Judgment at Proteus

THREE

“First of all, I want to say how deeply I grieve with you at Asantra Muzzfor’s passing,” I said, looking back and forth among the Fillies and memorizing their faces as best I could. “I didn’t know him well, but when the crunch came, he came through. Indeed, he saved my life.”

The leftmost of the aliens wearing physician’s tan stirred in his chair. {Explain,} he ordered.

“Sorry?” I asked, cocking my head slightly toward him. You never know when it could come in handy for people to think you don’t understand their language.

“He asked you to explain,” Wandek translated.

“Ah,” I said. “As you know—well, no, as you probably don’t know,” I amended, “there was a murderer aboard the super-express train from Homshil. He killed four of the passengers before we were able to identify him—”

“This we already know,” Wandek interrupted. “How exactly did he save your life?”

“My apologies.” So either Aronobal or Emikai had already filled them in on that. “As you may also know, the killer took my assistant Bayta hostage and barricaded himself in one of the first-class compartments. I was able to penetrate the area, but realized I couldn’t take him alone. A Filiaelian passenger named Osantra Qiddicoj offered to assist me, and persuaded two others, a Tra’ho oathling and a Juri Krel, to join us. When Asantra Muzzfor learned of our plans he also volunteered for the mission. We penetrated the killer’s compartment, and together succeeded in defeating him.”

“How did Asantra Muzzfor die?” Wandek asked. “We wish details.”

“I wish I could give them to you,” I said ruefully. “Unfortunately, I can’t. I was the first into the compartment, and the killer managed to deliver a blow that knocked me unconscious. When I came to, Osantra Qiddicoj, the Tra’ho, the Juri, and the murderer himself were all dead. Asantra Muzzfor was still alive, though just barely, but was too far gone for either of the doctors to help him.”

{Yet you did not call for them?} one of the green-clad Fillies asked.

“As I said, it was too late,” I said after Wandek finished his translation. “I sent word via the Spiders, and would have gone myself, but Asantra Muzzfor asked me to stay with him to the end. He told me that he had a contract to deliver Ms. German to Proteus Station, and asked me to fulfill that contract on his behalf.”

{Did you see the actual contract?} Tan One asked.

I looked expectantly at Wandek. “He wishes to know if Asantra Muzzfor delivered his contract to you,” he said.

“No,” I said. “He said the killer had destroyed the contract. I don’t know for sure, but I had the impression that Asantra Muzzfor thought the killer might actually have been targeting Ms. German, with the other victims killed just to muddy the waters.”

The Fillies exchanged glances. Aronobal or Emikai would have given the group my explanation of the killer’s motives. But for all they knew I could have been wrong, and neither of them had any way of knowing if Muzzfor himself had come up with an alternative theory. “Why would the murderer have destroyed the contract?” Wandek asked.

“I assume he was hoping that Asantra Muzzfor would expire before I awoke, thereby leaving Ms. German and Dr. Aronobal stranded at Venidra Carvo with no knowledge of where they were to go next,” I said. “And of course, with the contract gone, I myself would have had no way of knowing I even needed to get in touch with them.”

{But Dr. Aronobal wasn’t summoned?} Green One asked again. {Asantra Muzzfor might not yet have been completely dead.}

“According to the LifeGuard, he was,” I said. “Anyway, at that point the Spiders intervened, wanting to get all the bodies out of the inhabited parts of the train as quickly as possible. There was some thought that the killer had used an unknown biological agent against his victims, and the Spiders were afraid it might spread.”

“But you did search for the contract?” Wandek asked.

“I gave the compartment a quick look, but didn’t find anything,” I said. So that was the real reason for this little interrogation. They wanted to know whether I’d found the evidence of Muzzfor’s true affiliation and the Shonkla-raa’s existence. “From the smell in the compartment, I’m guessing he burned it.”

{What was the smell like?} another of the doctors, whom I dubbed Tan Two, asked.

“Sort of like burnt almonds, with a hint of oregano,” I said. That answer I actually knew, because that was what the papers had smelled like when Bayta and I had burned them for real after we’d examined them. “Of course, I’d just been knocked on the head,” I amended. “My nose might have been a little off-kilter.”

A blue-clad Filly gestured to Bayta. {Has the female anything to add?}

To my mild chagrin, Bayta didn’t wait for Wandek’s translation. “I was unconscious even before Mr. Compton and the others arrived,” she said. “I woke up only after Asantra Muzzfor was already dead.”

Blue One shifted his eyes back to me, his blaze darkening. {So in other words, we have only Mr. Compton’s word for what happened.}

“Were there any other witnesses to these events?” Wandek asked.

“No one who lived through them,” I said, letting a little indignation into my voice. It was time I started getting annoyed at being interrogated like this when I’d merely been doing a Filiaelian santra a favor. “Look, I’m sorry he’s dead, and I honor his memory and all that. But if I’m going to finish the job I’ve started and get on with my life, I need to get back to Ms. German.”

Once again the Fillies exchanged glances. Blue One looked around, and I caught a small twitch of his ear. “You may go,” Wandek told me. “We may have other questions to ask later. If you’ll follow me, I’ll escort you to Ms. German.”

“Thanks, but we’ll find her ourselves,” I said, taking Bayta’s arm and backing toward the door. The watchdogs, who’d been standing patiently at my sides, came along with us.

Wandek’s hand lanced out and again caught my arm. “Forgive us if we sound harsh,” he said. “It was a terrible blow to lose such a close colleague. Naturally, we wish to know all we can about his death.”

“I understand that,” I said, dialing back on my annoyance. “You’ll forgive me in turn if I’m not in the best mood. It’s highly unpleasant to have come all this way only to be immediately put under arrest for crimes I didn’t commit.”

“Yes, we heard about that,” Wandek said, letting go of my arm. “If there’s any way we can assist in your defense, please don’t hesitate to call on us.”

“Thank you,” I said, letting my eyes drift around the group.

It was like looking at a group of sharks. These Fillies were my enemies, every one of them. They knew who I was, or were ninety percent sure of it. They knew about my war against their ally the Modhri, they knew I was lying about what had happened to Muzzfor, and they wanted to kill me.

The only thing keeping them from doing exactly that was the small sliver of doubt that I was not, in fact, lying about Muzzfor’s death and how it related to the murders aboard the super-express. If there was another player in this game, someone who had in fact tried to get Terese German away from them, they needed to find out the who and the what and the why. Right now, I was the best source of information that they had.

But I was only valuable as long as they thought such information might actually exist. The minute they were convinced otherwise, Bayta and I would be in serious trouble.

We had to make sure we were finished with our own investigation and far from Proteus before that happened.

Predictably, I suppose, Wandek followed us out of the building. “As a small gesture of gratitude for your time,” he said as we headed toward the building Terese and Aronobal had disappeared into a few minutes ago, “allow me to escort you to Ms. German.”

“That really isn’t necessary,” I told him. “We saw where she went. We can find our own way.”

“Of course you can,” Wandek said. “But this way you will not need to deal with questions or forms at the reception desk.”

We had made it halfway there when Doug suddenly stopped, turned his head, and gave a sharp yip. I was starting to look down to see what the trouble was when there was an answering yip from the distance.

I turned to look. Near the edge of the dome another watchdog was striding along at the side of a Filly, this one not in simple doctor’s garb but dressed in the usual upper-class set of ancient-Mongolian-style layered tunics. The watchdog was peering across toward us, the Filly himself ignoring us completely.

I was trying to figure out what another criminal would be doing here, especially such a well-dressed one, when Ty gave a yip of his own. Once again, the other watchdog answered.

And with that, all three animals went back about their original business. “What was that all about?” I asked Wandek.

“You mean the greetings?” he asked, gesturing down at the watchdogs.

“Yes, if that’s what those were.”

“The sounds function as a greeting and identification between msikai-dorosli,” he explained. “Each burst contains a wide range of ultrasonics unique to that particular animal.”

“Some kind of jailer-to-jailer code?”

“That Filiaelian you saw was not a prisoner,” Wandek said, a little stiffly. “Many citizens, even aboard Kuzyatru Station, keep msikai-dorosli as companions.”

I looked dubiously down at Doug’s non-furry and decidedly non-pettable back. “They’re considered pets?”

“They’re considered companions,” Wandek repeated, leaning on the word a little. “They can be trained to assist their owner with various tasks.”

“Like what?” I asked. “Making tea? Calling up the morning mail?”

“They can perform simple tasks such as fetching objects, particularly for those with post-operative weakness,” Wandek said. “They can also be fitted with harnesses for carrying medium-weight items.”

I looked down at Doug. I hadn’t considered the possibilities of him as a pack animal. “How much weight can they carry?”

“Why all the questions?” Wandek asked, frowning. “They’re really very simple animals.”

“I have a very simple curiosity,” I said. “How much weight?”

“I don’t know,” Wandek said, a little impatiently. Clearly, he had more important things on his mind right now. “If you really wish to know, you can look them up on the computer in your quarters. Everything there is to know about msikai-dorosli can be found there.”

We reached the building and went inside. Unlike the Shonkla-raa nest, this one was bustling with activity, with doctors in tan striding purposefully along or holding conversations in corners. Other Fillies in the full range of colored outfits manned desks or pushed carts or joined the doctors in their consultations. I spotted a couple more of the enlarged throats that I’d seen back in the other building with our Gang of Ten, but everyone else seemed normal. Or at least, what passed for normal in this genetics-crazy society.

A receptionist at one of the desks looked up as we approached. {We’re visiting Terese German,} Wandek said.

{Room 22, Usantra Wandek,} the Filly said, and gestured us down a side corridor. Midway along it was an open door with half-audible English mutterings emanating from inside. We reached it and went in.

In the middle of the room was a diagnostic bed similar to the Fibibib models common elsewhere in the galaxy but with some distinctly Filiaelian modifications to its design. Terese was lying on the bed, dressed now in a loose hospital gown, her eyes locked rigidly on the ceiling above her. Three doctors were standing around her, busily hooking up sample-taking equipment, while a blue-clad Filly was seated at an electronic console in one corner. Aronobal was off in a different corner, watching the procedure closely.

Trying to keep out of everyone’s way, Bayta and I slipped around to Aronobal’s corner. “How’s it going?” I asked.

“They have begun the preliminary tests,” Aronobal murmured, her eyes never leaving Terese.

“And then the treatment starts?”

“Once the tests have been evaluated, yes.”

I looked at Terese. She was still gazing at the ceiling, her face stony with nervous determination. “What sorts of tests are you running?” I asked.

“Tests that are none of your freaking business,” Terese bit out before Aronobal could answer. “Can someone throw them out? Please?”

“Hold still,” one of the other doctors said brusquely.

I frowned, taking another look at the activity around Terese. There was a hard edge to it all that I hadn’t noticed before.

I took a step closer to Aronobal. “What’s wrong?” I asked quietly.

She looked sideways at me, then nodded silently toward the door. I nudged Bayta, and together the three of us sidled along the edge of the room and escaped out into the corridor, followed by the watchdogs and Wandek. “Well?” I asked as Aronobal led us a few meters farther away.

Aronobal looked at Wandek, as if seeking permission to speak, then turned back to me. “The problem is not with Ms. German,” she said, keeping her voice low. “What I mean is that, although she has many physical problems of her own, our immediate concern is with her child. There appears to be some kind of unexpected stress in his heartbeat and brain-wave pattern.”

I looked at Bayta. Her face looked a little pinched. “How bad is it?” I asked. “Better question: what are they doing about it?”

“They will begin by taking samples of the fetal tissue and of the fluid in the birth sac,” Aronobal said. “Unfortunately, until this is settled we cannot begin work on Ms. German’s own problems.”

“Which are what exactly?” I asked. “I’ve never gotten a straight answer on that.”

Aronobal sighed, a soft whinnying thing. “She has at least four genetic disorders,” she said. “Possibly more—we have not yet done a complete mapping. Any one of the flaws could prove fatal to her over the next thirty years. Together, they are a virtual promise that her life will be cut tragically short.”

“Can you fix her?”

“We believe so,” she said. “But our knowledge of Humans and Human genetic structure is still woefully incomplete. That is indeed one reason she was invited to Proteus Station: to see whether we could map her genetic flaws and correct them.”

“But that’s now on hold?”

“It is the only safe way,” Aronobal said. “The work on Ms. German is extensive and deep, with the potential to put additional stress on the child. Were he healthy it would be a simple matter of screening out the treatment chemicals and monitoring his condition. But until we know what is causing these other anomalies we cannot risk any action that might precipitate his death.”

“And Ms. German cares about that?” I asked. “As I understand it, this child is the product of a vicious attack on her. Yet she still wants it to live?”

“We want it to live,” Wandek put in firmly. “Despite what some Human cultures believe, all sentient life is sacred and must be protected and nurtured to the fullest extent of our abilities.”

“Very noble,” I said, watching him closely. “Yet the baby is Ms. German’s, not yours. Doesn’t she have a say in the matter? Especially since the baby is now getting in the way of her own treatment?”

Wandek drew himself up, his blaze mottling again. “The baby will be protected,” he said curtly. “We have not—” He broke off. “All sentient life is sacred,” he repeated.

“Of course,” I said, ducking my head humbly. I’d gotten what I’d been looking for. Time to backpedal. “Naturally, I agree. It’s just that there are many regions on Earth, with laws that vary widely from place to place.”

“This is the Filiaelian Assembly, not Earth,” Wandek said frostily, the mottling of his blaze slowly fading back to normal. “Only Filiaelian law has any bearing.”

“Of course,” I said again as I turned back to Aronobal. “Any idea how long the tests on Ms. German’s baby will take?”

“No,” Aronobal said. “If you like, I can put your name and comm number on the list of those to be informed of progress.”

“I’d appreciate that.” I gave her my number and Bayta’s and watched as she keyed them into her comm. “Can you tell me who we talk to about getting accommodations somewhere in this sector?” I asked when she’d finished.

“That has already been arranged,” Wandek said. “Speak with the receptionist at the door where we entered.”

“Thanks.” I started to turn away. “Oh. Does she happen to speak English?”

“You Humans,” Wandek said, his tone more resigned than angry. “So many of you seem to believe the galaxy must necessarily accommodate your needs and desires.”

“Yes, we’re funny that way,” I agreed. “Does she speak English, or doesn’t she?”

Wandek made an impatient-sounding rumble deep in his throat. “I will send an English-speaker to meet you at her desk,” he said, pulling out his comm. “I must return now to my work.”

“And I to observe the work on Ms. German’s child,” Aronobal added.

“Of course,” I said. “Thank you. Both of you.”

Whatever else one might say about Wandek, he definitely got fast results. By the time we reached the receptionist’s desk there was a young Filly in a pale green outfit already waiting for us. “You are the Human Compton?” he asked.

“Yes,” I acknowledged.

“Come with me,” he said, walking toward one of the corridors and motioning for us to follow. “Your quarters have been assigned.”

“Are they near Ms. German’s?” I asked, making no move to follow. “They have to be near Ms. German’s.”

“Your quarters have been assigned,” he repeated. “Come with me.”

He headed down the corridor, not checking to see if we were following or not. Taking Bayta’s arm, I headed us off after him.

We retraced our steps out of the dome, down the ramp to the traffic corridor, along the glideway, and back to Terese’s room. The door our guide led us to was two doors farther down. “Here,” he said, gesturing toward a plate beside the door. “It is already keyed to your nucleics.”

“Thank you,” I said. I touched my hand to the plate, and with a soft click the door slid open. With my watchdogs crowding at my sides, I went inside.

And stopped. The room was a photocopy of Terese’s, right down to the color scheme on the blankets on the bed.

The single, barely double-size bed.

One.

I felt the movement of air as Bayta came in and stopped beside Doug. “Cozy,” I commented.

She didn’t say anything. But I suspected that she wasn’t looking at me just as hard as I wasn’t looking at her.

I should have expected this, of course. I hadn’t, but I should have. One of the Modhri’s best and most insidious methods of infiltration was through something called thought viruses: subtle suggestions—sometimes not so subtle—that were passed telepathically from a Modhran walker to an uninfected person. Usually the suggestion was geared to get the victim to touch a piece of Modhran coral, which would get a polyp hook into his bloodstream and eventually grow him an internal Modhran colony of his own.

The most horrific part of the technique was the fact that thought viruses transmitted best between those who already had emotional attachments. That meant friends, allies, confidants, and coworkers.

And lovers.

I stared at the single bed, feeling a cold and angry sweat breaking out on the back of my neck. Did the Modhri think Bayta and I were lovers? We weren’t, and weren’t likely to go that route any time soon, either—we both knew how thought viruses worked, and neither of us was stupid enough to increase our risks that way. We’d shared only a single kiss, and even that had been driven more by lingering fear and pain and exhaustion than anything else.

Even now, I still wasn’t sure how much of that kiss had been affection on Bayta’s part and how much had simply been that same shared fear and exhaustion coming through. In many ways, the deepest core of Bayta’s mind was still a mystery to me.

But she and I had been living and fighting side by side for a long time now, and the Modhri certainly knew enough about human biology to know we were ripe for that kind of attachment if we weren’t there already. Apparently, he was hoping a little nudge might be enough to push us the rest of the way.

Well, he could just keep hoping.

I turned to the Filly, waiting expectantly in the corridor like a dit-rec comedy bellhop expecting a tip. “Unacceptable,” I told him. “This room is designed for one. We are two.”

It was clearly not the response he’d been expecting. He drew back a little, his eyes darting uncertainly from me to the room to me again. “Call your superiors,” I said. “Tell them we need a larger room or a second room in this same area.”

“Yes, of course,” he said, finally unfreezing enough to pull out his comm. {The Human wants a larger room,} he reported to whoever picked up at the other end. He listened a moment— {No, he also wishes it to be near the Human Ms. German.} There was another pause, and I watched his blaze for signs of emotional distress. But the blaze remained unchanged. {I’ll tell him,} he said, and shut down the comm. “There is a second room available,” he told us. “But it is on the other side of the medical dome, the inward side.”

I looked at Bayta. The far side of the medical dome would put whichever of us took that room over half a kilometer away from Terese. More importantly, it would put us that same half kilometer away from each other. “I’m afraid—”

“Would you show it to us, please?” Bayta asked.

“Certainly,” the Filly said. “Follow me.”

He led the way to the glideway, and we wended our way back to the dome. The receptionist looked up as we passed, but neither she nor our guide said anything to each other. The Filly led us into the dome, past the building where they were presumably still working on Terese and her unborn baby, and out into the corridor on the far side. Two corridors later, he stopped at another door. “This is the one,” he said, gesturing to it.

I nodded. “Open it.”

“It is not yet keyed to your nucleics.”

“I realize that,” I said patiently. “That’s why I asked you to use your passkey.”

For a moment he hesitated, perhaps wondering if he was supposed to admit he even had a passkey. Then, silently, he pulled a card from inside his tunic and waved it past the touch plate. The door slid open, and he gestured us through.

The room, as I’d expected, was exactly like the other two we’d already seen. “This is good,” Bayta said briskly, turning to block the Filly as he started to come in behind us. “We’ll take both rooms. How long will it take to key the lock to our nucleics?”

“I will call a room server immediately,” the Filly said, clearly relieved that the awkward situation had been resolved. “It will be ready within the hour.”

“Thank you,” Bayta said, putting a hand on his shoulder and easing him gently but inexorably all the way out into the corridor. “We’ll wait here until that’s been done.”

The Filly started to say something else, seemed to change his mind, and merely nodded. He was pulling out his comm when the door slid shut in his face.

I looked at Bayta. “You’re kidding,” I said.

“Why not?” she countered, starting along the edge of the room, her eyes darting everywhere. “I stay near Terese where I can watch over her. You stay here, where you can slip into the medical building when no one’s looking and figure out what they’re up to.”

“And what happens if they do come after Terese, with me a good fifteen minutes away?” I asked. Bayta was heading toward the bed, so I went in the opposite direction, circling the room toward the computer desk.

“They aren’t going to hurt her,” Bayta said. She reached the bed and knelt down to peer at its underside. “They’d hardly bring her across the galaxy for that.”

“Unless she isn’t the one they actually care about,” I said, running my fingers beneath the computer desk.

Bayta paused long enough in her examination of the bed to throw a frown at me. “What do you mean?”

“In a minute,” I said, studying the edge where the desk met the wall. If the Fillies hadn’t had time to code the lock to our DNA, they probably hadn’t had time to install any listening devices, either, or at least nothing so subtle that we couldn’t spot it.

Of course, the fact that I wasn’t all that familiar with Filly bugging devices theoretically meant that one of their normal, non-stealthy versions might still be able to slip past us. But listening devices shared certain characteristics, and I figured I had a fair chance of finding anything they might have put in here.

Bayta was clearly on that same wavelength. One of the hazards of having hung around with me all this time, I supposed. We completed our respective sweeps, meeting halfway around the room. Then, again by unspoken but clearly mutual agreement, we both continued on, each of us now checking the areas the other had already searched.

We finished without finding anything. I had no doubt that the other room, the one they’d planned for us, was bugged to the ceiling. But this one seemed safe enough, at least for the moment. “Of course, it’s only an assumption that they didn’t already have the lock coded for us,” I reminded Bayta as she sat down on the edge of the bed and I settled into the computer desk chair facing her. “Our helpful native guide might have used that passkey just to throw us off.”

“I don’t think so,” Bayta said. “I touched the pad on my way in, and there was no click.”

“Maybe that was because the door was already open.”

She shook her head. “The first room door was also already open when I touched the pad there, but it still clicked. Why don’t you think they care about Terese?”

I hesitated. Bayta had already shown she had a soft spot for the young and helpless, first with Rebekah Beach back on New Tigris and then for Terese herself aboard the super-express. I wasn’t at all sure how she was going to react to my current suspicion. “Here’s the score as I see it at the moment,” I said. “You remember, back on the super-express, we speculated the attack on Terese might have been staged as an excuse to get her to Proteus Station?”

Bayta’s lip twitched. “Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking about how to prove that,” I said. “So a while ago, when Aronobal brought up the fact that the baby was in trouble, I tossed out the possibility that Terese might want to abort him. Did you notice Wandek’s reaction?”

Bayta nodded. “He was very upset.”

“He was more than just upset,” I said. “The way his nose blaze was going, it was clear the whole idea made him furious.” I paused. “As furious as if the baby was his own.”

Bayta stared at me. “Are you saying,” she said slowly, “that the baby isn’t Human?”

“No, of course—” I broke off. I most certainly hadn’t been saying that. All I’d been saying, actually, was that Wandek was treating the baby like it was certified Filiaelian property.

But now that I thought about it, why not? With the Filly obsession with genetic manipulation, why the hell not? “We need to talk to Terese,” I said grimly. “Find out exactly what happened to her.”

“She won’t talk to you,” Bayta said. The color had come back into her cheeks, and a quietly simmering anger into her eyes. “When do you want me to do it?”

I started to glance at my wrist, then remembered that Hchchu had taken my watch. “No time like the present,” I said, standing up. “Let’s go see how much longer they’re going to keep her. Maybe you can take her out to dinner.”

I wasn’t sure my watchdogs would let me into Terese’s examination building a second time, particularly now that we didn’t have an official or even an implied invitation. But they apparently decided that since we’d been inside once, we now had legal run of the place. That could be very useful down the line.

Unfortunately, that was all we got for our trouble. Aronobal intercepted us outside Terese’s room and told us that the girl’s tests were going to run at least two more hours, and that once they were over she would probably be spending the night in the building under observation instead of going back to her room. She did promise, though, to pass on Bayta’s offer of a dinner invitation for future consideration.

“Now what?” Bayta asked as we emerged again into the crisp pseudo-Alpine air.

“We wait for them to be done with her,” I said, running my fingers across the building’s wall and looking up at the eaves. I’d seen other varieties of malleable materials, but this one took the cake for looking and feeling solid. “Just because Aronobal says we can’t talk to her doesn’t mean we actually can’t. You want to grab some dinner while they’re working?”

“Let’s not go too far away,” she said. “Just because Dr. Aronobal says it’ll take two hours doesn’t mean it actually will.”

I eyed her. Bayta was on fire, all right. A slow, simmering fire, maybe, but Bayta on fire was not to be trifled with. It almost made me pity whoever had done whatever the hell they’d done to Terese. Almost. “You want to camp out here at the door, or shall we be a little more subtle?”

Bayta looked around the dome. “Let’s see if we can get into one of the other buildings,” she suggested. “Maybe we can sit by a window and watch for them to bring her out.”

I looked down at Doug, remembering all those sharp teeth. “As long as you’re willing to take no for an answer,” I said.

“Of course.” Bayta pointed to a building near the edge of the dome. “That one doesn’t look very busy. Let’s try it.” Without waiting for an answer she headed off. Ty, apparently figuring that Doug already had me adequately covered, trotted off alongside her.

“Fine,” I murmured as I trailed after her. Bayta on fire was Bayta on fire, but a little healthy caution wouldn’t be out of line, either. Maybe she hadn’t had a good look into the watchdogs’ mouths and didn’t know about all the teeth. Or maybe the prospect of being ripped limb from limb simply didn’t bother her. I made a mental note to see if the entertainment center in her quarters carried any of the versions of The Hound of the Baskervilles.

We were nearly to the building when I heard someone call my name.

I turned around. It was Emikai, striding toward us with a determined expression on his face. Fanned out in a moving wedge behind him were four more Fillies wearing the same gray-and-black jumpsuits as the ones who’d hauled me out of the entry bay four hours ago. “Uh-oh,” Bayta muttered.

“Steady,” I cautioned her. I stood still, keeping my arms at my sides, as they came up to us. “I greet you, Logra Emikai,” I said, nodding to him. “I’m rather surprised to see you still here. I’d have thought that having delivered Ms. German safely to Proteus you’d be on your way elsewhere.”

“My way is now here,” he said. “My contract has been bought by Chinzro Hchchu. I will remain until he dismisses me.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “And you don’t like that?”

“I was an enforcement officer,” he reminded me. “My personal preferences are of no account.” He gestured to the Jumpsuits still grouped behind him. “But that is of no account. I have come to tell you that you are summoned. The preliminary hearing on your trial is about to begin.”

I frowned. “That was quick.”

“The law as practiced aboard Kuzyatru Station requires justice to be meted out in a timely fashion,” he explained.

Something with cold feet took a walk up my back. “Not so timely that the defense won’t have a chance to prepare its own case, I hope?”

“Have no fear,” he assured me. “This is merely a preliminary hearing.” One of the Jumpsuits muttered something under his breath. “And we must leave at once,” Emikai added. “The hour is rapidly approaching, and we have some distance to travel.”

“How much distance?”

“The hearing will take place in Sector 16-J,” he said. “That is the core administrative area nearest where we entered the station.”

I suppressed a grimace. Which would put us a quarter of the way around the station just when Terese was due to be released. How very convenient for someone.

But there was obviously nothing I could do about it. Emikai might be cajoled or otherwise bargained with, but I very much doubted Hchchu could. “Fine,” I said with a sigh as I took Bayta’s arm. “I presume my attorney’s been notified?”

“Your pardon,” Emikai said, holding a hand up in front of Bayta. “She will not be permitted to attend.”

The cold-footed thing on my back broke into a gallop. “That’s absurd,” I insisted. “She’s my assistant.”

“You have a right to an attorney,” Emikai said. “But I do not think your assistant has any such rights.”

“You don’t think?” I asked. “You’re an ex-cop. Don’t you know?”

“Kuzyatru Station currently operates on different rules of law from those I am familiar with,” Emikai said, sounding a bit defensive. “Director Usantra Nstroo and Assistant Director Chinzro Hchchu have chosen to reinstitute the ancient protocols of Slisst.” He cocked his head. “That is why Chinzro Hchchu will be prosecuting you himself. Under the Slisst Protocols, that role falls to a friend or acquaintance of the injured party.”

“And he was a friend of the Filiaelians I’m supposed to have murdered?” I asked.

“Not a friend, precisely, but I am told he was acquainted with all of them,” Emikai said.

“I see,” I said, wondering uneasily if Minnario had even heard of this Slisst Protocol stuff, let alone knew his way around it. “All very interesting, but I’m still a non-Filiaelian accused of a crime in non-Filiaelian territory. My situation still comes under the jurisdiction of cross-empire law.”

“I believe Chinzro Hchchu is still studying that question,” Emikai said, looking a little uncomfortable. “A final ruling is expected soon. Until then, you must still appear at the hearing.”

“With my assistant,” I said firmly.

One of the Jumpsuits stirred. {Why do we waste time?} he demanded. {We’re many. He’s one. Bring him and be done with it.}

{I hear and obey,} Emikai said reluctantly. “Mr. Compton—”

“Tell you what,” I put in quickly. “If the big legal minds are still wrestling with this, it’s certainly nothing the two of us are going to solve on our own. Why don’t you call Minnario, clue him in on what’s happening, and get him to the hearing? Then he and Chinzro Hchchu can hash out together whether or not Bayta can watch the proceedings.”

“That seems reasonable,” Emikai said, a note of relief in his voice as he pulled out his comm. Clearly, the rapid pace of Hchchu’s brand of justice wasn’t sitting well with him, either.

{The Protocols don’t require this,} Jumpsuit insisted.

{Neither do they forbid it,} Emikai countered. He punched in a number and lifted the comm to his ear. {This is Logra Emikai,} he said. {I wish to speak with Attorney Minnario chu-DeHak.}

{This is wasted time,} Jumpsuit muttered.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye, hoping I wouldn’t have to use any of the combat techniques Emikai had taught me during our sparring sessions. At five-to-one odds, I wasn’t likely to last very long.

But I sure as hell wasn’t going to let them take me away and drop me into some dark hole somewhere where Bayta wouldn’t even know where to start looking for me. Not without a fight.

{Understood,} Emikai said.

I looked back at him. The grimness in his voice was mirrored in his face. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Chinzro Hchchu has been attempting to contact Attorney Minnario for nearly half an hour,” Emikai said. “There is no answer on his comm. Nor have any patrollers or operational personnel seen him during that time.

“Your attorney, Mr. Compton, has vanished.”