fashion,” he explained.

Something with cold feet took a walk up my back. “Not so timely that the defense won’t have a chance to prepare its own case, I hope?”

“Have no fear,” he assured me. “This is merely a preliminary hearing.” One of the Jumpsuits muttered something under his breath. “And we must leave at once,” Emikai added. “The hour is rapidly approaching, and we have some distance to travel.”

“How much distance?”

“The hearing will take place in Sector 16-J,” he said. “That is the core administrative area nearest where we entered the station.”

I suppressed a grimace. Which would put us a quarter of the way around the station just when Terese was due to be released. How very convenient for someone.

But there was obviously nothing I could do about it. Emikai might be cajoled or otherwise bargained with, but I very much doubted Hchchu could. “Fine,” I said with a sigh as I took Bayta’s arm. “I presume my attorney’s been notified?”

“Your pardon,” Emikai said, holding a hand up in front of Bayta. “She will not be permitted to attend.”

The cold-footed thing on my back broke into a gallop. “That’s absurd,” I insisted. “She’s my assistant.”

“You have a right to an attorney,” Emikai said. “But I do not think your assistant has any such rights.”

“You don’t think?” I asked. “You’re an ex-cop. Don’t you know?”

“Kuzyatru Station currently operates on different rules of law from those I am familiar with,” Emikai said, sounding a bit defensive. “Director Usantra Nstroo and Assistant Director Chinzro Hchchu have chosen to reinstitute the ancient protocols of Slisst.” He cocked his head. “That is why Chinzro Hchchu will be prosecuting you himself. Under the Slisst Protocols, that role falls to a friend or acquaintance of the injured party.”

“And he was a friend of the Filiaelians I’m supposed to have murdered?” I asked.

“Not a friend, precisely, but I am told he was acquainted with all of them,” Emikai said.

“I see,” I said, wondering uneasily if Minnario had even heard of this Slisst Protocol stuff, let alone knew his way around it. “All very interesting, but I’m still a non-Filiaelian accused of a crime in non-Filiaelian territory. My situation still comes under the jurisdiction of cross-empire law.”

“I believe Chinzro Hchchu is still studying that question,” Emikai said, looking a little uncomfortable. “A final ruling is expected soon. Until then, you must still appear at the hearing.”

“With my assistant,” I said firmly.

One of the Jumpsuits stirred. {Why do we waste time?} he demanded. {We’re many. He’s one. Bring him and be done with it.}

{I hear and obey,} Emikai said reluctantly. “Mr. Compton—”

“Tell you what,” I put in quickly. “If the big legal minds are still wrestling with this, it’s certainly nothing the two of us are going to solve on our own. Why don’t you call Minnario, clue him in on what’s happening, and get him to the hearing? Then he and Chinzro Hchchu can hash out together whether or not Bayta can watch the proceedings.”

“That seems reasonable,” Emikai said, a note of relief in his voice as he pulled out his comm. Clearly, the rapid pace of Hchchu’s brand of justice wasn’t sitting well with him, either.

{The Protocols don’t require this,} Jumpsuit insisted.

{Neither do they forbid it,} Emikai countered. He punched in a number and lifted the comm to his ear. {This is Logra Emikai,} he said. {I wish to speak with Attorney Minnario chu-DeHak.}

{This is wasted time,} Jumpsuit muttered.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye, hoping I wouldn’t have to use any of the combat techniques Emikai had taught me during our sparring sessions. At five-to-one odds, I wasn’t likely to last very long.

But I sure as hell wasn’t going to let them take me away and drop me into some dark hole somewhere where Bayta wouldn’t even know where to start looking for me. Not without a fight.

{Understood,} Emikai said.

I looked back at him. The grimness in his voice was mirrored in his face. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Chinzro Hchchu has been attempting to contact Attorney Minnario for nearly half an hour,” Emikai said. “There is no answer on his comm. Nor have any patrollers or operational personnel seen him during that time.

“Your attorney, Mr. Compton, has vanished.”

FOUR

The nearest security nexus was ten floors directly above the medical dome. We arrived to find a full-scale search operation already in progress.

{There continues to be no response from his comm,} a jumpsuited patroller standing by the door reported as Emikai escorted Bayta and me into the room and over to a bank of monitors that stretched all the way up one wall and angled onto part of the ceiling.

{Keep trying,} Emikai ordered. “He is still not answering his comm,” he translated for my benefit.

I nodded, looking over the monitors. About half the screens were cycling through visual images of important offices or key intersections, but most of the displays seemed to be readouts of environmental, power, or equipment usage. I spotted two different views of our Alpine medical dome go by in the rotation, one apparently from just above each of the two corridors leading into it. “Do you keep records of any of these images?” I asked.

“For one hour only,” Emikai said. “Under the Slisst Protocols, anything more is considered a violation of privacy.”

“That’s unfortunate,” I murmured. But probably very convenient for the Shonkla-raa as they scurried around on whatever nefarious schemes they were up to aboard the station. An excellent reason all by itself for Proteus’s directors to have adopted the Protocols. “I guess we’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way, then,” I continued. “We know Minnario was in the security station with me when our torchferry docked. We start by talking to everyone who was also there at that time, from Chinzro Hchchu on down, and try to track his movements.”

“That is already being done,” Emikai said, pointing to a display filled with Fili characters. “That is a list of those who have been spoken to, plus summaries of their testimonies to the patrollers. But it has already been over four hours since our arrival, and the trail has started to go dry. Many of the relevant personnel have dispersed to evening meals and quarters.”

“Unless the Human expert wishes to offer a better method?” a sarcastic voice suggested from behind me.

I turned. It was Usantra Wandek, working his way toward us through the crowd of Jumpsuits. His blaze was showing the same odd mottling I’d seen during our earlier conversation down in the medical dome. “Greetings, Usantra Wandek,” I said, nodding to him. “Did someone call for medical assistance?”

“The Nemut has a long list of medical problems,” he said grimly. “His disappearance strongly implies one or more of those problems may have intensified.” He cocked his head. “But my question was serious. Have you any better options to suggest?”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “If you’re going to set a trap, at least make it an interesting one. I was an Intelligence agent—of course I know about the locator transponders in most comms. I also know where they’re located, how they function, and how to disable them.” And, I didn’t add, routinely did so, dropping my comm and Bayta’s out of the system whenever we looked to be going into danger. “And since Minnario apparently hasn’t been located that way, I presume his locator was in fact disabled. Logra Emikai?”

“You are correct,” Emikai acknowledged.

“The more interesting question,” I went on, watching Wandek closely, “is whether Usantra Wandek is suggesting I might have done away with my own lawyer. What reason