Judgment at Proteus

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 headphones.”

“Which just proves she has a modicum of good taste,” I said. “My point is that through all of that her body might have been there, but she wasn’t. Her heart and mind were a million light-years away.”

“She was like that on the super-express, too,” Bayta reminded me. “You saw what a private sort of person she is. And as ChoDar said, a single Peerage car can be stifling. There was nowhere she could really get away.”

“Of course there was—there was her room,” I said. “She could have gone in there any time she wanted to and locked the door. ChoDar probably would even have had MewHijLosFuw deliver her meals there if she couldn’t stand the sight of us even that long. But instead she sat out there with everyone else, pretending to be sociable.”

“Because she was trying to look normal,” Bayta said, and I winced at the ache in her voice. Of all the people in the galaxy, Bayta knew best what it meant not to be what anyone else would define as normal. “She didn’t want to draw attention to herself by being antisocial.”

“Because she’d already made up her mind what she was going to do the first chance she got,” I said quietly. “This was that chance.”

“She knew she couldn’t get anything from Senior Ambassador ChoDar’s drinks cabinet without his or Chef KhiChoDe’s permission,” Bayta said, nodding tiredly. “And she was probably afraid it would tip us off if she tried.”

“That’s my guess,” I agreed. “Unfortunately, this is going to drastically change our travel plans.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we can’t spend the next month and a half cooped up in the Peerage car,” I said. “She may try to kill herself or her child again, and none of us has the necessary medical training or equipment to deal with that if she does.”

Bayta’s eyes widened. “Frank, we can’t ride the regular super-express,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “The Shonkla-raa have already tried to get us once.”

“I know, but I don’t see any choice,” I said. “Not unless you want to strap her down in her Peerage-car compartment.”

“We could do that,” Bayta said. “I mean, no, we can’t strap her down. But we could restrain her. We could do something.”

“And turn the only friends she’s got into her jailers?” I asked gently.

For a moment Bayta stared at me. Then, she exhaled a long breath, and her shoulders slumped. “She would hate us,” she said, an infinite sadness in her voice. “And once we reached Earth, and we couldn’t watch her anymore…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. But then, she didn’t have to. Once Terese was on her own again, she would finish the job she’d started today. One way or another.

“What it boils down to is that we can’t physically stop her from destroying her child if she wants to,” I said. “So what we need to do is make her not want to anymore. We need to persuade her to your way of thinking, that it’s the Shonkla-raa she should be fighting, not herself or her child. And we have to start by forgiving her for this stunt, and to prove we trust her by giving her some space and freedom.”

Bayta exhaled a snort. “On a Quadrail filled with Shonkla-raa and their agents?”

“Probably not exactly filled with them,” I soothed her. “And we’ll have a whole bunch of Spiders around to help us keep track of her.”

“Spiders who’ll be helpless if the Shonkla-raa attack,” Bayta pointed out grimly.

“They’re pretty much helpless anyway, at least in any serious fight,” I said. “Fortunately, I doubt the Shonkla-raa are ready to take it to that level. Not yet.”

“I’d hate to count on that,” Bayta warned. “After what we did to them on Proteus, they must be pretty angry.”

“Actually, if they’re that strongly driven by revenge, we can all heave a sigh of relief,” I said. “Revenge-seekers are incredibly easy to manipulate to their own destruction. No, I don’t think they’ll do anything because of two crucial facts. One, they don’t know who all our allies are; and two, for all their incredibly smug confidence they’re still a pretty small group.”

Bayta shivered. “But very powerful.”

“True,” I conceded. “Lucky for us, it’s the raw numbers that matter here. See, if you’ve got a big army, the simplest way to find out who your secret enemies are is by letting those enemies take potshots at you. You’ll lose a few of your own in each attack, but I’ve known commanders who wouldn’t be bothered a bit by that cost as long as it got them what they wanted.”

“I see where you’re going,” Bayta said, nodding slowly. “A small group can’t do that, and they’ve already lost quite a few of their number. If they hit us again, they could lose more, and they can’t afford to keep doing that.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Especially since hitting us won’t tell them anything new about our allies. No, for now they’re going to be watching and waiting, giving their agents time to figure out who and what we have lurking in the shadows.”

For a moment Bayta was silent, and I knew she was thinking about the depressing fact that, no matter how short the Shonkla-raa membership rolls might be, our own list of allies was considerably shorter. “How many compartments will we want?” she asked.

“Ideally, three,” I said. “If that’s not possible, I suppose you and Terese could bunk together.”

There was another moment of silence as she conferred with the stationmaster. “There aren’t any compartments available,” she said at last. “But there’s a long enough request list that the stationmaster is willing to add another compartment car. The three of us can have a double.”

“Good enough,” I said. “I’ll see if YhoTeHeu’s still in the lobby. If he is, I’ll tell him to wait here with you and Terese while I go tell ChoDar about the change in plans.”

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the kwi and pressed it into Bayta’s hand. “I’ll leave this with you regardless. Back as soon as I can.”

* * *

ChoDar wasn’t happy with my proposed change of plans. He’d been most pleased with our company, he told me regretfully, and had looked forward to sharing more dit-recs and elegant cuisine with us over the remainder of our journey.

The Modhri inside him was even less happy about it, especially after having sent two of his walkers tearing halfway across the station to give us cover from the Shonkla-raa attack. I thanked him, promised everything would be all right, and told him I would look forward to meeting the members of the mind segment that would be traveling with me.

I didn’t mention that I mostly wanted to meet those walkers so that I’d know who I’d be fighting if I was wrong about the Shonkla-raa making a move on the super-express.

The Modhri didn’t mention it, either. But he didn’t have to. We both knew.

* * *

Two hours later, the super-express—all fifty cars of it—pulled out of the station. We rolled up the ramp into the Tube and headed into six weeks’ worth of complete isolation.

Normally, the compartment cars were all were lined up together at the front of the train, between the engines and the regular first-class coach cars. In this case, at Bayta’s suggestion, the Spiders had put our extra compartment car a bit further to the rear, placing it between the first-class dining car and one of the extra storage cars that came with super-express trains. That meant Bayta, Terese, and I could get our meals without having to run the gauntlet of other compartment cars, whose doors might conceal any number of possible dangers, and also avoid putting ourselves on obvious display as we walked through the regular first-class coach cars.

I’d expected the Modhri to have a mind segment aboard, and he did: six walkers, four ahead of us in first class and two behind us in second. ChoDar himself would have been a seventh, but I was informed by a gregarious Shorshian who approached Bayta and me at dinner on the first night out that ChoDar was too far away from the train’s passenger sections to link up with the rest of the mind segment.

In some ways, that was a good thing. The Modhri was already planning to send one or two of the walkers back through third class and the baggage cars every day or two, moving them close enough to the Peerage car to link up with the ChoDar mind segment and keep it apprised of events. At the same time, ChoDar’s isolation meant that, should things go to hell up here, the overall Modhri mind would at least have some data on what had happened.

I’d also expected the Shonkla-raa to have some of their number aboard, and I was right about that, too. Within the first two days of travel the Modhri identified one full-fledged Shonkla-raa, enlarged throat and everything, plus four Fillies who were probable Shonkla-raa agents.

One of those four, to my mild surprise, was our friend Scrawny from the Venidra Carvo station. Apparently his failure to corral us back there wasn’t being held against him.

Those things I’d expected. What I hadn’t expected was to walk through the rear first-class car on our third day out and find YhoTeHeu seated there, calmly watching a dit-rec drama on the nearest display window.

In hindsight, I should have anticipated something like that. The Modhri would be unable to protect me if our enemy decided to make serious trouble along the way. He also knew from my confrontation with Asantra Muzzfor that I couldn’t take a Shonkla-raa all by myself.

Hence, ChoDar’s parting gift of a combat-trained fellow fighter. Whatever the Shonkla-raa had in mind, YhoTeHeu might give us the edge we needed.

But as the train continued to click its way down the Tube, and the passengers settled into their own personal routines, that confrontation continued to not happen. The Shonkla-raa himself proved to be the bashful type, seldom leaving his compartment near the front of the train and never when I was out and about. As the days passed, I began to hope that he had strict orders to merely watch us, and that he might remain under his rock all the way to Homshil.

Two weeks into the trip, that hope came to a sudden stop.

* * *

It was late at night, and Bayta and Terese had gotten into one of the light conversations that Bayta had been nurturing with the girl ever since our departure from Venidra Carvo. Their talks never seemed to get past dit-recs, food, and clothing, but Bayta was being gently persistent, and in this particular instance I had the feeling that the two of them might be on the edge of something a little deeper. Since it was obvious they weren’t going to get serious as long as I was hanging around, I excused myself and headed to the bar end of the dining car.

I was sitting at a rear table, nursing a sweet iced tea and pondering the mysteries of womanhood, when a lone Filly seated with his back to me two tables over pushed back his chair and stood up. I had just enough time to register his oversized throat before he strode casually over and lowered himself into the chair across the table from me. “Hello, Compton,” he said casually.

“Hello, Shonkla-raa,” I managed, matching his tone as best I could with a suddenly racing heartbeat. “Enjoying the trip?”

He gave a small shrug. His nose blaze, I saw, had subtle diagonal stripes built into the mix of browns and tans. It reminded me somehow of sergeant’s stripes. “It has been said that travel broadens the mind,” he said. “Would you care to have your mind broadened, Compton?”

Looking furtively around, I knew, would be taken as a sign of weakness and desperation. With an effort, I kept my eyes on the Filly instead.

Besides, I already knew there was no help for me here. Aside from the two of us, the bar’s current clientele consisted of two Shorshians having a drinking contest and a pear-shaped Cimma lost to the world in his simmering cup of something hot. None of the Modhran walkers was in the room, which under the circumstances was probably a good thing. The server Spider who was supposed to be behind the bar had vanished, either gone off-duty or else on a resupply trip back into his stockroom, eliminating any chance of bringing Bayta and the kwi that was living in her pocket these days.

I was on my own.

“That depends on the kind of broadening you had in mind,” I said, easing my knees to the side so that I’d have at least a halfway decent chance of getting my legs out from under the table when he made his move.

He gave a short, amused little whinny. “Calm yourself, Compton,” he said. “I haven’t come here to destroy you. I could have done that anytime in the past fourteen days. I’m here merely to offer you truth.” He cocked his head to the side. “And to seek your advice.”

“I’m flattered,” I said. “Afraid I’m not feeling very consultative at the moment.”

“I can hardly blame you,” the Shonkla-raa said, his voice suddenly low and earnest. “After what you and your friends went through on Kuzyatru Station, I can well imagine the veil of suspicion and anger through which you see us.” He cocked his head again. “That’s why I’ve come here this evening. I wished to set the record straight.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” I said. This ought to be good. “Go ahead.”

“Firstly, I must apologize for the misguided zeal of my companions,” he said, still using that solemn, used-marshland-salesman voice. “They jumped to the conclusion that you were a deadly enemy, someone to be destroyed at all costs.”

“And I’m not?”

“Not at all,” he said. “As I’ve observed your interactions with the Modhri aboard this train, I’ve come to realize that you are, in fact, merely a pawn.”

“Interesting,” I said. “Not very flattering, though.”

“You would do well to put your Human pride aside for a moment,” he said severely, a hint of the old familiar Shonkla-raa arrogance peeking momentarily through. “We’re speaking about warfare and survival.”

“No, we’re speaking about recruitment,” I corrected. “You are trying to talk me into switching sides, aren’t you?”

“The premise in your question is flawed,” he said flatly. “The Modhri isn’t on your side. You are on his. He’s using you, making you as much a tool as any of his Eyes.”

“And your side will treat me better?”

He drew himself up. “My side will win, Compton,” he said, the earnestness in his voice taking on an edge of darkness. “It’s inevitable. We’ve unlocked the secrets of the Shonkla-raa of old, the ability to tune Filiaelian minds to the telepathic frequencies of all known species.”

“Except for Humans, who haven’t got any telepathic frequencies,” I reminded him. “And your little artificial-insemination program isn’t going to change that.”

He snorted, his nose blaze darkening. “That program is a pointless toy. But what of it? Do you really think your small cluster of Human worlds can hold out against the might of the reborn Shonkla-raa and the weight of the entire galaxy?”

“Well, when you put it that way, I suppose not,” I conceded. “But we must be of some use to you. Otherwise, why the sales pitch?”

“Your people are of no use,” he said with a dismissive sniff. “But you, Frank Compton, are another matter.”

He leaned back in his seat, eyeing me thoughtfully. “There’s a chapter of your Western Alliance history, two hundred and more years ago, called the War Between the States. You’re familiar with it?”

“Of course,” I said. “I’m rather impressed that you are.”

“One must study the peoples one intends to conquer and rule,” he said, waving casually. “Before the conflict began, a general named Robertee-lee was offered the command of the Northern armies. He refused, choosing instead to command the forces of his native South. The war was long and devastating, costly in lives and property, and though Robertee-lee and those under his command fought hard, in the end they were defeated. Am I incorrect?”

“No, that pretty much covers the gist of it,” I said. “Your point?”

“My point is that some historians believe that if Robertee-lee had instead accepted the North’s offer the war would have been over in weeks, sparing many lives and vastly decreasing the subsequent turmoil and bitterness.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding. “So you’re saying I’m the modern Robert E. Lee, and that if I’ll just come over and assist your side with strategy and tactics it’ll be over so much more painlessly?”

“Exactly,” he said. “But more importantly, Earth and the rest of your people will be safe from the coming chaos.”

“At least until you finish beating down everyone else?”

“Not at all,” he said. “I’m offering you and your people an alliance. In exchange for your services, we’ll leave your worlds and your people strictly alone.”

I snorted. “Big offer. Your soldiers of choice are Modhran walkers, and we’ve managed to keep the Confederation pretty much free of them.”

“Which isn’t to say we couldn’t import all we needed,” he pointed out. “Nonetheless, I repeat my offer: if you work for us, the coming war will pass your worlds by. Your people will be free to live their lives as they themselves choose. We would even grant them free run of the galaxy, to roam wherever they wish, with all the rights and privileges we intend to grant our own Filiaelian people.”

“Sounds way too generous,” I said. “What would their task be in your New Order? Stoking the cremation furnaces or something?”

“They would have no duties of any sort,” he assured me. “Only to live in contentment and freedom.”

“And all this because of the value of my service to you?” I shook my head. “I have got to talk to the Spiders about raising my pay grade.”

“Few people understand a warrior’s true value,” the Shonkla-raa said sagely. “Especially not his allies. Only his enemies have such clarity of vision.”

“Probably has something to do with looking down the wrong end of a gun barrel,” I said. “This alliance you mentioned. Would you be willing to write a contract to that effect?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation.

A shiver ran up my back. Either he was an extraordinarily good actor, or he fully meant the offer he’d just pitched. Every Filiaelian was brought up to respect legal contracts, and even a soulless Shonkla-raa should at least hesitate before declaring his willingness to commit fraud. “Good to hear,” I said lamely.

“But I don’t ask for an answer now,” he went on. “Consider my offer. Consider also the odds against you, and the potential for destructive vengeance against your people should they join the rest of the galaxy in defying us.” He lowered his voice. “And observe, too, the way the Modhri acts and speaks to you. He’s not the ally he claims. He has his own objectives, and will pursue them in his own way.”

“Don’t we all.”

He eyed me a moment longer in silence, then stood up. “I’ll come to you again at journey’s end. At that time, I’ll expect your answer.”

“I’ll be sure to give your proposal every bit of thought that it merits,” I assured him. “In the meantime, if I should want to discuss it further, who shall I ask for?”

For a moment he eyed me, and I wondered how good his ear was at detecting Human sarcasm. “I am Osantra Riijkhan,” he said.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “And while I consider all of your points, you might want to consider a couple of mine. One, the old Shonkla-raa never conquered Earth. Maybe it was just the fact that we weren’t telepathic, like Usantra Wandek thought. But maybe there was something else. Something a little more dangerous.”

“Such as?”

“I have no idea,” I said. “That’s why you might want to think about it. Fact number two: even with all their numbers and weapons, not to mention having the whole galaxy under their dominion, they were still destroyed.”

“Irrelevant,” Riijkhan said calmly. “There were far more peoples and cultures arrayed against us than exist now.” He cocked his head. “Another possible consequence of defiance you would do well to remember.”

“Oh, I will,” I promised softly, my stomach tightening. Those peoples and cultures didn’t exist anymore because they’d been obliterated in the Shonkla-raa’s death throes. “Do remember, though, that none of those genocided races were around to help me when I killed Asantra Muzzfor. I did that all by myself.”

His nose blaze darkened. “Yes, the last message from Kuzyatru Station included that claim. I don’t find it believable.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “Neither did Usantra Wandek. Of course, he’s dead now, too, along with quite a few of his compatriots.”

Riijkhan snorted. “Again, irrelevant,” he insisted. “The deaths you speak of weren’t a result of any great combat skill in your possession. You defeated them only through the use of a trick.”

“Of course I used a trick,” I said. “That’s what tactics is all about. Coming up with tricks that work.”

For a long moment he stared at me. Then, he gave a small shake that began at his head and ran, dog-like, through the rest of his body. “All the more reason for us to hire you,” he said. “I’ll see you at journey’s end, Frank Compton.” Turning, he strode from the bar and headed forward toward the first-class cars.

I gave him a thirty-second head start. Then, downing the last of my iced tea, I headed off after him. I had the Modhri’s list of probable Shonkla-raa agents, but it never hurt to check out such things for myself. With luck, Riijkhan would take a moment to consult with his minions, or at least nod to them on his way back to his compartment.

I reached the end of the dining/bar car, punched the release, and stepped through the sliding door into the vestibule. A few quick steps, another tap on the release at the vestibule’s other end, and I stepped into the rear of the number-one first-class coach car.

And came to a sudden halt. Standing in a triangle formation facing me at the rear of the car were three of the four Shonkla-raa agents the Modhri had fingered for me, with only Scrawny absent. A few steps behind them, Riijkhan had turned back to face me. “You spoke of tricks and tactics,” he said. “I offer you the opportunity to demonstrate.” He gestured around at the scattering of closed sleeping canopies around him. “My apologies for not providing you with a proper audience.”

Turning, he continued down the car to the end. He punched the release and kept going, disappearing as the vestibule door slid shut behind him.

“And now,” the Filly in the center said, speaking softly as if concerned he might awaken one of the sleeping passengers. “Let us see how a Human fights.”

“And how a Human bleeds,” the one on my right added.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I apologized. “The first rule of tactics is to never take on superior odds.” With that, I took two quick steps backward, slapped behind me at the door release, and ducked back into the vestibule.

Apparently, rumors of my courage had preceded me. The door was already closing between us before any of them broke from their stunned paralysis at my unexpected demonstration of cowardice. I caught just a glimpse of them making a mad rush forward as the door finished sliding shut. Taking a half step backward, I waited.

And as the door opened and the first of them came charging through, I snapped a kick into his upper torso.

Emikai had warned me that a professional fighter might have had his heart sac area strengthened against such attacks. It was instantly obvious that this particular Filly, at least, wasn’t a professional fighter. He went down like an empty bag, slamming the side of his head hard enough against the floor to show he wasn’t faking. The second Filly faltered in his own charge as he stumbled over the obstacle that I’d unexpectedly dropped in front of him. A flash of surprise and malice crossed his face as he threw his arms up to protect his torso and heart sac.

So instead I kicked him in his right upper-leg nerve center, collapsing the leg out from under him.

Desperately, he threw his arms wide, trying to prevent himself from falling by bracing himself against the sides of the vestibule. The maneuver actually succeeded, stopping his fall just long enough for me to cock my leg back and send a kick to his heart sac. He dropped on top of the first Filly and lay still.

Leaving the last Filly goggling at me as the vestibule door closed behind him.

“Unless,” I said mildly, “you can find a way to decrease those odds.” I lifted my hands into one of the Filly combat stances Emikai had taught me. “Shall we see how you do at one-on-one?”

Apparently, Shonkla-raa minionhood didn’t include dying unnecessarily for the cause. With a final look at the two crumpled figures at his feet, he slapped the door release and hotfooted it out of there.

I waited until the door had closed again behind him. Then, keeping an eye on my two downed attackers, just in case, I headed back toward the safety of my room. Osantra Riijkhan, I suspected, wouldn’t be very happy when he found out how the evening had gone.

Then again, maybe he would.

* * *

I didn’t say anything to Bayta right away, since she was still talking to Terese and I didn’t want to worry the girl. But it was clear from the tension in Bayta’s face as I came in that she already knew. Apparently, the Spiders hadn’t been as absent during the confrontation as I’d thought.

Bayta didn’t say anything, either. But within five minutes of my arrival she found an excuse to leave Terese in their half of our double compartment and to join me on my side, closing the dividing wall between us.

The wall had barely snicked shut when she was up in front of me, her hands gripping my upper arms, her face tight with worry as she gazed into my eyes. “Are you all right?” she asked anxiously.

“I’m fine,” I said, reaching up and resting my arms reassuringly on her shoulders. “They never laid a hand on me.”

“I meant—” She broke off.

“You mean what am I going to do when we reach Homshil and Osantra Riijkhan wants an answer to his recruitment pitch?” I asked, easing her back and sitting us both down on the curved couch that had folded out from the dividing wall as it closed.

“Yes,” she said, her voice dark. “He may have more people and resources assembled by the time we get there.”

I shrugged. “I’m sure he will. For that matter, he’s probably got more resources already on this train. That’s what that whole nonsensical attack was all about.”

Bayta’s lip twitched. “I was wondering about that,” she said. “He only sent the agents we already knew about.”

“Exactly,” I said, nodding. “Well, all except Scrawny, anyway.”

“Scrawny?”

“The Filly we were all set to charge through on Venidra Carvo if the Modhri hadn’t sent those two Tra’ho’seej to run interference for us,” I explained. “Not that he would have been much good in a fight anyway. But you’re right. The whole point of that exercise was to give us the illusion that Riijkhan was still being proactive without actually showing us any new cards.”

“So he’s still here to watch us?”

“That’s my guess,” I said. “And sneering bravado aside, he might also be a little bit worried. No matter how many minions he’s got on hand, the fact remains that he’s only one Shonkla-raa, and we’ve already demonstrated that we can take on lone Shonkla-raa and win. No, unless we push him too hard I think we can assume he’ll wait until Homshil before trying anything.”

“And then?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I’ll take him up on his offer.”

Her eyes were steady on me. “You are joking.”

“There is something to be said for getting invited into the middle of your enemy’s planning sessions,” I pointed out. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to change sides.”

“He won’t be happy about that,” she warned.

“He can be as unhappy as he wants,” I said. “By the time the train reaches Homshil Station we’ll be long gone.”

Bayta frowned. “We’ll be—? Oh,” she interrupted herself, her forehead smoothing. “A tender?”

“Exactly,” I said. “One of the messages I sent from Venidra Carvo was to the Homshil stationmaster. About half an hour out from Homshil a tender is supposed to pull alongside and set up a—what did the defender call the thing the last time we did this? That portable airlock thingy of theirs?”

“A side-extendable sealable passageway,” Bayta supplied.

“Right—that,” I said. “The three of us—you, me, and Terese—will slip out the door into the tender. By the time the super-express hits the Homshil atmosphere barrier, we’ll already be past the station and on our way to Yandro.”

A small shiver ran through her. “You still want to go there?” she asked quietly.

“Not really,” I admitted. “But I don’t see any other option. We need to know how far the Modhri’s prepared to go to get out from under the collective Shonkla-raa thumb. If he’s willing to sign on to my plan, great. If he’s not … well, we’ll deal with that if and when it happens.”

“A plan you haven’t yet told me,” Bayta pointed out.

I gazed into her eyes, torn by indecision. How much should I tell her? How much could I afford to tell her? “The basic plan has two prongs,” I said. “The first part is to try to drop the Modhri out of the equation. If we can do that, the Shonkla-raa’s list of allies instantly drops by a factor of about a million.”

“All right,” Bayta said slowly. “But how are you going to do that? Persuade him to send all his walkers into hiding?”

“That’s one possibility,” I said. “I’m hoping to find something with a little more staying power, though.”

“Such as?”

“Still working that out,” I lied. “Anyway, once he’s out of the picture, all we need to do is raise ourselves an army.”

Her face suddenly became very still, and it didn’t take any great insight on my part to guess she was thinking about the Chahwyn’s defender Spiders. A few of them might be of great assistance in this confrontation with the Shonkla-raa.

An army of them would change the face and tone of Quadrail travel forever.

“And since there’s only one species we know the Shonkla-raa can’t control,” I went on before she could say anything, “that means our army will be composed of us lowly Humans.”

Her eyes did a quick double-take, and some of the fresh tension lines faded. But only some of them. “Humans?” she echoed.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “Ironic, isn’t it? After being looked down on by pretty much everyone else for the past thirty-odd years, we’re going to be the ones who come charging over the hill to save the day.”

“You really think…?” She trailed off, her usual impassive expression dropping back over her swirling uncertainties.

“It’ll work, Bayta,” I said. I took her hand and squeezed it, savoring the warmth and strength as she squeezed back. “We’ll make it work.”

She took a deep breath. “I hope so,” she said quietly.

“It will,” I said. With an effort, I looked her straight in the eye. “Trust me.”