Judgment at Proteus

An hour later, as snug and safe as we could reasonably hope to be under the circumstances, we headed out.

It was a potentially stressful situation, given the fact that we were all essentially strangers to one another. But ChoDar was a senior ambassador, and within minutes of our train passing through the station’s atmosphere barrier it was clear that his rank and title hadn’t just been someone’s idea of a last-minute New Year’s gift. He started by personally giving us a tour of his car, chattering away genially the whole time. He introduced us to his two guard- assistants, the servitor who handled most of the day-to-day servant work, and his chef. He even allowed us a tantalizing sample of the sauce the latter was working on for our dinner, a Halkan courtesy that was usually reserved for close friends. By the time he showed us to our sleeping compartments even Terese’s tension had eased noticeably.

Dinner, two hours later, more than lived up to what the samples had promised. Again, ChoDar was the perfect host, keeping the conversation going and filling in any potentially awkward gaps with highly entertaining stories of his experiences traveling around the galaxy on behalf of the Halkavisti Empire.

After dinner came drinks in the lounge and more stories. Terese seemed to be fading rapidly—not surprisingly, given the stress of her pregnancy plus the hell she’d just been through on Proteus—and I made a point of keeping an eye on her.

Sure enough, midway through my second iced tea her eyes drooped closed, and her body slumped limply in her contour chair.

“Spice-broiled pipita often has the same effect on me,” ChoDar commented cheerfully, gesturing to the sleeping girl. “Shall I have YhoTeHeu carry her to her compartment?”

“No, she should be all right here,” I assured him, going over for a closer look at her. She seemed all right.

On the other hand, we really had no idea what Aronobal and the rest of the Shonkla-raa ghouls had done to her back on Proteus. Tomorrow, I decided, I would take a few skin and blood samples from her, unpleasant though that kind of task was to me, and run them through my reader and its sophisticated sensors.

“She certainly should be comfortable enough,” ChoDar commented, fondly patting the arms of his own chair. “These chairs are every bit as restful as the sleeping-room beds.” He yawned, a Halkan facial gesture that those unfamiliar with the species invariably assumed was an angry snarl. “In fact, if you’ll forgive such unhostlike behavior, I feel a small nap of my own coming on.”

“No apology or forgiveness needed,” I assured him. “In fact, I’ve been wondering myself how these chairs sleep.”

“Do try it, by all means,” ChoDar urged sleepily. “We’re all friends here, after all. Until later.”

He closed his eyes. I waited, and within a minute his breathing settled into the long rhythmic pattern of sleep.

I took a deep breath. “Hello, Modhri,” I said quietly.

Even in sleep, ChoDar’s face betrayed the slight but distinctive sagging of Modhran control. “Hello, Compton,” he murmured back. “A greeting to you, as well, Bayta.”

“Good evening, Modhri,” Bayta said. Her voice was polite enough, but I could tell she still wasn’t happy with this whole cozy relationship.

“Before we turn to other matters,” the Modhri said, “be first assured that the Shonkla-raa did nothing of long- term hazard to your companion. My mind segment on the Ilat Dumar Covrey station included two doctors. By the time our train left they had discussed the various medicines and procedures that my Eyes on Kuzyatru Station had seen and concluded that she is in no danger.”

His mouth twitched. “No additional danger, rather,” he amended. “She still carries the same genetic disorders that she had when she first came to the Filiaelian Assembly.”

“Yes,” I said, feeling a pang of guilt. Which was ridiculous, of course. Bayta and I had saved her from deadly danger out there.

Or had we?

Because we knew now that what the Shonkla-raa wanted was her unborn son. Part of that goal would have been for the boy to grow up into a productive, influential member of Human society. And the simplest way to do that would be to make sure he had a living, healthy mother.

Did that mean that, except for our interference, they would have cured her genetic problems?

But I couldn’t afford to think about one young girl’s future. Not when the future of every person in the Twelve Empires depended on us.

“We appreciate the information,” I said to the Modhri. “If we succeed in our endeavors, we may yet be able to deal with her medical problems.”

“We may hope so,” the Modhri said. “But now to the business at hand. May I ask how you intend to proceed? Particularly now that you may no longer travel freely through the Filiaelian Assembly?”

“I can travel through it just fine,” I corrected. “I just can’t leave the Tube.”

ChoDar snorted gently. “A meaningless distinction, since the Shonkla-raa will not be in the Tube.”

“Oh, they’ll be here, all right,” I said, grimacing. “As long as we’re here, there will be Shonkla-raa haunting every station and probably every train between here and Homshil.”

“Perhaps,” the Modhri said. “That will still leave the bulk of the enemy outside your area of operation. And as you’re already aware, my own presence in the Assembly is limited to traveling non-Filiaelians.”

“True,” I said. “But I have a few allies of my own I may be able to press into hunting duty.”

ChoDar inclined his head doubtfully. “You’ll need more than a few,” he warned. “The Assembly is an incredibly huge place.”

“But Shonkla-raa throats aren’t exactly easy to hide,” I reminded him. “Speaking of which, have you spotted any aboard this train? Or are we too far back to be in contact with the rest of your mind segment?”

“No, my other Eyes are spread out sufficiently to maintain a single segment with this Eye,” the Modhri said. “I haven’t yet seen any Shonkla-raa, though there may be one or more secluded inside first-class compartments.”

“They’d do better right now to use agents like Dr. Aronobal who aren’t actual Shonkla-raa,” Bayta murmured. “We wouldn’t be able to identify them so easily.”

“Good point,” I agreed. “And with the chaos we left back on Proteus, I’m guessing that’s all they were able to get on our train in time anyway.”

“What then do we do?” the Modhri asked.

“We watch and wait,” I told him. “If their agent is clever enough to avoid identification, there’s nothing we can do.” I cocked an eyebrow. “On the other hand, if we can identify him…”

ChoDar’s head nodded slightly, as a sleeping person might. “We can make him one of my Eyes.”

Abruptly, Bayta stood up and strode out of the lounge toward the sleeping rooms.

“My apologies,” the Modhri said quietly. “That was insensitive of me.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “She’s still getting used to this.”

“And you?”

I shrugged. “I was in Intelligence work long enough to know that you sometimes have to deal with one threat at a time. Right now, the Shonkla-raa are holding down the number-one spot on that list.”

“And after they’re defeated?” the Modhri asked, a sudden edge of nervousness to his voice. “Will our war then resume?”

“Do you want it to?” I countered.

ChoDar sighed. “I am what I am, Compton. You are what you are.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Personally, I’m a big believer in the idea that people can change.”

ChoDar smiled faintly. “And that, I believe, is the great strength of your people. No matter how powerful the forces arrayed against you, you never give up.”

“It’s definitely a strength,” I agreed. “But it can also be a weakness. I’ve seen people latch so hard onto a pre- conceived notion that they don’t let go even when reality no longer supports it.”

“Let us hope that neither of us ever so blinds himself,” the Modhri said.

“Indeed,” I said. “Anyway, by the time we have all the Shonkla-raa nests identified and located, I’m hopeful that we’ll have the capability of destroying them.”

ChoDar’s breathing changed, just slightly. “You have a plan?”