Judgment at Proteus

than impressive perimeter point was practically an engraved invitation to break out, especially when the hunter knew the prey would see the leftward pressure as an obvious trap. If so, it was likely that the Shonkla-raa had placed their best fighters as Scrawny’s backup, hoping I would pick Scrawny as the breakout point and thus walk directly into their arms.

Still, they may not have expected YhoTeHeu to be with us. At any rate, we really didn’t have any choice. [There are the two, then two behind,] I warned YhoTeHeu, switching to Halkora in case the Shonkla-raa had been smart enough to send henchmen who understood English after me.

[I see them,] YhoTeHeu said. [I will take the larger of the foremost. I will attempt to push him into the smaller one, entangling them together, then move against the rearmost pair while you finish off the foremost.]

[Accepted,] I said. It wasn’t the greatest plan I’d ever heard, but we didn’t have a lot of options right now. If we could dispatch our opponents quickly enough, their reinforcements shouldn’t have time to reach us before we were clear of them.

At that point, of course, they would still outnumber us. But once we were no longer surrounded, at least they’d only be coming at us from a single direction. [On three we charge,] I said.

[Accepted,] he said. [One, two—]

And even as I started to shift my balance, a slender Tra’ho wearing elaborately embroidered clothing shot past on my left, running like an Olympic sprinter carrying a barrel of gunpowder with a drip fuse burning just a shade faster than he was running. (Stand clearing!) he shouted in mangled Shishish, the ultrasonics in his voice buzzing across my head as I jumped aside to keep from getting run over by the rolling luggage careering along behind him. Directly ahead, the ambling masses of Quadrail passengers spent a precious half-second gawking, then galvanized themselves into a mad scramble to get out of his path. (Stand clearing! I am trying to miss not my train!)

(Stand clear!) another Tra’ho voice came from my right, and a second Tra’ho whipped past YhoTeHeu, moving with the same speed and determination as the first one. He tore past, scattering his own group of passengers, leaving YhoTeHeu, Bayta, and me standing in a narrow corridor of calm between two barriers of rapidly moving Tra’ho luggage.

And with the inspiration born of utter obviousness, I grabbed Bayta’s arm and took off after them.

Our Filly opponents realized instantly what we were up to. But it was already too late for them to do a damn thing about it. One of them made a single attempt to get through the obstacle course as we passed and was nearly crippled as a footlocker even bigger than the one I’d tangled with earlier clipped his leg. At that point even the two in the rear, who’d been angling to get into our safe corridor before the two Tra’ho’seej passed, seemed to think better of it and joined the rest of the station in getting out of the way.

But all the rolling luggage in the galaxy couldn’t prevent them from glaring at us as we hurried past. Scrawny was particularly good at it, and from the look on his face as we charged past I decided that the sooner we got ourselves back inside the Peerage car, the better.

I made sure we’d left the Fillies comfortably far behind before slowing us down, letting the Tra’ho’seej and their luggage continue their hurried journey by themselves. Ahead and to the left, I caught an unexpected sight: a fellow Human emerging from a beverage shop in the middle of yet another row of buildings.

On second glance, I saw that the figure wasn’t so much emerging from the building as it was staggering from it. Clearly, whoever it was had had way too much alcohol, particularly for such a relatively short, slender Human.

A short, slender Human wearing the same color sweater and jeans as Terese had been wearing when Bayta and I left for the message center.

“Oh, hell,” I breathed, grabbing Bayta’s arm and pointing.

Just as the figure gave one final stagger and collapsed onto the ground.

“Bayta?” I snapped as we broke into another run, toward the bemused spectators starting to gather around Terese’s limp body.

“Two drudges are on the way to take her to the medical center,” she panted back. “The Spiders are alerting the doctors now.”

[Why is she out here?] YhoTeHeu demanded. [She had no errand to perform.]

“Oh, she had an errand, all right,” I snarled, swearing silently over and over to myself. “She had a murder to commit.”

His bulldog snout turned sharply to me. [A murder?]

“Yes,” I said grimly. “Her own.”

TWENTY-ONE

Throughout the ages, countless Humans had fatally overdosed on alcohol, though granted most of them had done so accidentally. The modern era of Quadrail travel, which had opened up whole new vistas of non-Human alcohol products, had added its own numbers to that total.

Still, for the most part, the Shorshic varieties were pretty unattractive to Human taste buds. You had to be seriously determined to kill yourself that way.

Terese hadn’t been that determined. But she’d been damn close.

(She will recover,) the Shorshic physician assured Bayta and me as we stood together on the other side of the treatment table. (I’ve filtered the alcohol from her bloodstream, and have induced the flushing of the remainder from her liver and other tissues. One hour, no more, and she should be recovered enough to travel.)

“Thank you, Doctor,” Bayta said quietly.

(My pleasure, as well as my profession,) he said. (The machines will complete the rest of the procedure. I will be at the monitor station should you have any other concerns.)

“One question before you go,” I said. “If we hadn’t gotten her here when we did, what would have happened?”

A Human doctor, coached in tact and bedside manners, might have hesitated. Not this one. (She would be dead,) he said flatly.

I grimaced. It was the same conclusion I’d already come to. “Thank you.”

He gestured a polite farewell and left the room. “Interesting,” I commented to Bayta.

“Not the word I would have used,” she said soberly. “This makes no sense, Frank. Why would she want to do something like this to herself?” She shot a sudden frown at me. “Or did you just say that for YhoTeHeu’s benefit?”

“No, I meant it,” I told her. “Or at least I did at the time. Now, I’m not so sure. Rather, I’m not sure Terese herself was her intended target.”

“But then—?” Bayta broke off, her throat tightening. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” I agreed grimly. “I suppose I can’t really blame her, either. How would you like to suddenly find out that the baby you were carrying was a genetically manipulated monster designed by a bunch of megalomaniacs who wanted to take over the galaxy? You might want to try and do away with it, too.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Bayta said, an edge of cold fire in her tone. “I’d focus on the ones who had done this to me. To me and to the child.”

“Good for you,” I said. “But you’re not a sixteen-year-old who’s all alone in the universe. No, I think…” I trailed off, frowning, as something odd suddenly struck me.

Normally Bayta was sensitive enough to my voice and expression to pick up on such things. This time, with her full attention on Terese, she missed it completely. “Why didn’t she say something?” she murmured, gazing down at the girl’s sleeping face. “Why didn’t we see it coming?”

“We did,” I said. “Or rather, I did. Or rather, I should have.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“Because I’m mad at myself.” I took a deep breath. “Think back, Bayta. Terese was at every meal over the past two weeks. She watched every dit-rec with us, played or at least watched our card games, even sat there those two afternoons that ChoDar spent inflicting his music on us.”

“Though she didn’t actually listen to it,” Bayta said. “I noticed she was running her own music through her