Judgment at Proteus

I threw a reflexive glance at the wall of the compartment beside me. Surely Bayta wouldn’t have deactivated the weapon now, with the defenders about to move out of the door and us at our most vulnerable. Had something happened to her?

Apparently not. A fraction of a second later, with the usual tingle, the kwi came back on.

And then went off again. And then on, and then off, and then on and then off. I lifted my hand, peering closely at the weapon, wondering if the thing was finally starting to fall apart. That would be just perfect, for us to lose our single best weapon right when we needed it most—

I frowned. The kwi wasn’t just sputtering. It was sputtering in a pattern. A bit clumsy and amateurish, but a pattern nonetheless. A pattern that Bayta didn’t know, but was probably being dictated to her by someone else in the compartment.

Someone like, say, a EuroUnion Security Service agent who’d probably been teased the entire week he and his fellow trainees were learning the aptly named Morse code.

And the message itself—

McMicking here.

The message began to repeat. Casually, I lowered my hand again, my heart thudding with new hope. Hope, and a bit of embarrassment. Of course McMicking was here—Larry Hardin was here, and McMicking was his chief troubleshooter. It only made sense that McMicking would be here with him.

And with that, we now had a genuine chance. The Spiders obviously knew about McMicking, and it was only because of the Shonkla-raa tone freezing out their system that they hadn’t been able to pass that information on to Bayta until now.

The Spiders knew, and now we knew. More importantly, the Shonkla-raa didn’t know.

Of course, the Spiders probably didn’t know what McMicking’s plan was, and I sure as hell didn’t. But whatever it was, there might be a way to help it along a little.

“Here’s the plan,” I said quietly to Terese. “Go to the compartment and tell Bayta—”

I broke off as the Shonkla-raa tone resumed, again freezing the defenders in place. “Not done,” I called, peering out through the tangle of Spider legs. “I need more time.”

“You have had all you need,” he called back.

“You want me out there or not?” I countered. “If you do, I’m going to need more time.”

The Filly’s mouth moved as he muttered something under his breath. “Ten more seconds.”

The tone again shut off. “Go back to the compartment and tell Bayta I’m going to try to get to the engine,” I told Terese as I continued helping the defenders untangle themselves. “I’ll pull out as many of the walkers as I can out from the wheels and drive mechanism. With luck, I’ll get enough of them clear that she’ll be able to get the train moving again before the Shonkla-raa can react.”

“But what about you?” Terese asked. “We can’t just leave you here.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “They want me alive, remember? You just focus on getting you and the rest of the train out of here and going for help. Bayta will know how and where to do that.”

Outside, the tone again resumed. “And take this with you,” I added, handing her the kwi. On the platform, out of Bayta’s range, the weapon would be useless to me, and I had no intention of letting the Shonkla-raa get hold of it. “Go,” I ordered, giving her a little push.

Her face was screwed up halfway to tears, but she gave a jerky nod and hurried back to the compartment. I waited until the door had closed behind her, then pulled the refrozen defenders out of the way. Taking a deep breath, I stepped outside, standing still until I felt the slight movement of air that meant the car door had irised shut behind me.

“Welcome, Frank Compton,” the Shonkla-raa holding Losutu and Hardin called, and there was no mistaking the malicious satisfaction in his voice. “We have waited for this moment for a long time. A long, long time.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

“Have you, now,” I said, trying to sound casual and suave, the way a proper dit-rec detective would sound under these circumstances. “It’s so nice to bring happiness into people’s lives.” I started toward him and his hostages.

And two steps later, I abruptly spun to my left and broke into a flat-out sprint.

Only to discover a double line of walkers already standing between me and the engine.

I slowed to a halt again, letting my lip twist as I looked back at the Shonkla-raa. “I seem to have been anticipated,” I said lamely.

“Did you really think such an obvious attack point would escape our notice?” the Shonkla-raa asked contemptuously. “Look also at the train cars behind you.”

I turned. About thirty of the walkers who’d retreated in that direction in the face of my earlier kwi attack were standing alertly alongside the compartment car, ready to counter any move I might make in that direction. The rest of the group, another fifteen or twenty of them, had wedged themselves into the wheels of the compartment car and the first-class coach car behind it. “You see,” the Shonkla- raa continued. “Even had you reached the engine, your efforts would have been futile.”

“I suppose,” I said, letting just enough chagrin make it into my voice to look like I was stifling a whole lot more.

And trying very hard not to smile.

Because my impromptu gambit had actually worked. In an effort to counter the ridiculous plan I’d spun for Terese, the Shonkla-raa had now made twenty percent of their remaining force unavailable for a quick response.

I looked up at the window of our appropriated cabin, making sure to keep the same stifled chagrin on my face. Bayta and Morse were gazing out at me, Bayta’s face tense, Morse’s that of a poker player who’s just put all his chips into the pot but has no idea what his hole card is.

And then, as I started to look away, something else caught my eye. In the compartment next to theirs a large piece of paper covered with alien writing was being pulled away from the window, and I caught a glimpse of another of the scrawny Fillies who’d been dogging our trail ever since at least Venidra Carvo.

So that was how the Shonkla-raa out here had been apprised of my charge-the-engine plan. I let a little more chagrin into my expression, just in case the Filly or anyone else in that compartment was also watching.

I heard the sound of footsteps over the noise of the command tone, and turned as half a dozen of the walkers who’d been blocking my path to the engine came up to me. My official reception committee, apparently. The two in front, a Jurian diplomat and a pudgy Human wearing a banker’s scarf with a half-open courier’s briefcase still slung across his chest, took my wrists and turned me toward Losutu and Hardin and their Shonkla-raa keeper. “Okay, I’m here,” I called. “You can let them go now.”

“In good time,” the Shonkla-raa called back. The Juri and Human gave simultaneous tugs on my wrists and we headed across the platform, the other four walkers following close behind us.

I glanced around the station as we walked. The non-walkers who’d been watching bemusedly from afar when this whole thing started had vanished, probably cowering in disbelief and horror in the cafes and gift shops, wondering what in hell was going on.

There was no sign of McMicking. Wherever the others had gone to ground, he’d apparently gone with them.

The Spiders, in contrast, were still standing where they’d been when our train pulled in, just as frozen and useless as before. A pity, I thought, that Bayta hadn’t been able to do something with them when the command tone was off. But then, she’d only had a pair of ten-second intervals to work with, and I doubted the Shonkla-raa would have missed any sort of concerted action. Even if Bayta had found anything that the permanently nonviolent creatures could actually do for us.

And then, something caught my eye. The Spiders were indeed still where they’d been standing. But their postures had subtly changed. Every one of them was now standing on only six of their seven legs, with the seventh