Judgment at Proteus

Humans that I needed to let him know that, in my field of expertise at least, I was smarter than he was. “And second, it’ll be obvious to anyone with half a brain that my hands couldn’t possibly have made the wound that killed him.”

“How foolish of us to have forgotten such things,” Kordiss said sardonically.

“How foolish, indeed,” Wandek agreed. “Asantra Prllolim?”

“The coagulation curve in Chinzro Hchchu’s records has been reset,” Prllolim said. “It will now show his death to have occurred less than a minute after the emergency call is made.”

“And as to your second point, the capabilities of Human hands are not nearly as obvious to untrained Filiaelians as you might think,” Wandek continued. “Director Usantra Nstroo and the patrollers will have to turn to an expert in Human physiology to determine that.”

I felt my brief flicker of professional pride fade away. “You?”

“Who else?” Wandek said. “And I will naturally need several days of study before I can come to a conclusion. I will certainly want Logra Emikai to be standing by during that time in case you try to escape.”

“Of course,” I said, feeling my heart sink even lower. And with Minnario injured and probably needing medical attention himself, Bayta would be completely alone. Every direction I tried, every turn I made, the Shonkla-raa had already closed it off.

Maybe Wandek could see the growing despair in my face, or else he simply knew Human psychology as well as he knew our anatomy. “Please don’t assume that I’m telling you all this in order to gloat in your presence,” he said. “As I’m sure you long ago deduced, the Modhran strategy for slipping through mental defenses is to insert suggestions along lines of respect, familiarity, and trust. For us, the preferred strategy is to break down resistance through the creation of fear and hopelessness.”

He stood up and leaned over me. “Do you feel fear and hopelessness, Mr. Compton?”

“Fear is a biochemical response that can be controlled or ignored,” I said as firmly as I could. “And hopelessness is a lie and an illusion. There’s always hope.” I locked eyes with him. “Always.”

Wandek shook his head. “You Humans are remarkable beings indeed,” he said as he straightened up. “I shall look forward to having all of you under my authority. Until later, Mr. Compton.”

He started toward the door, then paused and turned around again. “One other thing,” he said. “Up to now, our plan has included only the modification of unborn Humans. But since you’ll be our guest anyway, I think it will be worth examining whether or not the same techniques will work on a fully developed Human brain.”

“Sure, why not?” I said, fighting down a surge of horror at the thought of Wandek and the other Shonkla-raa poking around inside my skull. “You might as well be efficient about this.”

“Exactly,” Wandek said. “Of course, the technique may also kill you. But if it succeeds, you too will be able to look forward to a lifetime in my service.”

He took a step back toward me. “So tell me now, arrogant Human,” he said softly, “whether hopelessness is only an illusion.”

He turned again and started across the room. Prllolim and Kordiss joined him, Kordiss walking backward so that he could keep an eye on me the whole way. Even a last-second act of desperation was going to be denied me.

They were halfway to the door when an unexpected question hammered through my growing swirl of despair.

Why the hell were they bothering to alter Human brains?

There was no reason to go to all that time and effort. Asantra Muzzfor had already demonstrated that the Shonkla-raa could take control of the Modhri, and the Modhri had just as conclusively proved he could take control of Humans. Instead of spending all this time and energy fiddling with baby brains, why not simply scratch the babies—and their mothers—with some Modhran coral and be done with it?

The answer seemed obvious. As Hchchu and Wandek had both stated, there wasn’t any Modhran presence aboard Proteus. No Modhri, no coral, no Modhran walkers.

And yet …

I lowered my gaze to Doug. He was sitting on his haunches, his body motionless, his masked eyes gazing intently back at me. Doug, my faithful watchdog, who had accidentally alerted me to at least two attacks since our arrival here. Doug, whose partner Ty had inexplicably deserted me in order to stay close to Bayta, whom the Shonkla-raa had been furiously trying to get alone. Doug, who had never once greeted Ty with the same yip that both watchdogs invariably exchanged with other watchdogs they happened to meet.

Doug, who by Dr. Aronobal’s own statement belonged to a species that the Fillies knew so well they had no reason to study further.

Deliberately, I turned my eyes from Doug to Minnario. The Nemut was still lying motionless, his breathing still the slow rhythm of unconsciousness.

And then, as I peered into his face, I saw his conical mouth shift in a small, knowing, hard-edged smile.

The three Shonkla-raa had reached the door now. “Usantra Wandek?” I called.

He turned around. “Yes?”

“The next time you come after me,” I said softly, “you’d better bring all of you.”

He snorted and turned away. A moment later, the door closed and sealed behind them.

I turned back to Minnario. “Hello, Modhri,” I said.

“Hello, Compton,” Minnario murmured, his eyes still closed, his distorted mouth speaking English for the first time since we’d met. “It’s a long way indeed since the super-express.” He hesitated. “Are we still allies?”

“Yes,” I said firmly.

“Good,” he said. “Then we must hurry.”

Doug stood up and trotted to me. Lowering his head, he opened his mouth wide.

And out onto the floor slid Minnario’s missing comm.

“Bayta is in terrible danger,” Minnario continued, his voice urgent as I reached down and picked up the comm. “We must move swiftly if we’re to save her.”

FIFTEEN

Bayta answered on the second ring. “Where are you?” I asked without preamble.

“On the bullet train heading back to our quarters,” she said, her voice suddenly taut. “What’s wrong?”

“Pretty much everything,” I said grimly, walking over to the door and trying the release. It was locked, all right. “There’s been another murder, the Shonkla-raa are trying to frame me for it, and you’re in danger,” I continued, turning and heading for the desk. “You need to get off that train at the next stop and find a place to hide. Is Emikai with you?”

“Yes, he’s right here,” she said. “Do you want to talk to him?”

Minnario’s hand twitched. “There’s a place nearby that will serve,” he said.

“No, that’s all right,” I told Bayta, nodding to Minnario in acknowledgment. “I don’t think the Shonkla-raa particularly want him, so he should be safe enough for now. But tell him he has to make a choice—”

“This is Emikai,” Emikai’s voice came abruptly. “What has happened?”

“The people who killed Tech Yleli have killed again,” I told him, walking around the side of the desk and trying to activate the computer. It was as solidly locked down as the door.

“Who was murdered?”

“Why?” I asked suspiciously. “You going to call it in if I tell you?”

“Of course,” he said. “I have no choice.”

“In that case, I can’t tell you,” I said. “The killers are trying to frame me for the murder. I have to get away from the crime scene before the whole Proteus security system piles on top of me.”

“Leaving the scene will not help you,” he warned. “You will have left samples of your nucleics behind.”

“In this case, that won’t matter,” I said. “Put Bayta back on, will you?”

“Wait.” There was a brief pause. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “What can you do?”